Naked City

by Jonathan Hayes

Love at first sight is always followed by a period of recognition of initially unnoticed flaws, with subsequent acceptance or rejection of the hastily beloved. I fell wildly in love with New York City when I was a young child; decades later, I still feel like kissing the sidewalk of this sainted isle whenever I launch myself from my doorstep into the world. I'm well aware of the city’s complexities – sometimes brutally aware, given my work as a medical examiner here – but I embrace it in all its beautiful, thorny glory.

One way of managing things with dark and light sides is to mythologize the dark; it's a way of controlling it, making it attractive. New Yorkers still take huge pleasure in the image of this town as a violent, crime-riddled hellhole where only the tough survive, despite the fact that this is one of the safest large cities in the world. Perhaps my favourite of the city's great propagandists was Damon Runyon, whose stories about the antics of charming petty criminals and hoodlums delighted me as a boy. Weegee, a darker contributor to the lore of Gotham, delighted me as an adult.

Usher Fellig – dubbed Weegee because of the Ouija board-like prescience that had him showing up at murder scenes often before the police – was a crime beat photojournalist who became world-famous during the 30's and 40's. His was the unflinching eye that splashed Skid Row murders and high society drunks in paddy wagons over the front pages of the morning paper. His photographs have a stark urgency that underscores one of the things that New Yorkers love most about their city: it’s realness. In this town, we abhor the inauthentic. For example, most of us despise the changes that have taken place in the Times Square and 42^nd Street areas – it has been transformed from the gritty neighbourhood of the 70's into our own little pocket of fake. We accept it because we understand that it wasn’t put here for us: it was put here for the tourists.

Weegee’s photographs – the line-ups of arrested transvestites, the children sweltering on a fire escape late on a roasting summer night, the bodies of the dead sprawled in doorways, on sidewalks on saloon floors – show the harsh conditions of real life in the real city. But they also bring to their subject the gloss of myth, the blessing of everlasting life, the confirmation of a moment as legend. Some of this is the gloss of time, certainly, amplified by the fact that his images were a visual touchstone for the brooding noir films that spread like black mold over the post-WWII American consciousness – it was, in fact, Weegee who coined the term “the Naked City”.

Weegee lived above the John Jovino gunshop

"I would drop into Police Headquarters at around 7:00 p.m. If nothing's stirring and my elbow don't itch - and that's not a gag, it really does itch when something is going to happen - I go on back to my room across from Police Headquarters and go to sleep. At the head of my bed I have a hook-in with the police alarms and fire gongs so that if anything happens while I'm asleep, I'm notified...When I get my pictures I hurry back to Headquarters. There is always a follow-up slip on an accident (or crime) with all the names and details coming in over the teletype. I found out who were injured, where they lived, and on what charges they have been arrested, so that I can caption my pictures correctly. Next I go back to my darkroom and develop my prints. By this time it is around six in the morning and I start out to sell my prints."

Weegee quoted in "Free-Lance Cameraman," by Rosa Reilly, Popular Photography, December 1937

Weegee's apartment, police radio by his bedside
Here are a few of his iconic images:

"The Critic, Metropolitan Opera"

"Balcony Seats at a Murder, 10 Prince St" Weegee was more interested in the onlookers from the windows than the corpse in the doorwell

Weegee, a tireless self-publicist, wasn't above adjusting the scene for a better photo

Charles Sodokoff and Arthur Webber Use Their Top Hats to Hide Their Faces, January 27, 1942. The caption from the New York Daily News read: "In Top Hats - In Trouble, Charles Sodokoff, 28, and Arthur Webber, 32, both Broklynites, use their toppled toppers to hide faces as they take free ride to Felony Court. Boys were tippling at Astor Bar Saturday night when they decided to slide down banisters for fun (???). Cop was called and they assaulted him. Funsters then went from mahogany bar to iron type."

"Cop Killer", 1941"Heat Spell", 1941. Newspaper caption: "The hot weather last night took Weegee, the photographer, to the Lower East Side, where he found these children sleeping on a tenement fire escape at Irving and Rivington Streets. Weegee says he gave the kids $2 for ice cream. But their father took charge of the dough."

Weegee actually played an important role in my life in New York City. When I first moved here in 1990, I knew no one. A couple weeks after my arrival, I saw an ad for an unusual item: someone was selling a Weegee portrait of the notorious pin-up model Betty Page. It turned out that the seller lived two blocks from my apartment; it also turned out that the photographer was the notorious glamour and fetish photographer Eric Kroll. When I arrived at his studio to see the print, I was met at the door by a corseted dominatrix; they were in the middle of a shoot. I watched until they finished, then the three of us pored over some of the domme’s clothing designs. And then we looked at the Weegee photo.

