The Executioner #77 - Hollywood Hell

Hollywood Hell, the 77th book in the durable Mack Bolan saga, is a transitional novel, sitting at the half-way point between Don Pendleton’s original vision and the quasi-secret agent stories we'll get later in the series. 

The novel keeps it vague, but Bolan seems to be working as a hired gun this time. The assignment is to find the wayward daughter of a Senate candidate, and get her out of the porno underworld. Actually, she’s in something like the underworld beneath that underworld, where drugged-up prisoners are forced into all sorts of awful things before being killed on-camera.

That’s a pretty strong premise, but what makes it better is that Bolan is back in Mafia-busting mode, because the local crime family is running the whole scummy show. In fact, it’s the very same family Bolan took down in the third book of the series, Battle Mask, now re-organized with more sleaze than ever before. On the other side of the law, Bolan’s old police nemesis Captain Braddock is still on the force, and he just might be willing to play a role in the big take-down Bolan is planning. 

Author Mike Newton keeps things moving pretty well, but the most interesting things aren’t the inevitable gun battles. Far more memorable are various scenes in which Bolan seeks out the kingpins of the flesh trade. There’s a great confrontation sequence in one of those ratty old Hollywood apartment buildings which escalates into a brawl involving mobsters, Mohawked punks and bikers. Another highlight comes when Bolan attends an invitation-only screening of a snuff film, and his rage against the masturbating creeps around him boils over. Scenes like these make his mission personal, and a little more meaningful than your typical Gold Eagle testosterone party.

So the book has its strengths, but I found the author’s prose to be clunky and long-winded. He also had an annoying habit of ending sentences with the word “right,” which I guess was meant to lend a conversational tone. (It works okay when you’re talking to someone in person, right? But when the narrator of a novel uses it over and over, it comes across as contrived and irritating, right?) The book’s dialogue was pretty good, but there wasn’t nearly enough of it. My final beef is with the climax. Without giving too much away, Bolan’s brother Johnny takes part in the big final showdown. Guns are still blazing when Mack is forced to leave the scene, and he takes us with him. As to whether Johnny lives or dies, who knows? He’s never mentioned again.

I’d still rather have something like Hollywood Hell than most of the later Mack Bolan books. For all its flaws, there’s some good stuff here. But if you haven’t read all of Don Pendleton’s original Executioner novels yet (#1-15 and #17-38), get hold of those first. 

Buy a copy of this book HERE

The Loving and the Dead

Beginning in the 1950s, Australia-based author Carter Brown (real name: Alan Yates) wrote over 300 short, sexy, formulaic, mystery novels starring largely-interchangeable American investigators including Al Wheeler, Danny Boyd, and Rick Holman. The books are great fun as long as the reader understands that these 120-page quickies are basically literary snack food. 

Between 1955 and 1974, Brown authored a dozen novels starring a sexy - but ditzy -female private eye named Mavis Seidlitz. These novels add a bit more humor to the mysterious mix, and they are often fan-favorites among Brown’s massive body of work. “The Loving and the Dead” (1959) was Brown’s fifth entry into the Mavis series, but these easy-reading novels can be enjoyed in any order. Unlike the books starring Brown’s male protagonists, the Mavis books are often laugh-out-loud funny with the patter clearly influenced by George Burns-Gracie Allen routines. Everyone that Mavis encounters quickly becomes the straight-man for her one-liners and double-ententes. 

In this one, the setup is simple and inspired by Agatha Christie. At the request of her partner, Johnny Rio, Mavis must go undercover for a long weekend as the wife of an heir to a great fortune. If the client and his “wife” can survive the family weekend, he stands to inherit millions. Participants and servants at the family retreat are occasionally murdered, and the killer is among them for Mavis to catch. If this doesn’t make much sense to you, please understand that this is a Carter Brown novel and the plot is a just pretext for sexy, madcap detective work among eccentric suspects. 

It’s no spoiler to reveal that Mavis gets laid, but this was written before Brown’s editors added graphic sex to his novels for U.S. consumption. She also has the opportunity to kick some ass and do some actual investigating in her push-up bra and short skirts. It’s hard not to feel real affection for Mavis who displays a likable combination of sweetness, naïveté, and toughness.

If there’s anything to criticize in this novel, it’s that things get a little too implausibly wacky at times. For example, there’s a character who walks around the whole time with a ventriloquist dummy, and the dummy does most of the talking for him. At it’s best, “The Loving and the Dead” feels like a comedic Donald Westlake crime novel, but there are times where the silliness descends into sheer farce. 

If you’re looking for a light, enjoyable, crime novel with some laughs, this one is a fine introduction to a lovable character with plenty to enjoy. Just don’t expect anything with more depth than an average episode of Scooby-Doo. Recommended if you want something light and insubstantial.

