The Things We Carried

As mentioned earlier, I’ve been on vacation in Florida. Someone asked not too long ago if I get to read much for pleasure. The answer is “not enough,” as most writers will probably tell you. But that’s what vacation is for, right? This is more for personal history, but this is what one writer takes on vacation.

The Guts, by Roddy Doyle

I’The Gutsve been following Doyle’s work for almost a quarter-century now and I never get tired of his work. I’m particularly fond of The Last Roundup series, which follows the long arc of Henry Smart, an IRA assassin whose life hopscotches through some of the most fascinating periods of the twentieth century. But like many fans, I’m most pleased by the scathing and yet somehow good-natured humor of the Barrytown trilogy, a signed copy of which sits here in front of me. Many people are familiar with The Commitments via the 1991 Alan Parker film, while The Snapper puts the focus on Jimmy Rabbitte’s sister Sharon and The Van on Jimmy’s ‘Da.’

One of the great joys of the first novel was Jimmy Rabbitte’s undying love of music, accompanied by his unceasing criticism of bands that publicly loathed and sometimes secretly liked. It’s not seen in the film, but the end of the novel actually finds Jimmy forming a new group, The Brassers, a kind of punk/country band with Mikah Wallace, Outspan Foster and Derek Scully. I was surprised a few years ago to find a great little short story, “The Deportees,” which found the ever-hustling Jimmy forming a band that exclusively featured immigrants.

This all brings us to The Guts, which is a full-on sequel that catches fans up on the adventures of Jimmy Rabbitte. I was expecting a purely comic novel – and the book is funny as hell, mind you – but Doyle really brought his A-game to the writing as well. The economy of Doyle’s dialogue is devastating. As the book begins, Jimmy and his Da are in the pub, talking about Facebook while Jimmy tries to deliver some bad news.

—Grand. Are yeh havin’ another?
—No, said Jimmy. —I’m drivin’.
—Fair enough.
—I have cancer.
—Good man.
—I’m bein’ serious, Da.
—I know.

It’s a terrific novel that takes one of the author’s most popular characters and instead of catering to a fan base, treats the character as if he’s lived, just like all of the rest of us, in real time. The Celtic Tiger has treated Jimmy well, letting him run a business resurrecting one-hit wonders for we nostalgic old-timers, but he’s also faced with the diagnosis of bowel cancer, the prospect of aging disgracefully, all while managing his wife, his numerous kids, his schemes, and the trickiness of trying to text the right girl since he’s sleeping with Imelda Quirke, one of the backup singers from The Commitments. Jimmy also reunites with guitarist Liam “Outspan” Foster, whom he meets in the clinic where it turns out Outspan is being treated for lung cancer. There’s an underlying plot having to do with the concoction of a fake folk song from the 1920s, complete with a fake Hungarian band led by Jimmy’s son Marvin. But the joy is in revisiting Jimmy’s marvelous, witty, snarky voice and rooting for him to win even when the world seems impossible.

The Martian, by Andy Weir

The MartianLook, it’s almost unheard of for me to take a debut novel on vacation. If I do bring something, it’s likely to be an adventure novel, or science fiction, or more likely an entry in a series or a novel I’ve set aside to read for pleasure. But I’ve heard a few things about this hard-science adventure novel and thought I would give it a try. It was also half-price as an e-book, which made it both affordable and transportable. It’s the story of Mark Watney, an astronaut on a manned mission to Mars who is accidentally abandoned by his crew-mates during a dust storm. I have to admit that part of what grabbed me was Watney’s opening log: “I’m pretty much F***ed. That’s my considered opinion. F***ed.”

What makes this novel great (in the sense that it’s wildly entertaining, rather than important in the grand scheme of things) is that Watney is a riot of a character, an everyman who is as disgusted with his choice in leftover music (no more disco!) as he is terrified about his situation. It’s also the fact that Weir, a software engineer, science buff and obviously a giant geek, has really done his homework to figure out how Mark Watney could conceivably and realistically survive a year and a half on Mars until he can be rescued by the next scheduled mission. The author was also smart to set it during the third Mars mission, when the public back on Earth have forgotten how amazingly cool the whole enterprise is. (Did I mention I read this book the same week that I visited the Kennedy Space Center?) It’s easy to cheer for a fighting botanist who grows his own potatoes, tricks out his moon buggy, catches up on The Dukes of Hazzard and survives against all odds.

