The original Chuck Wagon Gang (1941).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TFcs-kmM5PM
Clemmie by John D. McDonald (1958)
From the back cover of the paperback:
She was very young.
She was dangerous.
She was a girl who lived too close to the edge of violence.
She hunted trouble.
She was an exhibitionist, a body worshipper, a sensualist.
She was without morals, scruples, ethics.
She was beautiful.
She was CLEMMIE
Clementina Bennet was the only child of a rich (and probably amoral) man who simultaneously spoiled and ignored her. When she was thirteen she was seduced by a college student. When she was fifteen something terrible happened that remains unspoken and she was eventually institutionalized. Now, at twenty-three, she is a fantasist living only for her whims and desires; she is incapable of being truly empathetic and thinks nothing of ruining a man's life and family.
Craig Fitz had a terrible childhood that he put behind him when he entered college, instead creating a completely imaginary background. After receiving a wound that left him with a slight limp in the war, he met and married an English girl while recovering in London. Back in America, he got a job with a national manufacturing company and rose to the position of production manager at one of its plants. Thirteen years into the job, he has not moved forward in the company, nor has he really wanted to; he is satisfied with his life, his wife, their two daughters, and his work. Known as a straight-shooter, he has earned the respect of his neighbors and his peers. Scrimping money, Craig and his wife were able to afford a summer's trip to England for her and their two daughters kin order for them to meet their grandparents. Alone for the summer, Craig was feeling lonely.
When a co-worker invited him out for drinks one night, things went terribly wrong. Craig got drunk and the even drunker co-worker was arrested and taken to jail. That's when Craig met Clemmie, who fascinated with her youth and her sense of whimsey. Without really realizing what was happening, Craig and Clemmie made love, probably the only time Craig was unfaithful to his wife. Craig felt guilty but Clemmie wanted the relationship to continue, and slowly Craig slid into a life of infidelity. Soon Craig was caught in a trap between wanting Clemmie and wanting to save his marriage. Clemmie' philosophy was that, if one were feeling guilty, one must continue full bore doing whatever makes you; feel guilty; in doing this, sooner of later Craig's feelings for his wife would fall to the wayside. Craig's guilt (and his wishy-washiness) were increased by his burgeoning alcoholism, brought on by pressures at work that imperil his job and his future livelihood.
McDonald made his bones with paperback suspense novels in the fifties and sixties, but this one is more mainstream than suspense. The question remains whether Craig can drag himself lout of the morass he has put himself in and whether he can save his marriage, or at least, his soul, or whether Clemmie will be able to destroy him completely.
The writing is good (it is McDonald, after all) but the book had an uncomfortable feel for me. I disliked the character of Clemmie for personal reasons: I had meet too many people like her. And Craig's absolute weakness of character set off negative vibes for me.
Still, this has McDonald's trademark mid-century, middle America malaise all over it, and it is something he has done so well in the past. Yet, for some reason I got the distinct feeling I was reading an Evan Hunter mainstream novel of the same period more than a John D. McDonald novel.
Your mileage may well differ.
Cartoonist Walt Kelly produced this for the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services to answer parental concerns about the effect of television on children. He "carefully applies concepts of mental health and child rearing embodied in the findings of the 1960 White House Conference on Children and Youth." The dangers, although very real, appear to be blown out of proportion to me, but things were very different six decades ago, when McCarthyism and Dr. Fredric Wertham were still in the rearview mirror.
Your cast of characters include Mother (Pogo Possum), Father (Albert Alligator), Child (Rackety Coon Chile), and Psychiatrists One and Two (Howland Owl and Churchy La Femme).
Despite the hype, most of the recommendations are common sense ones.
I do take issue, however, with the opinion given about folk singers.
Enjoy this little bit of Pogo. (Then, cleanse your palate by checking out one of the m any collections of Pogo comic strips.)
https://comicbookplus.com/?dlid=102266
"The Forgotten Land" by Henry Herbert Knibbs (from The Popular Magazine, February 7, 1917; never reprinted to my knowledge)
We can't recall that we have ever published a story like this in the Popular. It is a staggering thing -- the kind of yarn you'll talk about to your friends. You know the type of story Knibbs writes -- Western, with a good deal of sympathy for man and his four-footed companion. There is the Westerner here, but he is placed in a setting so far removed from anything that Knibbs has ever given us that it took out breath away. Knibbs is a poet as well as a novelist; and as we read, we had a vision of 'the poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling.' It is prophetic, but we have known prophets who have guessed wrong, and we fancy Knibbs is wrong -- at any rate we hope so.
