MY FAVORITE PERSON I’VE NEVER MET: THE RETIRED CINCINNATI COP

One of the things I enjoy most about writing is research. And my favorite part of research is finding remarkable people who are willing to share their time and expertise to assist a writer pursuing a subject they are passionate about. 

After writing several historical novels, the last two of which were intense because they were about brothers who had served in the Vietnam War, I decided four years ago to go in a completely different direction and try my hand at a cozy mystery. I chose to set my story in a city I love, Cincinnati, when I lived there during the nineteen-sixties.

Almost immediately I was stymied by police procedure in that city in that era.  I found online good information about how the Cincinnati Police Department operates today. My memories of the city were that we admired the local police and felt protected, but since I was never on the wrong side of the law, I’d had almost no personal interaction with what I’ve since learned was maybe the greatest police department in the country at the time.

During an internet search, I stumbled across the Facebook page of the Greater Cincinnati Police Historical Society. A further search took me to the organization’s website, and I wondered if this might be a place where I could get some answers. I sent a message through the Facebook page, explaining who I was and what I hoped to do. Fairly quickly I had a very nice return message from retired Det. Lt. Stephen Kramer, then president of the organization, saying he’d be happy to help me. I had done as much preliminary research as I could, so I sent Lt. Kramer my list of questions about police work in the city during that era, explained my story in more detail, and again in a short time received a remarkably complete and wonderfully written response addressing my questions.

Eight books later, I can’t even imagine how many e-mails have flown through cyberspace between Steve Kramer and myself. I know that without his input, interest and guidance, “The Augusta McKee Mystery Series” would be sadly lacking in accuracy and interesting details, and also in the personality of one of the main characters. Homicide Detective Malcolm Mitchell has become a significant part of all the novels in the series.

 A writer himself, Steve Kramer has been willing to help me work out details in each plot so that they are believable, even when I’ve stretched the envelope a bit. Need a really scary jail where Augusta visits a suspect? Here you go…the Cincinnati Workhouse, complete with its history, photos and his own visceral reaction to the place. Perfect. Who provided security for Music Hall in 1964? Not only an answer but a contact, the former chief of the Cincinnati Private Police Association. (All those times I attended concerts and even performed in Music Hall, and I never knew that.)

I lived in Cincinnati from 1955-1971 and remembered Sheriff George Ratterman and April Flowers, and knew Newport wasn’t the picturesque town it appeared to be from the Eden Park Overlook. But I never knew about master bootlegger George Remus, and even more, his wife Imogene’s ghost. Lt. Kramer recommended a book which gave me a wonderful insight into that story. Imogene is discussed in the second book in the series when Augusta is directing an opera workshop production that includes operatic ghosts.

We (notice I moved from “I” to “we” by book #3) need to stop this suspect from getting on a plane on her way to flee the country and to complicate matters further, we want her to be arrested but released. Fortunately, Augusta’s best friend is involved with a criminal defense attorney. A wild drive to the airport and while Malcolm tracks down the suspect to detain her, Augusta calls Garrett and tells him to get over there ASAP because the suspect needs his assistance.

More recently: need to check out a downtown Cincinnati car chase? I put together the route from my vivid memories of driving in the city often and with the help of Google maps. Steve and his wife Pat “surveilled” it for book #8 by driving it! (Aside: The Case of the Bogus Beatle, which begins with an actual Beatles concert at Crosley Field in August, 1966, along with all other books in the series are available on Amazon, Kindle and paperback. You can find them on my author page, Susan Moore Jordan. Note: end of the shameless self-promotion pitch.)

