Out Of The 1940s Film Noir Night-With Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake’s This Gun For Hire In Mind

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

The Raven was a piece of work a piece of work alright tough and mean, damn mean, if he had to be and gentle as a lamb when he wanted to be. Yah, it was a tough break, a big bad tough break that his father had died in the Great War (World War I, the war to end all wars if anybody was asking, although he usually forgot to mention that his father’s death was by hanging by his own side since he had deserted his unit under fire) and his mother had died when he was young so he was nothing but an orphan. It was tough too that the aunt who took him in was nothing but a bitch, a devilish bitch that beat him mercilessly for the slightest infraction. Like once grabbing an off-hand piece of candy without permission from the candy dish on her dining room table. Of course she got hers, got hers good. So while it was easy to see where the Raven (he refused all the way, under all conditions, to give any other name and nobody, nobody who wanted to stay alive, bothered with the formalities of name once he settled that issue in his mind) was kind of destined to fall off the tracks, to turn himself, his lonely self into nothing but a stone- cold killer, a professional hit man, a hired gun if you don’t want to put it so delicately. He wasn’t saying, in those very few reflective moments that he endured, that the dice were fixed but close enough and so he was what he was, and good at it too, very good for a while.

Very good until he hitched up with Willie James, a high-roller (self-advertised as such anyway) always looking for the main chance, and the main chance just then was selling high- grade chemical formulas to the highest bidder regardless of nationality. And that predilection might have meant nothing to anybody except for a funny little event, Pearl Harbor, where the slant-eyes, the Nips, the crazy yellow men bombed the hell out of the United States and thought nothing of it. See though Willie James thought nothing of it either and they, the Japanese, were willing to pay a very high price for a nice little formula, a poison gas formula if you want to know, to get it and use it during the current war, World War II for those who forgot.

Not everybody was happy to know that selling to the highest bidder was what Willie was about and one of his associates was willing to sell him out to the feds no question. Willie however had other ideas, Raven ideas, and so he was gainfully employed by Willie to waste that errant associate and he did, did it very professionally if somewhat messily. Actually for a moment it was a classic job of the profession- the target fell easily but he happened to have his honey secretary with him although that was not part of the deal. She wasn’t supposed to be there. Bang. Sorry honey. Sweet. Willie however playing for high stakes and wary of an off-hand witness to his nefarious deeds paid the Raven off in counterfeit money to set him for the frame, the big frame. Touché. Needless to say when Raven scoped to that hard fact, hard jail fact, he was ready to move heaven and earth to avenge his hurt, his long ago embedded hurt.

Of course a woman goes with it, a dame out of some old-time Hollywood film, a dame who looked like some angel if angels had their hair pushed just a little over that right eye that year, could sing, do magic tricks, and be, well fetching. The Raven took to her right away, right from the first moment he eyed her at the Neptune Club, Willie’s hangout. So he took a little time out from Willie to dig into her, to find out whether her tastes ran to hard guys, hard guys with chips on their shoulders, but just then looking for some pillow talk. He never had trouble with women, girls, all the way back to elementary school and he expected none now. And he didn’t get any resistance when he sent a drink over to her table at intermission.

After a few words, some banter really, a couple of sly double- ententes and some dreamy pillow talk by her once she sized him up as a hard guy but maybe good for a fling they agreed to meet after the show. They did so and went to her place. The next morning he shook off the night’s sweats and slumbers and headed out before she awoke. Headed over to Willie’s place out on Sunset Boulevard and placed two beauties, two 38s right between poor Willie Boy’s eyes. He knew he would now have to be on the lam for a while so he called that last night beautiful and told her to meet him in Frisco town, yes, Frisco town. He hung up and had just the slightest smile on his face, a smile for such a good day’s work. Yes, he was a pro, a pro no question…