First Lines: Jonathan Latimer

I remember when I was first getting into crime fiction, I was in a used bookstore in Bangor, ME, passing over all the titles in the “mystery” section, and not knowing 95% of the authors. There was something about the oddly plain, red typography of one spine that caught my eye, Solomon’s Vineyard by Jonathan Latimer. The collage-style cover of black-and-white photographs was certainly appealing, but it was the first line that instantly arrested me. Almost as soon as the book was bought it was read. Who was this Jonathan Latimer, and where can I find the rest of his books?

Several years later, I now have all of them, and even though I still have a couple left to read, I decided to pull together the first lines of all his novels. I tried something similar a few months ago with David Goodis, and the results seemed to cohere more than they do here. Oh, well – still some good first lines, though I still think Solomon’s Vineyard still takes the cake (and, for my money, it is his best novel). Also, for those interested, there is a complete bibliography available at Rara-Avis.

"It was nearly evening." –Murder in the Madhouse, 1935

"In the cell to the right, a man was still crying." –Headed for a Hearse, 1935

"The morgue attendant jerked the receiver from the telephone, choked off the bell in the middle of a jangling ring." –The Lady in the Morgue, 1936

"With a hollow rattle of its muffler the Greyhound bus disappeared down the cement road and left me in the darkness." –The Search For My Great-Uncle’s Head, 1937

"Sunset splashed gold paint on the windows of the white marble house, brought out apricots and pinks and salmons in the flowering azaleas." –The Dead Don’t Care, 1938

“There’s a burglar downstairs,” Ann Fortune said. –Red Gardenias, 1939

"In the afternoon a white mist came down from the mountains to the plateau, veiling the scrub timber and the underbrush and the road." –Dark Memory, 1940

"From the way her buttocks looked under the black silk dress, I knew she’d be good in bed." –Solomon’s Vineyard (The Fifth Grave), 1941

"A buzzing noise woke Sam Clay." –Sinners and Shrouds, 1955

"He first heard the sound sometime around quarter to eleven." –Black is the Fashion for Dying (The Mink Lined Coffin), 1959

Movies for Monday: Jonathan Latimer's Bill Crane in "The Westland Case" (1937), "The Lady in the Morgue" (1938), and "The Last Warning" (1939)

Between 1937 and 1939, Universal released 11 films as part of their “Crime Club Mysteries” series. Among them were three adaptations of Jonathan Latimer’s Bill Crane novels – The Westland Case (1937) from the novel Headed for a Hearse, The Lady in the Morgue (1938), and The Last Warning (1939) from the novel The Dead Don’t Care. All starred Preston Foster as Bill Crane and Frank Jenks as his partner-in-crime (detection, that is) Doc Williams. Made in the wake of the Production Code which temporarily “sanitized” movie screens across the country, the alcoholic haze and stark amorality of Latimer’s world is drastically reduced in these adaptations. Nevertheless, Foster and Jenks are marvelous as the private eyes that would rather investigate dames than crimes, and who prefer to “chase” their drinks rather than criminals.

The three films vary in quality, with The Lady in the Morgue being the best. Below are selected stills from the films, along with a short summary and review. If anyone else has seen these films, please chime in with your opinions in the comments section!

The Westland Case (1937)
Directed by Christy Cabanne, Screenplay adapted by Robertson White, and Produced by Irving Starr.


A woman is found murdered in her apartment with all the doors locked from the inside, and only two people had a key: one of them is dead, and the other is her husband. Sitting on death row, he takes a hint from a fellow inmate to hire Crane and Williams to prove his innocence.


The weakest of the three films, it condenses Latimer’s movie to a brief 62 minutes by cutting out nearly everything but the plot, which flies by so fast that is difficult to follow coherently. This is problematic, as in Latimer’s novel plot is only of secondary importance – it is Bill Crane and his comic hardboiled personality that is the focus. Foster and Jenks still feel awkward in the roles, as though they’re still getting the feel for Latimer’s characters. Cabanne’s direction is economical without being evocative – in general, the whole film feels noticeably “abridged.”

The Lady in the Morgue (1938)
Directed by Otis Garrett, Screenplay adapted by Eric Taylor and Robertson White, Produced by Irving Starr, and Photographed by Stanley Cortez.

“Maybe swell for you fellows, but what about me! I’m in this thing up to my neck. If I stand still for five minutes Spitzy and Collins start shooting at me. Frankie French is going to kill me on sight. Layman and Storm are on my heels like a couple of bloodhounds, and the District Attorney says I’m practically in the death house right now! Listen brother, client or no client, we dig at nightfall.” –Bill Crane

And just what is Bill Crane digging for this time? The Lady in the Morgue, who was stolen right out from under their noses. One minute she was lying on a slab, and the next minute the coroner was in her place…and just as dead. To add to the mayhem everyone – cops, gangsters, aristocrats and all – think that Crane stole the body.


Foster and Jenks are in full swing in their second outing as the detective duo. Even with the alcohol at a minimum, they fully embody the half-interest-in-detection and full-interest-in-pleasure that characterized Latimer’s novel. And Stanley Cortez’s photography is stunning – he later went on to do The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) for Orson Welles and The Night of the Hunter (1955) for Charles Laughton, and his haunting use of light and shadow is on full display even at this early point of his career.

The Last Warning (1939)
Directed by Albert S. Rogell, Screenplay adapted by Edmund L. Hartmann, and Produced by Irving Starr.