Betty Page by Weegee - the only of his photographs that I own

It was a wonderful afternoon, a signal moment in my life in the city, one of those days that underscore the whole “only in New York” thing – a forensic pathologist, a dominatrix and a naughty photographer having a convivial afternoon. I'd always assumed that my life in New York would be extraordinary, and barely a fortnight in, it was exceeding all my expectations.

I wasn’t sure I could afford the print; I said I’d think about it. A few days later, I called back and asked if I could have another look at the photograph. Eric invited me to his studio; this time, the door was opened by a woman naked except for a narrow leather belt and fetishy black leather pointe shoes with 7” tall heels. It was the sort of coup de théatre that I came to expect from Eric, a deliberate attempt at manipulation of one friend using a model or another friend. I’m a physician, and am completely used to naked bodies -  Eric was expecting me to be flustered, or embarrassed or excited, but instead I found it amusing, and sweetly flattering.

So we became friends. For the next ten or so years, until Eric moved to the West Coast, I occasionally helped him with his shoots, helping move the lighting in his studio, schlepping equipment to professional dungeons and burlesque clubs around town. It was an interesting education, and had a huge and unexpected benefit: my first circle of NYC friends came from the city’s odd sexual demimonde – strippers, dominatrixes, pornographers – some of whom are still my closest friends today. 

Here's an interesting bit of lagniappe: the New York Times' John Strasbaugh narrates a downloadable podcast walking tour of Weegee- related NYC sites.

New York!

By Allison Brennan

First, for the fun part of this blog: winners. When I swapped blog days with David Corbett, I said I’d send five people a copy of my digital novella – in print because of a promotional thing I did for RWA and ITW. The winners are:

1. Sandra K. Marshall
2. Malcolm R. Campbell
3. Karen S.
4. Paty Jager
5. Reine

If you live out of the USA or would prefer a digital copy, I’ll send you one. If you want it in print, I have one for you! Either way, I’ll take care of it when I get back from NYC on July 11. Email me at Allison@allisonbrennan.com with your preferred format and snail mail address, if applicable.

Now, for the rest of the blog.

Again, Alex and I are connected by an unseen psychic chord because I, too, wanted to talk about e-books. (Alex, just stop getting inside my head! It’s getting REALLY creepy.) I could write thousands of words on this topic but decided that because I’m in New York City and in a fabulous mood, I’ll postpone it for another day.

So instead, about the Romance Writers of America conference.

No conference is perfect, but RWA comes pretty close. With over 2,200 published and unpublished writers in attendance (total membership tops 10,000, with 20% published,) RWA has been putting on huge conferences for years. We usually have a fantastic speaker for opening session (this time THREE fabulous authors in a panel—Steve Berry, our own Tess Gerritsen, and Diana Galbadon.) I missed it because I was having breakfast with my friend and mentor Carla Neggers, who’s among the smartest people I know.

I rarely go to workshops anymore, though there were some I wanted to hit—like my friend Candace Haven’s “Fast Draft: Writing the First Draft in Two Weeks” which MANY people told me was the best workshop they’d attended this year. (I used to write fast drafts, then would go back and edit. Now, I try but can’t. If I know there’s a problem, I can’t move forward. It’s driving me crazy.) We had authors from #1 NYT bestsellers down to aspiring writers giving workshops on pretty much anything, mixing genres, the business, e-publishing, craft, contracts, you name it. I missed them all. Time to order the audio disks for the car!

But the one thing I have always loved about RWA is the literacy signing.

This picture is less than half the room. 500 published authors selling books donated by publishers where all the proceeds go to a national literacy organization. The event is open to the public, so the authors usually send notice to all their fans. It’s vibrant and exciting and really neat to meet readers in the different cities RWA has their conferences. Thousands of readers waited in line for hours before the doors even opened. Until this year, we've raised over $690,000 for literacy. I suspect we raised over $75,000 this year alone.

I have always wished that ITW had a public signing event at Thrillerfest. Currently, we have small singings twice a day with the speakers/panelists from the morning/afternoon panels and events. That’s great—but no one from the public is allowed. (Largely because they’re generally pretty crowded.) A public event would not only give exposure to ITW and the attending authors, but promote the genre as a whole. Whether they model it after RWA or come up with their own unique program doesn’t really matter, I’m sure they’d do something equally as fabulous.

I’ve mentioned this desire to different people, and there have been differing levels of interest, and I’ll once again bring it up to someone, sometime next week as I roam the halls of the Grand Hyatt. Thrillerfest does a lot of things right and I love the conference; someday, I hope we have a signing open to the public.

Speaking of signings, as a mass market author I don’t do a lot of signings. Publishers rarely (if ever) pay for a mass market author to tour, and it’s not really cost effective to do it ourselves. But on occasion I sign locally, or with groups of authors. Or, sometimes I just attend author events, like when my daughter Kelly begged me to take her to San Francisco (2 hour drive) to hear three of her favorite authors (Libba Bray, Meg Cabot, and Maggie Stiefvater) speak and sign. She brought her favorite books with her, and bought a couple there, and even though Kelly is very shy and hates having her picture taken, I got her to pose with Libba Bray with the promise I wouldn’t post it on Facebook. So I’m posting it here:

Yesterday, I spent nearly five hours at the Algonquin Hotel—three short blocks from the Marriott where Toni and I stayed for the RWA conference—where I worked on my copyedits, had a bite to eat, and drank a glass or two of wine. I can see why it was a popular spot for writers--I could write at the Algonquin every day. Matilda is the resident cat—this is Matilda the Second.

 

After I posted this picture to Facebook, my cat Nemo sent me an email, hurt that I didn’t post a picture of him (even though he’s home and 3,000 miles away) and instead cooed over Matilda, so this is Nemo on my research shelf before my mom came over to organize my bookshelves:

 

And finally, here are a couple pictures from my field trip as a role player for SWAT training. Yes, we were tackled by SWAT. Yes, it was fun. Yes, I can’t wait to go back. But in addition to the “covered-pile” hostage exercise I was part of, I was able to observe live ammo drills/hostage rescue and close quarter drills from a catwalk, which was nearly as much fun. 

Toni and I are moving over to the Thrillerfest hotel today, but I’ll be back tonight to answer any questions you might have about RWA, Thrillerfest, book signings, or role playing with SWAT. Or anything else you feel like chatting about!

Hey, I know that place!

by Alafair Burke

Last night I glimpsed a new neighborhood in New York: Bay Ridge.  I know, I know, Bay Ridge has been around for-evah.  It’s also nothing new to creative types.  Tony Manero lived there in Saturday Night Fever.*

So did Peggy from Mad Men, announcing, “I’m from Bay Ridge.  We have manners.”

But nearly a decade since I left Oregon for New York, I am still learning about this city.  Last night the subject was Bay Ridge.  I was there for a book event (terrific store in Bookmark Shoppe, by the way), so took some time to check out the neighborhood.  I even made my local friend, Jeff, show me the home several customers referred to as the “gingerbread house.” 

Rumor has it that the garage floor rotates like a turntable so the owner doesn’t have to back the car out.  Pretty sweet.

Do I know the ins and outs of Bay Ridge as well as Jeff?  Of course not.  Could I set an entire novel there with authenticity?  I doubt it.  But I saw enough of 3^rd Avenue, 83^rd Street, Shore Road, the Fort Hamilton Athletic Field, and the gingerbread house to set a scene there. 

But what if I hadn’t seen the place?  I could read about it on Wikipedia.  I could stroll its streets on Google Maps.  I could also make it up from whole cloth.  Would it really make a difference?

For reasons I haven’t fully identified, I’m uncomfortable writing about places I don’t know.  I mean, really know.  Ellie Hatcher’s backstory is in Wichita, Kansas, where I spent fourth through twelfth grade.  Ellie works for the NYPD, and her life takes place almost entirely in the pockets of Manhattan I know best.  Her apartment is in the same spot as my husband’s former place.  Her latest homicide case occurs in the fancy new condo building across the street from me.  Samantha Kincaid is a prosecutor in Portland, Oregon, where I lived for nearly a decade (and worked, yup, as a prosecutor). 

Why do I make these choices?  Maybe I’m just lazy.  Research, after all, is not my favorite part of the fiction gig.  But I think there’s more to it.  After all, starting a second series set in New York (the Ellie Hatcher series) was definitely not a lazy move.  I had plot, character, and procedural reasons for doing so.  But that move was also about place.

Five years after leaving Portland, I was starting my fourth Samantha Kincaid novel and wrote a scene I knew just wasn’t right.  I went for a run to figure it out.  Sure enough, I had Sam hailing a cab outside a witness’s house in the West Hills.** Homey don’t play that. 

