Me and Mickey Spillane

My grandfather was a drunk.  Most all of my memories of him involve Budweiser tall boys, Winstons, burping, farting, passing out, snoring, and going to the store to get steaks only to return 3 months later begging my grandmother’s forgiveness and asking for a key to the new locks. She was 15 years older than him and married and divorced him twice in her lifetime. Although my mom is the only child they had together, in between their nuptuals, he married, shacked up, and bore children with many other women.  We’re not really sure how many siblings mom has, she knew one, knows of another that she’s never been able to locate, and is certain there are more. 

From the ages of 6-10, my grandparents lived close by and because mom had a couple of jobs we stayed with them often.  Grandpa babysat us quite a bit while my grandmother went to play Bingo at night.  We just fetched beers for him and tried to make sure he didn’t fall asleep in his recliner with cigarette in hand.  He actually set my mom’s crib on fire years before in this exact manner, luckily she wasn’t in it at the time or I might not be writing this. He never had a job at that time that I can remember but aspired to be a country music singer.  During his sober times he talked about all of his friends in the industry like Dolly Parton, Loretta Lynn, Porter Wagner, Con Hunley, the list goes on and on.  He had a little “recording room” set up in his house and I heard him sing many times.  He wasn’t that good and I didn’t believe anything he said about knowing all these famous singers.  If he knows them, why doesn’t he visit them or talk to them on the phone?  I knew for a fact he knew Con Hunley because he introduced him to my mom, but I was just thinking “who the hell is Con Hunley?”, other than that I thought that he was just a disgusting, delusional, alcoholic. 

One summer they decided to take us to Myrtle Beach.  We were excited, we loved Myrtle Beach, we went there every year with our Dad and had a great time.  This trip could not compare to the times we spent there with Dad.  First off, my grandmother let grandpa drive while he was drunk which was not unusual but this time we were traveling 5 hours instead of just across town.  I remember we bumped the car in front of us at the McDonalds drive through and the whole way my grandmother is yelling at grandpa and hitting him in the head (another common incident). It was a very tense few hours.  When we arrived, we learned that we would all be sleeping in the back of the pick-up truck a few miles from the ocean instead of in an air-conditioned beachside hotel like what we were used to.  After one disappointment after another, we finally got to go to the beach.  We were so excited, we practically lived in the pool at Dad’s and were excellent swimmers.  Well, swimming in the ocean is not as fun when you can’t go into the water above your calves.  That was the rule put upon us and we were very upset about it.  I understand, we were just kids and my grandma didn’t want any drowning children on her watch but it was still no fun.  At least there was the amusement park, one of our favorite things to do at the beach.  We always took one night and stayed until closing, but not this time.  We went in the middle of the day, it was scorching hot and we weren’t allowed to ride most of the rides we wanted because they were “dangerous”.  We were relieved when it was time to go home. 

My grandpa said, “before we go we need to stop and see an old friend of mine.  His name is Mickey Spillane and he lives here in Myrtle Beach.”  Now, I am a big reader but unfortunately at this time I was reading Laura Ingalls Wilder and was too young to read any the Mike Hammer series.  However, I was familiar with the name because it was during the time Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer had been made into a television show so I didn’t believe he could possibly know anyone who’s name was on the TV.  Plus he said he was friends with famous people all the time and we had never visited any. Grandpa had no contact information for him except an address so we showed up unannounced at the house of Mickey Spillane.  I honestly thought we would be kicked out but when Mickey saw Grandpa, he seemed glad to see him.  We had lunch there and they chatted about old times, he even posed for a picture with us that my Grandma later had put in the local paper.  He really knew him!!  This wasn’t just a story he was telling! We spent the afternoon with him. Did he really know Dolly and Porter?  This whole visit changed my opinion of him only slightly as a child.  As an adult, I wonder how many of those people he really knew and in what context.  What was his life like during those long months he was out buying steaks?  These were things I never asked him because I had so little respect for him and I blamed him for my mom’s mental issues and crazy lifestyle.  He died sober, employed,  and married to a woman that was the love of his life when I was 21 but I didn’t even attend the funeral.  I never had a desire to get to know the sober grandpa because he relapsed sometimes and I just didn’t trust him.  I have no regrets about not liking him or despising him really, only curiousity about his younger years.  I bet he had some fantastic stories!