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Florida International University FIU Digital Commons FIU Electronic Theses and Dissertations University Graduate School 2-26-2008 The Lone almP Joe Clifford Florida International University DOI: 10.25148/etd.FI14060858 Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.fiu.edu/etd Part of the Fiction Commons Recommended Citation Clifford, Joe, "The Lone Palm" (2008). FIU Electronic Theses and Dissertations. 2389. https://digitalcommons.fiu.edu/etd/2389 This work is brought to you for free and open access by the University Graduate School at FIU Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in FIU Electronic Theses and Dissertations by an authorized administrator of FIU Digital Commons. For more information, please contact [email protected]. FLORIDA INTERNATIONAL UNIVERSITY Miami, Florida THE LONE PALM A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of MASTER OF FINE ARTS Ill CREATIVE WRITING by Joe Clifford 2008 To: Dean Kenneth Furton College of Arts and Sciences This thesis, written by Joe Clifford, and entitled The Lone Palm. having been approved in respect to style and intellectual content, is referred to you for judgment. We have read this thesis and recommend that it be approved. Les Standiford Bruce Harvey Lynne Barrett, Major Professor Date of Defense: February 26, 2008 The thesis of Joe Clifford is approved. Dean Kenneth Furton College of Arts and Sciences Dean George Walker University Graduate School Florida International University, 2008 ABSTRACT OF THE THESIS THE LONE PALM by Joe Clifford Florida International University, 2008 Miami, Florida Professor Lynne Barrett, Major Professor THE LONE PALM is a noir novel set in a timeless Bay Area city. At nineteen, Colin Specter is a hot-shot crooner at the Lone Palm, a nightclub owned by the Christos' crime family, headed by Cephalus "the Old Man" Christos and his ne'er-do-well son, Gabriel. When Colin falls for Gabriel's girl, a stripper named Zoey, Gabriel orders the singer's vocal cords cut and has him framed for a crime he didn't commit. After seven years in prison, Colin is manipulated into working for his former tormentor. Gabriel is now estranged from his father, who has branched into the world of politics. Working as mob muscle, Colin investigates the Old Man and delves into the whereabouts of his former love. The book draws on the tradition ofnoir novels like Jim Thompson's After Dark My Sweet and Raymond Chandler's The Long Goodbye, with their seedy city streets and shady characters. The novel is divided into three parts, the first and third told in omniscient third person to depict the layered world of the novel, while the longest, central section is told in Colin's first person voice to elucidate the internal struggles and actions he takes on his road to redemption. 111 TABLE OF CONTENTS SECTION PAGE 1. Part One ...................................................................................................................... 1 2. Part Two .................................................................................................................... 27 3. Part l'hree ................................................................................................................ 254 IV 1. PART ONE Tulane Church At ten ticks this past Saturday, a Man About Town fresh-faced, lanky kid, who couldn't A Weekly Column have been more than eighteen (turns out he's nineteen), ambled up to the June 18th microphone with nothing but a beat up Pac{fic Advocate guitar strapped to his back and a sparkle in his eye. I'm thinking a pup like him Hot Licks in Cool Dives doesn't stand a chance in a place like this. But, friends, I tell you the truth I frequently wonder: where have all the when I say that you could've heard a pin good singers in this city gone? When drop. did maximized volume, formulaic tunes, The boy sang for two hours nonstop, and fancy footwork become an accept­ and just when you'd think he couldn't do able substitution for bona fide crooning? it any better, he would up the ante! When I drew the assignment of From traditional Irish folk numbers to covering the entertainment beat in India the jumpy, jazzy scats that are all the Basin, it's safe to say I was less than rage these days, Specter was spectacular. thrilled. But that's one of the fringe He even did a country number, "Nobody benefits of being jaded, I suppose: the Loves a Boy like His Mama," that had occasional unexpected and pleasant the crowd whistling Dixie, and could've surprise. put one Country Joe McGillahy to Recently, I stumbled upon a singer shame. who has convinced me that the local As far musical accompaniment, the music scene just might have some