WILDEST WESTERNS BY C. COURTNEY JOYNER

It seems as if everything I post makes reference to FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND magazine, and don’t dream that this one will be any different. For a movie kid in the 60’s, Forrest J. Ackerman’s magazine was a touchstone, introducing us to actors and films long-forgotten, and getting us excited to see them for the first time on TV on our local “Shock Theater” or The Late Show.

In 1960, FAMOUS MONSTERS was such a runaway success, that publisher James Warren was bursting with ideas for a follow-up. He was already re-launching horror comics in a black-and-white magazine format with CREEPY and EERIE, and later, their super-sexy cousin, VAMPIRELLA.

But what else could be done for the movie fans? Drug store magazine racks were heavy with monsters, with the rest of the space saved for MOVIE MIRROR and its gossipy cousins. Warren considered a lot of ideas, and put a few into production, including SPACEMEN, and MONSTER WORLD, but they seemed aimed at a target that Warren was already hitting.

Who he was missing were the adults, and they were watching westerns.

In 1960, John Wayne was marching into another decade as a top ten of box office stars, thanks to THE HORSE SOLDIERS and NORTH TO ALASKA, but at the same time, Robert Mitchum, James Stewart, Kirk Douglas, Richard Widmark, and Burt Lancaster were all hitting the saddle in major studio westerns, scoring major hits.

The “new kids,” Steve McQueen, Paul Newman, James Garner and even Elvis were hitting the trail with a vengeance, and it was only a few years away that the lanky co-star of RAWHIDE would travel to Spain to make the little movie that would change westerns forever.

Hoppy, Roy, and Gene were still part of our after-school afternoons, thanks to syndication, along with the real Masked Man, while Mom and Dad had their choice of more than twenty prime time westerns, including THE TALL MAN, EMPIRE, RIVERBOAT, THE RIFLEMAN, MAVERICK, CHEYENNE, DEATH VALLEY DAYS. BONANZA, and of course, GUNSMOKE.

There was no end to playsets, cap pistols, and cowboy outfits, rubber tomohawks, lunchboxes, coloring books and drinking glasses, all featuring our favorites.

It just didn’t stop – so what better time than now to put FAMOUS WESTERNS OF FILMLAND on the newsstands?

The problem was the competition was beyond fierce.

Westerns were also thriving in comic books and newspaper strips, with Marvel’s KID COLT OUTLAW, TWO GUN KID, and RAWHIDE KID, shooting it out with DC’s more serious titles, like Joe Kubert’s FIREHAIR. The independents were still giving us Lone Ranger, Tonto and Zane Grey four-colors, with those spectacular painted covers, and poor old Charlton Comics was having their run of BILLY THE KID.

If you weren’t allowed to stay up to watch THE IRON HORSE, it didn’t matter, since almost every TV show had it’s own book courtesy of Dell or Gold Key. And, once every couple of weeks, you got a comic book adaptation of a western movie, not to mention all those reprints.

That’s a lot of cowboys, and a lot of horse sh*t to pile through; so how could a magazine aimed for the same audience that was spending their nickels for everything else western set itself apart?

From the start, publisher Warren, and editors Harvey Kurtzman and Forrest Ackerman put their foot right in the pile. Kurtzman was a veteran of MAD MAGAZINE, and a cartoon genius of the first rank, and who better to devise an offbeat, comedic look at westerns, with parodies of all the old favorites?

Truthfully, almost anyone. The problem wasn’t a lack of talent from Kurtzman, it’s that the approach never should have reached the printing press.

The cover of the first issue of FAVORITE WESTERNS OF FILMLAND is almost staggering it’s so awful: a color shot of Richard Boone as Paladin, with a bloody bullet hole between his eyes, with the girl asking via dialog balloon if he’s feeling all right. Amazing.

The funny balloon over the movie still format was in wide use at the time, inspired by the television success of Jay Ward’s FRAKTURED FLICKERS, where serious silent films were given the jokey dialog and sound effects treatment. Usually, it was the monster magazines that took this approach (MAD MONSTERS, MONSTER LAFFS), but to go this way with a magazine to capture the western movie audience was astoundingly wrong-headed; you don’t make fun of our heroes.

The sales on the first issue were already cooked and served by the time the Number Two was going to press. But Warren and Kurtzman must have felt something of the fan backlash, making fun of the most popular genre around. They eased off on the funny in the second issue, that featured a wonderful Jack Davis caricature of Duke from RED RIVER as its cover.

There were funny captions in a piece on THE FIGHTING KENTUCKIAN, but straight stories on the making of the THE ALAMO, as “Duke’s next.” This stuff was straight from the publicity department, as was a feature on Clint Walker’s exercise routine while shooting CHEYENNE. Clint looks great doing his sit-ups, but the piece tells precious little about the hit show.

There was also a nice promo piece on the “current hit,” GUNFIGHT AT THE OK CORRAL, which was being re-issued by Paramount. The articles were flimsy, but had finally started to treat the movies with some respect, especially as they banged the drum for new releases.

One of Forrest Ackerman’s trademarks in FAMOUS MONSTERS was his constant use of puns. Dr. Akula from Horrorwood, Karloffornia couldn’t help himself, and he and Kurtzman created a character to act as host of FAMOUS WESTERNS, answer reader’s questions and letters, and be a trademark for the magazine ala Uncle Creepy or Cousin Eerie.