An enormously important element of this book series is Lt. Kramer’s insight into what drives a dedicated law enforcement officer. There are numerous times in the books when the words that come out of Malcolm Mitchell’s mouth originated in Stephen Kramer’s emails. My female protagonist (there’s a spark there even at their first contentious meeting) eventually asks Detective Mitchell why he became a cop. And more specifically, a homicide detective. Here’s what Steve Kramer sent me, which almost verbatim became Malcolm’s explanation to his new love interest:

“Being a homicide detective has to be one of the most satisfying occupations on God’s earth. Mentally, it’s challenging. It’s like playing a different puzzle every day, except the outcome is very important to another human being. Actually, if you’re successful, two human beings. No, if you’re successful, many human beings, considering what happens if you don’t catch the perpetrator…he just keeps perpetratin’. When you’re doing a homicide investigation, you see the person who’s dead and you have a physical reminder of what’s going to happen if you don’t catch who did it. When you catch him, it’s hard to explain how it makes you feel. The endorphins scatter in your brain like fireworks. It may be the best thing you ever feel.”

I’ve never asked Steve Kramer why he’s willing to have emailed me thousands and thousands of words (along with more photos) to assist with these books. Maybe I’m afraid he’ll decide enough, already, at some point, but I have a feeling he enjoys sharing his knowledge and memories of his lengthy service to the city we both love.

He’s done all this to date for copies of the novels and a gift certificate to Skyline Chili (one of the things I really, really miss about living in Cincinnati). We’ve never even spoken on the phone. Maybe it’s the twenty-first century equivalent of being pen pals?

Steve Kramer is definitely my favorite person I’ve never met face to face, but I feel he’s become a valued friend.

Det. Lt. Steve Kramer then ...

... and now

 

 

The Diva and the Detective

The Case of the Toxic Tenor, book three in “The Augusta McKee Mystery Series,” is now available on Amazon. The first two books, The Case of the Slain Soprano and The Case of the Disappearing Director, have some nifty reader reviews.

Readers like my protagonist:

“Professor Augusta McKee, just introduced in Susan Moore Jordan’s mystery The Case of the Slain Soprano, will take her place among the lady detectives you wish you knew in person. She’s a no-nonsense voice teacher in spike heels, tough and tender and smart as all get-out.” - Michaele

“Augusta McGee … is well-drawn for us and we are soon thoroughly intrigued by this well-dressed and extremely well-shod woman in midlife with many roles - professor of music, voice teacher, stage play director, and supportive mentor to faculty and students.” - Catherine

“McKee makes a strong protagonist and I liked her instantly as she asserts herself in defiance of the detective, who seems a bit overwhelmed by her, but later regains his composure sufficiently to woo her.” – Pocopop

About that detective, Malcolm Mitchell. I owe a lot of thanks to some remarkable people who’ve been an immense help in developing this series, first among them retired Cincinnati Police Department Detective Lieutenant Stephen Kramer, who is former president of the Greater Cincinnati Police Historical Society and former long-time director and current archivist of its Museum. When I started writing the series, set in Cincinnati in the mid-1960s, Lt. Kramer was kind of enough to respond to my request for assistance in understanding police procedural matters in that time and place. He also provided considerable insight into the mind of a homicide detective, and some of the words uttered by Malcolm are—with permission—quotes from Lt. Kramer. 

I also have to thank my intrepid editor, Ashleigh Evans, who continues to help me through tricky scenes and thorny issues as I follow this new path of writing a series, attempting to make each book fresh and new while keeping the reader engaged by my protagonists and how they deal with each new challenge. When considering the cover for the first book, Ashleigh suggested incorporating what has become the series’ brand: Augusta’s red stiletto.

It’s quite a thrill to see the talented Taylor Van Kooten’s covers as a trio. What a serendipity to find a photo of the engraving for the original design of Cincinnati’s wonderful Music Hall and learn it was in the public domain! A perfect background for a murder mystery which takes place in the building. Taylor’s artistic rendering of the gazebo in Eden Park is stunning. We’re already thinking about the cover for book number four, which is my current work in progress. 

Reader reviews are vital for an independent author, and if you’ve read and enjoyed any of my books, I’d be grateful for even a brief review on Amazon. This review for The Case of the Disappearing Director by Pocopop was definitely gratifying. With each book I attempt to hone my writing skills, and it seems I may be succeeding!