Violent Maverick (aka Wet Cattle)

Walt Coburn was first and foremost a cowboy. The Montana native was the son of Robert Coburn, the founder of Circle C Ranch. In the late 1800s, this was the largest ranch in the northwest (Montana didn't become a state until 1889). Coburn cut his teeth as a cowboy, and served in WWI before becoming a full-time writer in the 1920s. From that period through the 1940s, the author contributed over a hundred stories to the pulps, predominantly “Dime Western Magazine”. From the 1930s through the early 1970s, he wrote over 30 western novels, including “Wet Cattle” in 1955. In 1970, the novel's title was changed to the much more gritty sounding “Violent Maverick” via the Macfadden-Bartell line.

Penniless cowboy Pat Roper saved Mexican bandit Pablo Guerrero's life in a prior gun-battle. Pablo runs into Roper in a firefight over stolen cattle at the Arizona-Mexican border. Pablo gifts Roper the Two Block ranch, 25,000 acres of good feed, water and a some start-up cattle. The problem is that Pablo is running guns through it in an attempt to overthrow the Mexican government. Roper, not digging into the devil in the details, accepts the gift and takes the ranch. He later finds out that Pablo's lifetime enemy, Wig Murphy, borders the ranch with his own cattle empire, and he's crushing the Two Block ranch out.

Coburn's validity as a real cowboy is a catch-22. While his books possess dirty, dusty realism, they are written in “cowboy” terminology that's sometimes really hard to decipher. It's this element that dampened what was otherwise a well-crafted story in “Violent Maverick”. It's a short read at 140-pages, and has a breakneck pace that had me finishing it in less than two hours. Was I maniacally rushing so it was over quickly, or because I wanted to learn the fate of young sod-buster Pat Roper? Probably a little of both. The end result is just another dog-eared, yellowed western that passes the time.

Texas Fever

World War II veteran and author Donald Hamilton is best known for his 'Matt Helm’ spy series. That long running line ran from 1960 through the 1990s. Hamilton also contributed stand-alone crime novels in the 40s and 50s as well as six westerns penned in the mid 50s and early 60s. This novel, “Texas Fever”, was released by Fawcett Gold Medal in 1960, and reprinted again by the publisher in 1989 with a slightly modern cover (resembling something more akin to 80s Pinnacle or Zebra). At it's heart, “Texas Fever” is a coming-of-age tale, but it's wrapped in a dusty, rugged range war that emphasizes the “classic western” brand. 

Young Chuck McAuliffe is on a cattle-drive from Texas through Kansas. His father, Jesse is a Confederate veteran, as is his brother David. The family have been pushed hard, with their ranch nearing foreclosure. This drive hopes to net them $20 a head on a herd nearing 1,200. My guess on the time period is right around the late 1860s, a time when Texas and their steer were still considered scruff and repellent. Complicating matters is a cow disease that warrants the law and buyers to envelope the mid-west in a quarantine. After being forced west at numerous junctions, Jesse, back to the wall, stampedes the quarantine and is killed. 

The heart of the story is a cow theft operation that forces weary, tired and broke cattlemen to sell their stock at pennies on a dollar. Chuck sees through the scam, and takes his battle to the crooked preacher, deputy and outlaw. As Chuck is forced to mature and harden fast, he meets up with a con-woman who takes his virginity before trying to go clean in an alliance with him. Soon things get out of hand, and the barrels heat up.

Hamilton tells the tale well, pausing for backstory, to propel the narrative. The opening third is fisticuff action, all in the classic western mold – cattle thieves, cap and ball fire and well-defined “good guys”. The middle is bogged down with the convoluted alliances, a confused sheriff and the overall love-dove dialogue. The closing third returns to the prairie, with enough hard-charging mounts and gunfire to fully redeem itself. A quality, enjoyable read from a rare Hamilton western.

Stoner #04 - King's Ransom

Ralph Hayes conclusion to his four book series 'Stoner' was “King's Ransom”. It was released by Manor in 1978 and is the only entry that doesn't have the series name or number on the cover. I'm not sure why the publisher went this route considering the artwork leaves much to be desired. Perhaps that was the main issue? The lack of quality artwork to support the 'Stoner' title? While the previous three entries look fantastic, this one seems rather dull. But the contents offer us another quality entry in what amounted to a fantastic short-lived series.

Unlike the prior three novels, “King's Ransom” puts Stoner on the trail for a kidnapped corporate hotshot instead of a treasure or stolen relic. It's another urban installment, like the prior book “All That Glitters”. Set in Buenos Aires and Argentina, the novel has a militant group called the Mendoza Committee planning a snatch and run of Thurston King, head of an empirical oil company called AROCO. The terrorist group wants to rid corporate, and oil companies, from Argentina and wants to make an example out of King. The plot is to kidnap King and ransom him for three-million dollars. How this solves anything is debatable, but it's a surefire way to set up Stoner versus the baddies.