And so, Ramuda Charlie was born.

Charlie’s awful “yer darn tootin’” editorial comments are cringe-worthy now, but must have tickled Ackerman and company. Thankfully, the character became less prominent as FAVORITE WESTERNS started to go through some major changes.

Jack Davis drew Dennis Weaver as Chester, facing down Matt Dillon, as the cover of issue #3, declaring he wasn’t going to be “swabbin’ no more jail cells,” while the magazine declared its new name: WILDEST WESTERNS.

Harvey Kurtzman was easing back on his duties as editor, and the tone of the magazine started its shift with this issue. The funny dialog balloons were being replaced with pieces that were more serious, including “Jesse and Billy, Where Are They Now?” which was one of the first articles they ran detailing the lives of historical figures.

There was also a little stuntman profile that was behind-the-scenes stills, a look at CHEYENNE for the coming season, and a profile of “B” hero Whip Wilson. The “Last Minute Noose” page, about upcoming westerns, touted that Henry Fonda would actually start appearing in more episodes of THE DEPUTY, and hinted at a money conflict with Universal; none of this was the usual stuff we’d come to expect from WESTERNS, and the next issue would show us why.

Sam Sherman was a young film journalist, with an abiding interest in “B” movies, especially serials, who had been contributing to a number of Warren magazines when he was tapped to become editor of WILDEST WESTERNS. Later, Sherman would found Independent International Pictures and produce flicks like the biker hit SATAN’S SADISTS, starring Russ Tamblyn, and Lon Chaney’s last, DRACULA V. FRANKENSTEIN.

Sherman was a true western lover, and his influence is all over issue #4, the last to feature a cover by the great Jack Davis. The cover is an oddity; funny, with Lee Marvin in a police car, chasing down a cowboy, having wandered over from the set of M-SQUAD.

If the cover was an echo of Kurtzman, the rest of the issue purely for the serious western lover, starting with Sherman’s own interview with Buster Crabbe. There were on-set pictorials for YELLOWSTONE KELLY and THE COMMAND, and a nice look at Yakima Canutt’s horse training techniques. Sherman also paid attention to the many western film conventions that existed in those days, noting the appearances of sidekick Max Terhune, and upcoming events.

And as a bonus, artist John Severin (SGT. FURY AND HIS HOWLING COMMANDOS) contributed a beautifully rendered piece on gunfighters. WILDEST WESTERNS had taken a turn for the better, and the next issue would be another improvement for fans.

The great Basil Gogos, renowned for his amazing cover paintings for FAMOUS MONSTERS, created a portrait of Nick Adams as THE REBEL for issue #5, to accompany a good feature article on the show. In the piece, the writer speaks to Adams, and REBEL producer/writer, Andrew Fenady.

This issue contains the obituary for star Ward Bond, and an interview with Republic star Bob Livingston. Sam Sherman was leaving his imprint on the magazine, which was gearing more and more toward the serious western movie fan, particularly if you loved the “B”’s.

Like other Warren publications, the back pages of WILDEST WESTERNS were filled with mail order goodies. Unlike FAMOUS MONSTERS or CREEPY, what they offered was everything western they could grab at the time: paperbacks, 8mm movies, replica guns, and autographed pictures of stunt men.
Although cartoonist Jack Davis would not be doing any more covers this issue advertised a series of prints of Jack’s own take on true western legends, such as Jesse James and Dull Knife. The drawings were finely rendered in pen and ink, with color highlights, and came three in a set for the whopping price of $1.49.

"Two of Jack Davis' drawing offered through WILDEST WESTERNS mail order for $1.49. Jesse James is on the left, and Wild Bill Hickock is on the right; stylized in the extreme, they're still killer!"

Despite the number of westerns in the theaters, and newer shows like THE BIG VALLEY appearing on the tube, WILDEST WESTERNS was failing. Their final issue, #6, was the best issue yet, and showed that the magazine could cover the genre in serious fashion, looking backwards for nostalgia, and at current releases.

Basil Gogos again painted the cover, and it’s considered one of his finest pieces. The stunning portrait of Marlon Brando from ONE EYED JACKS wads the perfect lead into a preview article about the making of the film. The other major feature was long and detailed coverage of BONANZA, followed by a profile of stuntman Herb Holcomb, and nice pieces on neglected cowboys stars, such as Buddy Roosevelt and Buffalo Bill, Jr.

Once again, WILDEST WESTERNS was bearing the stamp of its editor, who maintained a balanced focus on “B” heroes, television, serials, and The Duke. The magazine had hit its stride, and it’s end of the trail.

James Warren still believed in a movie magazine about genres other than horror, and took another shot with SCREEN THRILLS ILLUSTRATED, also edited by Sam Sherman. THRILLS embraced all types of action and adventure movies, serials, television and even radio. Westerns were included in every issue.

SCREEN THRILLS lasted 11 issues, almost double the run of WILDEST WESTERNS. When it folded, and attention went back to the monster magazines, writing about western movies was soon relegated to the fanzines and special publications produced by experts like Alan G. Barbour, if you could find them.

