The Vigilante #02 - Los Angeles: Detour to a Funeral

Robert Lory's 'Vigilante' series continues with 1975's “Los Angeles: Detour to a Funeral”. This book is set just one week after the events that transpired in the series debut, “New York: An Eye for an Eye”. In that story, protagonist Joe Madden watches helplessly as his wife is assaulted and killed on a late night subway ride. Madden, an ordinary guy, takes to the streets with a kitchen knife to kill low-grade street thugs. That book's end had his employer, a mid-level engineering firm, sending him to the West Coast for another project. Now, Madden takes to L.A.'s night-life in this entertaining follow-up.

The beginning of the book has Madden just finishing up some odds and ends in New York's East Village. He comes to the aid of an older man, disposing of two thugs with the business end of his .38 revolver. In one of the series' many philosophical moments, the rescued man challenges Madden's technique by declaring the thugs were young men that didn't deserve killing. This mirrors some of Madden's own self-doubts in the prior book, magnifying his dismissal of morality in pursuit of instant gratification.

Madden's exploits in Los Angeles are nonsensical, but an unnecessary requirement to introduce a plot. With no logistical planning, Madden simply strolls the back streets looking for any wrongdoers. It's literally the bully-buffet, running the gambit from thieves to pimps. Soon, Madden runs across an abused prostitute and attempts to connect with her. After instigating a reunion between the girl and her parents, Madden targets the brothel and the establishment's madam – an overly obese woman with the obligatory name of Big Mama. The book is ultimately just Madden targeting Big Mama, rescuing whores and stopping an acid rock artist from spreading heroin. 

While certainly elementary and far removed from the more gritty, well-established titles like 'The Executioner', 'Death Merchant' and 'The Butcher', Lory's 'Vigilante' is a likable hero that connects well with the average reader. Fans of the genre can see the rough edges of genre specific boundaries, but it's narrative, as tragic and as flawed as it is, makes for a really enjoyable read. I can't say enough good things about this series thus far. 

Next stop, San Francisco.

The Hitman #01 - Chicago Deathwinds

Norman Winski's 'The Hitman' was a three book series released in 1984 through the Pinnacle publishing house. It's not to be confused with the 1970s series of the same name by Kirby Carr. The series debuted with “Chicago Deathwinds” and introduces us to Dirk Spencer, described as “a hard, mean, cool and sophisticated” vigilante that doesn't embody the traditional definition of hitman - someone paid to kill someone. In this series, Spencer isn't paid anything. He already has more money than Tony Stark and kills the bad guys as a hobby.

For validity, Winski tells us that Spencer is the son of a wealthy entrepreneur and a West Point graduate. He served in Vietnam as a fighting officer and single-handily took out an entire North Vietnamese patrol. Since service, he's personified the rich playboy – yacht, plane, helicopter, penthouse, Lamborghini and the sexual prowess of a bucking stallion. It's only when he learns that his African-American friend has been murdered that he assumes the moniker of “The Hitman”.

In an ode to pulp fiction, Spencer plays the vengeful nighttime warrior while maintaining his daytime activities as spoiled rich kid. He can't let anyone into the inner circle, including the women he loves and his own father. Winski does a great job building in that inner turmoil, brimming over in an emotional argument between Spencer and a best friend. It's this part of the story-line that's honestly the most engaging. The rest is totally bonkers.

Winski writes Spencer as a pulp hero. He's the “Doc Savage” of vigilantes with the absolute best ability to fight, fly, drive and screw. In 184 pages we learn that Spencer is at peak performance and skill-level for everything. He flies his helicopter and planes with Blue Angels talent, races like Mario Andretti and handles guns and missiles like Ironman. He's always able to overcome impossible odds while maintaining a spoiled kid's mentality. In one humorous scene he can't get the bad guy (a racist ultra right-wing nominee for President) so he takes out all of his frustration by ravaging two high-dollar hookers for three hours. So, what's the problem?

Winski could have slimmed this to 140 pages but pads the story with a dull narrative. It takes a strenuous amount of effort to fully digest 7-10 pages of gun descriptions or setting up the time, location, scenery and what Spencer is clothed in. There's a sloth-like pace in the West Virginia portion of the story and I had to take constant breaks...for days. It's permeated with bad dialogue, a cookie-cutter villain and a ridiculous hero that can't be this perfect. There's much better books out there. “The Hitman” is not the shit man.

Ruff Justice #02 - Night of the Apache

One of the lesser-known 1980s western series was 'Ruff Justice,' written by Paul Lederer under the pen-name Warren T. Longtree and published by Signet. It’s centered on a former Army scout named Ruffin T. Justice who continues to do scouting on a freelance basis, which turns out to mean everything from leading Easterners through the wilderness to tracking down renegade Apaches. 

That latter specialty is what gets the wheels turning in the second book of the series, “Night of the Apache”. I had high hopes for this novel for two reasons. First, some of the best series westerns I’ve read have been about dangerous Apaches--- Edge #3 “Apache Death”, Gunn #8 “Apache Arrows” and Jim Steel #3 “Bloody Gold” among them. Secondly, I’d read the first 'Ruff Justice' book last year and found it to be an unexpected gem. “Sudden Thunder” had brisk pacing, muscular western action, effective plot twists and a very unique narrative element (the party Ruff leads through the mountains includes a covered wagon occupied by a catatonic woman in black, sitting in a rocking chair). 

Anyway, “Night of the Apache” was a disappointment. The Apache in question is hard for Ruff to apprehend, but he’s otherwise not that formidable. And he’s not even the focus of the story! The real plot is about a conspiracy to keep supplies from reaching an Indian reservation. That’s basically it. Well, that and a few sex scenes featuring Ruff and the frisky young wife of the local Army fort commander. The author tries to keep things moving, and the final thirty pages are very well done, but it’s hard to work yourself into a reading frenzy when the story has such a “who cares” plot.

You know how sometimes you read a book and you find yourself constantly checking which page you’re on, and calculating how many pages are left before the end? When you’ll be free of it and you can move on to something more interesting? This is that kind of book.

Josh Ford #03 - The Man Who Burned Hell!

