ALASKA BE DAMNED Back-story

PANAMA PERTINENT – WEATHER

Panama’s weather is in the news.  We’re having a drought of sorts.  Our rainy season is late by two or three weeks. Ordinarily this wouldn’t be a problem but since there is such a dependency on electricity due to the economic growth, the power companies and government officials are rationing electricity – sorta. 

The solution is a few weeks away…huge storms will soon hit our isthmus and then flooding will be a problem.  In the interim, the government in its infinite wisdom decided to close all the schools and Universities; both public and private.  I’ve lived in Panama long enough to actually see the reasoning in this decision.  The school system in Panama is ranked in the bottom 10% of the ratings in the world.  It ranks somewhere just above some 5^th world African nations.  So, if your schools are not good and the kids won’t get a decent education anyway, close them to save electricity.  Oh, yeah, and just for grins…you business folks turn off your electric signs.

Everyone plays the blame game.  Just like in the other parts of the world. I’ve determined that the reason for the drought is that not enough people read my books.  So, pick up your Kindle, jump up and down four times (rain dance) and read ALASKA BE DAMNED. 

ALASKA BE DAMNED,   Robert Hatting

I believe it’s very important for readers to understand that this novel does not slam the state of Alaska.  I loved living in the ‘last frontier’.  I appreciated and marveled at the people, their attitudes and their rugged spirits.  The diversity and beauty of Alaska is breathtaking.  It’s also dangerous. A brown bear can eat your ass but you can also be eaten by the parasites that prey on the working class and business-folks of Alaska. RWH

My number one novel in sales was written during and just after I left my stint as an Alaska commercial fisherman. Those years, the middle-aged life chapters, were truly chocked full of excitement and adventure.  The money was good but the adventure of the unknown was omnipresent.  One could be anchored in a small inlet that was as calm and smooth as a mill pond.  Three hours later a williwaw would stir that cove into a cauldron of wind, waves and chop.  Dragging anchor was a given so the danger of crashing on the rocks was always a threat.  Factor in mechanical problems, drunken deckhands, fish prices, and the ever-present weather conditions and you have an exciting time in Alaska; an adventure every day. 

One aspect that spoiled the experience was the constant harassment by the U.S. Coast Guard, the fish cops, and the red tape of just doing business from a boat. It was enough to curdle a person’s milk.  In my case, I elected to push back. That was an adventure that is partially chronicled in my novel.

One of the most disturbing aspects of cruising around Alaska was learning of the large number of people who die in boating accidents on an annual basis. Many of them unreported.  Fortunately, my crew and I were able to rescue -- not just lend a helping hand, but actually rescue from certain death over a dozen people. Nine separate incidents where lives were at stake, my crew and I saved the day. Our reward was undying gratitude from not only the people rescued but also from the fishing fleet in general.  Unfortunately, we were chastised by the coast guard (notice I didn’t put them in caps?) The castigation came from not following protocol and procedures.  I had made decisions based on the most expedient method to save peoples lives and property; including ignoring voices on the radio that were disrupting and contradicting my rescue processes.  I always strived to help the poor souls that were either drowning, near catastrophe or in distress.  Most times I was breaking rules and protocol set forth by fifedomes of the Coast Guard watch commanders. I always assumed it was more important to save a life rather than succumb to authority. It’s been my personal millstone for the better part of my adult life.

“Coast Guard, Sitka, this is Wolf Bay. Listen up, Ensign Pulver, ‘cause this is my last transmission to you. The wind is blowing out of the north at eighty knots and Chatham Strait has breakers upward to sixty feet. This is a Class A storm, Pulver. Do not, I repeat, do not send a cutter, a battleship, or any other type of vessel into this storm. All parties are fine… doing five by five. We have ample supplies and shelter, but the radio battery is almost gone. I will oblige you with paperwork after this is over. Do you read me, Ensign Pulver?”