But for a brief time, if you loved westerns, all you had to do was wander into your local candy store or supermarket, to there would be a new issue of WILDEST WESTERNS, pages filled with heroes, sidekicks, ladies of the west, and some of the baddest bad men ever known, and all for thirty-five cents.

That’s about the cost of a shot of whiskey at the Long Branch, and for a young kid who loved westerns, a lot more satisfying.

Writers' Dinner Conversations

 When you have married writers, dinner conversations have to be a bit abnormal.  Many start with, “I just can’t figure out the best way to kill him.”  I've often wondered about the other people sitting around us in restaurants, because we always work when we eat out.

Then there's "Once I got started, I really didn't want to kill him," leading to the inevitable response, "Yeah, but he's got to die, doesn't he?"

Obscure poison, bludgeoning, a knife to the heart . . . so many options, and we really have to decide. Who's the victim? Who's the killer? Who are the red herrings? So many things to figure out while we're sitting there in the buffet.

And the people at the next table are listening to me say, "I really think I need to kill more than one person this time."

That's just when we're working on a mystery novel. When we're plotting a Western, we might talk about a bank robbery or an ambush. You know that if one of us says, "Then he gets shot in the back," somebody around us is just going to hear, " . . . shot in the back."

But all those are minor concerns, I guess. What I'm really worried about is that Western romance I've got coming up on my schedule, and the inevitable moment I'll be sitting there at the restaurant table asking in all seriousness, "Just how dirty do you think the sex should be?"

Or maybe James will be working on a thriller, and we'll be talking about terrorists and assassinations and rogue states and nuclear bombs. If the government really is listening in on everything, I'm sure that someday guys wearing sunglasses and driving black SUVs will come knocking on our door and we'll be hauled off saying, "But . . . but . . . but I'm just a writer!"

Writing about Indians When You're Not One, Part 4: Leadership

Troy D. Smith

This series started out to be a single blog entry back in the summer, but I quickly realized I was going to need more words... so I announced it had morphed into one of three parts. And there's still more to say, so I've given up and quantifying and decided this is a series.

If you've read the earlier entries, you know there are a lot of cultural pitfalls to writing about various American Indian cultures -specifically, there are many things that Anglo-Americans just understand differently than do the peoples who are native to the Americas. Many of those things differ from tribe to tribe and from region to region; at the same time, there are some things that apply generally to those indigenous people, just as there are certain cultural things that make some people European even though they are from different countries.

This time around, I'm going to talk about American Indians and leaderhip.

Europeans often assumed that Indians structured their societies the same way they did, and misunderstandings arose as a result. Some of those misunderstandings continue into the present.

Of course, there were some similarities between those very first explorers and colonists and the Indians they encountered. The Aztecs of Mexico and the Incas of Peru had empires, and their governments were composed of strict hierarchies, headed by leaders that were roughly equivalent to the kings the Europeans were used to.

In fact, when Spanish explorer Hernando de Soto led his expedition through the Southeast in the early 1540s, he found societies in North America that were (though smaller in scale)  similar to those in Central and South America. They were called the Mississippians -a catch-all term that included several different peoples -and their societies had been in place in the South and the Midwest for centuries. They had several things in common:

1. They built "platform mounds", miniature earthen versions of the Meso-American pyramids, which played an important role in their spiritual life.

2. Large-scale maize agriculture

3. Extensive trade networks, stretching from the Gulf of Mexico to the Great Lakes, and from the Atlantic coast to the Rocky Mountains

4. A strict social hierarchy, with a powerful chief at the top and a system of social classes, with religious and political power in the hands of a few. As with the Aztecs and Incas, there were large population centers that politically dominated smaller villages, who owed them fealty.


After De Soto passed through, it was the better part of a century before Europeans significantly penetrated the interior of the Southeast again. And when they did, they found a completely different world than De Soto had encountered.

You see, marching along with De Soto's men was another kind of army- disease. Due to various factors, Europeans had built up a hardy immunity to all sorts of things -a few centuries of plague, and of interacting with the people of Asia and Africa, made that possible. The Indians did not have that natural advantage. Death on an unimaginable scale -probably much worse than the Great Plague of Europe -devastated native peoples who had encountered the Europeans, or sometimes just other Indians who had met Europeans. The clearly defined, hierarchical societies encountered by De Soto collapsed into anarchy. In many cases, only a tiny remnant of a tribe remained -these remnants joined with other tribal remnants to form whole new groups, called coalescent societies (this is why some groups, like the Muscogees/Creeks, had several apparently unrelated dialects within their nations.) This new way of living in the South and the Midwest resulted in tribes whose lifestyles were much simpler, and much less clearly defined by class, than De Soto's Mississippians a century or more earlier. It was these, not their hierarchical forebears, that the English and French would meet.

Those later Indians had a more communal lifestyle. Power, prestige, and leadership were all handled much differently.

For one thing -and this was very confusing to the colonists -tribes often did not have a single leader. Even more confusing: a leader did not have absolute power over the rest of the tribe. Rather, he was more of an adviser. He could make suggestions, but everyone was free to decide for themselves whether to listen to him or not. Europeans did not operate this way; therefore, whichever leader they first encountered (or was most amenable to them), they summarily designated as the King or Chief of that tribe. They would then negotiate with him, and expect him to speak for his whole nation, not understanding (and sometimes not wanting to understand) that he could actually only speak for his small band or for himself. Indians, meanwhile, had a very hard time understanding colonial soldiers -what kind of idiot marches into certain death because someone orders them to?

