***Out In The 1950s Film Noir Night– Joe Spain’s Saga

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

That Dora MacKay, Devil Dora, he called her, must have been something else, must have been a real devil like he called her. The he in question being Detective Sergeant Joe Spain, one of San Francisco’s finest, and that was meant in a couple of ways. For a cop he was a flashy dresser not some off the rack stuff, ill-fitted and rumbled like most of the cops who come into my place, The Last Chance Bar & Grille, the place where I work as the night bartender, and have for the past four years. They come in, come in at all hours, in all conditions, but inevitably all rumbled up since The Last Chance is right across the street from Police Headquarters. Except, like I say, Joe Spain who no matter what the time of day always looked like a guy who could pass for a wise guy, a connected guy, another kind of guy who shows up in my place. Joe said one time when I asked him why he took such pains to dress up in a well-fitted suit, shoes shines, a nice soft hat set at a rakish angle on his head that he wanted to make the wise guys think, think for just a minute, that he could be bought off, could be on the take.

And that brings me to the second way. Joe also had the reputation, a hard- earned reputation for being not for sale, for being not in somebody hip pocket and was ready to fight anybody who differed on that estimation. The first night I worked here I tried to give him a scotch on the house after he broke up what could have been a serious brawl that, big as I am. I would have had trouble squelching and he just put his money plus tip, on the bar counter. He wouldn’t even take an offered pull of beef jerky from me. Jesus, I can’t remember the last time a cop did that, left a tip that is, or for that matter paid for a drink if he could help it, or didn’t eat everything edible on the counter. But this story is not about Joe’s virtues, sartorial or moral, or just a little, but about this Dora dame that was on his mind a lot when he got in a certain mood.

See Detective Sergeant Joseph Spain had sent this Dora over about five years before, a while before I got here, so he felt duty-bound to tell me about her. Tell me how he had to send her over. Now most cops, and Joe agreed on this when I pressed him on it one time, do a job, close a case and forget about it. They certainly don’t go on about it five years later but this Dora case, Joe just couldn’t let go. Some nights when he came in and had his usual two scotches, his self-imposed limit, that that would be it. But if he asked for a third then I knew he had Dora on his mind and would tell me, or whoever he could corral sitting at the bar, all about the case. I got so I could almost recite the thing before Joe got the thought out of his mouth. Here it is the way I can tell it, tell it as a guy who was from nowhere on the case, and had never been in Dora’s clutches like Joe almost was at the end. “Almost” he would always say but in the cold sober light of day he played the percentages like everybody else and since Dora had sent three guy to their just or unjust rewards he didn’t want to be number four when Dora got her wanting habits on. But I am getting ahead of myself so let me go back and reconstruct Joe’s saga for you and maybe it will make more sense why he did what he did.

Joe said he followed up on Dora’s background somewhat after he sent her over and then when the trail got cold, real cold, he just let it go, let what he knew stand as it was. She came out of England someplace before the war, World War II, which was rough on the English. Dora, like a lot of us including Joe, had come out of some cheap mean streets and once she blew the dust off those streets off she swore she wasn’t going back. She had been involved in a jack-roller scheme with a couple of small-time hoods in Manchester and had received probation since she was a minor when one of the victims complained, complained to the cops. Later she did a little time working in some high- grade whore house in London until she got tired of the wear and tear. Then after the war she headed over here to America landing in New York, and landing in some gangster’s lap at the Kit Kat Club where she worked as a “hostess.” When that connected guy got wasted, got found face down with a couple of slugs in him, in some turf war she blew town and headed to Frisco.

That is really where Joe’s story begins but he insisted on telling her early history to show she was no frail violet who just got mixed up with some wrong gees because she didn’t know better. No, she knew the score, knew it cold, and maybe knew it from day one- get yours while the getting is good She was working in a dime-a-dance joint over in North Beach when she met Frankie, Frankie Murphy the bank robber who is still remembered around this town as very good at his trade.

Now Frankie Murphy was from the old school, old school as far banks goes, which was to work alone, mainly, grab the dough at the point of a gun and blow the joint. He was also old school as far as women went, when he was out of stir and in the clover. All his dough would go to keeping his women in style and this is all that Dora needed to hear. Now this Frankie was not anything to look at but he was true to his word on dough, and when that ran out he would just rob another bank. So Dora held her nose and stuck with Frankie, stuck with him up in a nice apartment he provided and with dough for clothes and other expenses. Of course Dora got the taste for fine things as any woman from cheap street, or for that matter any woman from Mayfair, would, and Frankie’s so money got kind of low more quickly carrying her freight and so he needed to put together another heist. This time would be no nickel and dime thing though but a big caper, a big caper indeed, holding up an armored truck when it was vulnerable sitting at bank.

