"Rhubarb" by H. Allen Smith

Like the other great American genius writer Throne Smith, his spiritual brother H. Allen Smith is many ways the PG Wodehouse of the Screwball era. A rich eccentric millionaire dies and leaves all his wealth and real estate to his pet cat Rhubarb, who like his owner is fussy, and kind of mean. And he also owns a baseball team. So in this book you get zany, zany characters - everyone from a muscle bound daughter to crooked lawyers, to dopey baseball players, to an occasional bad dog or two (sorry dog lovers). If you mixed Howard Hawks comedy with a side dish of Throne Smith, and a touch of small-town Manhattan you got "Rhubarb." The fact that this book is out-of-print is truly a criminal ac

"Low Man On A Totem Pole" by H. Allen Smith

What a discovery!  As I mentioned in another review of a H. Allen Smith title, I was at Powell's in Portland and I came across his books.  Used of course and i have to presume that all seven titles there was from a person who gave it up.  Not for money, but more likely for space, or a mad Uncle left it to a family member or something totally undramatic.  Nevertheless I have become a mega-fan of H. Allen Smith.

"Low Man on a Totem Pole is a collection of articles he wrote for the New York World - Telegram sometime in the 1940's.  What i have is the first edition hard cover copy, and as far as I know this book is now out-of-print, which I find deeply disturbing.  One, because Smith is an excellent writer and for sure one of the best of the old-school Manhattanites of the 30's and 40's.  in the same game park of James Thurber or even Dorothy Parker.  Extremely witty, and here is a writer at work because he had to turn in a column for his paper probably on a daily or weekly schedule.

My favorite pieces in this book deals with "Hollywood."  And it seems at the time a lot of NYC journalists treated Hollywood as the capital of weirdoland.  Which may or may not be the case, but one gets the impression that Smith had to cover the Hollywood beat with respect to interviewing the stars, but his heart wasn't really into it.  But that didn't stop this talented writer in making hysterical commentary regarding a journalist interviewing a movie star placed in NYC to promote a picture.  But saying that he is never mean to his subject matter, he makes fun of himself making fun of his subject matter.  But what is interesting is how a New Yorker or someone from that culture looks at Hollywood.

But his observations are spot-on and he lived in an interesting world.  It's sad to think that the type of world he wrote about (1940's Manhattan and Hollywood) is now totally gone.  Like this book, that is not in print.  But mark my words, H. Allen Smith is a brilliant stylist and a very very funny man.

"Life In A Putty Knife Factory" by H. Allen Smith

I found this title and five other books by H. Allen Smith at Powell's Bookstore in Portland, OR.   I never heard of the man, and I just found it by chance - just one of the many great things about visiting a bookstore.  The chance element is very important with respect to book and record shopping.  Nevertheless H. Allen Smith is hysterical.  He is very much the NYC Manhattan writer of the  1940s.   Gin drinking, wise crackin' gentleman of the typewriting world.

This is not his first book, but I believe it is second volume of humorous essays.  Many gems here like this one regarding the writer Ring Lardner:

"Hey, Ring.  Let's get drunk tonight."
"What day is it?"  Lardner asked.
"Wednesday."
"Can't  Got an appointment next Tuesday."

Now I find that hysterical.  Also he mentions one of my favorite obscure writers, Thorne Smith, quite often in these pages.  Mentions him as a friend and someone who appreciates his work.  So one gets at least four stars for that fact.  Other then that there is a really great essay on Bing Crosby and trying to do an interview with him - that's funny and quite profound at the same time.  Smith is sadly out of print, but his wit hits the mark and his writing style is superb.