Brent Towns' talents as a western aficionado are showcased with his newest novel, a rowdy, rough-and-tumble adventure entitled "The Man Who Burned Hell!". Towns has used a variety of pseudonyms throughout his career, including B.S. Dunn, Jake Henry and Sam Clancy. The Australian author has penned 17 westerns, including a continuation of Ben Bridges' 'Company C' series. “The Man Who Burned Hell!” (using Clancy), is the third installment of the 'Josh Ford' series. Prior books in the series are “Valley of Thunder” and “Even Marshals Hang!”. In talking with the author, Towns advised me that these books were written as stand-alone novels but feature the same protagonist, U.S. Marshal Josh Ford. Fans of the genre know how we systematically sequence, number and label everything, so it only seems fitting that I deem this "Josh Ford #3".

The prologue provides a gritty and violent premonition of the book's fiery ending. In it, the town of Serenity has destructively transformed into a burning ruin. There's very little dialogue in this opening sequence except one remarkable question from U.S. Marshal Bass Reeves to his son Josh Ford - “What the Hell have you done?” Obviously, “The Man Who Burned Hell!” did exactly that, but how did Serenity become Hell?

Reeves receives word that Serenity has been taken over by a cartel of cutthroats. The alliance is led by saloons owner Ike Cordis and includes local mine boss Justus Harper and whorehouse operator Camilla. Reeves, busy with his own town's escalating violence, sends his son Ford to Serenity to investigate. Solo, Ford plans to end the cartel and liberate the town from it's oppressors. 

As Ford starts to acquaint himself with Serenity, a loose synopsis of his background is formed. Reeves left both Ford and his mother to join the war. After Reeves fails to return in a timely fashion, Ford rides out to kill his father for abandoning them. In an untold sequence of events, Ford somehow joined Reeves as a U.S. Marshal. I don't sense any hostility between the two, so perhaps it just wasn't a developed story that needed telling. That same approach is taken with Ford and Camilla. They were former lovers, and at some point in their heated relationship Ford was forced to kill Camilla's brother. 

In talking with Towns, he advised me these events aren't included or explained in further detail in the two prior books. So, it stands to reason that his “stand-alone” approach is truly that. Nothing more, nothing less. While these books are connected with the same central character, they don't follow any sort of strict continuance. 

Towns' writing is reminiscent of William W. Johnstone's early 'Smoke Jensen' tales. It's blunt, well-told and should please fans of the 50s and 60s television western formula. The author's love of that time period is conveyed perfectly – well defined heroes and villains with clear and concise problems. Ford's fight is our fight, the proverbial good versus evil struggle that all of us can relate too. The action comes in waves, sequencing a chain of events that ultimately comes full circle to the book's descriptive post-destruction prologue. It's a fitting conclusion to the “downfall of the bully” narrative.

You can get a copy through the publisher, Black Horse, or Amazon.

Searching For The D.C. Man: A Paperback Warrior Investigation

Was it possible that a Roman Catholic priest was secretly writing sexy spy novels on the side under a fake name during the 1970s? The search for answers brought me down a wormhole to one of the strangest – and most satisfying – searches for authorship that I’ve ever encountered.

In 1974 and 1975, Berkley Medallion released four books in a Men’s Adventure series called The D.C. Man by James P. Cody. The series hero is Brian Peterson, a former military intelligence operative who becomes a D.C. lobbyist. After a personal tragedy, his lobbying business floundered, and he reinvented himself as a gun-toting troubleshooter for elected officials with sensitive problems. If you need someone to stick a gun in the mouth of a blackmailer targeting a Senator, Brian’s your man. If a subcommittee discreetly needs to know who is leaking secrets to foreign powers, give Brian a call. The books have a nice balance of political intrigue, hard-boiled detective work, and sexy espionage action. 

When reading The D.C. Man paperbacks, the reader’s first impression is that the books are extremely well written. The first-person narration flows smoothly and conversationally, and Brian’s observations about life inside the beltway are astute and mature. They read more like Donald Hamilton’s early Matt Helm novels than, say, a disposable Nick Carter: Killmaster book. Although Berkley packaged and sold these short novels as cheap James Bond knock-offs, it’s clear that the author took real care in crafting these stories. They weren’t rush jobs written for a quick paycheck.

All of which begs the question: Who the heck was James P. Cody?

Google and Amazon searches weren’t much help initially. There was no indication that Cody wrote anything else. The D.C. Man series also never received much coverage from the various go-to blogs or Facebook groups that obsess over vintage Men’s Adventure fiction. The series just wasn’t commercially successful enough to garner much love or nostalgia 40+ years later. 

As with many mysteries, the answer of authorship was right under my nose: the copyright page of The D.C. Man paperbacks credits Peter T. Rohrbach as the writer. This was also confirmed by an entry in the 1974 Catalog of Copyright Entries: Cody was a pseudonym, and Rohrbach was the author.

In that case, who the heck was Peter T. Rohrbach?

The confusion intensified with a simple search for the name “Peter T. Rohrbach” on Amazon. That search revealed a handful of academic books about historical Roman Catholic figures and religious orders written by someone named “Peter Thomas Rohrbach.” Books such as Conversations With Christ and Journey to Carith stood in sharp contrast to the breezy covers on The D.C. Man books by James P. Cody. However, it wasn’t impossible to imagine a non-fiction writer trying to make a few extra bucks by tossing off some cheapo spy novels during the heyday of the espionage paperback original.

However, the “About the Author” in Conversations with Christ lead me to conclude that the two Rohrbachs were most likely different people:

The Rev. Father Peter Thomas Rohrbach, O.C.D., is a Carmelite priest and author. Born in 1926 and based in Washington, D.C., he has also served as an editor for the Catholic quarterly Spiritual Life. His Conversation with Christ, dedicated to our Lady of Mount Carmel, was first published in 1956 by Fides Publisher, Illinois, with the Nihil Obstat and Imprimatur. Father Rohrbach's work was also printed by TAN in 2010.

There’s a lot to unpack in this short bio. The first thing was that the Rohrbach who wrote the religious books was, in fact, a Catholic priest of the Carmelite Order whose specialty is cloistered and contemplative prayer. Apparently, Father Rohrbach was a big deal in the world of Catholic academic scholarship as receiving a Nihil Obstat and Imprimatur for a book is tantamount to the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval from the Vatican. It’s like a Super Bowl ring for a Catholic author.

