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Peter Morwood 1956-2025
May. 10th, 2025 10:33 amI only met him and Diane Duane for about thirty seconds in 2003, but Andrew hung out with him at several conventions over the years and always spoke fondly of him.
Farley Mowat is dead. I don't know whether to be sad, or impressed that death finally caught up with him.
Three anecdotes about Farley Mowat I vaguely recall having seen/heard:
About seven or ten years ago, I saw an interview with a man who loved Mowat's writing so much he'd had a detailed portrait of the artist's face tattooed on his leg. They also spoke to Mowat, who did not seem surprised.
There is a short independent film called "Farley Mowat Ate My Brother." After it premiered, Mowat wrote to the filmakers praising the piece. When they expressed relief that he wasn't angry, he added that as a "grudge-hugging Scot," he might just be biding his time and lulling them into complacency while he plotted revenge.
A Canadian couple visiting Yorkshire got into conversation with an older man who upon learning they were from Canada, asked (adding that he knew Canada was a big country and everyone there didn't actually know each other personally) if they'd heard of a writer named Farley Mowat, as he'd enjoyed his work. As it happened they had not only heard of Mowat, they were from Port Hope where he lived for the last decades of his life. then they figured out that the gentleman asking was Alf Wight, AKA James Herriot.
Three anecdotes about Farley Mowat I vaguely recall having seen/heard:
About seven or ten years ago, I saw an interview with a man who loved Mowat's writing so much he'd had a detailed portrait of the artist's face tattooed on his leg. They also spoke to Mowat, who did not seem surprised.
There is a short independent film called "Farley Mowat Ate My Brother." After it premiered, Mowat wrote to the filmakers praising the piece. When they expressed relief that he wasn't angry, he added that as a "grudge-hugging Scot," he might just be biding his time and lulling them into complacency while he plotted revenge.
A Canadian couple visiting Yorkshire got into conversation with an older man who upon learning they were from Canada, asked (adding that he knew Canada was a big country and everyone there didn't actually know each other personally) if they'd heard of a writer named Farley Mowat, as he'd enjoyed his work. As it happened they had not only heard of Mowat, they were from Port Hope where he lived for the last decades of his life. then they figured out that the gentleman asking was Alf Wight, AKA James Herriot.
Manly Wade Wellman, Picture Snatcher
Apr. 30th, 2013 09:10 amHuh – apparently Many Wade Wellman worked as a reporter in the 1930s, and once pulled a real-life, slightly less reprehensible version of what Cagney’s character did in Picture Snatcher:
Sometimes, though, Manly’s memories were very dire. A smalltime crook and hophead named Rabbit had a very beautiful wife. She was far too beautiful for the likes of Rabbit, and before long she was keeping company with one of Wichita’s major crime figures.
One day she and her new boyfriend were in a car which rival gunmen ambushed, killing both of them. This was front-page news–and the paper wanted a ‘before’ picture of the girlfriend. Manly, who knew Rabbit, said he could find one.
Rabbit lived in a shotgun house–a two-room shack–across the tracks. Manly drove down to it. No one answered to his knock, but the door wasn’t locked; he opened it and went in. There, on a table in the front room, was a glamour photograph of Rabbit’s late wife. Manly crossed the room and grabbed the photo. He was just about to hide it under his jacket when he heard a click behind him and turned.
Rabbit stood in the doorway, “… pointing a revolver at me with the hammer already roostered back.” Rabbit’s pupils were shrunk to pinpoints from the cocaine he’d been sniffing.
Manly when he was sober had one of the sharpest minds I’ve ever encountered. Now he held up the wife’s photograph and said, “Oh, Rabbit, I’m so sorry! I came right over when I heard about Nancy!”
For a moment, nothing happened (which wasn’t the worst possibility). Then Rabbit lowered the gun and said, “Aw, Manly, you’re my only friend in the world. I know she was no good, but I loved her anyway.” And then he started to cry.