-- editor's introduction to "The Forgotten Land"; in that issue's Table of Contents, the story is called strange and unusual, "quite the strangest so far."
Knibbs (1874-1945) never worked as a cowboy (he suffered from a lifelong respiratory ailment) but he was a popular author of western short stories, but he was a popular author of western short stories, novels, and poems. The FictionMags Index lists over 140 of his stories, novels, and serials published over a 28-year period, as well as over 160 published poems. He published thirteen novels and six collections of poetry; his tales were adapted for seven films. He stopped writing, embarrassed, because in one of his Saturday Evening Post he had a horse with a gestation period of nine months; a horse has a gestation period of eleven months -- something he knew full well -- and not only was he ridiculed by his peers, he was never able to sell another story.
Long before science fiction ever gelled as its own genre, tales of the fantastic were often published in popular magazines as "strange" stories, a practice that continued until the middle or late 1920s. Such stories carried their own cachet and were eagerly devoured by some readers.
America has been invaded, and conquered. As far as he knew, Jack Hanley, the lone watcher of the Grey Grouse power station, might be the only American left. The enemy had just taken the station at the bottom of the mountain, although the crew out up a good fight. The sound of war birds filled the air. Hanley had four freight cars of supplies the had been abandoned earlier at his station. He was able to destroy them by plunging them off a 4000-foot cliff. Then he saddled his horse, Candy, and took off into the wilderness, heading toward Canada, dynamiting his trail behind him. He had only a few supplies and the American flag he had taken from the power station with him -- he was not going to gift his country's flag to the enemy. Now he had to find a way to survive with little supplies and even less ammunition. After nearly being killed when he was spotted by a war bird, Hanley found a cave where he and Candy could shelter for the winter. He improvised traps for game and was severely wounded by a bear who had forced his to use almost all of his ammunition. Both he and his horse were weak and hungry.
He had not seen evidence of another person the entire winter, but now, with springtime here, he found moccasin tracks. They led to a mountain lake with a thin wisp of smoke rising above it. A girl was being beaten by a huge Indian. Hanley had a few bullets left and fired at the Indian, Mooswa, killing him. The girl, whose name was Bess, had been given to the Indian for protection by her father because Mooswa had promised to hide her in the deep woods away from the invaders and the plague that they had brought with them. Yea, there was a plague and it wiped out the invaders and any remaining Americans.
Hanley, ever the gentleman and possibly the last American male alive, treated Bess with respect. He decided that his place, as an American, was back in America where white folks came from, rather than in the woods of Canada populated by Indians. (Casual racism was big in 1917 -- did I mention that the invaders were "yellow men"?) He gave Bess the choice of going back to America with him. He was her protector so she felt that he was basically her "husband," so she agreed to go with him. (Casual sexism was also big in 1917.)
Fifty years later some Northern Indians came across a falling apart ranch house. There on the cot was the body of an old man who had placed an American flag over his legs before he died. He could have been the last of the vanished white men. Outside the house was a grass-covered grave in the shade of a wall. The Indians knew this had to be the final resting place of a woman.
Here's the link to the February 7, 1917 issue of Popular Magazine, which also contains stories by well-known authors of the time Francis Lynde, Holman Day, Bertrand W. Sinclair, and William S. McNutt, as well as serials by B. M. Bower, Henry C. Rowland, and Roman Doubleday:
https://archive.org/details/the-popular-magazine-v-043-n-04-1917-02-07/mode/1up
Clara Bow (1905?-1965) was one of America's first film sex symbols, known as the "It Girl." Her personality, coltish appearance, and devil-may-care lifestyle may have been more important in her film career than her acting ability; her screen presence could not be denied and she became the ultimate flapper of 1920s films. Her personal life was a subject of much discussion and she had a reputation for various sexual indiscretions -- much of unfounded or unproven; she negotiated her first contract with Paramount to not have a morals clause, which did not help the rumor mill. Supposedly, she was raped by her father when she was 16 and her mother institutionalized, although she had a warm relationship with her father for much of his life. Bow was one of the WAMPUS Baby Stars of 1924 and was engaged to marry actor Gilbert Roland in 1925. When she finally married, it was to rancher Rex Bell, later Lieutenant Governor of Nevada. Later in life, she had psychiatric issues and attempted suicide in 1944. She was institutionalized in 1949 and never returned to her family when she was released. She lived alone in a culver city bungalow for the rest of her life, latterly under the constant care of a nurse. She died at age sixty from a heart attack.