Europeans had power and leadership because, ultimately, of the property they owned, or their money. Officers bought a commission, they did not earn it. Kings and nobles held their station because of actions their ancestors performed a millennium before.

Indians in North America did not usually operate that way. Leadership was not hereditary in most tribes (and since three-quarters of tribes were matrilineal, "hereditary" would have had a different meaning anyhow.) This does not mean there were not often leaders from within the same family: in New England, Wampanoag leader Massasoit was succeeded by his son Metacom; in Virginia, Powhatan was succeeded by his brother Ophecancanough; in 18th century Cherokee lands, Dragging Canoe was as influential as his father Attakullakulla (Little Carpenter) had been. But it does mean that such transitions were not mandated or guaranteed; new leaders could just as well have been someone else.

To become a leader, you had to... convince people to follow you. They would choose to do this if you had a track record of making good decisions, if you were a very good orator, or if you were deeply spiritual. To remain a leader, you had to keep those qualities up and running. Even if you were a leader, military planning could be a challenge; almost always, some of your men were going to ignore you and go about the fight however they wanted. This is a paradox: Indians could be extremely communal and extremely individualistic at the same time.

Besides these things, an Indian gained prestige -not by how much he accumulated, like Europeans -but by how much he gave away. This ties in to my next installment, Indians and property.

If, as an Indian leader, you could not really give orders, what could you do? A couple of 18th century visitors among the Cherokee give us some idea.

This is from Alexander Hewett, in 1779:

“When war is the result of their councils, and the great leader takes the field, any one may refuse to follow him, or may desert him, without incurring any punishment, but by such ignominious conduct he loses his reputation, and forfeits the hopes of distinction and preferment.” 

And this is from James Adair, in 1775:

“…They commend a warrior for having behaved valiantly against the enemy; when he acted cowardly, they introduce the minutest circumstances of the affair, with severe sarcasms which wound deeply. I have known them to strike their delinquents with those sweetened darts, so good naturedly and skillfully, that they would sooner die by torture, than renew their shame by repeating the actions.”

While these examples are from the Southeast, there were a lot of similarities with Plains tribes. In both areas, European travelers who -for one reason or another were present during tribal councils -often made the same observations. Indians talked and talked and talked before they did anything. This is because no one individual had the authority to coerce others to do what he wanted; he had to persuade them.

If someone had a reputation as a good leader, and you chose not to accompany him or take his advice, you would be embarrassed when he won glory and you couldn't share in it. And if your refusal to do as he says results in your side losing the fight.... your friends are going to make fun of you mercilessly.

It was all much, much more complicated than a Big Chief barking out orders.

I am going to close by giving you this LINK to a report in the American State Papers... on pages 289-291 a trader named Richard Finnelson, actually an American spy, witnessed and reported on a Cherokee council (with Shawnee and Creek representatives) in 1792 in which it was decided to attack Nashville. The print is small, but if you read it you'll see many of the things I've described.

INTRODUCING PRAIRIE ROSE PUBLICATIONS! by Cheryl Pierson

Have you ever had a dream that “just happened” –before you could think about it anymore, or try to decide how to accomplish it—it was just…there?

One of the things I’ve always “thought about” was opening a publishing company of my own. That would be impossible because, as everyone who knows me is well aware, I am NOT a “computer guru” at all. So how could I ever do all the things I’d need to do to open a publishing house? The answer is, I couldn’t.

I’d pretty much let those thoughts go until Livia Reasoner and I were talking about a way to be able to get some brand new, very talented authors “out there” for others to read and enjoy, and this topic came up. As it turned out, we both had the same idea—an imprint for women authors, both well-seasoned and fresh talent, to submit historical westerns and historical western romances.

Since so many women read westerns and western historical romances, Livia and I thought this might be a great way to reach even more women authors who write those kinds of stories. What we wanted to do was provide a venue for these authors to shine—to get their work “out there” with a publisher who is interested in helping give them a hand navigating the publishing waters and seeing that they get their fair share of profits for their hard work. With that in mind, our imprint, PRAIRIE ROSE PUBLICATIONS, was born!

Livia and I are so excited to be working together. With her bookkeeping, formatting, and other computer skills and her ability to make such fantastic covers for our books I have no worries. It’s my job to edit, promote and do much of the correspondence (cause I DO love to talk about writing!)
Our first venture will be a Christmas anthology called WISHING FOR A COWBOY. We’ve got a wonderful group of authors lined up for this collection: Phyliss Miranda, Tanya Hanson, Sarah McNeal, our own Jacquie Rogers, Tracy Garrett, reviewer Kathleen Rice Adams, Livia and me. This short story grouping will be western historical romance, in the sweet to sensual category. All the stories mention a certain holiday food, and the story is either built around the food or can just bring it up casually. The recipes will be included in the back of the book, so there'll be lots of great eating! We are going to have a wonderful time with this! WISHING FOR A COWBOY will be available November 1, 2013, in print and digital formats—it’ll make a great Christmas gift for anyone!

If you know of any ladies who might be looking for an honest publisher of westerns and western romances, please send them our way! We appreciate you spreading the word for us.

