The Bloody Spur
For Bob Randisi,
who has gunned down more bad men
than all the shootists put together
“Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It’s perfect when it arrives and it puts itself in our hands. It hopes we’ve learned something from yesterday.”
John Wayne and Mickey Spillane: A Friendship
Mickey Spillane’s famous crime novels — in particular those featuring his breakthrough character, Mike Hammer — are often discussed in terms of their violence and sexual content, which seemed so revolutionary in the late 1940s and early ’50s. The sex seems almost tame these days, but the violence still packs a punch that Sam Peckinpah likely envied.
What more insightful commentators have always known is that the Mike Hammer stories are at heart about friendship and loyalty — the detective is almost always seeking the murderer of a friend, with an “eye for an eye” on settling that score. Most famously, in I, the Jury (1947), Hammer goes after the killer of his friend Jack Williams, his buddy in the Pacific who lost an arm while taking a Japanese bayonet blow meant for Mike.
Also central to the novels are Hammer’s friendship with Captain Pat Chambers of Homicide and the detective’s evolving relationship with his secretary Velda, who becomes the love of his life over the course of the decades-spanning series.
Similarly, many of John Wayne’s films, particularly the Westerns, explore themes of friendship and loyalty, from Stagecoach (1939) and its lawman who gives the Ringo Kid a chance to settle a score before taking him in, to The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962), where Wayne’s Tom Doniphon grants James Stewart’s Ranse Stoddard a sense of manly accomplishment that perhaps he doesn’t deserve. Other examples of friendship-driven yarns litter the Duke’s filmography: Sheriff John T. Chance helping his deputy Dude find redemption in Rio Bravo (1959); Deputy U.S. Marshal “Rooster” Cogburn showing affection and even admiration for young Mattie Ross in True Grit (1969); and Ethan Edwards coming to accept half-breed surrogate son Martin Pawley in The Searchers (1956), perhaps the greatest Wayne Western, and the great John Ford’s best film.
In real life, both Spillane and Wayne were loyal to a core group of friends, in Mickey’s case fellow scribes like Dave Gerrity and Joe Gill, and in Wayne’s such fellow Hollywood denizens as director John Ford and actor Ward Bond. And for a time, in the 1950s, a non-Hollywood denizen named Spillane was part of Wayne’s inner circle.
When Mickey was at his early ’50s peak, Wayne and producing partner Robert Fellows thought the best-selling, publicity-attracting writer was a natural, and starred him in the circus picture Ring of Fear (1954) as his famous mystery-writer self turned amateur sleuth. After several weeks of filming, Wayne was happy with Spillane the actor, but not so happy with the initial footage, and asked Mickey to rewrite the picture for extensive reshoots to be helmed by famed director William Wellman.
For Ring of Fear (available on DVD), Mickey declined either a screen credit or payment for his rewrite. Wayne had seen Mickey admiring a white Jaguar convertible in a Los Angeles showroom and had the snazzy vehicle delivered, wrapped in a red ribbon, to the writer’s home in Newburgh, New York, with a card signed, “Thanks — Duke.”
The John Wayne/Mickey Spillane friendship included the writer attending screenings to provide input whenever the mystery writer happened to be in Hollywood. It also included one more occasion for Wayne to call upon Mickey’s services as a screenwriter.
The correspondence in Mickey’s files is unclear as to who initiated the project, but Wayne certainly expressed his enthusiasm for a Spillane Western. “The Saga of Calli York” (as it was originally titled) was intended for Wayne himself, Mickey told me, commissioned by the actor; but it’s also possible that Wayne might have handed “York” off to some other appropriate star, perhaps Randolph Scott, Glenn Ford or Robert Mitchum, leads of various Wayne-produced films of the era.
Around when Mickey would have sent in his screenplay, Batjac — Wayne’s production company — was dealing with the out-of-control budget, and ensuing box-office disappointment, of The Alamo (1960). While Batjac eventually rebounded, Wayne spent several years making pictures for other producers and various studios, which would have relegated “York” to a back burner.
Mickey and Bob Fellows, Wayne’s ex-producing partner, went on to collaborate on two films, The Girl Hunters (1963) and The Delta Factor (1970), both from Spillane novels. The latter film proved a disappointment, both artistically and financially, but The Girl Hunters (now on DVD and Blu-ray) did respectable business and, with Spillane himself playing Mike Hammer and cowriting the screenplay, has gone on to cult success. Mickey’s performance in The Girl Hunters also inspired his self-spoofing series of long-running Miller Lite commercials of the 1980s and ’90s.
Mickey would often speak fondly of Wayne and — while not one prone to expressing regrets — obviously wished the “York” project had come to light. Mike Hammer, he insisted, was a modern-day Western hero: “He wore the black hat, but he did the right thing.”
Shortly before his death in 2006, Mickey indicated to his wife, Jane, that I should be given his files and asked to complete various unfinished projects — an honor that staggers me to this day. I was lucky to be one of the writers whom Mickey counted as a friend, and that you are holding this book in your hands tells you what kind of friend he was — and, for that matter, is — to me. Among the manuscripts entrusted were a dozen Hammer novels in various stages of development, several other unfinished crime novels, and a handful of movie scripts, including “York.”
The Legend of Caleb York, published in 2015 by Kensington Books, is based upon Mickey’s unproduced screenplay. Editor Michaela Hamilton — herself a longtime Spillane fan — has asked me to continue the saga of Caleb York, drawing upon various drafts of the screenplay and notes in Mickey’s files.
Mickey provided York with a rich backstory as a Wells Fargo agent, which I may yet explore; but my wife, Barb (my collaborator on the “Trash & Treasures” mysteries), suggested that I might be best advised to explore further the characters, conflicts, and world Mickey created in his screenplay in any immediate sequels. The Big Showdown (2016) was the first such sequel, and The Bloody Spur is the second.
As was the case with the previous two Caleb York novels, picturing John Wayne in the lead is allowed but not required. My personal casting call would include (appropriately aged) Randolph Scott, Joel McCrea, Audie Murphy, James Garner, and Clint Eastwood. Wayne’s pro-tégé, James Arness of Gunsmoke fame, also makes sense. Perhaps from this list you might assume that Mickey and I, while hoping not to insult the intelligence of purists, are interested most in the mythic West.
You would be right.
Pardner.
Max Allan Collins
Chapter One
Being dead, Caleb York had come to realize, had its advantages.
When he’d ridden into Trinidad, New Mexico, six months back, York had been a stranger just passing through. For a year or more, the rumor had spread far and wide that the celebrated Wells Fargo detective had been gunned down. That Caleb York had gone the way of all flesh, or at least the way of all gunfighters.