I telephoned the Carmelite rectory in Washington, D.C. on the off chance that Father Rohrbach may still be alive at age 91. The priest who answered the phone remembered Father Rohrbach and informed me that he had died several years ago. The priest was kind but informed me that no one remained whose memories of Father Rohrbach would be vivid enough to answer my questions. I dashed off an email to the Carmelites’ publishing arm on the off chance that someone there might have a lead for me.

I also spoke to author and publisher Lee Goldberg, who is no stranger to pseudonyms in adventure fiction. Goldberg began his career in the 1980s writing the .357 Vigilante series under the name Ian Ludlow and currently reprints vintage paperbacks under his Brash Books publishing arm. Goldberg was also a fan of The D.C. Man series. “I looked at these three years ago as possible Brash reprints and put our P.I. on it to find out who now had the rights. I don’t think she got any farther than you did before I had her stop and look into a different author, and we never circled back.”

A search of the 1980 edition of Writers Directory and the 2004 edition of International Who’s Who of Authors and Writers provided both clarity and confusion. The brief biographies confirmed that Peter Thomas Rohrbach also wrote as James P. Cody and was born in 1926. Both the religious books and The D.C. Man books are credited to Rohrbach in the bibliographies. The Who’s Who listing indicates that Rohrbach married a woman named Sheila Sheehan in September 1970, and neither directory mentioned Rohrbach being a Catholic priest. While it’s not completely impossible for a Catholic priest to have a wife and kids at some point, it is exceedingly rare. 

The 1980 Writers Directory listed a street address for Rohrbach in suburban Washington, D.C., and some online reverse directory searches located his wife and a daughter named Sarah, who was born in 1974 – the year of The D.C. Man’s debut. Some further searches led me to Sarah’s cell phone number, and I promptly left her a rambling voicemail asking her to call me back.

Two lucky breaks happened almost simultaneously: Sarah called me back, and a monk named Brother Bryan from the Carmelite publishing arm responded to my email. Together, they provided a portrait of the two lives of Father Peter T. Rohrbach, also known as espionage author, James P. Cody. 

First, the solution to the mystery of the seemingly married priest: Father Rohrbach left the priesthood in 1966 at the age of 40. He married Sheila in 1970, and she gave birth to Sarah a few years later. 

The pseudonym of James P. Cody has an interesting origin story. Rohrbach was actually born with the name James P. Cody, after his own father. His parents died, and young James was adopted by the Rohrbach family. “So James Cody legally changed his name to James Rohrbach,” Sarah explained. “He chose the name Peter Thomas while in the priesthood. He said it was common for priests to pick a new name.”

“He was a New York City boy to the core. He used to play stickball in the streets,” Brother Bryan recalled.  He joined the Carmelites in 1948 and was ordained as a priest in 1952. By the 1960s, Father Rohrbach found himself the “superior” of a tight group of 20 Carmelite priests and monks living, praying, and working in a Washington, D.C. rectory. 

From my dialogue with Brother Bryan, I got the feeling that Father Rohrbach was fun-loving – and maybe a tad rebellious – compared to the solemn and silent Carmelite stereotype. “One very difficult day, he knocked on my door very late at night and said ‘Let’s go to a movie.’ We did. It was “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”, and the only seats at that popular show were in the first row, up front. So there we were, almost on our backs looking up at Audrey Hepburn!”

I broached the subject of Father Rohrbach’s separation from the priesthood gingerly with Brother Bryan, braced for a salacious story of a man, a woman, and forbidden love - something like The Thorn Birds. “It is not for me to conjecture,” he said. “All of us live by our decisions.” Apparently, it was a cordial separation, and Rohrbach kept in touch with his Carmelite friends long after he left the priesthood. His history of the Order, Journey to Carith, was released by the Carmelite’s publishing imprint in 1966, the same year he departed the rectory. “He left one caveat: do not change the text,” Brother Bryan said. “He seemed to love his writing.”

When I asked Sarah about her father leaving the priesthood behind, she simply said, “He told me he just wanted the intellectual freedom to write.” I found this answer interesting since the Carmelites clearly had no problem with Father Rohrbach cranking out intellectually-rigorous books about prayer and the lives of saints. Maybe he wanted to write about other things (i.e. sexy spy novels) but knew that this wouldn’t fly with the Carmelite Mothership.

Brother Bryan seemed to share my theory. “We all have our fatal attractions,” he said. “I think his was that he wanted to be a famous novelist.”

Whatever his reasons, Rohrbach quickly fell into a normal secular life. He married in 1970 and took a job teaching American History. He continued to edit a prestigious Catholic quarterly publication for years following his departure from the contemplative life. Sarah’s mother remembers Rohrbach writing The D.C. Man books when Sarah was a baby in 1974.

The D.C. Man books were published without much fanfare, and it doesn’t appear that he ever returned to genre fiction. I told Sarah that I was hoping to uncover a story about a Roman Catholic priest secretly writing sexy spy novels under a fake name, but the real story was far more complex. “I still think that may be the truth, though,” Sarah said. “He was likely at least working on them.”

Rohrbach rarely spoke to his family about The D.C. Man. The colorful paperbacks must have stuck out like sore thumbs as they sat on his home office bookshelf among the 16 books he wrote before his 2004 death. He went on to write non-fiction books about stagecoach travel and the Wright brothers, but he never returned to Men’s Adventure fiction. 

Early in The D.C. Man #1: Top Secret Kill, our hero Brian Peterson recounts his own personal trauma that informed his life thereafter. His wife and young daughter were killed in an auto accident by two teenagers hot-rodding down the street. The accident broke Brian’s spirit and The D.C. Man series can be seen as a larger story of Brian trying to recover from this trauma and regain his own humanity from the grip of intense grief. As an author, Rohrbach could have chosen any life-changing trauma he wanted for Brian, but instead he chose the loss of a wife and daughter. 

Bear in mind that this novel was written and released the same year as the birth of his own daughter to a wife that he was only able to marry because he was brave enough to deny one set of vows to take on another. It’s almost as if Rohrbach included this backstory as a message to a future Sheila and Sarah to tell them how much he loved them. That they were everything to him. That he would be lost without them.