We have a brand new website here:http://prairierosepublications.yolasite.com/

If you have questions, you are welcome to contact me at fabkat_edit@yahoo.com or Livia at livia@flash.net

Please wish us well on our new publishing adventure, and come on over to the website for more information on the anthology and submissions procedures.

Thanks for all your support!
CHERYL AND LIVIA

Ranger Jim’s Ramblings for September

As promised last month, this post will deal with one of the most shameful incidents in the history of the Texas Rangers, The El Paso Salt War. Even boiling the Salt War down to its very basics will take more than one post, so the I will take the next few months to recite the tale, kind of like a serial in the old pulps.

The Salt War involved politics, intrigue, greed, corruption, unscrupulous businessmen, Mexican peons, a corrupt and eventually disgraced Roman Catholic priest, officials from both the United States and Mexico, local law, and the Texas Rangers. It was marked by misunderstanding, miscalculation, and mistakes all around. Even an execution was botched. It also marks the only time a company of Texas Rangers surrendered to the enemy on Texas soil.

While the actual “Salt War” took place in 1877, the history goes back as far as 1862. In 1877, El Paso, Texas was still a very isolated settlement, separated from the settled parts of the Lone Star State by miles of badlands, bad roads, and no railroad. El Paso is over six hundred miles from Austin or San Antonio, and at that time the nearest settlements of any kind were five hundred or so miles away. In between water was scarce at best, sometimes impossible to find at worst.

The city itself was “divided” into Anglo and Mexican factions. There were about twelve thousand Mexican in the area, about five thousand in Texas and seven thousand on the other side of the Rio Grande. The Anglos numbered only about eighty, and they were fragmented further into English, Germans, Jews, even a few Canadians. Clearly the Anglos were far outnumbered. It was under these circumstances that the Salt War occurred.

The Salt Lakes themselves are a good distance from El Paso, near the Guadalupe Mountains, approximately one hundred ten miles east, or ninety miles from San Elizario, Mexico. El Pasoans first took note of them about 1862. By 1863, the Mexican citizens of El Paso opened a road to the Salt Lakes. The salt was free for anyone who wanted it, was bartered in Mexico, and was an important source of cash for the border population. However, it didn’t take long for Texans from outside the area to attempt to acquire legal possession of the Salt Lakes, monopolize the salt, and collect a fee for each wagonload of salt removed. Samuel Maverick, the same rancher who gave us the term “maverick” for unbranded cattle by refusing to brand his herds, made the first attempt in 1866, but his certificate did not include all of the Lakes. The Mexicans and Texas-Mexicans were soon hauling salt again.

In 1867, another attempt was made. Two of the principals in the company were A.J. Fountain and W.W. Mills. When their certificate of location proved defective, the company broke into two factions, one headed by Fountain, the other by Mills. This split eventually fractured the Republican party in El Paso, which by then was the only strong area left for Republicans, most of the state now firmly Democratic. Into all this mix was added an Italian priest named Antonio Borajo. He intended to make a fortune for himself through the salt trade. When Fountain defied him, Borajo turned to another Italian, Don Luis Cardis. To sum up what happened next, Borajo and Cardis played the Mexicans against the Anglos and the Anglos against each other. This provided the opportunity for one Charles H. Howard, a Democrat and unscrupulous businessman, to step into the breach. He made an arrangement with Borajo and Cardis, they would deliver the Mexican vote and in turn they would become partners with him in the salt trade.  Soon there was a falling out, with most of the Mexicans supporting Cardis, who had the money-crazed Borajo with him, and the Americans and some Mexicans supporting Howard. By now, the Church had gotten wind of Borajo’s perfidy, and ordered him recalled, and reassigned into interior Mexico. However, he refused to leave, and even threatened the bishop with murder when he arrived in San Elizario.

In June, 1977, Howard surveyed his property and posted notices he owned the Salt Lakes and ordered that no salt be taken without paying his company a fee. He had two Mexicans arrested merely on the allegation they were planning on taking salt without paying. When the charges against one were dismissed, but the other was held, the first riot broke out. Judge G.N. Garcia, who had ordered the second Mexican held but refused to issue a requested warrant for Howard’s arrest, was seized by a mob. Howard and several of his cohorts were also captured. Howard was only released upon relinquishing all claims to the Salt Lakes and posting a twelve thousand dollar bond, ordering that he leave El Paso County and never return.

Of course, Howard had no intention of leaving El Paso and the potential profits from salt. By October 7th, he was back in El Paso. Murder would soon follow…

To be continued…
      

Wicked. Wicked. Wicked Wednesday.

James Patterson’s an old advertising writer like me. Wish I made as much money as he does. If I’m not mistaken, he was the first author to have a book advertised on TV. He’s also had other authors writing James Patterson books, under his oversight, early on. The man has done very well.

Every once in a while, I pick up a James Patterson book to sate my appetite for police thrillers. Admittedly I like Alex Cross, so when I saw Alex Cross, Run at the bookstore in the mall at Narita Airport, naturally, I bought it.

Few authors make antagonists as cruel and totally dislikable as James Patterson does. Okay. So I’m not talking Westerns. But the same kind of sicknesses affected people back in the day, we just didn’t know what to call them. They were all lumped into one word. Crazy.

I’m not all that far into Alex Cross, Run, but I already hate the wicked people who are killing without conscience.

