Story Time: The Mike Hammer Chronicles

We get hardboiled with this week’s Story Time entry. It’s the third Mike Hammer/Mickey Spillane themed post this week. See Pulp Fiction and the Album Cover Art features.

Today I’m presenting two posts from my early days as a blogger, 2006. The first post-K mayoral election in New Orleans had 444 candidates. That’s an exaggeration but only a minor one. One of the candidates was a local rich guy named Mike Hammer who nobody had ever heard of in 2006. I haven’t heard much of him since then either.

I got a kick out of a candidate who shared a name with tough guy private dick Mike Hammer running for office. It gave me a pretext to write in the Spillane argot. That’s not a word either Mickey or Mike would have used but I’m a showoff.

The Other Mike Hammer’s candidacy was fleeting, lasting only 37 days. I was disgusted as was the real fictional Mike Hammer.

The Mike Hammer Chronicles consist of posts about NOLA Mike Hammer’s entry and exit from the race. I’ll interrupt the posts with some chatter and 2022 last words. What did I do before YouTube?

Set the Wayback Machine for 2006.

Does Mickey Spillane Know About This?

New Orleans investment banker Mike Hammer announced the other day that he’s running for Mayor. My first reaction to this announcement was: who the hell is he? My second reaction: Woo-hoo another politically inexperienced businessman wants to be our Mayor. It worked out so well with C Ray…

But my inner satirist/blogger finally kicked in and realized that this is a bonanza for the likes of me. Imagine a Mayor like Mickey Spillane’s hardboiled detective Mike Hammer.

That Mike Hammer wouldn’t take any shit from posers like President Beavis or Katrina Kaiser Donald Powell. He’d smack them upside the head with a gat, pour whiskey down their throats, and make them do his bidding. Mike Hammer was always a direct guy.

Problems with Governor Meemaw? Mike had a way with the skirts; he’d charm her and convince her to speak in complete sentences (that would be a first) and to be a stand-up broad. [2022 Note: I’m not as hard on Governor Blanco now. She was dealt a poor hand and did the best she could.]

Trouble with the College Of Clowns? Mike Hammer would lock them up in the council chambers and make them an offer they couldn’t refuse. Yeah I know that was Vito Corleone’s line but Mario Puzo and Mickey Spillane went to the same college of hard knocks. [2022 Note: The College of Clowns was my nickname for the City Council of that time. They’ve improved since then.]

So my advice for Debrisville’s Mike Hammer: get a fedora, drink some bourbon, forget all that
goo-goo crapola and kick some ass.   

2022 last word goes to Todd Rundgren’s Utopia:

Monday March 6, 2006 was a day which will live In Mike Hammer infamy.

Mike Hammer Wimps Out

I am of course referring to the NOLA investment banker Mike Hammer who ended his mayoral campaign with a whimper by not even qualifying instead he endorsed Gorilla Ron Forman. [2022 Note:  Ron Forman was and is the head of the Audubon Institute. They run the zoo. Hence the simian nickname.]

NOLA Mike’s well-known fictional counterpart Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer is outraged. Regular readers of this blog know that the real albeit fictional Mike Hammer is a recurring visitor to the Adrastos Virtual Cafe and he’s my guest blogger today. Take it away enraged fictional person:

An Open Letter From Mike Hammer to Mike Hammer, Give Me Back My Name:

Hey Mikey, what the hell were ya thinking? I thought you were a stand-up guy but now you’ve folded your tent and wanna slink off in the night like a weenie. I never figured you for a wuss who’d be scared off by a guy named Clarence. Imagine that: Clarence Ray Fucking Nagin. Chocolate city, schmocolate city.

I was counting on you to slap some sense into C Ray pally. I’m fucking disappointed Mikey, you share my name, so I share your shame. Damn, I’m rhymin’ like that preachin’ pol from Chicago now and it’s down to you Mikey boy. Look what you’ve driven me to. I thought you’d be an eagle but you’re just another shitbird.

There’s not enough whiskey in the world to drown my sorrows tonight. Not even my Sinatra records can make me feel better. And if the chairman of the board can’t pick a man up slap him around and make him whole again nothin’ can. I’m also blue because Darren McGavin who played me on the tube in the Fifties died last week and I was too busy shaking down drunks for beads on Bourbon Street to go to the funeral.  It’s just me and Stacy Keach left now so I gotta be careful. I dunno why an actor who played me has got a girl’s name but he’s a stand-up guy in spite of it.

Us Mike Hammers gotta stick together. You let me down, pally. It hurts, man. I got an idea how you can make this right Mikey boy. Give me back my name. That’s right. It was mine long before you were a bun in the oven or even a glint in your lecherous pa’s eye. Give me back my name. Got a nice ring to it don’t it?

My pal Adrastos tells me that there’s a rock song of that name  by some combo called Talking Heads. Now except for Elvis I don’t go in for that rock-n-roll crapola; give me Sinatra, Eckstine, Tormé, and broads like Ella, Rosie, and Sarah any day.  But those Talking Heads they got a point, Mikey boy. Give me back my name.

I know their singer is a doofus in a big suit but even a dork can make sense some of the time. Tell ya what Mikey boy give me back my name and I’ll leave you be. I won’t even kick your ass for supporting that poser Gorilla Ron. A guy named Mike Hammer should be for the working stiffs and Gorilla Ron is just a stiff. Here’s my final offer: give me back my name and I’ll go easy on you, pally.

Mike Hammer

Back to you Adrastos:

Thanks Mike. Those were lenient terms. Btw, the doofus in the big suit is named David Byrne and he stopped making sense years ago. And Mike I think Adrian Monk coined the perfect term to describe Banker Mike Hammer: he’s a muss; part man and part wuss. Yeah, I know, Monk is too tidy for your taste Mike but you gotta admit he’s one helluva shamus.

The 2022 last word goes to Talking Heads: