Okay, now about this ”fame business,” as he calls it, that heretofore has eluded him, despite 21 novels over two decades as one of the most respected pros in the political espionage game.
He reliably conjures up captivating characters and plots rich in deceit and betrayal and sets them authentically in exotic locales. His prose crackles. The advertising for his latest thriller, ”Out on the Rim,” has three better-known growling heavyweights of perfidy-Elmore Leonard, Ed McBain, Robert B. Parker-all shouting paeans.
”It`s flattering,” he admits. ”A mutual admiration society, though all writers compete to a certain extent. I like those guys. But we don`t pal around.
”It`s true that I`ve never made the top of the bestseller list. But I`m usually 16th or so, right below the cut. After 21 books, you can`t be exactly undiscovered.”
Briarpatch, Missionary Stew, The Mordida Man . . . .
”Things happen . . . I was in Boston signing books. A pilot for Federal Express heard about it and flew up from Memphis. He asked me to sign a picture of his 7-year-old son.
” `What`s his name?` I asked.”
” `Ross Thomas.` ”
”That gave me pause.”
. . . The Eighth Dwarf, Chinaman`s Chance, Yellow-Dog Contract . . . .
A master of governmental intrigue, cynical politics, world-class seaminess, Thomas has fathered a family of spies, hired guns and deadly tricksters-the likes of Mac McCorkle, Mike Padillo, Lucifer Dye, explosive Quincey Durant, Artie Wu (the wily pretender to the throne of China), ace conman Otherguy Overby and Philip St. Ives, the world-class go-between.
Yet their 61-year-old creator is unassuming, genial, grandfatherly, a homebody. Only the grim determination with which he chain-chews nicotine gum betrays any hint of stress. ”The habit you can break,” he assures, having been obsessively chomping the stuff for three years. ”But I sure wish they`d come up with a bubble gum.”
. . . The Money Harvest, If You Can`t Be Good, The Porkchoppers . . . .
”I just keep plodding up the hill,” he says of his work, most of which gets done in the small beach house in Malibu he and his wife have shared since moving to southern California from Washington, D.C., some 12 years ago.
Thomas dutifully writes ”about six hours a day, about six days a week,” doing a screenplay when he feels like it (the most recent, Coppola`s
”Hammett”) and publishing a new novel every few years. All 21 have been optioned by Hollywood, six were bought outright, and one was filmed: ”St. Ives,” starring Charles Bronson.
”I was on a talk show, and a guy called: `I`ve read your books, some of
`em two or three times,` he said. `All but one. I`m saving that in case you drop dead.` ”
. . . The Backup Men, The Fools In Town Are On Our Side, The Singapore Wink . . . .
Thomas didn`t attempt fiction until he was 39. He`d spent the previous 20 years gathering material by running political campaigns and working in public relations, switching jobs to see the world. Then he opted for solitude, although the last 20 years haven`t found him lonesome much.
”I`ve had enough of crowds. I`ve sure had enough meetings. And I`ve met enough people. The seclusion of writing I enjoy.”
Wherever he goes, Thomas totes a little notebook in case he hears a memorable phrase or encounters a character. He always begins a book with a character. One morning in 1977, for instance, found him staring out his window into the turquoises and golds that proclaim a Malibu dawn. He noticed a man walking six sleek greyhounds along the beach. What could possess a man to own, and to train, six greyhounds?
Eventually Thomas sat down at his old Adler manual typewriter and pounded out the opening to ”Chinaman`s Chance”:
The pretender to the Emperor`s throne was a fat 37-year-old Chinaman named Artie Wu who always jogged along Malibu Beach right after dawn even in summer, when dawn came as early as 4:42. It was while jogging along the beach just east of the Paradise Grove pier that he tripped over a dead pelican, fell, and met the man with six greyhounds. It was the 16th of June, a Thursday.
The greyhound fancier is a hunter being hunted, it turns out. But after that lead paragraph, any reader who wouldn`t stick around to see how it turns out is in the wrong genre.
”I never know where I`m going, and I never outline. That`s the game for me. I start out with a couple of characters and a general idea of strong occupational background and see what happens.
”You put your hero up a tree and throw rocks at him, as the old saying goes, then you try and get him down. If I don`t know what`s going to happen, surely the reader won`t either. Enhances the suspense. Or so`s my aim.”
. . . The Cold War Swap, The Brass Go-Between, The Highbinders, No Questions Asked, The Procane Chronicle, The Seersucker Whipsaw, Cast a Yellow Shadow, Protocol for a Kidnapping . . .
His old thrillers are being reissued in paper, and a new generation is discovering him.
”I`ve changed publishers now (Otto Penzler`s Mysterious Press), but for years, I`d write my annual squeaking-wheel letter to Simon and Schuster. `Buy an ad,` I`d suggest. `A little promotion.` And they`d write back about how word of mouth sells books, and how, unfortunately, most of my readers are intellectual recluses with no friends.
”I do take a rather oblique approach. I like to write about politics and to inject some irony and wit into it. I`m fond of conceiving characters. I hope they`re memorable. That`s the most fun for me.