He waited outside Dean & Deluca while she ran in for whatever it was women like her deigned to eat these days. He watched while she held up the line at the register, talking obliviously away on her cell phone. Then he crossed the street again, to follow her down the quaintly cobbledstoned alley toward the garage where Darcy’s Bimmer was parked.

Do you get the idea that something weird is going to happen? Me, too.

“Excuse me—Miranda?” he said, half timidly.

“Sorry, no,” Darcy said, dropping her grocery bag and purpose yoga mat into the trunk without even a glance.

“Funny,” he said. “You look so much like her.” When the woman didn’t respond, he stepped in closer, crossing that invisible line of personal space between them. “Almost exactly like her, in fact.”

Now she turned around, the annoyance on her face was clear, even through the Botox.

“Listen,” she said, “I don’t mean to be rude—”

“You never do, Miranda.”

As he came right up on top of her, she put a hand out to deflect him But Dr. Creem was stronger than the old man he appeared to be. Stronger than Darcy Vickers, too. His left hand clamped over her mouth as she tried to call out.

Murder in progress. Dr. Creem, a plastic surgeon, is also a psychopathic killer. He’s lost a huge court case. Now he’s going to get some satisfaction. What’s more, his partner in crime is listening to the murder on the doctor’s open cell phone.

“It’s me, sweetheart,” he whispered. “It’s your husband. And don’t worry. All is forgiven.”

He paused, just long enough to see the surprise come up in her eyes, before he drove the steak knife deep into her abdomen. A scalpel would have been nice, but it seemed best to stay away from the tools of his own trade for the time being.

What a subtle hint that more murder is coming before Dr. Creem is apprehended. This is an excellent lesson on how to make a wicked antagonist really sickening.

He leaned in close, to make sure it would all reach Bergman’s ears over the phone. Then he stabbed again, into the chest this time. And once more down below, opening the femoral artery with a swift, L-shaped motion, so there could be no chance of recovery.

There’s more to the sadistic murder scene, but what makes it doubly wicked is the other sicko listening on the cell phone.

When it was done, Creem closed the trunk and walked away, taking the nearest stairs down toward M Street. He didn’t speak until he was clear of the garage and outside on the sidewalk.

“Joshua?” he said. “Are you there?”

Bergman took a few seconds to answer. “I’m . . . here,” he said. His breath was ragged, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you . . .” Creem grinned, though he was also a little disgusted. “Joshua, were you masturbating?”

You can always turn to James Patterson for wicked people who wreak havoc amongst the unsuspecting populace. When Elmore Leonard urged authors to read, he was perfectly correct. At least when it comes to wickedness.

My own novel, Return to Silver Creek, has a little wicked sadism of its own. The perp of the rape of Garet Havelock’s wife goes without detection for most of the novel. So we get to see what his depravity did to a young wife. It’s not fun, but Laura’s inner strength pulls her through. Still, the first time Garet talks to her after her brutal experience, here’s what she says.

Garet took two more deep breaths, breathing quickly in and out to keep his own torn heart from breaking his composure. Still, his voice cracked when he said her name again. “Laura. Open the door, girl. I’m back. I’m here now. I won’t leave you alone. Nobody’s ever going to hurt you, Laura. I swear. I won’t allow it. I surely won’t. Open the door, honey.”

He stood in silence for a moment, then spoke one more word.

“Please.”

The sobs on the other side of the door were louder now.

“Oh, Garet,” Laura said so softly that only he could hear what she said. “I love you so. But please. Please don’t make me open the door right now. I’m scarred, Garet. I’m not the Laura you love any more. I’m another Laura. One you’ve never even met.”

Garet stood silently, listening to the low voice of his wife through the fortress-thick oak. His heart beat a slow rhythm that pulsed between his eyes and pounded in his brain.

“Garet? Forgive me,” Laura continued. “Forgive me, but I cannot bear the thought of entering that cabin on Silver Creek ever again. And dear, dear Garet. I cannot stand to see you face to face the way I am.”

Wickedness, true wickedness, throws away all the concepts of morality and rightness that we may have and digs up horrible acts and doings that we almost hate to read . . . and yet, we cannot help reading them.

COOKING WILD AND WONDERFUL by L.J. Martin

DEEP PIT'n

Kern County, California, where I was born, the first prune picker in my family who hauled out of the dust bowl in 1936, is the Oklahoma and Texas of California. She lays in the south end of the world's most productive agricultural valley which provides ½ the country's fruits and vegetables, and Kern is the state's number one producer of cattle and sheep. She also, at least until the Bakken field in Montana and No. Dakota was developed, harbored four of the ten most productive oil fields in the U.S.

When I would travel a hundred miles south to Los(t) Angeles, usually in cowboy boots, I would often be asked "Where in the south do you come from, country boy?" A funny question coming from a city which a century and a half before enlisted 3,000 in the Confederacy including one general and six colonels, and only 3 in the Union. My, how times have changed.