Anyway, well done to Andy Weir for a terrific debut. Note to self to revisit this as a book on tape during the next long drive.

Honorable Mention

You by Austin Grossman

Brilliance by Marcus Sakey

The Deaths of Tao by Wesley Chu

The Monuments Men by Robert Edsel

The Wolf of Wall Street by Jordan Belfort

Pigeonholed

I think about genre a lot. I don’t mean in the sense that I’m trying to come to some kind of deeper understanding of a swath of literature, but in the sense that I still don’t understand it after all this time. I think it came from one of my first interviews with the Scottish novelist Ian Rankin. I don’t think it made the original feature, but he talked about discovering crime fiction in the first place.

“I started reading crime fiction the final year of my studies instead of reading about Muriel Spark,” he said. “I was reading Chandler and Hammett and Ruth Rendell and P.D. James.  Immediately, I liked the strong sense of place that you get in crime fiction, the strong central character, the traditional storytelling with that strong sense of a beginning, a middle and an end.  I like the games that you can play in a crime novel.  I found that everything I want to say about the world I can say quite nicely in the crime genre, so why do anything else? They were also the kinds of books that my Dad read.  I thought, do I want to spend seven years at university writing books that are only read by people at university, like James Joyce’s Ulysses or do I want to write the kind of books my Dad would read?  It was a pretty simple answer.”

The next few features are a good example of the width and depth of a specific genre. Painted in broad strokes, all of these novels can comfortably be pitched into the mystery section or an airport bookstore and do quite well, but they’re all so very different that it’s easy to see how badly “genre” can be characterized sometimes.

The AccidentI suppose the most recent feature I’ve published is this interview with novelist Chris Pavone about his new novel The Accident. Pavone, of course, is the former cookbook editor who hit it big with The Ex-Pats, his chronicle of expatriate life that accidentally turned into a huge thriller. The Accident is another stand-alone novel set in the interconnected world of Pavone’s novels, with curious cameos from players from The Ex-Pats. As it often goes, I was surprised to learn that Pavone didn’t even know that he was writing a thriller when he set about writing his first novel. For having such a clear, propulsive voice, the author has very little knowledge or expertise in crime fiction.

“Because I don’t immerse myself in crime novels, I wasn’t following any particular formula, ” he explained. “The Ex-Pats is more influenced by good, caper-y movies than it is by crime novels. There’s something about the sort of set piece of a tight cast of characters who are all lying to one another about almost everything that felt to me a little more like a play or a movie than a book. Very often, books have far wider-ranging action and characters than the Ex-Pats did. I did have in mind – it was very cinematic to me. I was always trying to establish a visual for each sequence and have the action be very dialogue-driven without focusing on chases or violence, but just people lying to each other. I don’t read a lot of books about that kind of duplicity.”

More on guns, dames and the disappeared after the jump. Continue reading

What Might Have Been

It’s no secret that I love alternative histories, not to mention the secret histories of the world, so these next two interviews feel like kindred spirits to me.

DominionFirst up, I recently had the pleasure of interviewing C.J. Sansom, the distinguished Scottish novelist and iconoclast behind the Matthew Shardlake historical thrillers and the very fine spy novel Winter in Madrid. I feel very lucky to have caught him when I did, because his new novel Dominion is spectacular. I’m not the only one who thinks so, either. I had to laugh when the interview was published to see no less than Stephen King broadcast, “That book DOMINION is terrific. And no, this isn’t one of those publisher-sponsored blurbs. I just fell in love with it. Nice and long, too.”

As stated, it’s an alternative history of World War II, but it’s a damned thoughtful one, let me tell you. Sansom pulled off a great trick, as we discuss in “Inventing a New History,” in that he only changed a single fact: instead of the ferocious Winston Churchill becoming Prime Minister, the so-called “architect of appeasement,” Lord Halifax, takes the role. By the time we catch up to the “present” in 1952, Great Britain is under German occupation and America has retreated under the cover of isolationism. It’s a great spy novel but it’s also truly creepy at times, throwing out seemingly random facts like the fact that the Holocaust has come and gone, with only whispers that it ever happened at all. I’m told that BBC radio adapted it as a miniseries, so there’s a note to self to go check that out, too.