”Now, I`m told, I have a cult following. I`m hoping it turns into a galloping movement, like what happened to Leonard after he quit drinking and found out he could describe things better.”
When asked to think about it, Thomas traces his line back to Eric Ambler, sire of a gritty and realistic litter of British spymasters-John Le Carre, Francis Clifford, Gavin Lyall, Brian Freemantle.
But only Thomas hails from Oklahoma City.
”I started out in newspapers when I was 17. Served as an infantryman in the Philippines in World War II and spent time with the Filipino guerrillas. For `Out on the Rim,` I went back up into the mountains and spent time with their sons.
”The politics are still the same. As is the poverty. I think Marcos kept the country back 20 years. They could have been another South Korea or Taiwan, in terms of industry. But it just didn`t work out. Too much greed.”
Thomas` new book holds a shadowy scheme by secret interests to lure an aging Communist guerrilla leader down from the hills of Cebu, an island south of Manila, by handing him $5 million to give up the fight and retire to Hong Kong. The rebel leader, however, will trust only Booth Stallings to manage the negotiations. Stallings, a similarly aging American expert in terrorism who fought with the guerrillas during World War II, comes to believe it would be best if he funneled the $5 million to himself.
He seeks to enlist the services of noted conmen Artie Wu and Quincey Durant. The connection to them is another notable thief, Otherguy Overby, but before Stallings can utilize Overby to find Wu, he finds that the sponsors of the scheme have provided him with an escort-Georgia Blue, the toughest female bodyguard in Washington-to accompany him and the cash to the rebel camp.
Who`s paying for all this anyway? Do they want to stabilize the new Aquino government or overturn it? Is Marcos behind it all? The book abounds with triple-dealing and other Thomas touches, including odd CIA operatives, violent women and a depraved Australian called Boy Howdy.
After the war, Thomas moved around a lot. He went newspapering in the Louisiana cajun country, thence to Denver as public relations director of the National Farmer`s Union. A lifelong liberal, he managed a successful gubernatorial campaign in Colorado (Stephen McNichols), but left the United States again when offered a slot as a civilian correspondent with the American Forces Network in Bonn.
There he observed the Cold War first-hand, departing to work for a London PR firm, which was to become the English public relations arm of the advertising giant, BBD&O.
”They`d been hired by an African chief with the delightful name of Obafemi Awolowo, just prior to independence in Nigeria. He wanted to run for president, so I was sent to Nigeria to manage his campaign. No independent media existed. All papers and radio stations were controlled by factions.
”So the only thing I could do was pioneer skywriting in Africa-all to sing the praises of Chief Obafemi Awolowo. I spent 15 months until the campaign, which he lost, was over.
”I stayed on as a permanent PR representative trying to attract investment into western Nigeria-they had lots of cocoa-then I went back to Washington and became PR director of the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees, where I learned more about labor troubles.
”I finished up in the mid-`60s by managing Dave MacDonald`s last hurrah to get re-elected president of the United Steel Workers. I followed that with a stint as a troubleshooter for the U.S. Dept. of Labor, and Lyndon Johnson`s War on Poverty.
”By then, I`d written my share of news stories, press releases, speeches, brochures and film scripts, but no fiction. I`d always wanted to write fiction. So in 1965, I sat down and wrote a book in eight weeks.
”I called it `The Cold War Swap,` because I`d been in Germany in 1958 at the height of that, and spent a lot of time in Berlin. So I thought I`d use that background, and I set up two buddies (Padillo and McCorkle) with a saloon in Bonn.”
The comical McCorkle, who buys the bar after his discharge from American embassy service, discovers his partner has a yen for perilous freelancing. As the bodies start to pile up, the pair gets involved in intelligence operations on both sides of the Berlin Wall.
”When I finished the story, I called up a guy I knew who had published a book and asked him what to do. `First thing,` he said, `is to get some brown paper and some string. Then wrap it up and send it to William Morrow. Write a letter and tell them it`s coming.`
”So that`s what I did. Two months later, they sent a letter back saying they`d love to publish it. That`s my horror story of struggle and
deprivation.”
”The Cold War Swap,” critically acclaimed as the freshest espionage novel in years, won Thomas his first Edgar Award (”Briarpatch,” in 1984, garnered No. 2.)
”When my first book won the Edgar, I thought, `Well, now.` At the time, I was doing some research and writing for Jack Anderson (the columnist). I asked him where he wanted me to work. `At home,` he said. `Fine,` said I. So that`s what I started to do, going on my own after a few months. Ever since, I`ve been writing novels and an occasional screenplay.
”And that`s about it for me. I`m a very lucky guy. I`ve done what I always wanted: to be a novelist. And I`ve supported myself that way for 22 years.
”The fame part is silly, because I used to be in the fame business. It doesn`t attract me much. The money is nice because I don`t have to write screenplays I don`t like. I get to write books for a living. So long as one has to work, I`ve come to the perfect job.”
His peers agree.
”I remember once in Washington I was sitting and talking to Elmore Leonard.
” `Ever work for a living?` he asked me.
” `You mean, where you have to stand up?`
” `Yeah.`
” `Hell, no.` ”