Well one thing you could say for Frankie he certainly knew his stuff because he actually pulled it off, pulled off the biggest heist around, pulled down 400, 000 big ones. Although there were a couple of complications, first, in the melee Frankie killed a guard, killed him dead, and second, when Frankie got to Dora’s with no dough she started squawking about telling her where the dough was and telling Frankie to get the hell away from her since he was radioactive with a cop killing hanging over his head. She wound up squawking with a little gun when Frankie wouldn’t tell her where the dough was and he tried to attack her. That was her story anyway. So that was guy number one, and that is really where Joe Spain first ran into one Dora Mackay. Ran into her while he was investigating the whole Frankie robbery and killing case. He wasn’t afraid to admit to anybody who would listen that he was attracted to her right from the first moment he saw her, although he didn’t believe her story for a minute. But when a woman cries self-defense against some big lug known to be a cop-killer and who robs banks for a living who is going to go screwy over the details. Not Joe, not Joe with the big Dora eyes.

Here is where guys are funny though, maybe screwy when it comes to dames because Frankie wanted to make sure that Dora was taken care of , but didn’t trust her enough to tell her where the dough was. Wasn’t sure whether she was two-timing him or not with some other guy, an occupational hazard with crooks, and with guys without good looks. So all he had in his pockets when Dora sifted through them looking for some clue was Vince Malone’s telephone number and address. She assumed that Vince might have a clue where the money was so she telephoned him, made a date to meet and see what happened. Here is where dames are smart though. At their meeting one night at the Red Hat Club Dora put on her best come hither performance, really outdid herself for Vince. And Vince, nothing but a con man and skirt-chaser in real life, did what every con man not working a con himself does, and bought into her con. Although that part came later after they had slipped under a few sheets and she had him all worked up. After that it was like taking candy from a baby for Dora.

Until the other shoe dropped. The other shoe for Vince. Once she had hoodwinked Vince into giving out the spot where the moola was she went rooty-toot-toot on the late Vince Malone, RIP. Nice, right. So naturally Dora’s defense was that Vince tried to attack her, attack her for chrissakes and she had to shoot him in, ah, self-defense. Joe got that case too and while he, and half the citizens of Frisco town, were more than happy to see the cockroach go down under Joe was getting a little weary of Dora’s explanations. Still he was interested in her, more so when she planted a sweet kiss on his lips in thanks, thanks for who knows what. Yah, he was hooked, hooked bad but that wasn’t the end of it.

Dora, no question was a man-trap and being one included grabbing every stray guy who crossed her path in order to pursue her goal of getting that damn dough, that cool 400K even if she had to split it, at least that is what she had talked herself into. Frankie, not trusting a soul, a female soul anyway, had made sure that any two-timing dame was not going to get his money if she wasn’t on the square so he gave the directions to Vince but those directions led to Luther Adler, Luther an old con whom Frankie had known at the Q (San Quentin if you don’t know what Q means). Luther was holding a strong box with the kale in it although he didn’t know what was in the box, at least that is what he told Dora. But being an old con Luther wanted to see the contents of the box to see if he maybe was due a cut for services rendered to his old jailbird pal. Dora, naturally, tried the old come hither approach but Luther wasn’t buying into that trap. It didn’t matter though, didn’t matter at all, since Dora in her frenzy for the money put two right through his heart. Finished, done, all the dough was hers, and well- earned.

Well, almost done. And here is where Joe Spain comes in as a cop, a good cop, a cop that couldn’t be bought. After the phooey incident with Vince he began to tail Dora (also he wasn’t sure whether she didn’t have another guy on the line despite that big kiss back at Vince’s place) and that led him to Luther’s just after he heard those two shots that Dora blasted him with. Joe knocked on Luther’s door, Dora answered, and as he entered the room he saw Luther sprawled out on the floor. Dead, dead as a doornail. He confronted Dora who at least didn’t try the attack dodge this time. She merely went over to Joe, planted another big kiss on his lips, and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Her, her sex, and the dough, simple. Joe hesitated, thinking through his options. He was tempted, strongly tempted until he took another look in Luther’s direction and then said nix.

But Dora Mackay from cheap streets England did not know how to take no for an answer when she had had her wanting habits on. So she tried the rooty-toot-toot on Detective Sergeant Joseph Spain. And that was her last act on this earth as Joe put one right through her heart, or the place where her heart would be if she had a heart. But here again where guys get squirrely over dames. Joe has finished up his story the same way every time since he has been coming in. He always wonders out loud whether he should have just run off with Dora and left everything else behind. Yah that Dora Mackay must have been something else.