A Long Look at THE DOUBLE TAKE by Roy Huggins (1946)

Yeah, I know this book has been unForgotten before, notably in fine reviews by Richard Robinson and J. Kingston Pierce, and I encourage you to check them out.

Along with all the TV Westerns I watched as a kid, and there were a LOT of them, I somehow found time for the Warner Brothers stable of private eye shows - Hawaiian Eye, Bourbon Street Beat, Surfside Six, and the best of them all - 77 Sunset Strip.

Back then, I had no idea that 77’s lead detective, Stu Bailey, had first appeared in a novel.  But I know now, and would see the show (if I COULD see it) in a whole different light.

The Double Take was published in 1946, appearing both in hardcover from William Morrow & Co, and in the March 1946 issue of Mammoth Mystery, a magazine edited by mystery writer Howard Browne. Browne must have loved this extremely Chandleresque novel by newcomer Roy Huggins, because Browne’s own first homage to Chandler (Halo in Blood by John Evans) was published that same year.

The opening sentence of The Double Take tells you what to expect:
“I was sitting in his paneled office on the top floor of the Security Bank Building looking at him across a desk that was bare as a mannequin’s mind and large enough for a pair of midgets to play badmitton on.”

Yep, it starts like a Philip Marlowe novel and never lets up. Reading the book again recently, I found myself smiling on every page.

(click to enlarge)

Huggins followed up later that same year with two Stuart Bailey novelettes for The Saturday Evening Post. A third Stu Bailey story appeared in Esquire in 1952. Meantime, The Double Take appeared in paperback and Huggins wrote two more unrelated mystery novels, Too Late for Tears and Lovely Lady, Pity Me. 

Huggins got his first taste of the motion picture business in 1948, writing the screenplay for the film version of The Double Take, titled I Love Trouble. In this one, Stu Bailey was portrayed by Franchot Tone.

Franchot makes a surprisingly good hardboiled dick, and this is a pretty dang good film, with a screenplay written by Roy Huggins himself.

A word of warning: This copy on YouTube is in pretty bad shape. There are long stretches where it plays just fine, but in others it jumps and flutters and spatters and almost blacks out. But if you're willing to look past the flaws, you should have no trouble following the story and dialogue and imagine what it must have looked like in its prime. If (like me) you're a fan of The Double Take, it's well worth the annoyance.

From then on, Huggins’ literary career fell by the wayside as he devoted himself almost exclusively to films and television. In the late 50s he went to work for Warner Brothers, revitalizing Cheyenne (a show that was in trouble) and creating Maverick.

That’s when Jack Warner asked him for a detective show, and Huggins created 77 Sunset Strip, using old Stu Bailey as the hero. He moved Bailey of his shabby Marlowe-style office into swanky digs on the Sunset Strip, right next to Dean Martin’s nightclub, Dino’s. He made the new Bailey an ex-secret service man, and gave him an ex-lawyer (played by Roger Smith) as a partner.

Unfortunately, Huggins was robbed of the credit. Jack Warner wanted to own the show outright, so he had a pilot written and produced by someone else, then had it briefly shown as a motion picture in the Caribbean. This gave Warner the legal footing to claim that the TV show was based on the film “Girl on the Run” rather than on Huggins’ literary works.

This soured Huggins’ relationship with Warner Brothers and he had little more to do with the show. But he’d given it a great start, and it rolled on from 1958 to 1964. Ed Byrnes, who had died as a villain in the pilot, was so well-received that he returned in a new role as “Kookie” the parking lot attendant and eventually graduated to private eye.  77 Sunset Strip was so popular that Warner Brothers built the three shows mentioned above on the same formula, and sometimes had crossovers between the series.

(from Mammoth Mystery - click to enlarge)

In 1959, Huggins strung his three Stu Bailey novelettes into a “novel”, published in paperback as 77 Sunset Strip. 

Roy Huggins went on to create The Fugitive and (with Stephen J. Cannell) The Rockford Files, and produced such shows as The Virginian, Baretta and Alias Smith and Jones. He died in 2002.