I not only caught the mistake, saving myself from the “you’re-an-idiot” emails that surely would have followed upon publication, but I also took it as a strong hint that my imaginary life in Portland was growing dusty.  At the same time, I realized I had finally become (gasp) a New Yorker.  I decided to try my hand at this new town of mine, at least the Manhattan parts, and think I’ve managed to capture the place pretty well.  I even named my most recent novel 212 (the original Manhattan area code) to highlight Manhattan as a main character.  My writing will get back to Portland when the time is right, but I'll probably only jump in after rekindling my relationship with the city. 

I do, however, realize this is likely a whole lot of ridiculousness on my part.  Plenty of writers continue to capture the magic of places they’ve long left behind.  Michael Connelly no longer lives full-time in Los Angeles.  JLB wrote the first four books in the Dave Robicheaux series from Kansas.  Even the miraculous Lee Child can’t possibly live in all those Jack Reacher stops (or can he?).

What do you think: When a writer truly knows a place, does it make a difference on the page, or only in the writer’s mind?

 * I have so much love in my heart for Saturday Night Fever that it took incredilble restraint not to insert a 400-word digression here about the brilliance that is that film.  Please tolerate this footnote instead.

** Lest you're wondering, these are the same West Hills referenced in the Portland band Everclear's "I Will Buy You a New Life."  No cabs there.  Trust me.

P.S. I'm out on tour still, this time in Washington DC (Borders, Bailey Crossroads, 7:30 PM).  I'll be checking in as I can, but forgive me if I'm slow to acknowledge your comments.  I want to see them though, please!

If you enjoyed this post, please follow me on Facebook and Twitter.

Friends, again... meet Alafair Burke

by Toni McGee Causey

One of the very best things about being a member of a blog like this is that we occasionally get to interview really cool people... and sometimes we get lucky and get to interview other members of the blog. I was particularly thrilled when Alafair Burke joined us here at Murderati, as I'd been a fan of her work and had heard great things about her, but it was a special kick to get to interview her on the occasion of her newest book which is about to appear in the bookstores, titled 212.

First, if you haven't really met Alafair, you should know that (and this is directly from her website) she is a former deputy district attorney, and now teaches criminal law at Hofstra Law School. She's got a fascinating background in law as well as literature, and if you haven't checked out her website, you're missing a treat.

The other really really cool thing about being a member of this blog is that I occasionally get to read my fellow blogmates' books ahead of their drop dates. And yes, I am going to be all gleeful and smug about it, because, dayem, they are fine writers and I'm immensely lucky just to be a part of this group. I couldn't wait to get my paws on Alafair's latest, and I have to tell you, it showed up in the midst of great personal upheaval (my father-in-law was in hospice at that time, and we knew the end was near), and I feared my concentration would be nil...  and instead, I was utterly captivated. (Check out the video... and the excerpt for 212.) 

This story is not just ripped from the headlines, but it digs deep into those headlines and exposes the kind of ramifications few in-depth exposé's could even hope to reveal. In an age when newspapers are glib about how politicians hire expensive call girls and in a day when those very same call girls can later become on air personalities, we've become accustomed to reporters just barely skimming over the reality of how deadly and compromising that particular crime actually is. In 212, Alafair explores the ramifications of two intersecting crimes--politicians hiring escort services and online stalking--and shows not only the harrowing results, but the determination of good people who are trying to find the truth, trying to make a difference. Her detective, Ellie Hatcher, is a stand-out, memorable woman you're going to want to know as she battles her way through lies and deceit to try to stop a killer from striking again, even in the midst of personal risk to her own career to do so.

I couldn't put the book down. 

Alafair's got a lot of information up on her site, but I got the chance last week to ask her a few more questions:

1) You write New York as someone comfortable and familiar with the city, like it's a second skin. I know you've lived elsewhere growing up, so tell me about your impressions of New York when you first visited or moved there... and how those first impressions changed (or were validated) after you'd been there for a while.

I first visited New York during the Son of Sam year of 1977.  My father's friends told of us tales of carrying mugger money around - small bills in a fake wallet to hand to the muggers instead of the real stuff.  Then as an adult, I came here as a tourist, staying most in midtown, seeing broadway shows and museums, and dining at restaurants I saw on Sex and the City.  Now that I live here, I rarely go to those kinds of places and am annoyed when I do.  The places I cherish are little neighborhood spots that would have surely underwhelmed me as a tourist looking to take in the "Big Apple." 

2) Was there a defining moment when you felt more native New Yorker than not? What was that moment and how did it affect your perception of yourself? Your vocation?

The defining moment was more like a two-stage process.  I remember standing in the TKTS line (discount theater tickets) at Times Square when I first moved to the city.  I looked up at the lights and signs and thought, "Wow, I really live here.  I'm even insider enough to buy discounted tickets."  Within a year, I dreaded the thought of walking through Times Square with all of those skyline-gazing tourists blocking the sidewalk.  There's a superficial roughness to New Yorkers that I understand now, but once you scratch beneath it, the people in this city are about as goodhearted as people can be. 