“Jordan weaves an intricate plot that slowly peels back the layers, reveals her protagonist's depth and nature, while interspersing Jordan's knowledge and obvious love of opera, classical music, and performance theater. The music and the theatrical aspects add depth to the story and characters, and Jordan uses these elements expertly to help tie up the plot and bring it to a satisfying conclusion. Although Disappearing Director is part of a series, the book stands alone, with no need to read the preceding novel in order to understand this one. I felt Jordan reached new levels as a budding novelist in this story.”

(In celebration of the release of third book in the series, Book One, The Case of the Slain Soprano, Kindle edition, is on sale for $0.99 until 8 a.m. May 4. Grab it while you can!)

You can find links to the books on my Amazon author page: 

https://www.amazon.com/Susan-Moore-Jordan/e/B00IBZ731U/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

Or on my website: http://www.susanmoorejordan.com/

What Century Is This, Anyway?

A couple of days ago I was working through a knotty police procedural plot point in my current w.i.p. I knew what I wanted to do but wasn’t sure it was allowable in 1964 Cincinnati. I’m lucky enough to have access through email to a retired homicide detective from the CPD, who, while he was too young to be a cop in 1964, is also a historian and an archivist. For most of that day my head was in the twentieth century, even though the rest of me had to remember to do things like feed the cat and pay bills in the twenty-first century.

It makes for interesting experiences at times. I like to zip through my local supermarket and grab stuff as I do. Unfortunately, my characters Augusta McKee and Malcolm Mitchell may be having a lively discussion in my head at the same time. It’s distracting and at times I’ve barely avoided colliding with fellow shoppers. I guess people who know me just think of me as the crazy writer lady.

I like spending time in the twentieth century, especially in Cincinnati, a town that owns my heart. I’ve also discovered Google Maps. Have you tried them? I can drive through that entire city and drop to ground level to admire the scenery from time to time. It’s the next best thing to actually being there.

There’s no way I could do any of this without the internet, that marvelous invention that certainly wasn’t part of my world when I actually lived in the twentieth century. Sometimes I pick up my 6S Plus iPhone and just stare at it in wonderment. It’s even better than that gizmo the Star Trek crew used, except I’m not sure it could “beam me up” – but in all honestly, I’ve never tried that.

When I think of everything that’s happened in my long lifetime (I was born in 1938), it’s positively mind-blowing. I like technology, and I’m happy I’ve lived long enough to enjoy all the benefits it offers. On the other hand, escaping into the past has its benefits. The world isn’t spinning so quickly. People take more time to look at each other, and to listen to each other.

One plot point that I had to research with my first Augusta McKee mystery … how did the cops contact each other car to car in 1963? Answer: they couldn’t. Messages had to be relayed through headquarters. No body cams, no way to communicate with each other individually once they left the patrol car. But you know what? They still tracked down the bad guys.

Sometimes I feel I live in “the best of all possible worlds” … all the benefits of twenty-first century life, but with an easy escape into the last century.

I guess I am the “crazy writer lady”!

Augusta McKee: Singer, Teacher, Director, Amateur Sleuth

Hearing from readers how much they like a character from one of my books is pretty nifty, to say the least. A number of readers fell in love with Jake Cameron from the Cameron saga, Memories of Jake and Man with No Yesterdays. Every reader I’ve heard from about my most recent release, The Case of the Slain Soprano, has been impressed with Augusta McKee.

“It’s 1963. Former opera singer and now a professor of music, Augusta McKee finds herself in the middle of a murder investigation. Not only has one of her students been murdered, but now she’s short one leading lady for the school’s annual musical. However, Augusta, a strong force to be reckoned with, isn’t the type to take bad news lying down. Instead, she decides to do a bit of snooping on her own, especially when her red stilettos and sassy wit cross paths with the hunky, smart homicide detective, Malcolm Mitchell.”

“McKee makes a strong protagonist and I liked her instantly as she asserts herself in defiance of the detective, who seems a bit overwhelmed by her, but later regains his composure sufficiently to woo her …  I hope Jordan will choose to continue the McKee character in future books.”