Overlooked Films: I LOVE TROUBLE (The Double Take) by Roy Huggins

I reviewed Roy Huggins' private eye novel The Double Take a couple of years ago (HERE). The novel introduced Stu Bailey, who went on to become my favorite TV detective in 77 Sunset Strip. At the time, I was surprised to discover the novel had been filmed, several years before the TV show, as I Love Trouble. My initial reaction was Franchot Tone?? What kind of name is that for a hardboiled private eye?

Chances of every seeing that movie seemed slight, so I gave it no further mind until it turned up on YouTube. Hallelujah! I'm happy to report that I was wrong about old Franchot. He does make a good hardboiled dick, and this is a pretty dang good film, with a screenplay written by Roy Huggins himself.

A word of warning: This copy of the film is in pretty bad shape. There are long stretches where it plays just fine, but in others it jumps and flutters and spatters and almost blacks out. But if you're willing to look past the flaws, you should have no trouble following the story and dialogue and imagine what it must have looked like in its prime. If (like me) you're a fan of The Double Take, it's well worth the annoyance.

I think I read somewhere that Huggins later adapted this story for an episode of 77 Sunset Strip. Maybe one of these days I'll get to see that, too, and compare his two treatments of the story.

Your Overlooked Films HQ is SWEET FREEDOM. 

Overlooked Films: Mattel SNUB-NOSE .38 Commercials

Two weeks ago I posted a couple of Mattel Shootin' Shell Fanner commercials (HERE), harkening back to my days as a half-pint gunslinger. This week I grant equal time to my inner detective. Yep, I had one of these Snub-Nose .38s, complete with badge and shoulder holster, and wore it to emulate my favorite private eye, Stu Bailey of 77 Sunset Strip. At the time, of course, I had no idea old Stu had been born in Roy Huggins' The Double Take, but that's another story (told HERE). 

I also had the Tommy Burst machine gun, but didn't know it was sold in a detective set. I used mine while wearing my plastic army helmet.

Forgotten Books: LOVELY LADY, PITY ME by Roy Huggins (1949)

This is one of those books that's been sitting on my shelf so long it's growing hair on it. I knew it wasn't a detective novel, much less a Stu Bailey adventure, so it seemed low priority. Now that I've finally read I'm thinking, Damn. If I'd read this years ago, I could enjoying it now for the second time. Well, hey. I guess that's the breaks.

Lovely Lady, Pity Me was Roy Huggins' third and last novel, following The Double Take (1946, reviewed HERE) and Too Late For Tears (1949), another book I've neglected far too long. The 1959 paperback 77 Sunset Strip (reviewed HERE) doesn't count, because it's really three novelettes, loosely bridged to impersonate a novel.

Huggins, as you probably know, found his greatest success in television, where he created 77 Sunset Strip (based on his Stu Bailey character), Maverick and The Fugitive. He was also co-creator of The Rockford Files, and produced such shows as Alias Smith and Jones, Baretta and The Virginian. "Lovely Lady, Pity Me," in fact, was the title of the second episode of 77 Sunset Strip, so I suspect he may have cannibalized his own book for the show.

Our hero here is John Swanney, West Coast Representative and writer for Nation's Week magazine. As the story opens, he's wanted for murder and on the run. In desperation, he drops in on his loyal co-worker Molly Royce and tells her how the hell he got into such a predicament. That story takes the first half of the book to tell.

In the flashback, we learn Swanney is estranged from his wife. They're still living in the same house, but she wants him out, and is demanding the house as a souvenir. It's a relief for him, then, when the magazine sends him to ritzy Palm Springs, to find out why the burg is on the skids. There he meets an enticing and mysterious woman he calls Ann (short for Anonymous) and begins a clandestine affair.

Ann (which turns out to be her real name) won't tell him who she is, where she lives or whether or not she's married. She also won't tell him why she won't tell him any of these things. Naturally, this makes him a mite curious. Then, on assignment, he happens to run smack dab into her other life, and her secrets are revealed.

Trying to come to terms with his new-found knowledge, Swanny arranges one last secret meeting - and while he's having it, his wife gets murdered. He comes home, finds her dead, and has no alibi. Next thing you know the cops are hot on his trail.

