There was a report on the radio that a tornado had touched down a few miles away, and that more twisters were possible. Silver-white lightning lashed down from the dark sky, relentless waves of rain washed the windshield, and the wind, gusting to 40 mph, hurled roadside debris across the highway. Vehicles, even large, stolid trucks, sought the shelter of overpasses. Visibility was very bad, but we pressed on.
Did I wake up from this dream? I wish that had been an option. Instead, I was stuck in a storm that struck Kansas City and its surroundings.
Ah, the glamorous and indulgent life of an author on a book tour.
Yes, I was on the road again. I had vowed that the last tour, in May, would indeed be the last one. But with “Bandit Heaven,” my resistance waned.
The book had garnered very good early reviews, favorite venues in St. Louis, Dallas, Wichita and elsewhere were reaching out and promising robust crowds, and the ham in me began itching to be at a podium. If the presentation went well, I liked seeing members of the audience smile. If not, I was still nimble enough to dodge tomatoes and other rotten vegetables.
Mostly, though, I saddled up and hit the trail of shameless shilling because of the topic described in the subtitle: “The Hole-in-the-Wall Gangs and the Final Chapter of the Wild West.”
While the main characters are Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid — whose stories are much more detailed and interesting than in the classic movie — I’d also get to talk about outlaws like Kid Curry, Tom Horn, “Dirty Dave” Rudabaugh, “Gunplay” Maxwell, Ben “Tall Texan” Kilpatrick, George “Flatnose” Currie, “Black Jack” Ketchum and George “Beak Nose” Parrott, who wound up as a pair of shoes. (Yes, you read that right. See my recent column.)
There were the saucy “Wild Bunch Women,” including Etta Place, the companion and then wife of the Sundance Kid; “Queen Anne” Bassett, who, with her equally beautiful sister, Josie, cut a swath through the outlaw ranks; Annie Rogers, the steady girl of Kid Curry, who got him arrested; plus Belle Starr, the notorious bandit belle.
Then there were the legendary lawmen: Allan Pinkerton and his two sons, who founded the world’s most famous detective agency; Joe Lefors, whose posse persistently pursued Butch and Sundance (“Who are those guys?” Paul Newman keeps asking in the film); and Charlie Siringo, the “cowboy detective,” the most successful of late-19th century lawmen — and a bestselling author.
And I’ll mention again: Put me at a podium and I have more ham in me than Porky Pig.
Speaking of which: Much closer to home, I’ll be doing a “Bandit Heaven” presentation this coming Saturday at 1 p.m. at the East Hampton Historical Farm Museum in East Hampton. Copies of the book will be available, as will military history titles like “The Last Hill” and “Lightning Down” to begin reading in time for Veterans Day.
Back to the book tour: In the age of Zoom and other high-falutin’ forms of communication, like podcasts, why do authors still hit the road?
The fact is that fewer do these days. It can be a tidy sum that publishers lay out for airfare, hotels, ground transportation, and, especially for writers, bar tabs.
Some bookstores, like Main Street Books in St. Louis and Watermark Books in Wichita, do an excellent job of promoting events, resulting in 150 to 200 book-buying patrons showing up. But other shops don’t want to be bothered, not even putting an event poster in the window, resulting in maybe a dozen books sold.
For me, though, the biggest boost is meeting readers. With very few exceptions — like the woman who got up and left a presentation when she realized I was not Tom Clancy — they are kind and generous with their comments and grateful to have a book inscribed. And if they buy more than one copy, I like them even more.
Keep in mind, too, that many authors like me are lonely, isolated curmudgeons with no charisma or appealing features, so any positive attention from others is greatly appreciated.
However, taking on tornadoes was not in my book contract.
I had arrived in Kansas City last Wednesday afternoon for a presentation sponsored by, appropriately, Rainy Day Books. As I grabbed some lunch at the hotel, I was vaguely aware of a stormy forecast on the television, and I guffawed in the face of danger.
That evening, when Cathy Ann Carroll picked me up — we’ve known each other since being 9-year-old neighborhood kids, and she’s lived in the KC area for many years — she said, “Let’s get this thing over with fast.” Being used to hearing that from women, this pronouncement did not faze me.
Arriving at the venue, we were told, “The author canceled because of the weather.”
“But I’m the author. Right here, in front of you.”
We got that snafu cleared up and, thankfully, about 50 people waited in the auditorium. The talk went well, and I signed a bunch of books and made a graceful exit.
As we walked to her car, Cathy Ann said, “Look at that sky. This isn’t good.” It just looked like an overcast sky to me, but I guess these Missouri people can see or sniff bad weather.
Sure enough, less than 10 minutes later, as we drove toward the hotel near the airport, the heavens opened up, with bandit bolts of lightning and bursts of teeth-rattling thunder. Driving was very difficult, but she soldiered on. It was a bit comforting to think that because of alphabetical order, Cathy Ann Carroll and I might be listed next to each other in the online Deer Park High School “In Memoriam” page.
And then that report about twisters …
That page would have to wait, because we made it to the hotel and, 10 minutes later, my death-defying driver texted me that she was home safe. And that is where I intend to stay, no more book tours … well, for now.
But yes to more presentations. Hope to see you this Saturday at the East Hampton Historical Farm Museum at 1 p.m., and if not, maybe at the John Jermain Memorial Library in Sag Harbor on Sunday, December 1, at 2 p.m.
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