Sorting Through My Father’s Hoard # 13: Damon Runyon, Part 1

Now it happens that I am considering what to do for my latest post on my old man’s hoard of books, since it is five years to the day since my old man hauls off to depart for other worlds and climes and leaves his ever-loving wife and daughters very lonesome, and I am naturally wanting my post to be a suitable tribute for the sad reminder. Although I know on this occasion the book I choose must not be too sad, because when I am writing the post for The Journal of A Disappointed Man I am crying in-between the typing and sometimes when I am writing the post for The Sword in the Stone I am sniffing so much I must stop typing for a long time, and even now writing this very opening paragraph I am getting teary, since even though it has already (or only) been five years, the pain does not get any less.

So I am determined that this time the subject must be a fun light-hearted book which I enjoy writing about, and what happens but I suddenly think of Damon Runyon.

Now you should know that this Damon Runyon is a very, very smart duck, who is writing for New York newspapers and covering sports and news stories over many years in the 20s and 30s and 40s. He apparently revolutionises the reporting of baseball and is heavy into boxing and gambling and shooting craps, and most importantly for my old man and for his daughters and for thousands more like us he writes plenty of poems about sports and short stories about guys and their dolls on Broadway. In fact he is writing so much about guys and their dolls that three other very smart ducks known as Frank Loesser and Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows take some of his stories – in particular The Idyll of Miss Sarah Brown and Blood Pressure – and make them into a musical called Guys and Dolls, which is a show I fancy some of you hear of, and if you do not then I shall merely say you are more than somewhat deprived.

Continue reading “Sorting Through My Father’s Hoard # 13: Damon Runyon, Part 1”

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