This brings us back to the present, and the second half of the book is a mystery/thriller, as Swanney and friend Molly run from the law while trying to figure who really killed the wife. Huggins' prose is deliciously satisfying throughout. He's not trying to channel Raymond Chandler, as he did in The Double Take, but he still has some of that edge, mixed with a bit of James M. Cain. At one point, Swanney even jokes about his story turning in a "James Cain tank drama."

Late in the book, when Swanney opens the yellow pages and starts calling private detectives, he has a brief conversation with - you guessed it - Stu Bailey. This is great stuff!

More than ever, it's time for me to read Too Late For Tears.

More Forgotten Books at pattinase!

Just Looking: Too Late for Tears by Roy Hugggins (1949)

 From the author of The Double Take and 77 Sunset Strip . . .

Forgotten Books: The Double Take by Roy Huggins

Yeah, I know this book has been unForgotten before, notably in fine reviews by Richard Robinson and J. Kingston Pierce, and I encourage you to check them out.

I wrote this piece some months back for THE TAINTED ARCHIVE's TV Cops Weekend, but I screwed up and failed to send Gary all the artwork. So here's the article with art included . . .

Along with all the TV Westerns I watched as a kid, and there were a LOT of them, I somehow found time for the Warner Brothers stable of private eye shows - Hawaiian Eye, Bourbon Street Beat, Surfside Six, and the best of them all - 77 Sunset Strip.

Back then, I had no idea that 77’s lead detective, Stu Bailey, had first appeared in a novel.  But I know now, and would see the show (if I COULD see it) in a whole different light.

The Double Take was published in 1946, appearing both in hardcover from William Morrow & Co, and in the March 1946 issue of Mammoth Mystery, a magazine edited by mystery writer Howard Browne. Browne must have loved this extremely Chandleresque novel by newcomer Roy Huggins, because Browne’s own first homage to Chandler (Halo in Blood by John Evans) was published that same year.

The opening sentence of The Double Take tells you what to expect:
“I was sitting in his paneled office on the top floor of the Security Bank Building looking at him across a desk that was bare as a mannequin’s mind and large enough for a pair of midgets to play badmitton on.”

Yep, it starts like a Philip Marlowe novel and never lets up. Reading the book again recently, I found myself smiling on every page.

(click to enlarge)

Huggins followed up later that same year with two Stuart Bailey novelettes for The Saturday Evening Post. A third Stu Bailey story appeared in Esquire in 1952. Meantime, The Double Take appeared in paperback and Huggins wrote two more unrelated mystery novels, Too Late for Tears and Lovely Lady, Pity Me. 

Huggins got his first taste of the motion picture business in 1948, writing the screenplay for the film version of The Double Take, titled I Love Trouble. In this one, Stu Bailey was portrayed by Franchot Tone.

From then on, Huggins’ literary career fell by the wayside as he devoted himself almost exclusively to films and television. In the late 50s he went to work for Warner Brothers, revitalizing Cheyenne (a show that was in trouble) and creating Maverick.

That’s when Jack Warner asked him for a detective show, and Huggins created 77 Sunset Strip, using old Stu Bailey as the hero. He moved Bailey of his shabby Marlowe-style office into swanky digs on the Sunset Strip, right next to Dean Martin’s nightclub, Dino’s. He made the new Bailey an ex-secret service man, and gave him an ex-lawyer (played by Roger Smith) as a partner.

Unfortunately, Huggins was robbed of the credit. Jack Warner wanted to own the show outright, so he had a pilot written and produced by someone else, then had it briefly shown as a motion picture in the Caribbean. This gave Warner the legal footing to claim that the TV show was based on the film “Girl on the Run” rather than on Huggins’ literary works.

This soured Huggins’ relationship with Warner Brothers and he had little more to do with the show. But he’d given it a great start, and it rolled on from 1958 to 1964. Ed Byrnes, who had died as a villain in the pilot, was so well-received that he returned in a new role as “Kookie” the parking lot attendant and eventually graduated to private eye.  77 Sunset Strip was so popular that Warner Brothers built the three shows mentioned above on the same formula, and sometimes had crossovers between the series.