You can get the most interesting comments in the interview at Kirkus, but I thought it was worth sharing a few conversations that didn’t make it into the feature. It was a bit too much to go into there, but Mr. Sansom definitely had an agenda in writing Dominion.

The author, a trained historian himself, managed to drum up a bit of controversy when the book was released. The minor kerfuffle was over his portrayal of Enoch Powell, which you can read about in the British Press. The underlying theme of the novel, however, is warning against the dangers of nationalism. It’s an issue that Sansom cares about deeply, as it falls right in line with his passionate opposition to the Scottish vote on independence later this year. Here’s what he had to say about the dangers inherent in national idealism.

“The short answer is: look at modern European history,” he explained. “The first danger is the extent to which socially liberally or socially conservative views on issues of personal freedom prevail. Those are the things that most people argue about when they argue about politics. About only a week or two ago, Nichola Sturgeon, who is the deputy leader of the Scottish National Party, said that independence transcends conventional politics. Well, I think it’s very bad to transcend conventional politics, because you’re saying other issues don’t matter; it’s just nationality that matters. I think that’s wrong. It’s also completely unrealistic and myth-making because the issues that one faces in daily life are ones of political economy. Dreams of nationality don’t fill people’s stomachs. It’s also dangerous because nationalism by definition defines itself against an an enemy of ‘other’ There always has to be an enemy. That’s dangerous.”

“If you say nationalism trumps other issues, it’s very easy to stomp down the road to authoritarianism,” he continued. “I’m not saying it always happens, but there is always a risk. Nationalists also wind up anthropomorphizing the nation as just a collection of people who lived in the same place under the same political rule for a few hundred years. Nationalism gives the state a sort of human personality. The national destiny, the national dream, the national feeling. To me, that’s all just so much rubbish.”

Half WorldBack on this side of the pond, I connected with novelist Scott O’Connor about his eerie new novel Half World. It’s about one of the great secret histories of America, delving not only into a series of desperately dark personal journeys but into the connective tissue of American conspiracies, the threads that lead directly from Menlo Park to Dealey Plaza to Jonestown, Abu Gharib and beyond. In my feature “Thought Control” at Kirkus Reviews, we delved into the history of Project MKUltra, the CIA’s decades-long experiment in bioengineering behavior through the use of LSD, behavioral modifications, hypnosis, rape and torture.

“What we know is true is a very small percentage compared to the theories out there about the program,” O’Connor explained. “A quick Google search will implicate MK Ultra in just about any act of public violence in the past 50 years. The records were only destroyed because the agnecy knew that public hearings were coming. The political climate was changing because of Watergate and Vietnam and they knew they were going to be called to be counted. In the mid-70s, there were a couple of hearings in which they disclosed assassination attempts and coups. It was pretty shocking, especially at the time. The idea that this was the project that they destroyed records over is terrifying. I mean, they didn’t destroy the records about trying to kill Castro, which was a pretty shocking revelation in 1975, but this had to be buried. It really makes you wonder how bad it got. As a novelist, you now have something to write about because it gives you a place to fill in the gaps and imagine what might have happened there.”

Sleep tight.

Altered States

I am returned from a well-deserved vacation in the wilds of Florida, so I suppose it’s probably time for me to do the round-up of stories from the past couple of months.

DrewSpeaking of Florida, I was happy to start the year by speaking with promising young novelist Drew Perry about his comedic novel Kids These Days. I really enjoyed his first novel, This Is Just Exactly Like You, about a man trying to keep his family together and a rather poignant portrayal of the challenges of raising an autistic child. In “A Life Gone Sideways,” at Kirkus Reviews, we talked about the bizarre garishness of the Sunshine State (which I found very much intact during my own travels), not to mention the bizarre nature of being a parent. Not having any myself, I was surprised to find that Drew was not in fact an evangelist for parenthood.

“I might even be the opposite,” he admitted.”We don’t talk so much about how hard it is to have kids. I think there is this ‘Have Kids! The Musical!’ vibe out there sometimes. I think we should be more open about what a disaster it can be. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t also admit that I can be one of those a-hole dads standing around the grill saying it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” We also found that we can definitely relate around a general feeling of nervousness, not to mention that enduring sense of humor about the world’s weirdness.

