Monthly Archives: July 2012

AUSTIN PULP FICTION + BLUES REDUX

The Third Martin Fender Novel.

Boiled in Concrete, the 3rd Martin Fender novel, is now available in the Amazon Kindle store, and between tonight (Saturday morning at midnight CST) until Monday morning, it’s free for Kindle Prime Members. So you may as well download now, even if you don’t plan on reading it, so I’ll get credit for it, and this will help me buy a new pair of very expensive, British made Jeffrey West rock star boots. I realize it seems trivial, but that’s where we’re at these days. Very soon, within a couple of months, that is, I’ll have a brand new novel out on an e-platform that I’ll also be asking you to buy, but this time, I really want you to read it and dig it, because it’s brand new, it’s real cool, it’s a post-apocalyptic surrealistic blues pulp fiction story. But more on that later.

The Second Martin Fender novel, also available in the Amazon Kindle store.

  • Check out a video of the Carla Olson/Mick Taylor Band here, with me playing bass (don’t look for me, I’m back in the shadows) in 1990 at the Roxy in Los Angles, on the great Stones song “Sway.”

Boiled in Concrete was originally published by Viking Penguin in 1991. I was living in LA at the time with my wife, Lois Richwine, playing in a band with Carla Olson, Mick Taylor, and some other fine musicians. As you may recall, Carla Olson is from Austin and was formerly in a band called the Silver Cloud (with Eddie Munoz), also the Violators and also the Textones. I was in the Violators, with her and Kathy Valentine, in 1978, and then I played with her again in the Carla Olson/Mick Taylor Band. We were briefly called the Jesse Sublett/Carla Olson/Mick Taylor Band, but the clubs where we played kept running out of S’s, so we shortened the name. OK, that’s not actually true. Anyway, the first CD we recorded, Too Hot For Snakes, kicks off with my song, “Who Put The Sting On The Honey Bee,” as the first track. Everybody liked the song, including Mick Taylor, who was formerly in the Rolling Stones, and was the only guitarist to leave the Stones and live to tell about it. Mick liked my songs, and also loved my crime novels. Without bragging, I must say it’s a real thrill to play in a band with a guy who is not only an ex-Stone, but without a doubt one of the greatest guitarists in the world, and who is, like myself, a diehard Howlin’ Wolf fan, but unlike 99.99% of the musicians in the world, able to play those Hubert Sumlin licks so well it just might melt your face off. And so, during a break, you’re talking with this  incredible guy about the greatness of Howlin’ Wolf, and then you switch to crime fiction, and he’s as big a Raymond Chandler fan as they come. It’s a cool, cool thing. So, back to my novels: Boiled In Concrete is the third Martin Fender novel. It had not yet been released when I was playing with Mick, but he loved the predecessors, Rock Critic Murders and Tough Baby. Again, I’ve gotta tell you, playing in a band with an ex-Rolling Stone, who knows every Howlin’ Wolf song backwards and forwards, and who is at least as good a guitarist as Jimi Hendrix, and who digs your songs and your crime novels, is a pretty neat experience.

The first Martin Fender novel, also available in iTunes or on Amazon for the Kindle or whatever eReader you happen to use. But the iPad version has Music, Video and other cool stuff.

Carla Olson is still a friend and has always been great to play with also. That CD, Too Hot For Snakes, is slated for re-release soon and by the way, we played a few Rolling Stones covers on that record, too.

Back to the novel, Boiled in Concrete. In this one, Martin Fender finds himself marooned in Los Angeles, the real Austin deal in a plastic town, a fish out of water. I loved living in LA, but Martin Fender did not. He was anxious to get back to Austin. So when he hooks up with a troubled pop singer named Dovie De Carlo, his mercenary instinct kicks in and he sees plane fare in it. He can get Dovie back to her roots in Austin, help her write some hit songs, and he can get his fill of good Tex Mex and other soulful stuff in his home town. But there are complications along the way. It’s always that way, even in real life.

I started working on becoming a crime writer when living in Austin, playing in the last stages of the Skunks and making the transition to playing solo, but it was in Los Angeles that I became a published author. I immediately signed up with the Southern Cal chapter of Mystery Writers of America, and met great authors like James Ellroy, Elmore Leonard, Robert B. Parker, Gerald Petievich, Wendy Hornsby and many others. (Ellroy, Parker and Petievich wrote blurbs for my novels. Ellroy wrote a very generous blurb for my memoir, Never the Same Again. We bonded over the fact that we both have this experience of being haunted by a horrific crime in our past: in his case, it was the unsolved rape/murder of his mother, in my case, it was the murder of my girlfriend, Dianne Roberts, by a serial killer. I saw Ellroy for coffee on occasion (triple espressos), and at book events, etc.) Around this time I also met Michael Connelly, who was a crime reporter for LA Times, just before his first book was published, The Black Echo, and what a debut novel that turned out to be (take a ridealong with Michael here and he’ll tell you about his new novel, The Black Box). Between novels and music gigs I wrote spec screenplays and the occasional screenplay or treatment for hire, short stories, war documentaries, anything to avoid actually working for a living. Living in LA felt like a dream, because I was also playing in some cool bands there, playing bass not only with Carla and Mick but with my other Austin pal, Kathy Valentine. The Go-Go’s were in one of their defunct phases at the time, having broken up acrimoniously. So Kathy started a new band called World’s Cutest Killers, and we played up and down the West Coast, recorded with Blondie producer Mike Chapman, and had a great time. Kelly Johnson, Kathy’s pal from the band Girlschool, was also in the band, along with ex Public Image keyboardist Jebin Bruni and drummer Craig Aaronson, of Broken Homes.

