See 1961 Through a TV Repairman's Paul Newman Eyes
HUNNY the TV MAN Series TV repairman Gil "Hunny" Hunnicutt is doing as well with the ladies as any self-respecting milkman and maybe better, given his dreamy Paul Newman eyes. However, now that he's long divorced and well into middle-age, he's rethinking his life and opening up to the possibility of love. And he finds love in Lara, a retired dentist—or retired lady dentist in 1961-speak.
Although things get in the way of his love life—other women (including his ex-wife), Lara's shadow puppet show dream, women who hold him at gunpoint, a hitman in drag, questionable deaths, family demands, Judy Garland at Carnegie Hall—his worst obstacle is the local Albanian Mob, who have a chokehold on him.
The three books in the series follow Hunny on his internal quest to trust in love and his external quest to see the mob kingpin wearing a wooden kimono.
Nailed to the Cross
Book 1 of the Hunny the TV Man series starts with middle-aged Hunny's pursuit of a delinquent service call invoice. His quest nearly kills him at the gun-toting hands of a crazy lady, but she isn't the only lady who pulls a gun on him and isn't the only crazy lady in his life that spring of 1961. While he envisions an unappealing future and has a slippery hold on a new-found love, he's still tethered to his two polar-opposite sisters and isn't sure, at his core, which one of them he's more like. His journey takes him to a gay hideaway in New York where he turns a past wound into a deeper understanding of people under the radar. Once he has a new sense of himself, he opens the door to love—but it's the Albanian Mob calling.
What got me going to Sunday Mass every week is what most folks might call an unholy mess. I'm not a believer. Never was. That's my sisters' department. I didn't lose a bet. It wasn't a New Year's resolution. There was no getting around it by watching Bishop Sheen on Sunday morning television or saying the rosary once a week or reading a prayer from a missal. I had to park my keister in a pee-yew every Sunday. I started going because my life—my mortal one, not my everlasting one, whatever the hell that is—depended on it.
The unholy mess all started when I was stiffed on a service call. I'm a TV repairman, do a damn good job, and expect to be paid. It was April Fools' Day, 1961. Of course, it was. How could it have been any other day?
Sins of a "Poll" Cat
Book 2 of the Hunny the TV Man series starts in the steamy summer of 1961 with Hunny tomcatting, while his love Lara has left him to pursue her shadow puppet dream in all 50 states. He's not messing around with just anyone—she's the police chief's wife—and while he's there, he learns her husband has died. It's the second high-profile questionable death that year, and Hunny suspects the Albanian Mob's hand. That hand also involves him in election fraud, brings the FBI to his door, and leads him to an elite group of businessmen looking to make the town of Cullerset their pollution profit center. Family problems bring new headaches, but he puts himself to the test at a local parade. And while his love life takes its own hits and throws a few jabs, he's in the game for the win.
One Helluva Lady
Book 3 of the Hunny the TV Man series starts with Hunny waving good riddance to his evil younger sister who's driving off on her honeymoon that fall of 1961. That's a good start. Next thing, he's blindfolded and taken by an Albanian thug to a secluded wooded area. Hmm, not a good follow-up, but Hunny's getting used to expecting the unexpected. In book one, he was chasing an unpaid bill, but here he's chasing a clue given by a dying FBI agent, a clue that could free him from the bonds of the Mob. After another senseless death and brazen arson—both courtesy of the Mob—Hunny is mad, furious mad. He's mad enough to take matters into his own hands once and for all, and one helluva lady sees him through it.
Everything is Fiction
Veda Dalsette, previously known as Vivian Davenport, is your typical writer. She lives alone in the woods with 17 cats, every back issue of Cosmopolitan Magazine since September 1965, and a framed autographed photo of Phyllis Diller.
Divorced, she swears she's not bitter about her husband running off with a younger woman, who used to be a man.
And she lies. Lies like a rug. (The photo of Phyllis Diller isn't autographed.) But she channels her mendacity into her fiction, which flourishes in a spot in the pretend world where we all like to live.