“I wouldn’t characterize it as anxiety proper, but I’m definitely made nervous by a world in which so much hard can befall us with absolutely no warning,” he explained. “But if I didn’t find the strangeness of the world funny, I’d be doomed. I think ‘coping mechanism’ is too easy a way to describe it but I delight in the strangeness of things. I have a buddy who calls up and leaves messages like, ‘Hey, I just wanted to call and let you know that I passed a guy out on Battleground Avenue beating a stop sign with a chain and I thought that would be the sort of thing you would like.’ It’s those little things that I hold onto in order to stitch the world back together.”

“It was the sort of day that didn’t give a damn.”

ImageI was absolutely thrilled to interview Martin Cruz Smith. I lost track of him a little bit in the past few years but he was hugely influential on my own writing and certainly helped to spark the interest in crime fiction and espionage novels that drove me to write a crime column for a full five years over at Bookslut and keeps me immersed in the subject to this day.

I was far less thrilled this morning to find that the author revealed today to the New York Times that he has been living with Parkinson’s Disease since 1995, but I thought he handled the revelation in an incredibly graceful way. My personal experience speaking with him was terrific, as he offered sharp insights about his beloved and much put-upon anti-hero, Arkady Renko. I really appreciated his sense of humor and his candor, and wish him only the best as he continues working on his new book.

This feature survived mostly intact, but did require a few nips and tucks here and there. Here’s a little bonus for the couple of you that have found your way here—a humorous thought from the author about the bullet fragment still lodged in Arkady Renko’s brain. It’s the “ticking time bomb” that suddenly takes on a lot more meaning in the wake of today’s news.

It certainly wouldn’t be an Arkady Renko novel without a significant amount of mayhem, usually directed at the Inspector Detective himself. In addition to the lurking ghost of that bullet in his head, within pages Smith has his favorite character beaten to a pulp.

Image

Martin Cruz Smith in the Lenin Suite at the National Hotel circa 1990.

“I’m surprised that Arkady puts up with how I treat him, honestly,” Smith laughs.. “What drives me crazy—and I can’t read these kinds of books—are those stories where the lead characters are invulnerable. They get out of bed the next day and knife wounds have turned into mosquito bites. He’s stuck, of course, with a writer whose idea is to bring in a brain surgeon to warn him not to put himself in any more danger, and I immediately throw him back in the pit.”

ImageIf you read any of the breaking news about Smith’s new novel Tatiana, you’ll quickly figure out that his title character is based on the heroic journalist Anna Politkovskaya, who was gunned down outside her Moscow apartment seven years ago now. I would greatly encourage anybody who finds this story compelling to seek out her work. If you would like to get a sense of her, you can start with “Chronicle of Repression,” my review of her last released work, A Russian Diary, from the Rocky Mountain News.

The Round-Up: On Vets, Spooks and the Beginning of the End

It’s been a busy week here at the office between consulting, training, interviews and a little rock n’ roll here and there. here are a few updates from a snowy first week in October.

NostalgiaFirst, Kirkus Reviews kindly published my feature interview with novelist Dennis McFarland about his contemplative new novel Nostalgia.  Kirkus called it, “A distinguished addition to fictionalized narratives focused on the Civil War and its aftermath” but I think it’s deeper than that, as I discussed with Mr. McFarland during a rich conversation about the novel’s themes and the character of Walt Whitman, who I discovered during the course of my research really did work as a volunteer in Washington veteran’s hospitals during the Civil War. More specifically, it was a way for the author to approach the modern plague of Post-Traumatic Stress Injury from a different perspective. (Side note, even though I use the term PTSD in the feature, I really do prefer the connotations of PTSI. These people aren’t fundamentally broken in some way. Something happened to them. That’s an injury, not a disorder.)

Thank YouWhile McFarland’s Nostalgia uses the patina of the American Civil War to tell the story of Summerfield Hayes, I can also recommend another recent non-fiction work that addresses the issue of post-war reintegration with the clearest eyes imaginable. I was reading the Tattered Cover’s (my local bookstore) list of upcoming events this morning, and noted that Washington Post reporter David Finkel will be coming in November to sign Thank You For Your Service. It’s a follow-up to his war reporting in The Good Soldiers, following the men of the 2-16 Infantry Batallion home from the war. It’s a terrifying, eye-opening book about American service that ought to be required reading for anyone on either side of an international conflict.