Writing a cozy mystery … a totally different genre from my historical novels, which tend to cover a long period of time and a lot of life challenges … was more fun than I expected. Rather than putting Augusta in a small town,  I chose instead to situate her in a city I love, Cincinnati, and a community of musicians and educators within that city. Augusta came to Cincinnati to study voice at the Conservatory of Music (exactly as I had, many decades ago); studied and sang in Europe for a time (which I did not do, so I envy her that experience!). She eventually returned to Cincinnati as a member of the voice faculty for her alma mater and taught as well at a Catholic women’s college, Cliffside College.

“Augusta McKee, (the) heroine, is well-drawn for us and we are soon thoroughly intrigued by this well-dressed and extremely well-shod woman in midlife with many roles - professor of music, voice teacher, stage play director, and supportive mentor to faculty and students.”

I understand Augusta pretty well, even though her personal life definitely does not parallel mine. And physically she’s everything I am not … she’s 5’9” and slender. She also wears stilettos. I will admit to owning a pair of those when I was young. But Augusta and I both have a passion for helping young singers discover their gifts. And we both enjoy the challenges of directing a stage musical or an opera.

 “Augusta McKee takes her place among the memorable women of the mystery genre -- imposing in her height (enhanced by her beloved stiletto shoes), her no-nonsense approach to life, her love of music, and her bulldog determination to find answers when confronted with a mystery. She meets her match in Homicide Detective Malcolm Mitchell…and the adventures begin!” 

The Case of the Slain Soprano (Kindle edition) is currently on sale on Amazon for the measly price of $0.99. Sale runs until 8 a.m. September 4. Grab a copy now and enjoy!

cover design by Taylor van Kooten

Order now: https://www.amazon.com/Slain-Soprano-Augusta-McKee-mysteries/dp/1718802420/

Or visit my website: www.susanmoorejordan.com

A Montréal Connection in Cincinnati

I’ve been spending a lot of virtual time in Montréal, a city I would love to visit again. Recently while reading about the Basilica of Notre-Dame I came across the name of the pipe organ company Casavant Frères, which opened a flood of memories from a time in my past, while I was parish secretary for the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer in Hyde Park, Cincinnati.

Sometime in the early 1960s, I believe 1964, the church opted to have a pipe organ installed, and purchased the instrument from that Quebec company. A search revealed the company, considered one of the best in the world, is still active and producing these wonderful instruments. I don’t recall what kind of organ our Casavant replaced, but I’m guessing probably an electronic instrument of some kind.

We were aware the installation would require a considerable amount of time and had made accommodations for that. What we didn’t understand was how much space it would require. When the team pulled up to the church in a large eighteen-wheeler, our immediate problem was language. They spoke very little English. Nobody on the staff spoke French … I had one year of college French, primarily a diction class which had been a requirement for my vocal music major at the College-Conservatory of Music.

So beyond wishing them good day, asking their names and introducing myself, asking them how they were and were they hungry, we were at an impasse. Fortunately, a young member of the parish had spent some time in France, and a phone call resulted in her arriving on the premises pretty quickly.

“French Canadian is quite different from that spoken in Europe,” she told us. “But I’ll do the best I can.”

Our new French Canadian friends broke into broad smiles when Barbara started talking to them. The language barrier between two different kinds of spoken French was surmountable, especially because when they needed they could write things out. The written language is the same.

The next obstacle was a real game changer. None of us had given serious thought as to what a pipe organ actually consists of. The team began to unload the tractor-trailer, and as pieces were brought into the sanctuary the magnitude of this undertaking became apparent. Some of the pipes were over half the length of the sanctuary. A number of these large pipes had to be laid across rows and rows of pews. And there were so many of them! All summer events that year had to be moved to the church’s undercroft or to an outdoor location. Services, weddings, baptisms … anything and everything.