A fellow I wrote about, Edward Fitzgerald Beale (see Rush to Destiny), was instrumental in keeping California from going with the south during the "recent unpleasentries," when he convinced Lincoln that if he imposed the draft (conscription) in California that she would bolt and join the south. He didn't, she didn't. Consequently California was the ONLY Union state not to have conscription. Beale was the most unsung hero from the Manifest Destiny period…but I digress. However, if you'd like to learn more about a fellow about whom Kit Carson said, "I can't believe this guy Ned Beale," take a look here: http://amzn.to/RAnz1G

This blog is about cooking, however no cooking is more indigenous to the south than deep pit, and probably none is more delicious.

Kern County has some of the great BBQ traditions which came via Model A's, along with lots of displaced folks, directly from the south during that dust bowl. It vies with Santa Maria in Santa Barbara County for great BBQ and deep pit tradition, so I grew up with it, and am damn glad I did.

That said, how many of us have the time to dig a pit in the back yard, build an oak fire and let it burn down to coals, season then wrap,wrap, wrap a chunk of beef (or whatever) in wet burlap, and drop it in the pit, cover it up, and let it cook overnight…then dig it up, unwrap it, try to keep the ashes, dirt, and rock chips out of it, and only then serve it up.

I am here, riding to your rescue.

In this recipe your oven becomes that deep pit…no shovel required.

8 lb chuck roast
½ cup liquid smoke
1 tblsp ground pepper
1 tblsp sea salt (or any old salt)
1 tblsp mixed spices (I like to use Italian)
1 tsp cayenne pepper
2 cups your favorite BBQ sauce

Mix all the dry seasonings together. Mix the liquid seasonings together. Apply dry seasonings and place seasoned meat atop the first of a generous piece of aluminum foil large enough to wrap the meat. Pour on the liquid seasonings. Wrap, then wrap again in another generous piece of aluminum foil. Then wrap in a brown paper bag, or more than one if one won't cover. Wrap in two more pieces of aluminum foil. You should now have a minimum two layers of foil, a layer of brown paper bag, and two more layers of foil. Here's the deep pit ready for the oven:
< Place on a rack over a tray or pan in the center of a 200 degree oven and slow cook for 12 hours. I've had folks—men, women, and children—average over a pound of meat apiece when they dig into his succulent, fall-apart, deep pit chuck. Don't plan on leftovers. I serve with beans, crusty bread, and a green salad.
See you soon for more from The Kitchen at Wolfpack Ranch and Cooking Wild & Wonderful.

Here's a link to my cookbook: http://amzn.to/VusuAW

Review Roundup: Metamorphosis of a Gunman

Dancing with Dead Men
By James Reasoner
The Book Place, August 2013
$11.99 paperback, ISBN 0615870392
$3.49 Kindle, ASIN B00ELNH852
244 pages

Both sides of a violent mining war declare a truce for the Christmas holiday; nevertheless, notorious hired gun Logan Handley is anything but at peace. An unnatural sixth sense — evidently a job requirement for fictional gunmen — warns Handley something’s not right. He interrupts a deadly plan to steal a fortune in gold, but just as he’s about to foil his adversary’s scheme…

…the genre clichés abandon him — and the novel.

Dancing with Dead Men, James Reasoner’s 300th story, is an extremely unusual, riveting tale. The tropes are all there — hired killers embroiled in a last-man-standing grudge match, beautiful women in peril, goodhearted townspeople, wealthy barons with impoverished souls — but Reasoner twists everything until not a single cliché remains. Handley, a gunman feared throughout the west, is laid low by polio. In vastly changed physical circumstances, he can’t allow his remaining assets — a sharp mind and a diehard spirit — to wither along with his body.

Handley is a bundle of contradictions. He never overtly admits he’s tired of killing other men for a living, but readers feel his fatigue. He’s not given to excusing or rationalizing his life, nor does he waste time wondering if things might have turned out better had he cast different dice after his father’s murder. Though he’s well aware he’ll never again be the man he once was, he doesn’t wallow in fear or self-pity. In fact, every time readers are inclined to feel sorry for Handley, he finds another way to demonstrate he doesn’t need their pity, either.

From start to finish, Handley faces forward, eyes wide open, unflinching, determined to reclaim what physical function he can and adapt to everything else. He’s fascinating to watch: Time and again readers, like guilty voyeurs, spy on heroism of an unexpected sort from a man who considers himself no kind of hero.

There’s traditional western action aplenty, and no little humor, in Dancing with Dead Men, but the true joy of reading lies in watching Handley both embrace and reject the label “cripple.” In doing so, he becomes the man he really was all along.


Kathleen Rice Adams is a Texan, a voracious reader, a professional journalist, and a novelist in training. She received a review copy of Dancing with Dead Men from the author. Her opinions are her own and are neither endorsed nor necessarily supported by Western Fictioneers or individual members of the organization.

The Western Fictioneers Library Presents

Fast Hand by Karl Lassiter

Some men deserved to die like rabid animals. The Thornberrys and their worthless cousin counted among those the world would be better off without. Judge Sebastian Hand sentences the Thornberry gang to the gallows for rape and murder.  But when they escape, the judge trades in his gavel for a gun, and suddenly he's judge, jury, and executioner all in one.

Karl Lassiter is the pen name of prolific author Robert Vardeman who also writes under the pen name Jackson Lowry.

Enemies and Other Western Stories by Ed Gorman

Ed Gorman is one of the most acclaimed Western writers of our time, hailed for his strong sense of time and place and his gritty characterization. ENEMIES AND OTHER WESTERN STORIES collects his novellas "Enemies" and "Anna and the Players", along with the short stories "The Victim" and "The Long Ride Back". This book is 24,000 words of some of the finest Western fiction available today.

