In a message dated 2/28/03 12:03:09 PM Eastern Standard Time,
owner-rara-avis@icomm.ca writes:
<<
Date: Fri, 28 Mar 2003 16:51:33 -0000
From: "John Williams" <
johnwilliams@ntlworld.com>
Subject: Re: RARA-AVIS: "Evan Hunter" et al ...
He doesn't like to be reminded of his birth
> name, as I think Richard Moore can attest. I
believe
> Richard asked him about it at the Omaha
Bouchercon.
>
> Bill Crider
I too can attest to this - a quick search for Lombino
in the archives will
find the story of how McBain came to accuse me of
anti-Italian-Americanism
(and immortalize my name in an 87th precinct
novel)
John
>>
Sorry that I sent a message before writing it but it has been
a long week in the blizzard capital.
I understand what you went through John! Bill, my experience
was long before the Omaha Bouchercon. I was on my best
behavior there, having learned my lesson before and also I
wanted nothing to prevent me from getting my copy
of...certain rare works by Evan Hunter autographed.
It was at a lecture in Washington sponsored by the
Smithsonian Institute and the year was (I think 1981). The
latest was 1982. A little background. The Smithsonian has an
organization called the Smithsonian Resident Associates. The
members pay a fee and are offered a wide variety of special
tours, lectures, and behind the scenes looks at all sorts of
neat things. I joined when I moved to Washington in 1981 in
order to go on their Civil War battlefield tours with a
favorite historian.
So it was in their monthly mailing that I learned of a series
of lectures on the mystery hosted by Michele Slung, then with
Washington Post Book World. I can't remember but there were
about eight evening events in the series. I had corresponded
with Michele because she had selected one of my short stories
for an anthology she edited.
So I signed up, introduced myself to Michele and from then on
she always introduced me to the guest prior to the meeting.
Remember that in 1981 there were maybe two mystery bookstores
in the world, both in New York. Bouchercons had memberships
below 200 and the field was not exactly dominating the best
seller lists. Knowledgeable fans were few and far
between.
And the authors were far from courted, they were positively
ignored. An invitation to the Smithsonian Institute, by God,
was a big deal in their lives, an affirmation that they had
made it. This was the same series, by the way, that Donald
Westlake declared the private eye novel dead as a creative
form. It was 18 months or more later that a version of this
lecture was printed in the Armchair Detective and created a
storm.
Anyway, the Evan Hunter evening came and Michele introduced
him to me. Hunter seemed painfully shy and ill at ease and (I
thought) nervous about his impending talk. I did what I had
done on previous evenings, chatted up the guest while
demonstrating detailed knowledge of their work. None were as
nervous as Hunter and while he did not relax, I helped ease
him down closer to the ground.
Michele did the introduction and the audience, a few dozen
people who loved mysteries and most knew Hunter was the
author of the 87th Precinct mysteries, was dutifully
attentive during his talk. Michelle followed up with a few
questions and then it was opened to the audience.
I always asked a lot of questions at these things but after
my first I never asked a question until a silence had settled
and it was up to either me or Michelle to keep things
moving.
I ran through my mental list but this crowd may have had
fewer questions than most. In any case, a silence fell and I
seached my mind for another question. I was curious about the
change from his birth name of Salvadore Lombino. But I
thought to ask him "why" he changed his name was too
personal. I decided to ask it in a way where he could explain
or simply acknowledge.
"Was not your birth name S.A. Lombino?" I asked. I asked it
this way because I had stories with that byline rather than
the full first name.
To my surprise, he reacted like a caught-lying witness in the
old Perry Mason television program. He physically reacted and
then stammered badly. Recovering he said something to the
effect that, yes, that was his birth name but of what
possible interest could that be to anyone? He had changed it
but that was a private matter. I don't recall exactly what he
said but it was along those lines and it was truly
embarrassing for me. As they say where I come from, I was
suddenly the skunk at the picnic.
I blushed and sat quietly for a time as I brooded on all this
and then I got a little pissed off. Less than a year before I
had been a reporter. Did this tight-ass writer think I had
asked a tough one? By God, if he wanted to see a tough one, I
was just the boy to throw him one.
So I did and it was ugly--out of left field, coming out of
the lights right to his head. I regret that I did this. Why I
didn't have the charity to understand how my other question
had appeared to him and let my feelings go, I don't know.
Towards the end of his talk, he made a gesture towards me.
Before the talk began, while we were chatting, I asked him to
autograph my copy of the September 1953 issue of "Manhunt"
that had three stories by him under three names. He had not
only signed the issue but did so under all three names: Evan
Hunter, Hunt Collins and Richard Marsten. So when he was
explaining to some questioner about where he originally sold
stories, he gave me three queue's to hold up my issue of
Manhunt as kind of a show and tell. He didn't ask me. He just
looked to me as he described to the group the type of
magazine. But I knew what he wanted me to do.
I just smiled at him and nodded but pretended to be oblivious
to his unspoken request.
In short, I was an A-number-one asshole. And in my long list
of regrets, this episode is not in the top five but it damn
sure isn't in the bottom five either. I don't know why he got
my goat that night but he did.
Now as for his real reasons, he discussed this in some detail
in the New Yorker magazine piece by Pete Hamill. Now Hamill
also said he never published a story under the Lombino name
but I have the issues of Science Fiction Quarterly to prove
otherwise. But I didn't send that into the New Yorker. I had
already said too much on the subject.
Hunter had a valid complaint. The complaint, I think, was
with American society not the Scott Meredith agency where he
worked and where he got the advice to change his name. Was a
novel by "Evan Hunter" more likely to be a wide success in
1955 than one by S.A. Lombino? Absolutely. Bad but true. Hell
Sandra Scoppetone was saying the same thing a quarter of a
century later.
One final note: another Scott Meredith writer, who also
worked at the agency for a time like Hunter, did a similar
thing. Stephen Marlowe began life as Milton Lesser. He wrote
reams of material and not a few novels under the Lesser
name--most science fiction. He adopted the Marlowe name for
some of his mysteries and that was how he hit it big. He kept
the Lesser name as his legal name until he was traveling
overseas and set to meet someone at a hotel in some
Scandinavian country. He was registered under his Lesser name
and his contacts kept calling asking for the room of Stephen
Marlowe. That, he told a Bouchercon audience, was when he
decided to make the legal change.
Anyway, that's my Lombino story. I still blush to think of
it. But now, Bill, you know why when I shoved my copy of THE
EVIL SLEEP! at him in Omaha
(and you were right behind me), that I didn't say "You
remember me Evan! I was the guy who gave you a hard time at
the Smithsonian!"
Richard Moore
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