I’m going overboard with the name dropping here, so I’ll stop. I do hope you will check out Boiled in Concrete, plus my memoir of these experiences (along with my saga of surviving throat cancer and serial killers, Never the Same Again: A Rock n’ Roll Gothic, and other stuff…)

That’s me on the left, playing bass with Mick Taylor, Carla Olson, Ian McLagen, George Callins, etc.

Cheers,
Jesse

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Filed under Books & other writing by Jesse Sublett, NOIR & TRUE CRIME

Armies have marched over the face and guess who’s still laughing?

Lunch at Sam’s with Todd V. Wolfson

Photo session with Todd V. Wolfson yesterday. What a great guy. Brilliant, eccentric, cat lover, collector of art and weird sounds. I kind of forgot we even took pictures. Plan to join him at one of his Monkey Next jams again soon.

I have not posted many new blogs this summer as I have been bogged down with a lingering under-the-weather thing for months. A little hangover from cancer treatment 14 years ago which wiped out my immunity. But what the hell, it’s nice to be alive. However, summertime in central Texas, you often wonder if you have dropped down to Satan’s backyard barbecue instead.

Todd calls this one “Comedy / Pathos” but which is which??

I’ll be posting some new material soon, but a conversation with my friend Rob Hamlet about the South Congress Avenue hood near St. Edwards University and the old dive Bel Aire Motel, got me thinking, and I dug up this clipping about the famed drug bust of Roky Erickson and the 13th Floor Elevators. Some of them lived at the motel for a while, and others lived around the corner. This was the first big drug bust of the band in January 1966, and was part of a concerted, overt and covert effort to destroy the band. Local cops, including APD vice, state narcs, and county sheriff’s department all were convinced that the Elevators were a menace to society.

13th Floor Elevators bust January 1966


Harvey Gann, who was chief of APD Vice from 1955 through about 1984 or so, has said this on numerous occasions. There was a good bit of vice then in numerous parts of Austin and as most of us history aficionados know, just beyond the city limits, prostitution flourished under the watchful, greedy eyes of Sheriff T.O. Lang. Ernie’s Chicken Shack, over on Webberville Rd. in East AUstin, run by that notorious capitalist and underworld character, Ernest Charles “Charlie” Gildon, was a “zona rosa” — a zone of tolerance, where things were pretty much wide open, as long as Charlie kept a lid on things. Which he did, more or less. Charlie died in 1979, I think it was, of a shotgun blast at the little store he ran. Supposedly it was a robbery.

The Chicken Shack was a place where you could get a bottle of booze in a brown paper sack (mixed drinks were illegal) and the music, by the house band, Blues Boy Hubbard and the Jets, went way after hours, and touring bands came in and jammed. The club was started as a neighborhood joint, that is, a place where black folks could go and feel comfortable, as opposed to Charlie’s other joint, Charlie’s Playhouse (1206 E 12th Street), which became over run with whites, especially UT students. You could meet a girl there, rub shoulders with legislators, pimps, gambles, dealers, and all kinds of nice adventurous folks.

Members of the Overton Gang were regulars. Charlie always treated Timmy Overton like a VIP, gave him a good table, shot craps with him in the back, etc. Another regular was Bobby Layne, the former UT Longhorn who went pro and played 15 years with the Detroit Lions and was a hard-living, hard-gambling man. Bobby would go out with his minder and a stake of $5,000 or so, which would be his limit for the night, and spend every dime, and call that a good time. And so they loved Bobby at the joints like the Chicken Shack.

Timmy Overton would be there with a couple of gals or more and just like in the gangster movies, people would come by the table and show their respect. Old friends, including guys who went to school with him at Austin High, where he was a star football player, and later, at UT, where Darrell Royal gave him a scholarship to play for the Longhorns, and these guys, including guys who were NOT in the life, Timmy would often offer them a “date” with one of his girls, on the house, or say, Hey man, you need some money? Peeling off a couple of C-notes from his big money roll. Stuff like that. Exciting times.

