A Writer's Tale

Arthur Moore, who specialized in writing crime fiction and frontier stories and novels, just sort of sat there and gave you the evil eye. He seemed serious, even grim. And he’d nail you with a few rough words. But his advice was always practical and good. And underneath his rather rough exterior, he was a sweet, gentle man with a great sense of humor. One of the things I remember most about Ait is the time I was crouching down, tying a shoe or something, and he ruffled my hair as he walked by. Like a coach, or like a dad.

Arthur’s exwife, Marilyn Granbeck, was a successful mystery novelist. She wrote under several pseudonyms. She basically seemed pretty friendly in a reserved sort of way. What I remember most about her, however, was a time early in my career (before The Cellar sold) that she said to me, “If you’re not doing something wrong, how come nobody’s buying your books?”

I get the feeling she didn’t like my stuff too much.

Jack Matcha was a big, husky guy who was more “artsy” than most of the others. He wrote plays and often sported a beret.

He was gruff like most of them and like Matt, Warner and Art, he took me under his wing. We traveled together to New York City for my very first Edgar Awards weekend.

We roomed together in the Edison hotel and he showed me around town. We ate at Nathan’s and the Rainbow Room, and he even took me across town to have a meal with some of his family in one of the other burroughs.

Charles Fritch was the group comedian. He had clever puns about everything, wrote hilarious stories, and was the editor of several Los Angeles magazines, including Topper and Mike Shayne’s Mystery Magazine. He seemed to be a good buddy of Jack’s. He often didn’t show up, but he was a regular longtime member of the Pink Tea anyway.

Bob Colby, famous for his Fawcett Gold Medal books, was another regular. He always showed up with his wife, Francesca, who was very soft-spoken and nice. Bob was a kick.

He would always wink and nudge me with his elbow and say, “Hey, Rich, if we’re so famous, how come we’re not rich?” Bob and I spent a while collaborating on a book, but it petered out.

Gary Brandner was “the kid” of the Pink Tea before my arrival. He’d only had a few things published by the time I came along. His most recent work had been Saturday Night in Milwaukee, on which he’d collaborated with Clayton Matthews.

Our paths had already crossed in that my first story had appeared in the same issue of Ellery Queen as Gary’s second story. With the publication of The Howling, he became a big-time horror writer. Whenever he hosted a Pink Tea, I knew it would be a very late night. He never wanted anyone to leave. He took departures as personal insults. So it would often be two o’clock in the morning before I could force myself to leave. At the door, he always said, “Try to be a better person.”

Over the years, Gary brought several women to the Pink Teas. They were always very attractive and flamboyant, including Barbara and Martine, two of his wives I got to know fairly well.

Leo Whitaker had a huge dog that liked to attack us whenever Leo hosted a Pink Tea. He also has a charming wife, Elizabeth, who hails from Scotland. Leo, red-haired and ruddy, struck me as a Dickens character. I always expected his buttons to pop off.

A sweet-tempered socialist, he had stories about his days of campaigning for John Kennedy. We used to argue politics a lot. He once said, “Laymon, your answer to all the world’s ills is summary execution.” Though Leo succeeded in having some short stories published, he never seemed obsessed with writing the way some of us were.

Richard D. Hughes started coming to the Pink Tea, as I recall, because he was a friend of Leo’s. Richard was an attorney and judge. Tall and soft-spoken and friendly, he became a regular member who sometimes read some fiction. For quite a while, he was working on a promising historical novel about the early railroading days in California. To the best of my knowledge, he has never had any fiction published. However, he was a good member who made worthwhile comments about the material being read. He would eventually hire me to work in his law offices. I worked for him for four years, and the job helped to get me through a very rough financial period. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.

Al Nussbaum was renowned as a short story writer and bank robber. At one time, he was on the F.B.I.‘s “Ten Most “Wanted” list. When captured on the snowy streets of Buffalo, he was armed with a submachine gun and hand grenades. But, gosh, he was a nice guy!

He always had a twinkle in his eye, a wisecrack, a joke. He told some of the funniest, raunchiest jokes I’ve ever heard. He was often the brains behind “practical jokes.”