Always Try Your Dreams

Every year during the first week of June, my mind drifts back to the first week of June 1944. The week leading up to D-Day. Even now, seventy-seven years later, the magnitude of the courage of the men who stormed those beaches never fails to take my breath away.

There have been many books written and documentaries compiled, oral histories recorded and movies filmed. One in particular is Saving Private Ryan which features a grueling opening segment. As horrific as those opening minutes are, you know it’s all just make-believe and that it’s only a taste of what really went down that morning.

Every year, I also take moments to look at the photos of the Allied troops squeezed into those landing crafts. For that one moment when the cameraman snapped his photo, some of those soldiers smiled. Others didn’t. Both tell the same story: the invasion was necessary and they were called on to do it. That was the nature of their birth and world events.

This week, one of those photos really got to me. I honestly can’t find it. It was part of a meme. But in this photo as in so many others, the faces of those men were young. So young. I often wonder how I would have comported myself if history called on me to do what those men did. My son’s nineteen now and he would be called as well. How would he do?

As thankful as we are for the courage of those men, it’s sometimes difficult not to get emotional when thinking of them as individuals. As regular humans on this earth. They, like all of us, had dreams of what they’d do when they got home. Many soldiers returned home. So many did not. Perhaps the cure for cancer was in the brain of one of those men. Maybe a great baseball player or an engineer who could invent something we would now take for granted here in 2021.

But today, I’m talking about creatives. Imagine the books or the songs not created, the paintings and the sculptures, the plays and the actors that never were created. All gone.

The thing is, those men had creative dreams like we do, and then they stormed those beaches to preserve the dreams for all the survivors. For us. For those that’ll come after us.

Perhaps me getting emotional on this commemoration of D-Day is related to my own recent struggles with my writing, my business, and my ideas about the future. I have grand plans and sometimes, I question myself. Why? What’s the point? Who would care?

Well, I care about these plans. I came up with them, after all. They are, to my mind, good and decent ideas. Why not try?

Try because you want to. Try because it could bring you great happiness. Try even though you might fail, but you can learn from that failure. Try because you could reach someone who will need what you create at a precise moment in their lives.

Try because of what happened seventy-seven years ago this morning and the men who didn’t get the chance to try.

Try your dreams. Always.

The War Changes Nick and Nora in The Thin Man Goes Home

I guess the desire to uncover the backstory of fictional heroes isn't new.

Two things instantly jump out in the first three minutes of The Thin Man Goes Home (1945), the fifth Thin Man movie. One is Myrna Loy's clothes. In the previous four films, Nora is always dressed to the nines, but those pictures were all pre-war. Now that America is neck deep in World War II (this film was released in January 1945, the first movie in the franchise not to be released in the holiday season since The Thin Man), it seems Nora's attire reflects the mood of the nation. The train station in the opening scene also shows a few sailors and I'd be hard pressed to say if I saw any soldiers in the earlier films. 

Oh, and William Powell literally pratfalls, twice. Is that a harbinger of things to come or is he drunk? Well, he's not drunk. The husband and wife are on the way to visit his parents and they don't like drinking. Nick's trying to get on the wagon--at least for this trip--another tip of the hat to wartime life: alcohol rationing. "A couple of weeks on this program and I'll be a new man," Nick says. "I rather liked the old one," Nora replies forlornly.

We meet Nick's mother and father, a doctor in Sycamore Springs. Nora and her mother-in-law talk about the difficulty between father and son and they pine for a chance to have Nick demonstrate just how good a detective he really is. 

In one sequence, Nick is dressed in his old clothes and, for the first time in five movies, Nick looks like a wrinkled slob. 

A half hour into the movie, we finally get some criminality. A guy and a gal are after a painting by a local artist, the latest of which Nora buys for Nick. That very night, a young man shows up at the Charles house. No sooner does Nick open the door than the man is shot dead. Peter Burton. On the surface, Nick's not involved, but he's got a nose for these things. He slips out of the house and beats the cops to Burton's hotel room. After switching the room numbers, he slips in, but not before we see a shadowed figure inside the room. By silhouette alone, it appears to be the town oddball, Mary. She promptly knocks Nick out. 

There's a short monologue Nora gives to Asta in which she mimics Nick. After five films, it's pretty fun to see.

As Nick starts to ask around, some of the locals start to threaten Dr. Charles's dreams of a hospital in town. Nora suspects an old friend of Nick's as the culprit and follows him around town. Irritatingly, Nick still has the habit of ditching Nora. The detective asked Brogan to lead Nora on a wild goose chase. In the previous two films, Nora seemed like she was becoming more of a sleuth. In this sequence, she reverted back to being a comic sub-plot. She was approached by a man named Drake to buy the painting for $500, something that helps Nick with the case.

Still, she accompanies him on a few trails and to a couple scenes of crimes, more so than in previous films. 

As is the pattern, Nick gathers all the characters into a room, this time Dr. Charles's laboratory. In yet another bit of meta commentary, Nora explains to her father-in-law how these things work, with the killer always cracking under pressure. For the first time, however, Nora admits she knows the bad guy so finally, she's in on Nick's sleuthing. Her running commentary to her father-in-law is kind of funny. I can't help but wonder if Loy asked for these changes. 

The reveal was actually pretty good, especially considering the suspects were either friends of Dr. Charles or Nick himself. And, yeah, old man Charles is proud of his son so all's well. 

Of the five Thin Man films to date, this one is the most staid. That's probably because of the setting but it also might be the era. This film was released just after America's fourth Christmas at war. There was likely a weariness in the audience and the filmmakers, but I'm going a bit farther than that. 

Generally speaking, the Golden Age of Detective Fiction was between the world wars. After the second, crime and mystery fiction changed from the gentlemanly puzzle stories to the hard-edged tales to which veterans could relate. While the war isn't over yet with the fifth Thin Man film, you get the sense that World War II has changed the franchise. What was once a set of characters and situations designed to take Depression-era viewers away from everyday concerns almost feels frivolous in the middle of a world war. Sure, viewers in 1944 on the home front needed things to take their minds off the horrendous cost of defeating fascism, but there's a little bit of just going through the motions with The Thin Man Goes Home. 

Nick and Nora certainly rattle off one-liners like in every other film, but the energy is not as high as the first four, especially the first two. Again, the on-screen chemistry between Powell and Loy is apparent (this is their 12th of 14 total films they made together) and even the trailer plays up this aspect. It is also the first Thin Man film not to be directed by W. S. Van Dyke, a director known as "One Take Woody" for his swift work ethic. 

The Thin Man Goes Home isn't a bad film by any stretch. The final reveal when we learn what's going on is quite good and germane to the war. But this one just feels different. Now, I'm very interested to see the last Thin Man film, Song of the Thin Man (1947) and see what the post-war world does to detective fiction's First Couple.

Quotes:

Nick: What happened?

Nora: It was the table you fixed. It fainted again.

Nick's Dad: Is it always like this?

Nora: Always.

Nick's Dad: You have my deepest sympathies.

D-Day at 75: News from the Radio

There are countless things to read and watch and listen to today to mark the 75th anniversary of D-Day. I've been enjoying Time magazine's D-Day: 24 Hours That Changed the World all week long. 

But what has fascinated me for a few weeks now are the actual radio recordings of how the new broke on 6 June 1944. In our age of 24/7, wall-to-wall news coverage featuring video, the radio was the only source of instant communication. 

Here is a link to the real-time radio broadcasts as sponsored by the World War II Foundation. Spend some time listening today and imagine what it was like to have news break in, mention the invasion, and then back to regularly scheduled programming. Hard to do, huh?

The Sun Rises West by Oscar J. Friend

Last week, I attended a small comic convention here in Houston that served as a throwback to the early days of comic book fandom. It was hosted in two rooms in a hotel. One room was devoted to toys; the other to comics. But, happily for me, the owner of Bedrock City Comics brought his pulp magazines.

I had been to his shop last month after I discovered Bradford Scott and his pulp hero, Texas Ranger Walt Slade, in paperback. After reading my first Slade novel, I wanted to read one of his old pulp exploits. I bought one issue of Thrilling Western and reviewed the Slade story. Naturally, I beelined to that section of the pulp magazines on sale last week, but I’m not here to talk about my next Slade story.

No, what I’m here to talk about is the odd mash-up of a western in a World War II setting.

The cover date for Thrilling Western volume 29, #1 is May 1942. I’m not sure how much lead time editor G. B. Farnum gave to writers, but Oscar J. Friend’s story was definitely written after December 7, 1941.

 “The Sun Rises West” features cowboy Chuck Hardin. He’s been hired to work a cattle ranch out on Hawaii. With just the description of Hardin, you know you’re in for a treat: other than battered suitcases and his typical cowboy attire (you know what I’m talking about), he brings his Winchester and two double-action .45 six-shooters. The other character comment on Hardin’s attire more than once.

There’s a girl here, but she doesn’t figure too much into the story other than the typical rivalry between Hardin and Montague Townley, the ranch’s manager. With a name like that, you also know what kind of man he is. Well, there’s also a native Hawaiian co-star in Hamelaki George who fills the role perfectly.

And you already know who the bad guys are just from reading the story’s title and sub-title: A Novelete [sic] of Texas Guns in Hawaii. Yup, the Japanese, specifically the houseboy Mikimatu. The old pulps were filled with descriptions and terms we in the 21st Century cringe at, and that’s all there. But Friend piles it on. After being introduced to Mikimatu, cowboy Hardin never pronounces his name correctly for the rest of the story, instead using terms like “Mikiblotto.” The physical
descriptions are worse. But that was a different time, and when Friend wrote the story and the readers consumed this story six months after Pearl Harbor, I don’t suspect many minded.

Speaking of Pearl Harbor, it doesn’t take a genius to know that’s when this story takes place. The day is lost for America, but Hardin, naturally, wins the day at the Robinson Ranch.

The story is good and about what you’d expect. Not much to write home about, but it’s a fantastic snapshot at a particular time and place.