I think the crowning moment in their stupidity and my blatant disregard of their orders came when I was told to ‘stand down’ in my attempt to rescue a fisherman who had crashed into a deadhead (sunken log) in Chatham Straight.  His vessel had been totally destroyed and had sunk but he was able to reach a rock outcropping near the shore line.  To reach him was almost impossible.  Any attempt with my skiff would surely put both of us on that cluster of rocks.  Soooo, I pulled the emergency life raft off my big boat and lowered it into my skiff.  I then drove the skiff upwind from the rock and the fisherman.  When I inflated the life raft, it took off like a kite in the strong winds.  I was finally able to use the wind and the current and allowed it to drift toward the rock.  The fisherman was able to crawl inside and I then towed him back to my eighty-five foot vessel. The fisherman I saved became a good friend.  His family and fellow fishermen applauded my rescue.  Later in the week, twenty minutes from arrival at the dock, my vessel was boarded by a 20 year old acne faced E-2 seaman from Topeka Kansas and two other snot nosed coasties. They inspected my vessel and I was issued five tickets for safety violations; including one for not having an operable life raft in place.  That was the cork blower!

I took the offensive and used whatever public forum was available (including the VHF and SSB airwaves) and began slamming the USCG, US Forest Service and a host of other US agencies that locked down the State of Alaska.  I was very careful to not include the rank-in-file coasties; those that risked their lives everyday saving people.  I targeted the upper echelon; those dopes that sat in the warm cushy offices and wrote rules and regulations for their drones to enforce.  I attacked all the politicians, the big multi-nationals, and the cops that enforced their doctrines.  I was finally threatened with arrest or worse if I didn’t pipe down or leave the state.  I quieted my rants, put all my boats and real estate on the market, and began ALASKA BE DAMNED.  A year later, with everything sold, I took my partially finished manuscript back to the lower 48 and hibernated for a year; finishing the first draft of ABD (originally 260,000 words...now, 240,000). 

Suddenly the night turned a bright orange-white as the flare Ben shot off hung just over the barge. After a few moments it was dark again, until Tom turned the spotlight back on. Meg’s eyes followed the spotlight as she moved the Ancient Mariner forward of the barge. Ben aimed the light at the waterline of the anchored barge and the towline became visible. He shined from the top of the barge to where it entered the water. Then he then pointed the light high on the logs above the barge deck. Silhouetted in the light was the figure of a man. He was flashing a small light so they could see it from the Ancient Mariner.

 

Since completing ALASKA BE DAMNED, I have moved several times and have always compared my current location to that of Alaska.  I will often reread the novel to re-experience the beauty and grandeur of that great territory.

   

UNTAMED -- BACK STORY

Curtis Dawson and RC Bellars were characters created in my novel, PARTNERS back in 1981.  They remained true-to-form in the second writing of PARTNERS (partners 2.0) and also into the screenplay, PARTNERS.   The script was optioned but the movie was never made so the script rights were returned.  Several years later a producer of some merit wanted me to write five (5) screenplays for a mini-series on HBO; all on Spec, of course… Negotiations lasted almost a year.  During that time frame I began sketching shorts of some of the experiences, Rick and I had either been directly involved in or had witnessed firsthand.  The stories seemed to grow in my mind and I was almost finished with the first screenplay before the negotiations were complete.

I finally condescended when the producer sent me a check for ten grand; once he approved one, he would send me ten thousand for each following script; for a total of $50,000. 

I wrote two prequels to the Partners screenplay.  NO WAY & UP NORTH.  I revised PARTNERS so the three scripts would transition smoothly.  TRUST ME had been outlined for a novel.  I elected to convert it to a movie script.  All of these screenplays were stand-alone movies; two hours in length.  I sent this guy the two prequels and he was supposed to send me another ten grand.  That didn’t happen but I kept writing anyway. 

At no time during  'this non-communication -non payment' had I signed over any rights. The end of the story?  NOTHING!  Never a peep or a centavo mas. So, I had four screenplays with no buyer.  I turned the internet and the mail service  black with submissions to producers and directors.  After a couple of years of this lame nonsense, I discovered e-books. I posted the screenplays on line and sold a few…the format is entirely wrong for the Kindle and Nook.   I decided to write the screenplays into novels.  That was the case with NO WAY and UP NORTH.  Combined they became the outline for UNTAMED.