life boy had his guitar, which he plucked and left in her yet. In the shadows of India strummed fine. I've heard worse; I've Basin's gritty streets, I found the heard better. The song selection was genuine article, a man-no, a boy­ diverse, but that wasn't what so whose velvety voice, pitch-perfect enraptured the crowd. It was the voice. phrasing, and humble demeanor have And what a voice! reaffirmed my faith in the power of In all my years, I can't recall ever song. His name: Colin Specter. having had the pleasure of hearing "Who's Colin Specter?" you ask. anyone better (and, yes, I'm including Well, right now, he's a nobody. To hear ol' Blue Eyes himself in there). Specter him sing, you'll have to be the displayed such command of music's adventurous sort. Past the treacherous language. With a range that topped out docks and grisly mills that help paint the at high C, he showcased a rich, full, and Basin its dreary hue there is a little layered timbre, and the young strap saloon called The Chicken Coop. Its knew how to work a room. Class shanty roof and drab fa<;ade hardly instill stacked high, with extra showmanship, confidence of finding anything hold the cheese. A face that belongs in worthwhile inside. But believe me, the pictures. when young Colin Specter takes the After his set concluded, I sat down stage, you'll feel quite differently. with the lad, and a more upstanding fellow I have yet to meet. There is a lot crime heads prove correct, nothing short of talk around the water fountain these of a total housecleaning of City Hall will days about the state of our Nation's suffice. youth, how today's generation is filled In January of last year, our mayor, with hoodlums and hooligans who refuse Wichita Founders, was sworn m on a to accept responsibility and grow up. platform promising ... Well, to that let me just say, we can only hope more young men like Colin Specter are on the way. (His parents long deceased, the boy shares a one-bedroom apartment with his ailing grandmother, for whom he cares. He told me he only took the singing gig to, get this: "'Get Nana her medicine." How's that for upstanding!) All right, ladies and gentlemen, Tulane Church is stopping here. I'm not one for gushing, and I'm feeling as flush as a schoolgirl during Homecoming Week. But I am going to do something I never do: make a guarantee. No, call it a promise. Mark my words: Colin Specter is destined to become a star. So one of these weekends very soon you might want to shell out the coinage and catch a rising comet before the admission price becomes too steep for a working man to afiord. Corruption Junction Now if you're a regular reader of this column, you know Tulane tries to steer clear of partisan politicking. Hoping to find an honest politician is like looking for four lucky leaves in a field of cow pies. Like my daddy used to say: show me a politician and I'll show you a man who makes his living speaking out both sides of his mouth. I try not to use this column as a pulpit but given recent events I now find it necessary to make a stand. If allegations linking prominent BC officials with North Beach organized 2 Four Months Later. .. Saturday night and Lone Palm manager Gabriel Christos was expecting a good crowd. Word had gotten out about the new kid singing, creating a buzz about town with those in the know, and leading to increased traffic and liquor sales for the underground North Beach club. This pleased the Old Man. Gabriel didn't relish giving his father the bad news. He knew the Old Man wouldn't be happy letting his cash cow go. The Palm, as it was known by its hipper clientele, constituted one of a dozen joints owned by the Christos family, who generally favored the sexier, more illicit enterprises. But while the nightclub may have been the most reputable of these establishments, it was also the toughest to find. Above Chinatown, in the urban hills of the Italian district, the Palm represented a leftover from Prohibition days. To find it you'd need to know where you were going. Tucked away from the main strip, an unmarked concrete door, replete with sliding eye slot, ushered the way inside. You didn't come to the Lone Palm unless you were invited. And the big bruiser standing guard outside made sure only the well-connected got the invite. Originally a speakeasy for Pacific rum-runners, the club had undergone a profound makeover in the past year. Gabriel had been given carte blanche; it was his baby. With the Old Man's blessing and financial backing, he'd bought up the surrounding real estate, knocked down walls, and added a state of the art sound system, retrofitting the joint with its round, raised stage.

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