Get Smart 7 - Max Smart - The Spy Who Went Out to the Cold (17 page)

“But we’re safe, Max. Safe!”

“Yes, 99 . . . our mission is finally a complete . . . success . . .”

“Max . . .”

“Yes, 99?”

“Max, I feel terrible, having to mention this, but . . . Max, it isn’t your fault. It could happen to anybody.”

“What, 99? What are you trying to tell me?”

“Max . . . we lost Professor von BOOM.”

“That’s ridiculous, 99. He’s— 99—he’s gone!”

“Oh, Max . . . he’s out there in that storm!” 99 wept. “That poor, poor dumpy little man who looks like he needs a keeper!”

“His trouble is, he
does
need a keeper!” Max grumbled.

“He had one, Max—you.”

“Remember what you said before, 99. It could happen to anybody. Don’t be the one to cast the first stone.”

“Max! What are we going to do?”

“I have no choice, 99. I’m going back out there.”

“No, Max! You’ll be facing certain death!”

Max’s eyes narrowed. “And . . . loving it, 99,” he said staunchly. Then, thoughtfully, he said, “Well, actually, maybe ‘liking it’ is closer to the truth. It’s too cold out there to ‘love’ anything.” He faced the doorway. “Open the door, 99,” he commanded. “Then get out of the way. I’m going out!”

99 got a hold on the doorknob. “Ready, Max?”

Max ducked his head and aimed himself. “At the count of three, 99. One . . . two . . .”

There was a ringing sound.

Max looked around. “Is there a telephone in here, or is that somebody at the door?”

“Max, it’s your shoe.”

“Oh . . . yes. Excuse me, 99. Hold the door.”

Max removed his shoe and put it to his ear.

Max:
Agent 86 here. Could you call back a little later? I’m just about to—

Chief:
Max, it’s me. Where are you?

Max:
We reached the secret laboratory at the Pole, Chief. In a manner of speaking, you might say that the mission has been a complete success—almost.

Chief:
What’s the ‘almost,’ Max?

Max:
If I tell you, Chief, promise you won’t cast the first stone?

Chief:
Max, what is it?

Max:
What would you say, Chief, if I told you that I’ve lost Professor von BOOM?

Operator:
Don’t you dare use words like that, Chief. The telephone company doesn’t allow it.

Chief:
It’s all right, Max. Just forget it. You and 99 can return to headquarters now.

Max:
Operator, I think we have a bad connection.

Operator:
The connection’s all right. Have you checked your ears?

Chief:
Max, you heard me correctly. Something has happened that you don’t know about. Remember that crisis I mentioned the last time I talked to you? It seems, Max, that the Professor von BOOM who has been with you is not the real Professor von BOOM. He’s a KAOS agent—only pretending to be Professor von BOOM.

Max:
Could you hold the line a minute, Chief? I’d like to check my ears.

Operator:
Just to be on the safe side, I’ll check the connection, too, Maxie.

Chief:
No, no—it’s all right. You’re hearing me correctly, Max. The real von BOOM was abducted by a KAOS agent while you were carting him around the world. Then another KAOS agent, disguised as von BOOM, took his place. While you’ve been escorting the bogus von BOOM to the Pole, KAOS has been getting the rocket fuel formula from the real von BOOM.

Max:
Chief, that’s terrible!

Chief:
No, it’s all right, Max. KAOS put the formula on the open market.

Max:
Chief, that’s terrible!

Chief:
No, Max, it’s all right. We bought the formula back. We were the only one who could afford it.

Max:
Oh. Well, I’m glad to hear that money can still do anything.

Chief:
So, I want you and 99 to return to headquarters as soon as you can, Max.

Max:
What about our vacation, Chief? You know, we were—

Chief:
I’m sorry, Max, but your vacation will have to wait. I have a mission for you. Professor von BOOM and the formula will have to be escorted to the secret laboratory at the North Pole. And we’re afraid that KAOS will attempt to kidnap the Professor again. They might try to hold him for ransom.

Max:
Chief—

Chief:
This mission will be a snap, Max. HIM has come up with a brilliant idea. He suggests that you use the old crow-disguised-as-a-wild-goose trick. Instead of heading straight for the Pole, you’ll take an ocean liner to Africa, then a camel caravan across the Sahara, then—

Max had hung up.