To the best of my memory, it was about a three month process to install the instrument. But it was worth every second of it. The sound was glorious, and we had an inaugural concert by the great concert organist E. Power Biggs. By then our friends from Quebec had returned to Canada, but they left a memory of dedicated craftsmen who loved what they did. And could they ever put together a pipe organ.

Casavant-Frères, je vous salue!

A Character Who Didn’t Make the Cut

Eva Moorman

There are a lot of words and a lot of scenes in Eli’s Heart, but not everything I wrote made it into the book. A writer’s conference I attended a couple of years ago left me with this gem: sometimes you need to write it, but the reader doesn’t need to read it. In other words, sometimes writing enriches your understanding of a character yet isn’t necessary to move the story forward.

My sense is that the better you know your characters, the more they will come to life for your reader. Writing about Krissy Porter’s years on the Conservatory campus were a journey back to the past for me; and many of the faculty members I had been fortunate enough to study with are uncannily similar to the faculty members who made such an impression on Krissy.

One faculty member, though, who didn’t make the cut was Krissy’s drama teacher, Eva Moorman. While she was a great character, she was minor in Krissy’s universe as a music major. But I liked her so much I kept her in my “drafts” folder. There are vestiges of this scene in Chapter Three, but here’s more.

**********

(Krissy) was studying lines from a script, the scene from Peter Pan where Peter and Wendy meet for the first time. She and her friend Marilyn had persuaded their drama teacher, Eva Moorman, to let them prepare the scene for class. Krissy and Marilyn were both voice majors, but had jumped at the opportunity to take Acting 101 with Eva.

Eva was a disciple of Constantin Stanislavsky. Krissy had never heard the name until she met Eva. One of the first acting exercises Eva gave her Acting 101 students was to wash their hands and consider all the elements involved, so that they could stand in front of the class and wash their hands without soap or water, but the class would see the soap and water because the actor was so believable, it would seem to be there.

When she demonstrated this, it was amazing. Eva really seemed to be using an invisible bar of soap. Krissy was convinced she could see the suds dripping off Eva’s hands. She could almost feel the water, because Eva was so obviously feeling it. Krissy washed her hands over and over, and tried hard to feel the soap and water without actually using them.

She failed miserably, thereby living up to Eva’s expectations.

The scene from Peter Pan was one that Krissy and Marilyn hoped would be included in a public performance of scenes by acting students. They agreed it would probably be a cold day in hell before Eva would let them perform it in front of an audience, but they both loved the play and enjoyed working on it, regardless.

On this particularly beautiful October day, Krissy was practicing the scene by herself, making a great effort to not sound too much like a hick playing David Barrie’s Wendy. Eva had said to Krissy and Marilyn. “Whatever you do, do not attempt an English accent.” She weighted every word when she said it, as if she were speaking in italics with a period between each word. Of course, Krissy immediately decided she’d have to try it, but certainly not anywhere in earshot of Eva.

Krissy stretched, closed her script, and stood to walk to West Hall for her drama class. Leaves crunched under her feet as she walked, and she smiled at the sound as she looked up at the clear blue sky overhead. She was eighteen years old, and could not imagine how her life could be better.

**********

Eli's Heart is available on Amazon, paperback and Kindle.

 http://smarturl.it/elih

Campus of the Conservatory of Music, Cincinnati

If You'd Just Listen!

Confessions of an Opera Junkie

     Nobody’s life is perfect. In my case, I’ve spent my entire life left-handed, and my entire adult life shorter than the average twelve-year-old. Well, these days, probably more like the average ten-year-old. But I learned to cope. More recently, I’ve had to work out being old, and since I’ve never been old before, I’m mainly playing it by ear. It’s definitely one of those “hands-on” experiences.

     But there is one area where I feel isolated and am really not handling well at all. I am a confessed opera-lover. Do you realize how rare we are? Probably not, unless you happen to love opera and live in a small community where being an opera-lover makes you someone your friends aren’t sure what to do with.