Bow starred with Richard Arlen and Kay Francis (in her first Hollywood film) in Dangerous Curves, directed by Lothar Mendes, adapted by Donald Davis and Florence Ryerson from a story by Lester Cohen, with additional dialogue by Viola Brothers Shore. Bow plays Pat Delaney, an circus bareback rider who is in love with Larry Lee (Arlen), the arrogant trapeze artist and the circus's most popular act. Lee, however, is smitten with Zara (Francis), who is just using him for what she get. when he finds out that Zara has been messing with another man, Lee flies into a rage and beats his rival. Unfortunately, Lee has to perform immediately after, but has lost his concentration and falls. Lee is briefly hospitalized and soon leaves the circus, his confidence shaken, and turns to drink. Pat finds him and convinced him to start a high wire act with her. But Lee's talent is gone...for the moment. Slowly the talent returns and Lee tries to convince Zara to join him in his act. Pat flees in tears and misses her performance and is fired. Zara runs off with her boyfriend and Lee gets drunk. Pat disguises herself as Lee and performs his act posing as him. Lee appreciates it. Could this be the start of something big?
A mawkish drama made palatable by Clara Bow's presence.
Give it a try:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jFFNJNQe9lU&list=PLk2PLIM4DugyCGaumm5JKhM2hj8b5d-sj&index=2
Openers:
I'm going you tell you the real story behind Bloodrock and how we ended up with a dead man in a bathtub. I was right there on location and saw just about everything. More than anyone else, at least. I'm sure you remember hearing about it, even if you are not a regular reader of the Hollywood traces. You also probably remember that there were some questions floating around, the big one being: Was it just an accident, or was it murder?
So I'll tell you everything I know, and then you can decide for yourself.
-- A Murder in Hollywood by Michael Crichton writing as "John Lange," 2026
Whoa, Nellie! A new book by Michael Crichton? The guy who's been dead for nearly eighteen year? And writing as John Lange, the pseudonym he used when he first started publishing when he was a medical student, eventually totaling eight basically forgettable novels under that pen name? The last being in 1972 (Binary), three years after he made his bones with The Andromeda Strain? Yeah, that guy. I think the dead sumbitch published it just to mess with my my mind because I had just completed earlier this year my read of all of his published books -- fiction, nonfiction, even a couple of screenplays. Anyway, here's this new Michael Crichton book that had flown under my radar -- one I had never heard of, published this past May.
Well, there's a good reason. Evidently he wrote it back in 1973. By then, all his pseudonymous work had been published (eight by "John Lange," one by "Jeffrey Hudson," and one collaboration published as by "Michael Douglas"). Also by then, some confusion had begun about the Lange pen name: it turned out the John Lange was the legal name of "John Norman," the pseudonymous named used to publish a slew of best-selling incel (before that was created) fantasy novels heavy on sex and degradation. With two bestsellers, one Edgar Award-winning novel and at least three films in the works, it was time to retire the pseudonym and the type of action-oriented novel that went with it. So A Murder in Hollywood became a trunk novel, never seeing the light of day...presumably forever.
But, where there's a manuscript with Crichton's name on it, there is the possibility for cash...which brings us to 2026.
Don't get me wrong. This isn't a truly bad book. It just not a mature Michael Crichton book, heavily influenced by his time as a student author who was having an novel filmed (the Jeffrey Hudson A Case of Need, filmed as The Carey Treatment by Blake Edwards; also the same year, his collaborative novel Dealing was filmed by Paul Williams). It's a decent, well-plotted, snarky book. The main problem is with the title. There is not a murder in Hollywood. There is one in Tucson -- the dead guy in the bathtub. But was it even a murder? The guy slipped, fell, and hit his head. But if it was an accident why was the bathroom completely wiped of fingerprints. And there may not be a single murder; there may be two. but as the second paragraph in the book said, you will have to decide for yourself.
I am glad I read it, but I sincerely hope there are no more trunk novels lying around. This was the fifth posthumous Crichton book published, two of which were completed by other authors.
Incoming: