Black Gate

“You’re the second guy I’ve met within hours who seems to think a gat in the hand means a world by the tail.” – Phillip Marlowe in Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep

(Gat — Prohibition Era term for a gun. Shortened version of Gatling Gun)

I am far more into pastiche – that emulation of an author’s style – than parody, which uses the author’s work to get a laugh. But I do read a little parody; and have written a few short stories in that category. Black Gaters know I am a huge Sherlock Holmes fan. My first column here, which ran weekly for three years, was called The Public Life of Sherlock Holmes (an homage to Sherlockian Vincent Starrett).

And, since you’re reading the 82nd installment of A (Black) Gat in the Hand, you know I love wandering down those Mean Streets. If done well, I think you can mix genres. In this instance – for a little parody fun. William Gillette was THE great stage Sherlock Holmes, having rewritten a first draft of a play by Arthur Conan Doyle himself. Sherlock Holmes – A Drama in Four Acts became an international sensation. Gillette would play the role over 1,300 times on stage, make a film of it, and even, at age 82, record a radio version. It is still performed today, and such notables as Leonard Nimoy, Frank Langella, and Alan Rickman, have performed it on stage. Of course, I wrote about it here at Black Gate.

In 1905, Gillette was to perform a comedy sketch at a charity event. It fell apart at the last minute, and he quickly wrote the curtain-raiser, The Painful Predicament of Sherlock Holmes, which he performed with the great Ethel Barrymore (John’s sister), as a fill-in. He would use it in the future, and it’s a fun spoof of a typical Holmes case.

I decided to rewrite Painful Predicament as a hardboiled parody. And I’m thinking of a follow-up. Shovel himself is a pretty regular PI, and I do use some over-the-top hardboiled prose. But I like the humor the client provides. So, here we go…

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So, in 2020, as the Pandemic settled in like an unwanted relative who just came for a week and is still tying up the bathroom, I did a series of posts for the FB Page of the Nero Wolfe fan club, The Wolfe Pack. I speculated on what Stay at Home would be like for Archie, living in the Brownstone with Nero Wolfe, Fritz Brenner, and Theodore Horstmann. I have already re-posted days one through thirty-seven. Here is thirty eight (April 28). It helps if you read the series in order, so I’ve included links to the earlier entries.

Day Thirty Eight – 2020 Stay at Home

If you read my accounts of some of the cases Wolfe and I have solved, you may recall the name Ron Seaver from one of them. I only mention that because he took his last name from my favorite pitcher: Tom Seaver. Today, while I was working on some germination records, I listened to the broadcast from my favorite Tom Seaver game. No, not the no-hitter – He was pitching for the Reds when he finally got one.

But in 1969, Seaver had a perfect game going against the Cubs. And with one out in the ninth, Jim Qualls, who had a whopping total of 31 hits in his three-year career (in which he didn’t even hit .230), singled to ruin things. I mentioned that the baseball gods should have let Willie Mays end his career with a World Series homer against the A’s in 1973. They were sleeping on Seaver that day at Wrigley Field, too.

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So, in 2020, as the Pandemic settled in like an unwanted relative who just came for a week and is still tying up the bathroom, I did a series of posts for the FB Page of the Nero Wolfe fan club, The Wolfe Pack. I speculated on what Stay at Home would be like for Archie, living in the Brownstone with Nero Wolfe, Fritz Brenner, and Theodore Horstmann. I have already re-posted days one through thirty-six. Here is thirty seven (April 27). It helps if you read the series in order, so I’ve included links to the earlier entries.

Day Thirty Seven – 2020 Stay at Home

I was looking through some old notebooks today and came across this gem from a case I never finished writing up. There have been times when I think Inspector Cramer really did want to lock me up forever, and this was one of them.

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The doorbell rang. More than once, I thought that some day Wolfe would put a button under his desk which would cause the doorbell to ring. He would push it in the middle of one of my eloquent speeches, and when I was at the door checking on our caller, he would hightail it to the elevator and escape. I suspect the reasons he hasn’t yet are because, one; it might work the first time, but I’d never answer the door again. And two; unless a woman is displaying her emotions, Wolfe doesn’t hurry from the office for anything.

I got up and went into the hall. I recognized the familiar silhouette through the one-way window. Normally, I would leave the chain on and test the weather when Inspector Cramer of Homicide West was on the stoop. But I figured Wolfe could use a little bothering by someone not named Archie Goodwin, so I opened up.

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