Sarah told me that she’s only read one of The D.C. Man books, and I encouraged her to read the other novels in the series. I told her that her father really was a fine writer.

“Yes,” she said, “He was lovely with words.” 

Update

Thanks to the relentless efforts of Paperback Warrior's Tom Simon, a retired F.B.I. agent, the entire four-book series of The D.C. Man novels have been published in new editions courtesy of Brash Books. The series debut, Top Secret Kill, features an introduction by Tom Simon. You can obtain the books HERE.

The D.C. Man #01 - Top Secret Kill

The four books of The D.C. Man series were released in 1974 and 1975, a few years after the author Peter Rohrbach (writing as James Cody) departed his previous life as a Roman Catholic priest and pursued writing as a career. The series wasn’t a great commercial success, and he never returned to the Men’s Adventure genre - a particular shame because the series introduction, Top Secret Kill, was a real gem of a debut. Thankfully, the whole series has been reprinted by Brash Books in new editions with an introduction by yours truly.

Narrator Brian Peterson is a D.C. lobbyist recovering from the emotional toll of his family’s death in a car accident. As a result of his personal tragedy, his lobbying business went into the toilet, and he now earns money as a fix-it man for Congressmen to bury or repair their personal calamities. The premise is very similar to the modern hit ABC TV show, Scandal.

In this novel, Peterson is engaged by a congressional subcommittee to quietly determine who might be leaking documents to hostile European interests. It’s an important gig for Peterson because it will render his business solvent again following the long-term lack of revenue during his mourning period. To solve the mystery, Peterson employs a vast network of contacts, journalists, and informants to help him uncover the leaker. 

The action is generally localized to the Washington, D.C. area with an investigative jaunt to Delaware to run down a promising lead. For most of the book, it reads like a well-written private-eye novel as Peterson conducts a logical investigation. Along the way, he meets a sexy German babe, and nature follows its course - but is there more to her than meets the eye?

The handful of action sequences are violent and well-written. The author isn’t afraid to let the lead fly and spill a lot of blood when appropriate. But it’s the brutal, climactic action sequence at the end that will stay with the reader long after this 190 page novel is completed. It’s almost as if Rohrbach/Cody wanted to prove to himself that he could write action sequences of extreme violence despite his recent day job as a man of peace.

Top Secret Kill was an excellent story of political intrigue with crisp writing and a fat-free plot. It serves as a great introduction to a complex and nuanced action hero who deserved a lot more adventures than the four that were published. A strong recommendation for this debut novel is a no-brainer. 

Buy a copy of the book HERE.

Casca #04 - Panzer Soldier

Scripture tells us that while Jesus hung on the cross, slowly dying, one of the Roman soldiers pierced his side with a lance. That soldier is the subject of Barry Sadler’s remarkable action/adventure series. The gospel, according to Sadler, relates that the soldier was surly and indifferent, unmoved by the suffering of Jesus (or anyone else for that matter), whereupon Jesus looked into his eyes and said, “As you are, so shall you remain, until I come again.”

And since that moment, Casca Rufio Longinus has remained just as he was, never aging, never dying. He wanders restlessly from place to place, even spanning the world. While from time to time he finds himself enslaved, imprisoned or otherwise distracted from his calling, he’s a born soldier and his destiny is to fight in one war after another, endlessly, until the Second Coming. Along the way, his various injuries heal themselves miraculously but he’s susceptible to a great deal of physical and emotional suffering.

For the most part he keeps his condition a secret. But in the debut novel, “The Eternal Warrior”, an American army doctor in Vietnam discovers an ancient bronze arrowhead embedded in the body of an unconscious soldier (guess who!), and soon we learn of Casca’s early life and adventures. It’s a phenomenal book.

The second novel, “God of Death”, takes him from the Barbarian lands beyond the Empire to the realm of the Vikings, then across the sea to the Americas. Most of the book deals with the land of the Olmecs, where human sacrifice is practiced and an epic clash of civilizations is underway. Maybe I’m just Euro-centric, but for me ancient Mexico was one of the less-compelling settings in the Casca saga.

The third book, “The War Lord”, is somewhat better. Casca manages to sail back to European waters, where he becomes something of a pirate for a time before wandering east--- as in Far East, all the way to China. On the long journey, he first encounters a mysterious Brotherhood which knows all about him, despises him, and tries to hold him captive. Arriving in China, he becomes a prized warrior in the service of the Emperor.

In the fourth book, “Panzer Soldier”, the saga leaps forward about 1500 years, where we find Casca going by the name Carl Langer, leading a four-man German tank crew on the Russian front in WWII. For the first time in the series, a novel confines itself to one conflict, and Casca only goes where the war takes him. 

Collectors know that this is one of the more expensive, harder-to-find books in the series. Maybe that’s because of the subject matter, but I’d like to think it’s because the novel is so outstanding. As literature, “The Eternal Warrior” is a bit stronger overall, but “Panzer Soldier” is unmatched in its visceral power. It’s easily the grimmest, grittiest book in the series thus far. The battle action is breathtaking, but the novel’s real strength is in the context of those scenes. Every aspect of a panzer soldier’s life is examined, from the hunger, exhaustion and lice to the gnawing gradual realization that defeat is inevitable, Germany is doomed, and that one’s own death in battle is nearly as certain (certain for everyone but Casca, that is). 

There are a few lighter interludes scattered about, but for the most part the book is almost as much a grueling horror story as a war novel. Sometimes we can only wonder where the line between fiction and non-fiction really lies, as the book is full of disturbing vignettes with the ring of truth to them--- from the German civilian who is not only raped and murdered but nailed to the door of her barn, to the soldiers who survive an overwhelming enemy bombardment but are driven out of their minds by the experience, bleeding from their ears and noses. The atmosphere of hopelessness and dread only intensifies as Casca and his crew are pushed ever westward, as the Germans are forced to retreat all the way to Berlin.

And that’s when things begin to unravel a little. Sadler knows we’re hoping that Casca will meet certain notable figures from history, and that’s accomplished by bending the narrative to accommodate a metaphysical angle. The Brotherhood makes an unlikely appearance and the story wobbles for awhile until Casca resumes fighting the Russians. I can’t describe this last quarter of the book without giving away too much. It’s good, but it’s a little less successful than what came before. 