“What did he say, Max?” 99 asked.

“It wasn’t important, 99. Now . . . will you open that door, please?”

“Max, no, don’t do it,” 99 begged. “You won’t last five minutes out there. It will be certain death!”

“I know, 99,” Max replied. “I’ve decided to take the easy way out.”

W
ILLIAM
J
OHNSTON
(1924-2010), author of many movie and TV tie-in novels was born January 11th, 1924 and passed away October 15th, 2010.

On January 4th, 2010, The International Association of Media Tie-in Writers
www://iamtw.org
announced it was bestowing The
Faust
, its Grand Master Award for excellence, to author William Johnston, the writer of over a hundred tie-in novels and the most prolific practitioner of the craft.

(From the January/February 2010 Newsletter - IAMTW)
The Newsletter of the International Association
of Media Tie-in Writers

IAMTW’s GRAND MASTER SCRIBE AWARD,
THE
FAUST,
GOES TO THE GENRE’S MOST
PROLIFIC PRACTITIONER

By David Spencer

The inarguable preeminent author of tie-ins, with more published tie-in titles to his credit (well more than 100) than any writer in the game before or since—the legendary and until now somewhat elusive William Johnston—will be honored by the IAMTW with a Faust Award, the honor bestowed upon Grand Masters. He is currently residing in San Jose, California, and will turn 86 on January 11th, 2010—a fitting number, as it is his series of novels based on the spy sitcom
Get Smart,
about Secret Agent 86 for CONTROL, which turned his byline into a virtual tie-in “brand” and thereafter defined the nature of his tie-in (and the largest proportion of his literary) career as the industry’s comedy specialist.

Johnston’s style is paradoxically recognizable, despite seeming matter of fact and transparent, his narration employing little reliance on metaphor, idiosyncratic locution or other literary manipulation. But the ostensible simplicity is utterly deceptive: for in the “serious” books, depth of characterization sneaks up on the reader, dialogue and internalization unusually nuanced, layered and when appropriate even subtle, with a psychological perception very ahead of its time.

Johnston’s humorous novels are a textbook lesson on comic timing in prose, possibly because he had some experience as an actor (a signature of his books is writing phone conversations as play-format dialogue exchanges, woodshedding redundant “he saids” and “she saids”).

He knew the wisdom and the technique of “simply” staying out of the way, and letting the tale be carried by action, dialogue, and an impeccable sense of cadence and rhythm. Plus his own unique brand of whimsy and wordplay.

Johnston’s career started in 1960 with the release of a hardcover comic murder mystery,
The Marriage Cage
(Lyle Stuart, reissued in paperback by Dell), which earned him a Best First Novel Edgar Award nomination from the Mystery Writers of America. Curiously, this did not lead immediately to more mystery novels (though he would write mystery tie-ins later in his career), but rather to a number of early 60s pulp titles for Monarch Books, which ranged from light comedy
(The Power of Positive Loving)
to medical romance (the
Doctor Starr
trilogy) to soft core racy
(Save Her for Loving, Teen Age Tramp, Girls on the Wing
).

The medical novels in particular either dovetailed with, or led to, his first tie-in commissions, which were for original novels based on medical dramas, such as
The Nurses
(Bantam),
Doctor Kildare
(Lancer and Whitman) and
Ben Casey.
These books, published between 1962 and 1964, were so successful that a cover variant on
The Nurses
includes a “2nd Big Printing” starburst; and his next (and it would seem last) original medical romance,
Two Loves Has Nurse Powell
(Neva Paperbacks) trumpets “From the author of
Ben Casey. ”

It’s likely that among these books, the
Doctor Kildare
title written for Whitman’s young audience line was a significant pivot point, because in 1965, Tempo Books (the Young Audience paperback imprint of Grosset & Dunlop) commissioned Johnston to write
Get Smart,
an original novel based on the spy satire sitcom starring Don Adams, Barbara Feldon, and Edward Platt, created by Mel Brooks and Buck Henry. The first
Get Smart
book proved so staggeringly popular, going through multiple printings, that follow ups were immediately commissioned, leading to what would become a series of nine books over the course of the show’s five-season history.