By the way, January 1966 was a wild time in Austin. The Elevators first single, “You’re Gonna Miss Me” was hot-hot-hot, having been just released, right after the band formed, the previous month, and was burning up the airwaves until the APD & local vigilante posse (I can explain, and will, later, in my book about the Austin Underworld), put out the word that this drug menace had to be STOMPED OUT. So the airplay stopped, all but KAZZ stopped playing the single. Then the bust happened. And Timmy Overton, who was, no coincidence, also the subject of surveillance and dirty tricks by Lt. Harvey Gann and other representatives from Austin’s finest, was also making lots of news. In January he got shot by a nut case vigilante (no relation to the posse, which was made up of upstanding uptight citizens, whereas this guy was from the State Hospital) and then, upon his release from the hospital, Timmy and his attorney / accomplice in jewelry fencing, Jerry LeMond, were busted for federal conspiracy charges. After their release, Timmy took Jerry for a ride, and I mean that in a classic sense. Jerry was found in the wee hours of the next day, suffering from all kinds of injuries, having been dropped off rather roughly and unable to walk home. Jerry, by the way, never talked about his dealings with Timmy and the jewels which they had fenced in San Antonio and also in Los Angeles. And Timmy beat the rap.

Timmy Overton age 17, Golden Gloves tournament in Austin, February 1957. Timmy fought as a Light-Heavy in the high school division. Won this round on a TKO.

Anyway, as some of you know I’ve been writing about Timmy Overton and his adventures in Austin vice for a few years now. I had to put the book on the back burner for a while, but hope to finish and publish later this year. I wrote a piece about the Overton Gang for Texas Observer a couple of years ago. At that time, I was going to redo the story as a novel, but since then, I’ve gone back to NONFICTION, which is what it needs to be. But the Observer piece is still a good intro. Read here.

Timmy Overton leaving federal court May 16, 1967, escorted by two good pals, J.T. Seaholm, Texas Ranger, left, and Jim Riddles, sheriff’s deputy, right.


I have rambled here. Mostly I wanted to post a couple of the new pix shot by my great pal, Todd V. Wolfson. More news to come, soon.

Jesse Meets Hurrell, by Todd V. Wolfson.

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Filed under BLUES, MURDER BALLADS & OTHER COOL RACKET, MY ART BLOG, NOIR & TRUE CRIME

CAT WILL TAKE YOUR ASS OUT

I’ve been checking out drawing apps for iPad, so these little jpegs are just doodles; on the other hand, I kinda like them. Most of them are called “Blues Cat” because one of the two protagonists on my novella in progress is called The Blues Cat. Hope to get this finished and out as an eBook with some iPad incarnation before the end of summer. Been somewhat under the weather, so it’s taking longer, but you don’t want to hear about that, now, do you?

So far I’ve scrawled around with the Documents app, and while it’s really limited, I like the ultra bright colors against the black background. I just downloaded ArtRage, and that’s more complicated, but looks like a powerful app, and promising. The other pix here are from the MoMa app, which I just got, and it’s kinda fun, too. They’re the geometric looking ones. I have GlowDraw, which is fairly worthless, unless maybe you’re tripping on X (not that I would necessarily know) and also Draw Pad, which is OK, I guess, but it wastes a lot of time trying to get you to fix up a journal and other BS, IMHO. If any of you have any favorite drawing apps, let me know.

Noir news, baby! And not just about me. In fact, let’s forget about me for a minute. I was thrilled to see this bit about a series being developed featuring Michael Connelly’s LAPD dick Harry Bosch. Well, it’s about time! The people associated with the show have had a hand in THE KILLING and also TREME, which is solid credentials for me.

Also, this new book, LA’s Bunker Hill, by Jim Dawson. you know, if you’re a film noir fan, that LA’s Bunker Hill is a recurring character, right? In fact, I thought of Mike Connelly right away, because of his great use of symbology in his LA novels, and so it was almost very predictable that he’d have a novel ANGEL’S FLIGHT (it’s in this book), and also the LA River, featured prominently in THE NARROWS (it’s in this book too), and so many other great LA noir landmarks. Check it out. Great stuff. Here’s a screen shot from the web page for LA’S BUNKER HILL.

A few gigs coming up. Sixties Night Party at the LBJ Museum in San Marcos Aug 3. Check the museum’s Facebook page for more details and I’ll post them as they are finalized. See the poster below.

When crime novelists Megan Abbot and Sean Doolittle sign at BookPeople Aug 2, 7 PM, I’ll play a few murder ballads to set the mood. BookPeople calendar for the event here. Did I mention that Megan is also referred to as The Queen of Noir?

The next Austin NOIR AT THE BAR is Aug. 16, 7-9PM, Opal Divine’s on Sixth, where I’ll be reading AND playing my surrealistic blues thing. Other authors confirmed are George Weir and Michael Koryta. Opal Divine’s Freehouse is at 700 West 6th Street in Downtown Austin, (512) 477-3308.

PS I’m not kidding you about this cat, Moe. He’s in the Witness Protection Program. Everywhere he goes, piles of decapitated, mutilated bodies. Of course we’re talking about mice, lizards and, unfortunately, a few lovely songbirds, too.

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Filed under MY ART BLOG, NOIR & TRUE CRIME