Argentina government contracts Stoner to assist the police in retrieving King. It's another $50K offer like the last jobs (I guess this is market rate for retrieval of stolen people and goods?) and Stoner takes the contract. On the flip-side, this Mendoza Committee ruthlessly kills King's son while mouth raping his wife. King is taken to a cottage in Buenos Aires, shot in the knee cap and left to starve, dehydrate and die while waiting for his employer to pony up. In a satirical way, the company finds King expendable and isn't going to pay a dime to liberate him. Thankfully, he has Stoner on the case.

This is probably the worst of the series, but the series is so good that even worst could be first when compared to other late 70s action offerings. While the first two books didn't showcase a whole lot of fighting skills from Stoner, these last two introduce a more formidable fighting force. Hayes, again completely oblivious to firearms, has the hero running around with the fictitious Magnum .38 revolver (he has it confused with the .357) and I cringed each time the bad guy screwed a suppressor on a revolver. It's trivial nonsense but as a firearm enthusiast it drives me batshit bonkers. Overall, you can't go wrong with “King's Ransom”. Hunt these four books down, turn your brain off and just have a damn good time.

Stoner #03 - All That Glitters

The third 'Stone' novel, “All That Glitters”, was released by Manor in 1977. I've grown fond of this rugged salvage hero, a loner that hunts treasure and thugs across the globe. Thus far, the second entry, “The Satan Stone”, has championed the series, but Hayes has a gift for storytelling and he has a lot of fun with this one.

“All That Glitters” runs that familiar scheme where everybody that touches the wealth is immediately killed by the next guy wanting to touch the wealth. It's a simple formula that has been done to death (even by 1977 standards) in all forms of media, but nevertheless it's entertaining. It revolves around the theft of the cherished Southern Cross, an ornamental bling-bling worth millions.

Hayes embeds us in the action very early. Zachariah Smith, a stealthy dealer, runs a museum heist, cleverly switching out a fake Southern Cross with the real one. He kills two guys in the exchange but pulls the snatch off with smooth expertise. It's only when he attempts to sell it to another nefarious dealer, Vlahos, that the chain of death commences. Before the transaction is complete, both are murdered and the treasure passes to the next criminal. This continues through a dozen hands, some planned, some sheer luck, throughout the alleys and backstreets of Athens. Stoner's involvement is a plush $50K to recover the cross and return it to the museum.

“All That Glitters” differs from the prior two books of the series. Those entries put the action in exotic locations in the jungles and deserts of Africa and South America. This book changes direction by placing Stoner in an urban environment. Instead of tanks, planes and horses, we get high speed car chases and alley sweeps. I like this change of direction and it adds a little more dynamic to Stoner's one-dimensional joystick of “punch, shoot, run”. The end result is another fine addition to a high-quality series.

To Kiss, Or Kill

Along with contemporaries Harry Whittington, Gil Brewer, and Peter Rabe, the Fawcett Gold Medal paperback original crime novels were defined by the work of author Day Keene (real name: Gunard Hjertstedt). Between 1949 and 1973, dime-store spinner racks were filled with affordable paperback output from Keene and his cohorts. 

“To Kiss, Or Kill” (1951) was Keene’s fifth published novel, and the setup is rather familiar: Our hero finds the corpse of a sexy, nude blonde in his Chicago hotel room and endeavors to clear his name since no one would ever believe that he didn’t snuff the dame. In this case, our wrongfully-accused hero is a former Polish-American heavyweight boxing sensation, Barney Mandell, who is freshly released from an extended stay in an insane asylum. Mandell can’t even be 100% sure he didn’t kill the blonde due to his drunkenness at the time of the discovery as well as his awareness that he’s - until recently, at least - certified crazy.  

Mandell’s quest to get to the bottom of the situation takes him into the world of his own humble beginnings before he was a famous prize fighter. One of the fun aspects of this story is that even though he’s been out of the ring for awhile, Mandell is a sports celebrity. People know him and vividly recall his 42 consecutive knockouts in the ring, and while he’s on the run, he’s also encountering fawning fans seeking autographs. 

Did Mandell kill the blonde and then suppress the memories? Why was he committed to an asylum? Why are the Feds creeping around this case? What does Mandell’s estranged wife have to do with all this? These are the questions that Keene teases out over the course of the thin paperback. 

Unfortunately, instead of a tidy and fast-moving investigation to find the killer, the novel puts the reader through long, rather dull, narrative stretches of exploring Mandell’s own sanity. Does an insane man have the introspection to know he’s crazy? As the bodies around him begin to pile up, it’s clear that Mandell is either completely loony or he’s being set up for multiple homicides. 

The ultimate solution to the novel’s central mystery is a bit of a let-down, and the road to get there has lots of dull, talky, repetitive stretches. “To Kiss, Or Kill” would have been a better 40-page Manhunt Magazine novella, but it felt padded at 160 pages. It’s not an awful book, but there are many better options with similar themes from the same era. 

Keene has done better, and so can you. Best to take a pass on this one.