I’m planning to see the film as soon as possible. I think it’s another indication how much the public is interested in the Roaring Twenties. Think of the series “Boardwalk Empire,” and Ken Burns’s documentary “Prohibition.” And dress styles this year are highly reminiscent of the flapper dress, straight sheath lines with drop waists. I’ll bet this movie only heightens those stylistic elements. 

No cover art yet, but I just received the title page design for my new mystery. Very art deco, in keeping with the Roaring Twenties setting. I love it!!

The normal dose was between 5 and 10 grains. My main character, Jessie, is small and female, so she takes the single dose of 5 grains to help her sleep on a long, cross-country train ride. A lethal dose has been reported to be around 50 grains. Veronal came in powdered form in a folded paper called a powder paper. The paper would be unfolded and the powder dropped into a beverage and drunk. It was also made in cachets which are like small ravioli. The powder would be measured out and placed on a wafer made of a flour/water type dough or rice paper. Another wafer was placed on top and the edges sealed with water and pressure. The cachet was placed on the tongue and chased with a beverage or dissolved into a beverage and drunk.

For my story, RENTING SILENCE, I am using Veronal in powder papers. The powder would dissolve more quickly than a cachet when placed surreptitiously into a drink. A good knock-out dose would be around 15-20 grains (3 or 4 powder papers) depending on the size of the person. This dose would not be fatal, but it would put someone to sleep in 30 minutes, and they would remain asleep for 6-8 hours. 

I have Jessie buying Veronal in papers at the drug store for her own use, as she boards the train. The trip between the west coast and Chicago lasted 3 nights, and one paper of 5 grains helps her sleep. Later, when she tangles with some Bad Guys, she thinks to slip her Veronal into their glasses to knock them out. I am half finished with this book, so I haven’t reached the Bad Guy scene yet, but at least I know how Jessie will knock them out!

They were called “nance” or “pansy” performers in the Roaring Twenties, those burlesque men who sang and acted in an effete manner, spoke with a lisp, and pranced about stage with a swish. The N.Y. Times had an article about them in a recent Sunday Theater section, focusing on some of the more famous ones. Two examples that people today might recognize were Bert Lahr’s performance of the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz, Edward Everett Horton, whose distinctive voice many will recall from “Fractured Fairy Tales” on the Rocky and Bullwinkle Show, and  Paul Lynde in Hollywood Squares and Bye Bye Birdie. Of course, nance performers were parodying gays, but that didn’t mean the performers themselves were gay, just as many people in blackface weren’t black. And many were.

Here’s another example mentioned in the Times article: Harry Rose singing “Frankfurter Sandwiches” as seen on www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6HB-w_7xRM

As you might think, I was very interested in this subject for possible use in one of my Roaring Twenties mysteries. But then I realized such performers only worked in burlesque and so far, I’ve steered clear of that genre. Maybe in a future story, I’ll be able to incorporate a nance/pansy performer, or at least I might mention that so-and-so had been a pansy performer in burlesque some years ago . . . You never know when these little tidbits of information will come in handy.

An old college friend put me in contact with Mr. Brooks Wachtel of Hollywood, a writer/producer/director who has written or produced many documentaries for the History Channel and over 85 episodes of dramatic television, shows such as Fox’s live-action Young Hercules, the animated PBS hit “Liberty’s Kids,” and lots of Saturday morning action shows: Heavy Gear, Static, Spider-Man, X-Men, Iron Man, Robo-Cop, Silver Surfer, The Avengers, Mortal Kombat, The Mask, Beast Machines: Transformers, Godzilla, Gargoyles, Wing Commander Academy. For younger viewers, he has penned many episodes of the pre-school hit, Clifford the Big Red Dog.

The reason I wanted to talk with him was to take advantage of his vast knowledge of film history. He gave me lots of information, some of which I’ll be incorporating into book #3 of the Roaring Twenties series, Renting Silence. Things like the sort of film used in the Twenties as orthochromatic was being replaced by the better, more expensive panchromatic, which gave a truer gray range. With orthochromatic film, props and things that were actually red would film very dar while blues would go lighter, so much so that blue-eyed people seemed to have white eyes. Not a good feature. This influenced the choice of costumes, props, and even actors, of course. 

And while I already knew that silent movies were very noisy to make, with grinding cameras, shouts from the director, ongoing conversations, music from the studio musicians who were “playing the mood,” and hammering from the adjacent stage, I did not know that some studios set up bleachers and charged admission, and those audiences could be quite noisy too. All in all, an interesting conversation with Mr. Wachtel. 

I’ve just finished going through the copyeditor’s comments and corrections for my manuscript. What a humbling experience! I used to think I was pretty good at this sort of stuff. Here are some of the things I learned:

It’s “Uncle Charles,” but “your uncle Charles.” Or, “I told Aunt Victoria how much . . . ” vs. “I told my aunt Victoria how much . . .” 

It’s “I have a couple of dollars” not “I have a couple dollars.” 

It’s “just deserts,” not “just desserts.” 

It’s slipup, not slip up.

It’s a while, not awhile.

It’s good-bye, not goodbye.

Now I send the manuscript back to the publisher. I’m still waiting to see what sort of cover art they come up with, and will post the results as soon as I know. 

Ragtime music began in the 1890s. It was still around in the Roaring Twenties, although its popularity was on the wane.  So I make minimal mention of it in my mysteries, using it as seasoning rather than as a main ingredient. Today, thanks to NPR’s classical music program, I learned where the term comes from. 

This style of music emphasizes the off beats, giving the music a ragged beat or ragged time. Hence, ragtime. Logical, sure, but I never put it together. 

I’m learning about transfigurators as a possible plot twist for my fourth book. Since I haven’t finished the third one yet, it’s not foremost in my mind, but I ran across some interesting information recently that I’d like to share. 

Transfigurators were vaudeville performers who changed their appearance during the act. There were two types: proteans and quick-change artists. Quick-change artists just made quick changes with maybe a little patter in between. Proteans, however, worked an entire sketch themselves, playing all the parts by rapidly changing costumes very, very fast. The speed was the gimmick.

Robert Fulgora at left, 1911

These were one-man or one-woman shows where the actor played eight or ten different characters. Some changed very, very fast–like Robert Fulgora, who left the stage wearing a woman’s outfit and reappeared five seconds later in full male evening attire. Fulgora was one of Houdini’s early partners. Another well-known protean made changes so fast that audiences believed he had a twin brother. (Maybe he did!)

Can you see some interesting plot ideas here?