Manly led him over to the couch and sat down with him. They talked for some while with Rabbit repeating how lovely Nancy was and how much he missed her, and Manly agreeing.
Finally Manly said that as a favor to his friend, he could get Nancy’s picture on the front page of the newspaper so that everybody would see how pretty she was. Blubbering his thanks, Rabbit sent Manly on his way with the photograph–silver frame and all.
http://david-drake.com/2013/manly-wade-wellman-reporter/#more-3692
Apparently Witchita was a hot-bed of crime and intrigue in the 1930s. Perhaps it still is and we just don’t hear about it. I was always fascinated by the travelogue/true-crime show City Confidential for just this reason – most of the murder cases profiled took place in small ponds but involved the local big fish. As a result there’s a kind of tragicomic Magnificent Andersons quality to all the stories.
Sometimes, though, Manly’s memories were very dire. A smalltime crook and hophead named Rabbit had a very beautiful wife. She was far too beautiful for the likes of Rabbit, and before long she was keeping company with one of Wichita’s major crime figures.
One day she and her new boyfriend were in a car which rival gunmen ambushed, killing both of them. This was front-page news–and the paper wanted a ‘before’ picture of the girlfriend. Manly, who knew Rabbit, said he could find one.
Rabbit lived in a shotgun house–a two-room shack–across the tracks. Manly drove down to it. No one answered to his knock, but the door wasn’t locked; he opened it and went in. There, on a table in the front room, was a glamour photograph of Rabbit’s late wife. Manly crossed the room and grabbed the photo. He was just about to hide it under his jacket when he heard a click behind him and turned.
Rabbit stood in the doorway, “… pointing a revolver at me with the hammer already roostered back.” Rabbit’s pupils were shrunk to pinpoints from the cocaine he’d been sniffing.
Manly when he was sober had one of the sharpest minds I’ve ever encountered. Now he held up the wife’s photograph and said, “Oh, Rabbit, I’m so sorry! I came right over when I heard about Nancy!”
For a moment, nothing happened (which wasn’t the worst possibility). Then Rabbit lowered the gun and said, “Aw, Manly, you’re my only friend in the world. I know she was no good, but I loved her anyway.” And then he started to cry.
Manly led him over to the couch and sat down with him. They talked for some while with Rabbit repeating how lovely Nancy was and how much he missed her, and Manly agreeing.
Finally Manly said that as a favor to his friend, he could get Nancy’s picture on the front page of the newspaper so that everybody would see how pretty she was. Blubbering his thanks, Rabbit sent Manly on his way with the photograph–silver frame and all.
http://david-drake.com/2013/manly-wade-wellman-reporter/#more-3692
Apparently Witchita was a hot-bed of crime and intrigue in the 1930s. Perhaps it still is and we just don’t hear about it. I was always fascinated by the travelogue/true-crime show City Confidential for just this reason – most of the murder cases profiled took place in small ponds but involved the local big fish. As a result there’s a kind of tragicomic Magnificent Andersons quality to all the stories.
Weekend Report
Apr. 30th, 2012 10:32 amYesterday we went to a reading organized by Tightrope Books on behalf of the High Park Zoo, which is threatened with closure. The reading was at Cafe Novo, just across the street from the north edge of High Park; I had an ok chai latte and a very good lavender shortbread. Readings were on the patio, which was pleasant but not did not lend itself acoustically to performance. Several people admired my Lace-up Opera Gloves. Shortly after a poem in the second set entitled "Dressing as a Nun and Singing Gospel Won't Help Explain the Night Sky*" we left for a second patio 'round the corner which was warmer, though full of barky dogs.
* It was about Whoopie Goldberg's recorded narration for a planetarium show.
* It was about Whoopie Goldberg's recorded narration for a planetarium show.
(no subject)
Sep. 5th, 2011 06:42 pmKerouac interviewed on Radio-Canada (with subtitles). I'm not sure, but just before it ends there's a shot of the audience, and there's a young woman I think *might* be Adrienne Clarkson...