All the incidents in the screenplays were based on experiences my riding partner, Rick, and I had back in our earlier years.  The 1970’s and early 1980’s seem a long way back in history for some of the younger generation but for us this was the last of the truly ‘OLD WEST’ experiences.  The RIDE, ROPE & SHOOT, was leaving the west; we were the ones waving goodbye. That mentality and value set may be depicted in novels or movies but in real life; it’s gone.  It was a fun time in our lives and I really enjoyed writing the scripts and later the novel. Recapturing those feelings and experiences will always bring a smile to my face.   I’ve yet to turn TRUST ME into a novel. Perhaps I’ll start that conversion soon. 

UNTAMED has received 5 star reviews from those who have discovered the novel. 

PANAMA PERTINANT - RESIDENCY

I need to lead with this disclaimer; I AM NOT AN AUTHORITY ON THIS SUBJECT!!  For details and advice, contact me and I will put you in touch with the best lawyer in Panama, Magalis Arruz Duncan.

Foreigners from all over the world live, play, and operate various forms of businesses.  Most are here legally; some are not.

I take pride that I went through the legal process to first obtain my ‘Pensionado’ status, and last week finalized the permenate resident cedula.  I picked it up at the David office of the Electoral Tribune.  I’m officially a CHIRIGRINGO!

When I first began visiting Panama from Costa Rica, I came into the country on a tourist visa.  Back then you were allowed to stay in the country 90 days.  Then they changed it to 30 days and I started the Pensionado process. It took a while for me to get my ducks in line back in the US because I was having too much fun here in Central America. I finally bit the bullet and went back to AZ for a few months on a book tour.  I was able to supply my attorney, (the afore mentioned Missus Duncan), all the documents needed for her to begin the process. The government issued me a temporary card (tramete) to use while my Pensionado status was being processed.  This card presented along with my US passport allowed me to remain in the country while the red tape was being wound.  (That was a big deal back then – one had to visit Costa Rica or Colombia ever 30 days and stay gone for 3 days’ not only a pain but expensive.)

Now, with the change in the law last year,(or maybe a new one) I was able to obtain a Panamanian Cedula.  This provides more than a permanent visa. I’m actually a foreign resident.      

TUCSON TERRITORY

 

Today I added a new title to my Amazon Kindle store page. http://www.amazon.com/Robert-Hatting/e/B004GELM94/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1367753730&sr=1-2-ent.

TUCSON TERRITORY is not the title of a novel, it is the name on my single volume -- two period westerns, BOOMER & HALF-BREED. These period westerns are not related but they share a common timeline and locale; Tucson, Arizona Territory in the 1880’s.

As a side bar, TUCSON TERRITORY is the name of a Television pilot produced and directed by my friends Ed Wheeler and Jerry Woods. Ed is the highly talented photographer that provided me the b&w cover photo for HART RULES.  In my opinion, his b&w photography work compares or exceeds that of Ansel Adams.  Jerry Woods and his wife, Heather are actor friends of mine that are able to make a livable wage doing what they love the best; stunts…old fashioned western shoot ‘em up, knock ‘em down stunt work.

BOOMER – BACK-STORY

PANAMA PERTINENT – LANGUAGE BARRIERS

Even if your plans are just to make a short visit to Panama, be prepared to speak some Spanish.  That is the official language of Panama and they don’t go out of their way to make it easy for you.  You’ll discover that when you arrive by Plane, boat, or bus.  Part of the job description of the personnel that infest the customs and immigration sectors of government is to speak as fast as an auctioneer in technical and legal phrases.

One would think this is an oversight on the part of the government. You may not believe this but the system has been established by design.  Once you have that bewildered look on your face and the frustration and hopelessness builds, along comes a Panamanian person that offers to help.  He/she rattles off an oath in Spanish to the official, looks at your passport and then explains in broken English that he/she can help you. At this point you are willing to pay just about anything to be on your way. 