I’ve also been reading about the death of popular novelist Tom Clancy this week, with quite a few reservations. I have to The Divisionadmit that much of my exposure to the so-called Clancy-verse came through videogames like Splinter Cell and Rainbow Six, but I have let myself go with one of his airport thrillers from time to time. However, conservative pundits and literary critics alike are hailing the author like he was some kind of military genius to be lionized in the canon of American literature. The truth is that The Hunt For Red October is a very good first novel, with a tightly controlled atmosphere. The Cardinal of the Kremlin is a fine entry in the espionage genre, and my favorite of the books remains Without Remorse and Rainbow Six, all because John Clark is a far more interesting character than everyman Jack Ryan. It’s around the time of Rainbow Six (which I still suspect was largely ghostwritten) that the Jack Ryan series becomes absolutely ridiculous, as a (eerily prescient) terrorist attack wipes out most of the White House administration and much of Congress, while a mid-level CIA analyst becomes President of the United States. Unfortunately in the end, Clancy had become a brand unto himself, a product to be marketed to teenagers and middle-aged men. Don’t even get me started on the corollary series like Ghost Recon and Net Force. It’s a fairly well-known fact that co-author “David Michaels” is just a placeholder name for whatever ghostwriter has been hired for a particular product. It’s my odds-on bet that Clancy books will continue to be pumped into the marketplace, just like the late Robert B. Parker’s. In some ways, I suppose it’s the end of an era. Personally, I think the future of thrillers belongs to people like Charlie Huston, or Warren Ellis, or Max Barry, who seem to have a much better sense of how terrifying the future of espionage actually may be.

The October ListFinally, if you really want to talk about someone who’s smart, prolific and has an uncanny ability to pull the rug out from underneath his readers, you can’t miss with Jeffrey Deaver, whom I profiled in Kirkus Reviews this week. I quite like Deaver’s books, although I’m sometimes startled by his voluminous output. Much like Robert Crais, Deaver’s work is always solid, and he’s prone to doing interesting things like writing and recording an entire album of country music for one of his Kathryn Dance novels, or writing up real recipes that coincide with Jacob Swann, the serial killer who haunts the latest Lincoln Rhyme novel The Kill Room. His latest, The October List, is about as experimental as anything I’ve seen in the genre, proceeding backwards chapter by chapter, a la Memento. It’s a trick that’s a lot easier to pull off in a visual medium, but Deaver does marvelous work here. Enjoy the interview, where we had a great talk about reverse chronology, his James Bond novel Carte Blanche, and how Steven Sondheim kicked the whole mess off.

I’m out. Have a nice weekend, everybody.

Life of Crime

Author’s Note: An abridged version of this essay appeared at Kirkus Reviews.

“Ah, hell.”

This, said aloud as my wife and I returned from the gym this morning. She knew immediately that someone had died, because it’s what I always say when I skim the news in the morning and stumble across something sad. It’s the exact same thing I said when Hunter Thompson committed suicide in 2005, and when Don Westlake skipped out on us on a Mexican vacation in 2008.

“Who is it,” she asked.

“Elmore Leonard passed away,” I said. She knew, as I did, that Leonard had a stroke a few weeks ago, but not much else.Elmore Leonard

“Is he the cranky one?”

“Which cranky one,” I asked.

“The one who was really mean.”

“No,” I said, wondering which one of the half-a-dozen mean-spirited crime novelists I had interviewed, to my delight. In her head, James Ellroy is the one in the pink sweater vest, Richard Price is the guy who wrote that Tom Cruise movie, and… now I think I know which one she thinks is the mean one, but we’ll leave that for another day.

“No,” I said. “He was really very gentle. Well-spoken. He was nice.”

I didn’t know Elmore Leonard, not well enough to comfortably call him “Dutch,” but I liked him a hell of a lot. I don’t even think he was the most gifted crime novelist in the trade, but I think he had as much influence on pop culture as nearly anyone in the genre in the past fifty years.

I first met him in 2000, long before I started writing book reviews and interviewing authors. He had come to the Tattered Cover in Denver to promote one of my favorite novels of his, Pagan Babies. It was the pinnacle of that incredible decade when Leonard managed to produce Rum Punch, Out of Sight, the novels that inspired Justified, not to mention Get Shorty and Be Cool. I don’t remember too much about the encounter except that the great author laughed out loud when I called Out of Sight a romance novel. He thought that novel had been misinterpreted, and that it was indeed a love story. I think he was happy when Steven Soderburgh got it right with George Clooney and Jennifer Lopez.