Don’t let that deter you from seeking out this book, though. Overall, “Panzer Soldier” is a riveting, powerful novel, and a key entry in an essential series.  

Tractor Girl

In the 1950s and beyond, Fawcett Gold Medal produced some of the most tightly-wound 180-page crime novels by authors including Harry Whittington, Gil Brewer, Dan Marlowe, and Day Keene. The books often starred ambitious criminals, sexy femme fatales, double-crosses, and twist endings.

In 2011, James Reasoner published his own homage to the Gold Medal crime novels of the 1950s, “Tractor Girl”.

A small-time hood is left for dead by the local gangsters on the side of a Texas road. He is rescued and brought home by a sexy farmer's daughter who begins nursing him back to health. As we learn more about the girl and her family's secrets, the tension mounts. Criminal opportunities arise, double-crosses happen, and 1950s-style eroticism abounds. The first-person narrative is hard-boiled. The characters are vivid, and the plot is tightly-wound.

This is a terrific short novel that would have been a natural fit in the Gold Medal collection. The upside is that we can enjoy it today for a couple bucks on Kindle or ordering a hard-copy online. Strongest recommendation, here. I can't get enough of this crime sub-genre, and I'm glad guys like Reasoner are keeping it alive. 

Marilyn K.

Stark House has reprinted two Lionel White crime novels in one volume. This is a review of “Marilyn K.”, the first novel in the collection. “Marilyn K.” is a tight little 1960 crime thriller the man who penned the novel “Clean Break”, later adapted into Stanley Kubrick's film “The Killing” (which, in turn, later inspired Quentin Tarantino's “Reservoir Dogs”). “Marilyn K.” is told in a first-person, conversational style and is an easy read. Our hero is Sam Russell, an ex-Marine who stops his car to pick up a beautiful woman on the side of the road (Marilyn K.) along with a suitcase full of cash. Because this is a Lionel White book, you can be safe to assume that complications arise inhibiting Russell's eventual possession of both the girl and the cash. Plenty of man-on-the-run action, hot sex and bloody violence unfolds. A fairly-easy-to-spot twist ending resolves the story before anything becomes tedious. In short, a great read from an unappreciated master of the genre. To purchase this novel, including White's "The House Next Door", click here.

The Rat Bastards 01 - Hit the Beach!

'The Rat Bastards' was a 16-book run of World War Two action-adventure novels. It was written by Len Levinson under house name John Mackie (one of his 22 pseudonyms) and follows his first, similar series, 'The Sergeant'. Where 'The Sergeant' was set in Europe, this series is set in the South Pacific. 

The first book in the 'Rat Bastards' series, “Hit the Beach!”, released by Jove in 1983, introduces its characters as they arrive at Guadalcanal for what will be an incredible ordeal of desperate hand-to-hand combat. The events in the book span only a couple of days, but the intensity of the fighting is conveyed extremely well by the author, who also has a gift for rendering realistic dialogue. Our Rat Bastards platoon kills a staggering number of Japanese soldiers, far more than a critical reader can really accept, but that goes with the territory.

And what bloody territory it is! 

The magnitude of gory violence here makes Edge look like Gene Autry, but it’s blended with some well-crafted suspense and atmosphere too. Len Levinson is clearly right up there with Don Pendleton for creating powerful, visceral pulp. Outstanding. 

The entire series is available as ebooks through Amazon (along with 'The Sergeant' series). The author does recommend reading them in order to preserve the story.

Where Did Charity Go?

Some thugs visit Hollywood fix-it man Rick Holman and warn him to to decline his next engagement. Of course he doesn't, and Rick finds himself in the middle of a kidnapping plot involving a famous actor's daughter with the backdrop of a backstabbing family feud. Was it a real kidnapping? A publicity stunt? It's Rick's job to figure it all out in this short, sexy 126-page novel from 1970. The writing is good, the dialogue is crisp, the women are beautiful and the sex scenes are sexy (but not graphic). But the solution to the novel's ultimate question was a bit of a convoluted mess for serious mystery purists. Then again, mystery purists don't turn to Carter Brown as a top-shelf talent. For readers seeking a fast-moving, sexy Hollywood story that you can knock out in a few hours, this was a fun read. Recommended.

Last Ranger #09 - The Damned Disciples

Jan Stacy's (house name Craig Sargent) 'The Last Ranger' series was nearly finished by September of 1988. The ten-book series reached it's conclusion with the swansong “Is This the End?” in January, 1989. Stacy would later pass away the same year from the AIDS virus, thus being able to conclude this series with definitive closure (everyone dead?) before his death. It's hard to fathom how far 'The Last Ranger' would have ran in good health considering lack of creativity and the genre's gradual demise in the 90s. We'll never know, but based on this turd-cake...the end was certainly near.

“The Damned Disciples” is a rudimentary example of how limited this “post-nuke” sub-genre can be. We can debate for days on the merits of 'Survivalist', 'Doomsday Warrior' and 'Endworld', but at some point even the most faithful would agree it was a bit of drivel in the droves. This ninth installment of 'The Last Ranger' is like an unfunny “Seinfield” episode – its literally about nothing, yet can't scrape together anything resembling entertainment. It's a slow burn with a lifeless character placed in illogical situations. Yet, I should sympathize with the series' mythology – it's the end of the world and anything goes...including a plot.

The book's opening suggests there's robed monks conducting moonlit, midnight pagan rituals in Colorado. A young woman is pushed into an occupied casket and the lid slams. Fast forward to our ranger Martin Stone tucked away in his mountain fortress performing leg surgery on himself. He receives a transmission that someone has April (someone always has April) and they are practicing devious desires. Stone, with no direction and a broken leg, drives his hog to  some vile village named La Junta. 