BOOMER – BACK-STORY

My old riding partner owns a ranch outside Tucson Arizona.  One of the buildings on his ranch is an old adobe that was once a Butterfield stage depot. Since my ranch adjoined his on the back side, we spent a lot of time helping one another instead of hiring help.  When we had a few idle moments, we would ‘shade-up’ near the old stage building.  I discovered a couple of arrow heads and several bullet slugs in the old adobe brick.  It was evident a battle had been fought at the site.  I did some research and found no evidence of any Indian attack during the time period the stage depot was operable.  However, during my research I discovered an old article of a stage being held-up and the gold that was taken by the bandits was never recovered.  Rick stated that he’d heard a story that the gold had been hidden in the back entrance to Colossal Cave (very close to Rick’s ranch).  Legend also suggested that one of the bounty hunters of that era had killed the robbers and made off with the loot.

Rick and I went rooting around in the cave and found nothing that resembled hidden gold.  I found a few obsidian arrowheads and Rick found an old spur; evidence that cowboys and Indians had both used the rear exit of Colossal Cave.   During our search for the treasure, Rick told me that a member of his family served as a US Deputy Marshall when Arizona was still a territory. I did some research on his grandfather and discovered that Arizona Territory was the last of the contiguous states to be admitted into the union. I later used these facts as some of the basis for HALF BREED.

Boomer was originally written as a youth novel but has proven to be more popular with adults.  It’s a period western but is more than a ride-shoot-shucks story.  It has several layers and an actual mystery included in the major plot.  It’s not your normal western novella.  BOOMER measures around 80,000 words. 

 

PP: cont.

The next scene has many twists and turns depending on your participation.  You can tip the helper and move on.  You can offer to hire this person for the day, or even put the helper on call to be your permanent translator – visitor guide.

There’s a ninety percent probability that the official that put you into the state of confusion, followed by the feelings of relief and gratitude, will receive a portion of whatever you pay your helper. A portion will go right to the top of the pyramid.  That’s how things work in Central and South America. 

To avoid this scenario, learn a few phrases of Spanish.  “I want to speak with your boss” shouldn’t be one of them.  A haughty tourist is fodder for the unofficial system in place. You will be detained, hassled, and maybe asked to leave the country.  You have to remember.  You have no rights in this country; legal, civil, or moral!

 A better and more disarming phrase is “My Panamanian partner will be here soon!”  Usually your situation will be resolved within minutes and you will find that the official accidently learned a few words of English during your brief encounter.

Do yourself a favor.  Learn some Spanish before you venture into Latin America. Your visit will be much more rewarding.

Three books in one…JIMMY HART TRILOGY!

To facilitate the sale of my Jimmy Hart series, I have incorporated them into one volume. (you can still purchase them separately) The price for each individual novel is $3.25.  By purchasing the big volume for $8.99, you save $.76, the equivalent of a dozen bananas here in Panama. 

HALF-BREED – BACK-STORY

Back when I owned one of my weekly newspapers, (over my career I owned 8) I was sent an article about an Apache half-breed named Chato who was murdered in the streets of Tombstone in 1880. I researched the event and couldn’t find any record of the crime. I handed it off to my editor and he couldn’t verify the story either.    

At the time I was reluctant to run the piece because my policy was to print news and features; not fiction.  A few years later while researching something else, I saw a short blurb on the ‘Chato Affair’.  It had occurred in the streets of Tucson – not Tombstone. By this time I had sold the newspaper and had moved on.  I looked into the Chato killing and discovered it was indeed a true occurrence in 1866; the year Arizona territory was established. I also learned there were no laws on the books at that time (1860’s) to punish those that murdered an Indian or half-breed. I advanced the story to the late 1880’s, fictionalized the events surrounding the killing of Chato and wrote my period novella, HALF-BREED. 

 

During my research I discovered the law enforcement of that era was marginal at best.  In addition, Tucson was very corrupt and some of the law enforcement officials were in the pockets of the Tucson Mob. Most ranchers took the law into their own hands to prevent and punish thieves.  This was one of the elements that prevented Arizona Territory from becoming a state of the union until 1912; the last of the contiguous states to be admitted.