I finally got to interview him in 2007 for the historical novel Up In Honey’s Room. That was quite a day. I was working on the Mystery Special for Kirkus Reviews and had to squeeze in Elmore Leonard between Donald Westlake and Walter Mosley just before Christmas.

I was always impressed how easy it was to talk about his work. “I have a good time writing books, and I don’t want it to be work, ever,” he said, which may have been a clue to why it was so easy for him. This, despite being the guy who wrote his “Ten Rules of Writing” for The New York Times partially as a solution to the “Where do you get your ideas?” question that grates on writers of his caliber. He also spoke about his predilection for writing about criminals rather than law enforcement.

“I like to write about the criminals because most of them are either dumb, or it’s a guy who’s made a mistake,” he said. “While he might be trying to go straight, you never know what he’s going to do next because he has the ability to break the law. I kind of like these guys. I really have affection for them, even the bad guys. The poor guys are just dumb. I could never do, for example, a serial killer, because I could never find any affection for somebody who just wants to kill people.”

I also liked—and continue to like in current pulp writers—the fact that there is never any pretension in people like Elmore Leonard about why they write in “The Genre.” (Bear in mind, this is a guy who lived to see 3:10 to Yuma, The Big Bounce and 52-Pick-Up made into movies. Twice. Each.)

“It was always the market,” he told me. “With westerns, all the pulp magazines were done by the end of the 1950’s. Colliers and the Saturday Evening Post were paying the most for westerns, but they were even done. That was my goal, just to hit the slick magazines with my westerns. But my agents at the time said my stories were a little too relentless.”

“These stores always appeal because there are obvious good guys and bad guys,” he continued. “There is also always an ending to the story, unlike literary fiction, where you’re not always sure what the point is. Ed McBain and I were on Good Morning America once and we were asked to what we attributed the renewed interest in crime fiction. We kind of looked at each other and said, ‘We thought they were always popular.’”

Crime, yes. Mysteries, not so much. “I have never considered my books mysteries,” he said. “There’s no mystery to it. The reader always knows what’s going on. But there is always a crime. There’s always a crime. There’s always a gun.”

I caught up with him the following year to talk about Road Dogs, the novel that brought back Jack Foley from Out of Sight, as well as Cundo Rey from La Brava and Dawn Navarro from Riding the Rap. It was a good conversation—a lot of talk of prison culture and Jack Foley’s nature—“He just can’t stop,” Leonard said. “He’s robbed too many now. In my mind, he will rob another bank. The cops are waiting when he comes out, but that’s a mistake; he’s just opening an account. But I want the reader to always wonder if he’s going to rob a bank again. There’s always a chance.”

Then something happened that still makes me smile to remember him. Leonard was on page eight of the novel that would become Djibouti, his second-to-last novel to be published to date, including last year’s Raylan. He gave me the rundown of the plot as he understood it at the time—he never knew the ending when he began a book—and then says, “Hang on, and I’ll read you what I have so far.” And then he proceeded to read me the beginning of Djibouti right from his typewriter.

There will be lots of tributes coming down now, already starting with The New York Times and other news outlets, all of which will cover Leonard’s extraordinary career in detail. I’ll be interested to see what his fellow writers have to say myself. For now, I’m just really glad to have met him, and spoken with him about a lifetime’s worth of great stories. I will always remember him as a guy in a Detroit suburb, happily banging away on a typewriter.

I’ll leave you with a nice moment that Leonard shared with me at the end of one of our conversations.

“I threw out the first pitch at a Seattle Mariners game,” he said. “It wasn’t a special occasion, but I did get to throw out the first pitch. I practiced for it that morning. I went out in the backyard and measured out sixty feet and I kept throwing at a wire fence to make sure I could throw it in a straight line. When, when you get to the ballpark, they don’t want you messing up the mound, so you’re only 50 feet from home plate.”

elinuniform“It was a lot of fun,” he remembered. “The first time I ever got on the (Detroit Tigers) field, I was with Mike Lupica. He took me down on the field and introduced me to Ernie Harwell and the guys. I told them, for fifty years, I been wanting to come down here. Ernie Harwell says, ‘Why didn’t you call me?’”

Home run, Dutch. Rest easy.