Stone finds that La Junta residents have been forced into something called Cult of the Perfect Aura by the great leader Guru Yasgar and the Transformer. It turns out Guru is providing all of his minions a special elixir called Golden Nectar. It's like 'Doc Savage' meets The Branch Davidians meets those Scientology quacks. There's some elephants thrown in, a labor camp and absolutely zero interest for anyone involved – it's what I refer to as the Men's Warehouse for Pathetic Plots. Somewhere, in the dull simplicity, Stone becomes drugged and forced to stir the Golden Nectar for weeks. April is here as the drugged, whipping wench/foreman, along with man's best enemy, a drugged, Stone-hating Excalibur (the series mascot and second protagonist behind Stone). There's a surprise cameo of a prior villain...but you have to torture yourself to find who. 

I'd speculate that this book is a subtext of the author's own struggles near the end. It would be fair to think of the Golden Nectar, Stone's drug dependence and constant stirring as perhaps symbolic of Stacy's prescription torment, the endless cycle of day in and day out drug dependence. Considering timing of the release, his death from AIDS and the series' last book asking “Is This the End?”, it wouldn't be a far-reaching theory. Regardless of what inspired the material, it's simply a dull read that offers very little character development (I suppose what's the point), new ideas or any momentous change in series or character. Pass...for God's sake pass.

.357 Vigilante #01 - .357 Vigilante

There’s a lot to like in the eponymous-titled debut of the '.357 Vigilante' series (Lee Goldberg as Ian Ludlow), and the story drew me in pretty quickly. A cop in Los Angeles is cornered by a street gang which burns him to death. The guilty parties beat the rap and walk out of the courtroom smirking, and the cop’s grieving son goes into vigilante mode to bring them down, one by one.

All of this material is very good. The author moves the story along and makes it seem fresher than it really is. Published in 1985, it was written two or three years earlier, and I enjoyed the scattered pop-culture references which brought the story’s setting to life (how often do you see a novel that mentions X and Oingo Boingo?). The hero’s confrontations with the surly gang members are taut and exciting, and each take-down is bloodier and more difficult than the last. Meanwhile, the police are rapidly figuring out the mysterious vigilante’s identity and they’re closing in. To them, he’s just another murderer.

And then, in the final quarter of the novel, it all goes south. Our hero, Brett Macklin, has been presented as an ordinary guy, pushed by grief and anger into taking the law into his own hands. The story really worked for me on that level, but just as Macklin completes his task, we learn that a ridiculously unlikely conspiracy has been going on. An evil televangelist and a crooked politician have been using street gangs to kill people and Macklin has gotten too close to the truth. He needs to be eliminated, which leads to an epic showdown including explosions, torture, narrow escapes, Macklin hanging from the underside of an elevator car and a helicopter, a high-speed chase through Hollywood and a death by wood-chipper. 

In other words, suddenly we’re in a silly ‘80s Mack Bolan adventure and our Everyman hero is no longer an ordinary guy with normal limitations and vulnerabilities. That’s where the novel lost me. 

Yes, the book had some flaws even before this point. It was a little long and wordy for such a simple plot and the author (still a college student at the time) was often trying too hard to turn a colorful phrase. But until that left turn, the story was compelling and believable. 

You hate to see your team blow a lead and lose the game in the final quarter, and that’s how I felt about “.357 Vigilante”.

Angel's Flight

Before his 2010 death, Lou Cameron was the author of over 300 genre novels. He was a post-war pulpster who specialized in tawdry action stories with tightly-wound plots. Think 'Longarm'. Think 'Renegade'. Lou Cameron knew his way around a standard story arc. This fact is what makes Cameron’s 1960 debut novel, “Angel’s Flight”, such a delightful curiosity. Although it was released as a Gold Medal crime novel - and was recently re-released by Black Gat Books - the story captures the tone and scope of literary fiction. Yes, it seems Lou Cameron started out aspiring to be serious author writing a serious book. And it worked.

Although “Angel’s Flight” is a lean 233 pages, the story spans about 17 years time between 1939 and 1956 - from the jazzy Great Depression to the dawn of rock-n-roll. Our guide through this era is our narrator, an honest and earnest journeyman jazzman named Ben Parker. Ben’s narration is written in a be-bop jazz lingo that was later adopted by James Ellroy in “American Tabloid” and “The Cold Six Thousand”. The prose sings throughout the readable novel.

Parker’s foil is the vapid and conniving fellow jazzman, Johnny Angel, whose ambition for success well outpaces his musical talent. Like many of the colorful characters in Parker’s life, Angel comes and goes. He starts out as an irritant and evolves into an existential threat.

Angel’s Flight is a real masterpiece of storytelling that holds your attention even though there isn’t much of a standard story arc. It feels like the literary equivalent of a Martin Scorsese movie - like “Goodfellas” or “Wolf of Wall Street” - that tracks a single character through the ups and downs of a remarkable life. This storytelling approach is surprising coming from Lou Cameron, whose body of work relied on an economical approach to plotting. Cameron’s knack for creating colorful characters is on high-display, and readers will come to adore Ben Parker and the women and friends who float in and out of his life.

Although the novel has murders, mafia, payola and betrayals, it’s doesn’t feel like a normal Gold Medal crime novel. It feels more weighty and significant - like a story of the jazz age that needed to be preserved because it captured an important era in America’s cultural history. To that end, Black Gat Books has done America a real favor by preserving this piece of important art.

Highly recommended.

Merrick

Fans of the Parker heist novels of Richard Stark (Donald Westlake) will enjoy this old-west short story by Utah author Ben Boulden. The character of Merrick is analogous to Stark's Parker - a man on a thievery crew planning and executing an elaborate heist. In this case, a mobile payroll theft. Of course, things go sideways and gun-play action ensues. The old-west universe the author creates is as fascinating as the propulsive plot. Crime is regulated, overseen, and controlled by a religious sect who exercises a modicum of control over the turf. It's an old-west we haven't seen before in fiction and it re-writes the rules in the same way the John Wick movies did with contemporary organized crime. This reasonably short story hopefully will be followed by novel-length heist tales starring Merrick. The Parker novels were great, and this old-west pastiche is a welcome addition to the anti-hero sub-genre.