Coming soon in trade paperback: The Long Ride Back and Other Western Stories by Ed Gorman

The ultimate Ed Gorman Western short story collection, with the three Western Fictioneers Library collections,  DEAD MAN'S GUN AND OTHER STORIES, A DISGRACE TO THE BADGE AND OTHER WESTERN STORIES, and ENEMIES AND OTHER WESTERN STORIES in one big volume.  Over one hundred thousand words of great fiction.

  nook    nook

SIX SENTENCE SATURDAY

DOUBLE-DEALING AT DIRTVILLE

By CLAY MORE  (Keith Souter)

Double-Dealing at Dirtville was originally published by Robert Hale as a Black Horse Western in 2005 and is soon to be re-published as an eBook by Western Fictioneers

I always have to have a working title in my mind before I can start writing a novel. Sometimes they are just not right and sometimes they are spot on. I was pleased with this one, since I like alliteration and I like the idea of the alliterative western.

I wanted to write a tale about duplicity, so double-dealing just jumped out at me. And shortly afterwards, so too did the town of Dirtville. The title just snapped together and I was off.

You may wonder why there is a picture of me sitting wearing a pith helmet, smoking a pipe? Well, actually, as a doctor, I of course do not smoke! They are just props that I use to get myself into the mood. As writers we are allowed such steaks of eccentricity in our personalities, aren't we? At any rate, it helps me. I have a  stack of hats, a veritable column to the side of me in this photograph (out of shot), one of which I will don when I come across an interesting character. Of course, pith helmets are more in keeping with the British Raj, so this is one that I may wear when I am writing about Doc Logan Munro in the Wolf Creek series. He smokes a pipe, too, although he favours a meerschaum.

But it was another hat, a bowler hat or derby, that I was wearing when I started writing Double-Dealing at Dirtville. All will become clear if you chance to read the book.

What is it about?

Abe Gibson reckoned Dirtville to be as good a place as any in which to live a peaceable life. He had good friends, his saloon was doing well and the town had law. Then, within the space of a few days, everything changed. It all started when Zach Holmes, the town telegrapher, had to relay a couple of strange messages to the sheriff. Shortly afterwards the stranger Ethan Grant was gunned down at one of Abe's card tables. Then a beautiful woman shot herself in the head beside Grant's grave. As all hell broke loose, Abe figured that there had to be one person behind it all. But could he solve the mystery?

PROLOGUE

Walt Burnett was madder than a coyote that had been done out of his dinner by a thieving buzzard. His weather-beaten face was redder than usual as he urged his big black up the saguaro and cardon cactus lined trail from the Rocking WB spread to the Pintos foothills.

            When he finally crested the rise and looked down into the mine camp he scowled. Work had stopped and the two men were sitting by a fire sipping coffee from battered old tin cups and smoking. Water trickling down through the series of rocker cradles was the only evidence of mining activity. Even the mule tied up to the arrastra rock crushing machine was standing still, munching greedily on feed in its nose-bag, while the two men laughed and joked.

            Burnett rode into the camp and immediately started berating the younger of the two men. He reached into his vest and held out a paper in a fist that trembled with rage. The younger man stood and watched contemptuously as the rancher let out a tirade of invective, as the third man hung his head when the rancher suddenly turned his ire on him. Then the younger man began to argue back. From a pocket he held out a bag, opened it and poured glittering dust into the palm of his hand.

            Burnett eyed him for moments, then his anger peaked and he stepped forward and dashed the bag from his hand. Then his hand shot out, lashing the other hard across the face. And with a final curse he turned and made for his horse.

            He had the reins in his left hand and his right on the pommel of  the saddle, ready to put foot in stirrup when the knife thudded into his back, penetrating his heart and propelling him forward against the black’s side. He fell dying as the horse panicked and dashed forward.

            The young man turned as the third man started to yell at him. Then the gun at his side cleared leather and two bullets hammered into the man’s chest, throwing him back to land on the fire.

            As he pulled the knife from Walt Burnett’s dead body he grinned, unaware of the pair of eyes that had watched in horror from the top of the rise. 

Bio:  KEITH SOUTER is a part time doctor, medical journalist and novelist. He is married with three grown-up children and lives within arrow-shot of the ruins of Sandal Castle, the scene of two of his historical crime novels.  He writes books about medicine and health and anything else his agent conjures up a deal for. He writes fiction in four genres - westerns as Clay More, crime as Keith Moray, historicals and YA fiction as Keith Souter.  He also enjoys short fiction, for which he has won prizes, including a 2006 Fish award.

Website:

http://www.keithsouter.co.uk

Blog: THE WEST UIST CHRONICLE

http://west-uist-chronicle.blogspot.co.uk

He also has a story entitled THE OATH,  about Doc Logan Munro in the latest Wolf Creek anthology: HELL ON THE PRAIRIE, published by Western Fictioneers.

And his monthly ebook short story series about The Csebook of Doctor Marcus Quigley is published by High Noon Press. The latest, Vol 5 THE SHOOTER is out now. You may be intrigued by (and want to try) the dice trick that Marcus uses in the story.

All are available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.