(from Mammoth Mystery - click to enlarge)

In 1959, Huggins strung his three Stu Bailey novelettes into a “novel”, published in paperback as 77 Sunset Strip. To see my review of that book, pics of 77 memorabilia and a complete episode of the show (from YouTube) click HERE.

Roy Huggins went on to create The Fugitive and (with Stephen J. Cannell) The Rockford Files, and produced such shows as The Virginian, Baretta and Alias Smith and Jones. He died in 2002.

You know the drill: Check out more Forgotten Books at Patti Abbott's pattinase.

Forgotten Books: 77 Sunset Strip by Roy Huggins

When Gary Dobbs asked me to contribute something to his spectacular TV Cops Weekend (now playing at THE TAINTED ARCHIVE), it was a no-brainer. I chose a piece about the origins of my favorite old detective show, "77 Sunset Strip".  That post, dealing mainly with Roy Huggins’ novel The Double Take, will appear sometime this weekend (I’ll let you know when it's up).

Meanwhile, Here are some thoughts on the slim paperback called 77 Sunset Strip, which purports to be a novel but isn’t. It happened like this: Shortly after Huggins’ private detective Stuart Bailey made his debut in The Double Take (1946), two Stu Bailey novelettes were published in The Saturday Evening Post. A third followed in 1952 in Esquire.

Several years later, when Warner Brothers wanted a detective show for their line-up, Huggins brought Bailey out of retirement and spruced him up for TV. It must have seemed a swell idea, then, to collect those three novelettes and disguise them as “an original suspense novel” to capitalize on the popularity of the show.

Well, it was a swell idea. Here’s how it worked: Huggins started with a couple of pages of new material, locating Bailey’s office at the TV address, and mentioning Dean Martin’s nightclub Dino’s, which was right next door. Then he plugged in the Esquire story, originally called “Death and the Skylark”.

Bailey is hired to take a jaunt on a private schooner. His client, owner of the Skylark, believes he’ll be murdered, and wants Bailey to catch the killer - either the wife or her lover, the first mate. Also on board is the victim’s appealing daughter Betty Callister.

After putting that case to bed, Bailey returns to his office with Betty Callister in tow, planning to take her to dinner. But he finds a telegraph waiting, summoning him to the second case, originally called “Appointment with Fear.” This one begins as a locked room mystery - with Bailey waking up to find himself accused of the murder - then grows into something more complex.

Clearing himself at last, Bailey returns, arranging to meet Betty at his office and resume that dinner date. No such luck. The phone rings, and Bailey is off on “Now You See It”, a sort of combination locked room and drawing room mystery. Bailey has scarcely arrived at the new client’s home when the lights go out, the client is stabbed to death, and the weapon disappears. It’s another tough case, but Bailey wins through and returns to his office, receiving a call from the unnaturally patient Betty Callister, now waiting for him next door at Dino’s. As he hustles out of the office the phone rings again - and this time he ignores it.

77 Sunset Strip is a good, fast read. Bailey is an engaging narrator, and Huggins keeps things interesting. He could have taken the TV tie-in a step farther, at least giving walk-on rolls to Bailey’s TV partner Jeff Spencer (Roger Smith) and parking attendant pal Kookie (Ed Byrnes), but chose not to. What surprised me most was the change of style from that used in The Double Take.

The Double Take, as you’ll recall from earlier Forgotten Books reviews (see below), is a virtual clone of a Philip Marlowe novel. Huggins did an amazing job on it, coining fresh new similes and metaphors at a rate of about one per page - every one of them worthy of Mr. Chandler.

These novelettes are more streamlined. Huggins does deliver a few Chandleresque lines, but only two or three per story. My guess is that he simply found them too much work to produce, and now felt comfortable enough in his own style to do without.

The cover art for this paperback is the work of Mr. Robert McGinnis.

The color illustrations above, by George Englert, are from the Stu Bailey story "Appointment With Fear" in The Saturday Evening Post, September 28, 1946.

For fine reviews of The Double Take, I refer you to J. Kingston Pierce and Richard Robinson.