3) You've chosen two professions which aren't exactly known to be easy on a person's schedule, often costing hundreds of hours of late night work to stay caught up. What enticed you about becoming an attorney? Similarly, what enticed you about becoming a writer? How are the two similar? Different? If there was one way you could prep better for each vocation, what would that be?

When I went to law school, I didn't know whether I wanted to be a high-priced entertainment lawyer putting together deals at the Ivy or a civil rights lawyer working for the Southern Poverty Law Center.  Given my lifetime fascination with crime, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that I had a real passion for criminal law.  I worked as a prosecutor for five years and was motivated to write by the stories I saw unfold there.  I thought I'd seen a side to the criminal justice system that wasn't frequently portrayed in crime fiction.  They both require an ability to tell a story and incredible discipline, but writing requires a different kind of creativity that find liberating and sometimes incredibly frustrating.

4) In several of your posts and elsewhere, you've shown a sly, wry sense of humor that we all enjoy. What's the zaniest thing (legal) that you've done that you can admit to us?

Oh lord.  I'm ashamed to admit that my craziest act was completely accidental. I went to a different branch from my usual gym.  This was back before I could afford a gym that gave you human-sized towels.  All they had were these little hand-sized things.  I was wondering around the locker room searching for the shower stalls, walked through a door, and wound up in the free-weight room. Warning: some locker rooms have multiple exits.

5) What is something that people who meet you for the first time are most surprised to learn about you?

I have really low-brow taste.  I like bad movies, pop music, and hot dog carts. I'm also very handy.

6) In your new novel, 212, coming out March 23rd, NYPD Detective Ellie Hatcher is drawn into a case that you've described in your acknowledgements as inspired by recent headlines: politicians, escort services, innocent by-standers, cover-ups and downfalls. You've created a vivid, layered world where nothing is obvious and you keep us riveted all the way through as Ellie has to peel away layer after layer to try to find the truth before it's too late. Tell us a little bit about Ellie, 212, and your process--how you chose this particular type of headline and why you wanted to investigate the ramifications.

Ellie Hatcher is an NYPD homicide detective who, like me, finds herself working in the same field as her father and tries to avoid the inevitable comparisons.  Also like me, she grew up in Wichita, Kansas when a serial killer was active, stalking, torturing, and murdering children and women.  Unlike me, Ellie's father was a cop who spent his life hunting that killer until he was found shot in his own car. Labeled a suicide, her father's death has never been resolved for Ellie.

The cases in 212 were inspired by a few real-life stories.  For years I've been pulling at threads of stories inspired by Neil Goldschmidt, a former governor of Oregon who admitted in 2004 that he had what he termed an "affair" in the 1970s with his then-14-year-old babysitter.  Many people in Portland were accused of knowing about the abuse and assisting the cover-up, including a man who subsequently became the Multnomah County Sheriff.  I'd been reluctant to write about the case immediately.  Portland's a small place.  I worked with Goldschmidt's stepdaughter at the DA's Office.  I worked closely with a law enforcement officer who was implicated in the cover-up.  But the story of a man who'd done so much good in public life rationalizing a so-called "affair" with a child -- and my imagined story of the woman that child came to be as she grew up in the shadow of his political ascension -- kept pulling at me.  More than five years after the scandal, my hope was to pursue a fictional story inspired by the real one.  Using the role of the internet in the modern sex industry, I found a fresh angle.

7) On the lighter side for a moment, what's your most unusual hobby?

Maybe this goes along with my lowbrow taste, but I really like karaoke.  And not in a hip, ironic way, but in an earnest American-Idol loving, Glee-watching, sing-your-heart-out way.  I think every book conference needs a karaoke session. Wouldn't that be great?  At Bouchercon, the playlist could be made up entirely of crime-related songs.

8) And... finally, if you only could choose five words to describe yourself for posterity, what would they be?

Loved.  Was loved.  Appreciated both.

Alafair is hosting a really cool offer for a mystery gift for everyone who pre-orders 212 before it hits all of the bookstores on Tuesday, March 23rd -- which means, you only have a couple of days left to take advantage of this terrific opportunity!

Meanwhile, tell me what ripped-from-the-headlines story you'd love to explore a bit more about? Is there a story you felt the press should have investigated more thoroughly? In this age of giving starlets 24/7 coverage if they hiccup, do you feel like we're glamorizing everything that should be news? Or do you feel we're getting into the gritty depths like we should?