That doesn’t sound like much in new millennium terms, but in the 60s it amounted to a single-author original tie-in grand slam, outdistanced only by the
Dark Shadows
series authored by Dan (as “Marilyn”) Ross. Indeed, it was the third place holder for TV tie-in series originals in general, with only the 23-book
Man from U.N.C.L.E.
series—by multiple authors—between it and
Dark Shadows.
(James Blish’s 12 book
Star Trek
series for Bantam, which continued into the 70s, did not feature original tales, but was rather comprised exclusively of short stories adapting the show’s teleplays.)

Johnson’s gig as Maxwell Smart’s official novelist in turn led to his becoming the go-to guy for sitcom-based novels in general. Continuing with Tempo Books from the rest of the decade into the mid-70s, he authored a one-shot based on the short-lived
Captain Nice
(starring William Daniels of
1776
and also created by Buck Henry) and book series based on
Room 222, Happy Days,
and
Welcome Back, Kotter.
Concurrently he also authored books based on
The Flying Nun
for Ace, as well as
The Brady Bunch
and
Nanny and the Professor
(Lancer). As if that weren’t plenty, he also did sitcom novels for Whitman, including titles based on
The Munsters, Gilligan’s Island, Bewitched, The Monkees,
and
F-Troop.

Though the sitcom novels dominated Johnston’s tie-in career, and were the work with which he was reflexively identified, he still did a catalog’s worth of work in just about every other TV tie-in genre except science fiction and military. He authored one-off mysteries based on
My Friend Tony
(Lancer),
Ironside
(Whitman), and the comic strip
Dick Tracy
(Tempo), a two-book series based on the American Revolution youth historical,
The Young Rebels,
and an original Western based on
The Iron Horse
(Popular Library). Under pseudonyms he tackled social drama, with a book based on Rod Serling’s
The New People
(as “Alex Steele” for Tempo) and two based on
Matt Lincoln
(as “Ed Garth” for Lancer). His catalog even includes a smattering of juvenilia, with Whitman Big Little books based on Hanna Barbera cartoon characters such as Magilla Gorilla and Snagglepuss, among others. (According to the late Howard Ashman—whose day job, before
Little Shop of Horrors
made him a musical theatre icon, was assistant editor at Ace/Tempo during Johnston’s most prolific period—Johnston’s services as sitcom specialist were so much in demand that, simply to keep up the pace and meet the deadlines, he would occasionally create detailed outlines which would then be farmed out to anonymous “ghosts” for fleshing out. Since the style remains consistent, one assumes Johnston added the final polish.)

Aside from his TV tie-in originals, Johnston penned many script novelizations, again in multiple genres. He novelized the pilots for the 1930s-era private eye series
Banyon
(Warner) and the high school drama
Sons and Daughters
(Ballantine). His feature film novelizations include (and may not be limited to) Alan J. Pakula’s controversial
Klute, The Swinger, Echoes of a Summer,
Robert Bloch’s
Asylum, The New Interns, The April Fools, The Priest’s Wife,
Disney’s
Lt. Robin Crusoe, USN
(written as “Bill Ford”) and
Angel, Angel, Down We Go.
If you note that
The Swinger
was published under the Dell imprint and review the publishers named in this release, another astonishing fact emerges: Johnston tie-ins seem to have been issued by every major paperback house of the era, with the exception of Fawcett.

Which is not to say that Fawcett didn’t publish him: during this period he, like a lot of male pulpsmiths, also wrote gothic romances behind a female pseudonym. His were published—by Fawcett—under the name “Susan Claudia.” Johnston’s wholly original work became scarce once he was established as a tie-in machine, but it didn’t altogether disappear. Aside from the Susan Claudia gothics, he also authored
The Manipulator
(Lancer, 1968, reissued under Magnum), a racy paperback potboiler about an ambitious business executive fighting the odds to get a revolutionary jetliner into the air; and in hardcover, a novel about an overweight, bigoted beat cop called
Barney
(Random House, 1970, reissued in paperback by Warner).