     I’ve loved opera since I was fourteen years old and turned on a Metropolitan Opera Saturday afternoon broadcast. I seldom missed one after that. I went to a high school of over a thousand people, and I was very active in the music department. Do you know how many people I met in my school who loved opera? One. Well, some people sort of liked it, but …

     Now, I wasn’t exclusive to the point of not listening to the pop music of my teenage years. But I enjoyed and appreciated all classical music (that in itself made me odd). I took piano lessons and studied ballet, and I was involved in the high school musicals and loved singing in chorus and our select group, Choral Ensemble. I liked band music. 

     But I loved, I mean loved, opera. And until I went to music school – I like to think of it as my time in Nirvana – I generally listened to operatic recordings and those Met broadcasts all by myself. It was okay. I had the music, and the singers. Those amazing voices, people who without amplification could sing over a full orchestra. How in the world did they do that? And they made it sound so easy!

     I’m not sure how, but I was accepted as a voice major at the Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music, and started school when I was seventeen. I was convinced I had died and gone to heaven. All these people were just like me. They loved opera. We shared recordings. We sang, talked, ate, drank, slept opera. When summer rolled around, I spent most of my time at Cincinnati’s Zoological Gardens. That’s because the opera pavilion was located there. Oh, yes, I occasionally looked at the animals. The ones near the pavilion.

     I heard some great singers. I heard some not-so-great singers. I heard great singers on a bad night. I heard great operas. In those days I thought they were pretty much all great – the Zoo Opera mainly stuck to standard repertoire, and it’s hard to go wrong with Puccini and Verdi and Carmen. I loved every minute of it.

     Eventually, I left Cincinnati after marrying and having three children, and found myself in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. Not much going on locally in the early nineteen-seventies, but we found our way to New York and Philadelphia. You know what’s in New York, right? The Metropolitan Opera. And for a long time, the New York City Opera as well. Nirvana was in the East. I was going to be okay.

     Those trips to the Met became fewer and fewer over the years, and eventually wound down. Sadly, the NYCO got into big trouble. But wait! The Saturday afternoon Met broadcasts would be there forever. And then, like manna from Nirvana (yes, I know what I just did) – the Saturday HD live streaming telecasts from the Met stage, sent out worldwide. First to a neighboring town, and eventually to a theater in my local Cinemark!

     Well, of course I always had recordings. First LPs, then CDs, then DVDs. But here’s the thing about opera. It’s better if it’s shared. I tried sharing it with my kids. They heard operatic recordings blaring at all hours of the day, and on them it had the wrong effect. We took them to New York to see Die Fledermaus at the NYCO. The parents thought it was great. The kids were bored out of their skulls and referred to it ever afterward as “Deflatable Mouse.” I obviously handled this all wrong. I should have forbidden them to ever listen to opera.

     Since I was now teaching voice privately, I sometimes assigned arias to those students who had voices that were compatible with opera. Some of these students liked singing arias. Some would even listen with appreciation when I played them recordings. When the Internet appeared on the scene and YouTube along with it, I began to email students videos of arias. Usually an aria they were working on.

     Then I discovered Facebook and set up a Facebook page. Now I could from time to time post these videos to share with my Facebook friends. Once in a while somebody would even listen to one of them.

     I’m starved for the company of fellow opera-lovers. I see them at Theater #10 in the Cinemark from time to time, sneaking in guiltily to partake of our addiction. Sometimes I find a friend who will go with me. But I want to sit and dissect what I just heard and saw, the way I did when I was a music student in those far-off days of yore.

     After thirty-five years of teaching, I have a couple of students who are living the dream. When I send them PMs on FB they are kind and respond. They’re sweet. I try not to bore them with my opinions (I pretend they are “thoughts,” but they are definitely opinions. What are these stage directors thinking these days?) It’s just not enough. Maybe I need to start a local group that meets after the Saturday HD telecasts.

     In the meantime, I’ve checked out the HD offerings for next season. Some great operas! And I’m determined to make a pilgrimage to the Met next season. That might help.

     You see, there’s this amazing new tenor …

Tenor Bryan Hymel as Énée in Les Troyens