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Bill Crane

kevinburtonsmith

Created by Jonathan Latimer
Pseudonyms include Peter Coffin
(1906-1983)

Jonathan Latimer‘s first book, 1935’s Headed For a Hearse, was one of the first hard-boiled screwball comedies, following closely on the heels of the previous year’s The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammett. But where Hammett only toyed with the idea, contenting himself with cocktails and banter, Latimer went whole hog.

Like Hammett’s Nick and Nora, Latimer’s “eternally sozzled” BILL CRANE was a decidedly hedonistic kinda guy, but whereas the Charleses always seemed to (mostly) keep their deductive wits about them, Crane was a booze-soaked and possibly inept detective who somehow managed, despite the ponderous and copious intake of a variety of intoxicating substances, to somehow crack the case; an approach that gazes forward to the work of such successors as Craig Rice, Fredric Brown, Norbert Davis, Richard Prather and Carl Hiaasen, among others.

In Red Harvest, Dashiell Hammett’s po-faced Continental Op takes a break from breaking the backs of two rival gangs by swilling a concoction of gin and laudanum, no doubt intended to demonstrate the resolution of the hard-bitten, tough-minded Op’s nature, but Crane drank for a much simpler reason: he enjoyed it.

Hoo-boy, did he enjoy it!

In the course of five highly recommended novels in the early thirties, Crane and his fellow ops from Colonel Black’s New York-based detective agency (handsome Tom O’Malley, and dapper, distinguished Doc Williams) gulp down just about anything they can get their hands on – including (accidentally) at one point embalming fluid – and spend most of their time either high as a kite or suffering from hangovers.

With The Thin Man, Hammett may have dipped his toe into the screwball pool, but Latimer jumped right in and splashed around to his heart’s content. The plots zig and zag merrily along, and there are enough screws loose in the various characters — and the plots — to stock a hardware store. Dead bodies disappear and reappear regularly, people have sex in the wrong place and the wrong time, glib wisecracks abound, and cars zip back and forth at ferocious speeds.

Latimer himself said, in a 1981 interview: “The Crane books were light-hearted, not to be taken too seriously. Booze, babes and bullets.”

But however dismissive the author may have been about his own work, it wasn’t all kiss kiss bang bang on a banana peel. Latimer could also pop out little oddball gems like this one from Headed for a Hearse: “It was not so windy outside, and a quiet fall of very dry snow had begun, as though someone was cutting up an ostrich boa with a pair of nail scissors.” And he gets big thumbs up for his earthy, frank tone — his characters were not only were enjoying life but living it.

In the thirties, Universal produced three film adaptations, all starring Preston Foster as Crane, as part of their “Crime Club” series. There were reportedly pretty good, for B films, but not good enough to really set the world on fire. Still, I wish they were more easily available.

Latimer was also responsible for the dark, hard-boiled classic Solomon’s Vineyard, featuring private eye Karl Craven, and later turned to screenwriting (including The Big Clock and The Glass Key). In the sixties, he wrote for the Perry Mason TV show.

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Respectfully submitted by Kevin Burton Smith. Thanks to Iris Wiederkehr, Latimer’s German publisher, for the heads up.

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