Roadblaster #03 - Blood Ride

I am requesting that this book be enshrined into the Library of Congress. Paul Hofrichter, aka He Who Creates the Horror, should be commended for not only this novel, but the trilogy of trophies known as the ‘Roadblaster’ series. It’s truly extraordinary, a spectacle of grand design. Those of you familiar with my reviews of this novel’s predecessors, “Hell Ride” and “Death Ride”, understand just how low I place this author on the rungs descending into that scorching, skin-searing abyss known as Hell. “Blood Ride” far surpasses the legendary status of the prior books and lowers to the ranks of what can only be deemed as the new "worst piece of fiction ever created". It’s an utter abomination worthy of high praise and endless critique at world-renowned libraries like the Reading Room of the British Museum and The Vatican. I’d like great Monasteries like Saint Gall and Benedictine to marvel over its printed pages for centuries to come.

Paul Hofrichter, the horror…the absolute horror.

Stack, our “Roadblaster”, begins this final chapter of spiraling doom with a visit with a biker gang aptly titled The Harley Davidson Club. They request that he accompany them across the Golden Gate Bridge to locate two sisters of a deceased gang member. It’s only four days after the nuclear bombs annihilated America and Stack is concerned about his parents, kids and loving wife back in New York. Rather than mourn the potential melting of his entire family, he graciously accepts the offer. At one point, the narrator explains that Stack wants the military to fly him – a New York city cab driver by trade – to New York so he can check on his loved ones. He clarifies to a biker that he can’t drive his van across the US for fear of depleting his fuel or experiencing engine failure. He dismisses the fact that cars are strewn everywhere, and that fuel should be in abundance considering the nukes just fell and people are still driving. But, instead of vanning cross-country, he’s walking across the cables to a stranger’s house to locate two sisters that are probably dead. The walk…takes 60 pages.

Mercifully, Stack reaches the other side, and, instead of searching the ruins of the house, he sits down for lunch. Later, an elderly man swings by hoping that Stack will offer his tuna. Stack doesn’t and the whole chapter is just awkwardly dedicated to…lunch. Food is brought up again in the next chapter as Stack and the group disregard the importance of searching for bodies and decide a night at the beach frolicking and eating crabs is an important use of precious time. In 12-pages of utter nonsense, Hofrichter explains that it’s a cruelty to cook crabs while they are alive. He goes on for pages and pages of how barbaric it is to eat crabs and lobsters boiled or broiled. At one point, the group can’t properly boil the crabs, so they fetch a pot of dirty, radioactive seawater to use. After crabs, an aimless Stack gets invited by a female colleague to engage in anal sex (because she doesn’t want to become pregnant). Stack, consistently demanding more than anyone in this post-apocalypse nightmare, says it physically hurts too much. The female, in her infinite wisdom, requests he run to the water and fetch another cup of dirty, radioactive seawater and pour that on his penis and reenter. I barely have words.

Somewhere, around page 160ish, Stack is thinking about the abandoned B-52 in the mountains. If you will recall, the first book discussed the bomber and a motorcycle gang in demand for a B-52. The stereotypical gang, The Bloodsuckers, are still running around wanting this plane so they can rule California, eat pizza and commit intercourse with the state’s residents. They are big on intercourse. So, they remain in the book and the author spends time introducing us to them in long backstories with absolutely no point or story development. One character he describes as angry because of his “prison experience”. Apparently, this guy could only masturbate on his cot with his knees bent. He wanted to do it lying completely flat but couldn’t due to the gay prisoners seeing him. This experience has made him angry with the world and only a B-52 bomber can expel that pent-up sexual frustration. There are pages of this, so much that with only 20-pages remaining the plot finally rears its ugly head.

Stack wants to use a Soda Truck (let’s call it “Shasta”) to transport the missiles and bombs from the plane’s wings and undercarriage. He has no tools for this and the weapons weigh over 500-pounds. Once he places them on Shasta, he will then drive them to a river, load them on canoes and float them into an underwater cave. The reason? He feels if they are left in the sun for an extended period they will heat, creating an explosion. Thus, placing them on water in an underground cave resolves this potential environmental disaster. The Bloodsuckers appear. Stack and his group shoot at them. The Bloodsuckers go back home. Telos. The End.

At the 160th page of this 190-page book…we still don’t have purpose, planning or anything remotely resembling a damn plot or what is promised to us on the cover. At the end, we still don’t. We deserved that cloak and smoking CAR-15 and we damn sure deserved that painted motorcycle-outlaw cave shit at the bottom. Hofrichter, you thief extraordinaire, you baited and hooked us again only to troll us at the deepest depths like some slimy, trash eating carp. I’m gutted, defeated and scorned…but in your unskillful brilliance you have miraculously provoked me to tell others about this literary monstrosity. Somehow, your ‘Roadblaster’ atrocities will live eternally, carrying on long after I’ve departed this world. For that, I applaud your half-assed effort and bow to your coveted immortality.

White Squaw #02 - Boomtown Bust

Of all the series released during the golden age of action/adventure paperbacks, 'White Squaw' is one of the most sordid. It's written by Mark K. Roberts as house name E.J. Hunter. The premise is that a young woman roams the Old West on a mission of vengeance against the outlaw gang that had traded her to the Sioux as a teen. There she was treated as a slave before being assigned to a disgusting and sexually demanding old man as his bride. 

That’s just for starters. Plenty of unsavory things happen in the debut novel, “Sioux Wildfire”, but the follow-up is simply jaw-dropping. In “Boomtown Bust”, that outlaw gang takes over a Colorado town, subduing the locals with a great deal of brutality. Our heroine, Rebecca, rides in and kills several of the owlhoots before she’s captured and forced into prostitution and opium addiction in the local brothel. She’s also raped by the sadistic whip-wielding lesbian madam, who forces herself upon a 12-year-old girl as well.

Ultimately, of course, Rebecca escapes and brings about some six-gun justice with the help of the outraged citizenry. Not all of the guilty will pay for what they’ve done, but with a couple dozen novels in this series, there will be plenty of time for that later. The most interesting of the outlaws (a 300-pound degenerate toilet seat-sniffing child molester carried over from the first book) does get his due, in an excellent confrontation scene. 

There’s nothing wrong with pulp fiction being lurid, but there’s a difference between stuff that’s loopy and exciting, versus stuff that’s just cruel and depressing. We mostly get the latter in “Boomtown Bust”, including a description of a child being raped and murdered which runs for a full page, dropped inexplicably into the middle of the novel’s action climax. 