“Look, brother, I’m only a detective. I’m not supposed to know anything.” – Doc Williams

“Ah, but this is the life, though. Butlers, bathing beauties, air conditioned rooms, one continual round of pleasure and social shenanigans.” – Doc Williams

In these two lines, Doc Williams has summed up the Latimer ethos. And in this, their final outing together, Foster and Jenks have epitomized the daze of drink and dames of Latimer’s original novel. In this movie, they’re hired to get to the bottom of a mind-boggling case of blackmail. Notes demanding payment turn up in the screwiest of places – not only in locked rooms next to people’s pillows, but also in their pockets and the palms of their hands! But with all the bathing beauties around, Crane and Williams are too distracted, and before they know it, their employer’s father has been attacked, his sister kidnapped, and the ransom money stolen from plain sight. A comic-mystery delight from start to finish.

"Red Gardenias" by Jonathan Latimer (International Polygonics Ltd., 1991)

For this week's Friday's Forgotten Books, I wrote about Jonathan Latimer's Red Gardenias, the fifth and final entry in his Bill Crane series. Patti Abbott was kind enough to post my review on her blog, along with other reviews by Paul Brazill, Kaye Barley, Mary Reed, and Patti herself.

Originally published in 1939, the edition I read was the 1991 reprint by International Polygonics, Ltd., who thankfully reprinted all of Jonathan Latimer's books, as well as other great works by Craig Rice and Anthony Boucher, to name just a few. Jennifer Place did interesting collage artwork for most of the Latimer editions, and Nicky Zann did fabulous, satirical cartoons for the Rice novels. Sadly, IPL seems to have gone out of business in the mid-1990s. If you search hard enough, however, you can still find their books.

Latimer's cynical blend of screwball and hardboiled is always a pleasure to read. Here are a couple of quotes that are characteristic of his style.

"He remembered with growing indignation the calm manner in which Ann had sent him downstairs. Women were queer. They'd fuss over a man going out in a rainstorm or on a fishing trip, but they'd send him after a burglar as offhandedly as they would for the morning milk."

"He felt a little bit lonely. Nobody liked him except Dolly Wilson. It was tough, being a detective and having nobody but Dolly Wilson liking you. He felt possibly he was a little drunk. That was good, but he wished he had someone around who liked him and who...and whom he liked. That was good grammar. Damn good grammar!"

Check out this week's reviews here.

The Books in My Life

Inspired by Pattinase’s list, “Twenty-Five Writers Who Have Most Influenced Me,” I sat down to mull over those writers who have had the biggest impact on the way I write and the way I read. In order that this didn’t turn into a mile-long list of my “favorite” writers, I stuck to just those few who have stayed with me the longest, and who left an indelible mark on my life. So—here they are, in alphabetical order, along with my favorite book of theirs.

1. Fredric Brown – Here Comes a Candle – A devilish imagination that never ceases to surprise me. A fiendish puppet master who maneuvers fate in the most illogical, ironic way, Brown crafts hallucinatory mysteries that terrify us and make us laugh.

2. Charles Bukowski – Ham on Rye – Real life without the bullshit. Poetry without a pretty veneer. Stories with guts.

3. Raymond Carver – Where I’m Calling From – Working class blues.

4. John Fante – Ask the Dust – Brutally honest about our hopes and dreams, and our failure to ever live up to them. A big influence on Bukowski. His language is stripped down and direct, but it is so full of emotion and feeling.

5. David Goodis – Somebody's Done For – The bleakest, most beautiful poetry I’ve encountered. At his best, his plots are but the briefest outlines – merely containers for his characters’ emotions and thoughts and anxieties and hopes.

6. Pauline Kael – I Lost It At the Movies – Lively, engaging, and sometimes enraging, she made me realize that there is more to criticism than “good” and “bad” – as the title of one of her books indicates, she taught me to look “deeper into movies.”

7. Jonathan Latimer – Solomon’s Vineyard – Guiltless amorality and pleasure, and a detective that cares nothing about the case or the young girl in danger. Marlowe’s white knight has turned into a perverse devil.

8. Phillip Lopate – Totally, Tenderly, Tragically – The opening essay, “Anticipating La Notte: The Heroic Age of Moviegoing,” is the most enlightening, personal writing I’ve ever read on film. It made me move back to New York to pursue my love of movies.

9. Henry Miller – Tropic of Cancer – Miller taught me to love language. He doesn’t write – he rhapsodizes.

10. Sanford Phippen – Kitchen Boy – I was lucky to have him as both my high school English teacher as well as neighbor, and he is still a dear friend of mine. He taught me the wealth of stories that happen in even the smallest town – and how often the best ones pass almost unnoticed.

11. J.D. Salinger – The Catcher in the Rye – I think everyone who has read this has found a little (or a lot) of Holden in themselves.

12. Mickey Spillane – Vengeance is Mine – I read Hammett, Chandler, and Cain first – but Spillane was my first noir love. Masterful control of language and punctuation. Evocative imagery, lurid action, and intoxicating poetry.

13. Harvey Swados – Nights in the Gardens of Brooklyn – Before Carver there was Swados – melancholic stories of middle-class minutiae.

14. Jim Thompson – The Killer Inside Me – Thompson takes us to a dark place that few even dare to acknowledge…

Feel free to share your own list or any thoughts on these writers in the comments section.