Frequent sex scenes (of the consenting adults variety) are a counterpoint to all this. The younger the reader, the more titillating these will be, I guess. But they’re not very steamy, and they’re loaded with purple prose euphemisms that are more amusing than arousing: a “long, thick pole of flesh,” Rebecca’s “warm cave of pungent nectar,” a “surging love dagger,” her “burning cavern,” etc.

No, it isn’t exactly Zane Grey. You know from glancing at any of the covers that the 'White Squaw' books are lightweight and trashy, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I just prefer my lurid trash to be fun, with dramatic tension, suspense and memorable characters. I didn’t really get that from “Boomtown Bust”, but I did keep turning those pages.

Kiss and Kill

Richard Deming was a 20th century pulp author with a specialty in crime fiction. Later in life, he wrote branded paperback tie-ins for 'Mod Squad', 'Dragnet' and 'Starsky and Hutch'. His 1960 short crime novel “Kiss and Kill” was a mid-career effort originally published in the US by Zenith Books and since reprinted by Armchair Fiction.

The book is a darn masterpiece.

Small-time con-man Sam Carter meets a fellow bunco artist named Mavis. They decide to marry, team up and seek out bigger cons. The angle they develop involves posing as brother and sister, targeting wealthy spinsters for Sam to marry and then making off with his new wife’s cash.

Without spoiling anything, the first person narration (Sam tells the story) recalls a Jim Thompson styled sociopathic anti-hero. Mavis is a sexy and devoted partner toggling between her role as a lusty wife and a chaste sister. The plotting is crisp and efficient and reminded me of Harry Whittington at his best. Finally, the twist ending will leave you howling and dying to read more of Deming’s work.

Fans of hard-boiled con-game crime fiction should drop everything and get a copy of this one. It’s hard to understate the perfection of this quick read. Highly recommended. Essential reading.

Hit and Run

The December 1954 issue of “Manhunt” featured a “Complete New Novel” by hardboiled crime writer Richard Deming called “Hit and Run.” The original novella was later expanded by Deming into a lean Pocketbooks paperback release in 1960. “Hit and Run” is an amazingly good story about a hard-luck private eye named Barney who happens to witness a hit-and-run accident involving a beautiful woman driver. He concocts a scheme to blackmail her into engaging him to cover up the accident and keep her out of trouble. From there, Deming takes the reader on a twisty ride not unlike the violent Fawcett Gold Medal short novels of that era. It’s hard to summarize the plot any further without spoiling several jaw-dropping plot twists, but suffice to say that this short novel was a total delight and is worth hunting down.

Night Has A Thousand Eyes

"Night Has a Thousand Eyes" is a highly-regarded 1945 noir suspense classic written by Cornell Woolrich (“Rear Window”) under the pen name of George Hopley. It was later reprinted under Woolrich’s more successful pseudonym, William Irish, and in the modern era, under Woolrich’s own name. After it’s release, the novel was adapted for the screen in 1948 starring Edward G. Robinson, and the movie’s theme song became a hit and lives on as a jazz standard.

The story opens with good-hearted loner police detective, Tom Shawn, saving a distressed 20 year-old woman, Jean Reid, from jumping off a bridge in the middle of the night. He corrals her to a safe place to hear her story.

In Chapter Two, the story toggles into the first-person narration as Jean tells her tale to Detective Shawn. The story of her spooky journey to the bridge’s railing takes up about the first half of the novel, and we learn that Jean is the wealthy daughter of a successful silk importer living on the U.S. east coast (city unmentioned) in a large estate filled with servants.

While Jean’s beloved father was away on a west-coast business trip, a servant confides that the servant’s psychic friend had a vision that Daddy’s return flight would crash. Knowing that clairvoyants are hogwash, Jean initially dismisses the prediction as nonsense and banishes the servant from the estate. As the return flight time grows closer, Jean grows panicky and desperately tries to telegram her father to have him skip the flight. Before Daddy could get the message, the plane crashes in the Rocky Mountains with no survivors.

Any more details would be spoiling some pretty cool plot points. Suffice it to say that Jean and a companion spend much of the novel’s first half tracking down the psychic to determine how this reclusive oracle could have known about the crash in advance. Supernatural powers? Fraud? Foul Play? The psychic’s subsequently accurate predictions further support Jean’s belief in the claimed supernatural powers.

The novel’s second half cuts back to the third-person narration where the reader re-joins Jean, fresh from a thwarted suicide attempt, and Detective Shawn, ready to investigate the authenticity of Jean’s fantastic story of a seemingly-accurate clairvoyant along with a team of police colleagues. The police procedural half of the book was the stronger of the two halves and helps justify the book’s claim to classic status.

Woolrich was a talented writer and the pages are filled with rich prose designed to evoke a dark mood. It’s clear that he regarded this novel to be an important work of literary fiction rather than a genre paycheck. At times, this made for a wordy, slow-moving slog as the simplest action (walking from a car to the psychic’s front door, for example) takes pages to complete when it could have been an economical simple sentence. The things that happen in this novel are occasionally interesting, but it takes pages and pages of hand-wringing and emotional torment for the actions to actually occur. This 368 page novel only had enough actual plot to fill a lean 150-page novella.

The other problem with the book (primarily the first half) is our heroine protagonist. Jean is a clingy, spoiled rich girl caught in a perpetual emotional wreck. Her story and overwrought tone have all the hallmarks of a melodramatic gothic novel. In fact, one of the many reprintings of the book was marketed as “A Paperback Library Gothic” compete with a genre cover depicting Jean fleeing from a imposing mansion in the dark.

The second half investigative procedural has solid moments, and the reader becomes invested in the quest to determine the truth of the mysterious psychic and the predictions that shook the foundation of Jean’s family. However Woolrich’s tiresome wordiness remains, and  the third-person narration does little to dull the sting of Jean’s dramatic histrionics and personality shortfalls. 

It’s hard to understand why this novel is so highly regarded among noir fiction fans. While writing a novel that’s half Daphne Du Maurier and half Ed McBain is no small feat, the tense conclusion to the book’s central mysteries is moronic and unsatisfying. Fans of crime fiction, horror fiction, and literary fiction deserve much better from their sacred canon. Life is too short. Take a hard pass on this so-called classic.