The Book You Have to Read: “The Dark Corners of the Night,” by Lionel Olay

(Editor’s note: This is the 179th installment in The Rap Sheet’s continuing series about great but forgotten books.)

By Steven Nester
Jerry Bishop is a talent scout and booker for Such Interesting People, a popular television show that promotes the careers of entertainers who are on the fast-track to nowhere, in Lionel Olay’s The Dark Corners of the Night (Signet, 1960). A psychological novel wedded to a caper, this is the story of basic human nature, about how those who refuse to be constrained by society (such as criminals) make their own rules for living (by committing crime); and how those who are unable to choose their fate (patsies) are ruled by the strong.

Jerry has pretty much had it with the program’s guests, with its hosts, and with his inability to stand tall and choose a suitable path through life. The second-rate talents who parade their wares “proclaim their existence with shy hysteria,” and the show’s hosts, the husband and wife team of Bill and Peg, are “a freak act that only television could be capable of supporting.” That may be so, but their wealth says otherwise, and is a source of frustration for young Jerry. Home for them is the tony Sutton Place neighborhood in Manhattan’s Upper East Side; Jerry lives his “aimless existence” paycheck to paycheck, in Chelsea. He has a girlfriend, but he can’t commit to her or to a plan to escape his “inability to control my own destiny.” As far as professional growth goes, Bill and Peg had high hopes for Jerry, but all three realize now that he might not possess the ability or aptitude to provide the support the couple need to maintain their position on the fringes of big-time showbiz, or to augment Peg’s ever-growing jewelry collection, which she loves to flaunt. These doubts are reinforced—and everything changes—when Jerry meets Kayo Morrison. The “big score” Jerry has been hoping for is finally within reach.

Kayo is a knock-around guy with nice clothes, a big cigar, and the rough delivery of a man who grew up on the streets. After spending time in the finishing school for criminals—the state penitentiary—Jerry realizes that this is the type of rough-around-the edges authenticity he’d like to bring to Such Interesting People. As Jerry procures guests for Bill and Peg, so does Kayo find and groom the weakest sheep in the fold—and that would be Jerry. But what would Kayo want of him? Kayo befriends Jerry and pitches himself as a guest on the show. His feral youth, his time in prison, and his graduation to a (mostly) less-violent form of crime would all make for good viewing, he reasons. Alcohol and the company of a woman, compliments of Kayo, soften Jerry to Kayo’s idea. And as Kayo probes, Jerry opens up and reveals his unhappiness. Now that the hook has been set, it’s time to bring in the closer.

Jerry moves up the food chain when Kayo introduces him to Vincent, a gentleman thug and his mentor-in-crime. The two met in prison, where they educated themselves by reading, thinking, and trading ideas. It turns out, Vincent is a bit of a philosopher who excels at the art of persuasion, and he’s all for Kayo’s television debut. However, things go a bit sideways when everyone learns that, while you can take the criminal from the street, you can’t take the street from the criminal. Kayo’s performance is a complete failure, and Bill and Peg are furious, afraid the incident will tarnish their reputations and damage their lifestyle. With a bridge about to burn, Jerry’s misstep further imperils his job, and he begins to pay attention to the criminals, who appear to want to help him by dragging him down into lawlessness. Vincent has a well-thought-out rationale for the life he has pursued, and here is where his and author Lionel Olay’s powers of persuasion bloom to their fullest. Vincent makes his pitch and cuts a deal.

Vincent knows Jerry is floundering in life, and he says it’s time for him to “get real.” “You’re either a victim or you’re not,” Vincent says. Crime, he continues, is “the alternative to despair”; it’s about “making your own rules for existence.” Those rules include earning enough money to live the lifestyle one chooses with a minimum of risk, and, most importantly, to protect oneself. As ex-felons, Vincent and Kayo have to be careful. Vincent punctuates this with the ominous “I’m never going back to prison.” To give Jerry a little hint of what could be in store for him, they take a street-level tour of their illicit endeavors, during which Jerry witnesses the murder of a man attempting to intrude on Vincent’s turf. Vincent glosses this over as the price of protecting one’s assets. Jerry should have taken more care before accepting Vincent’s proposition to steal Peg’s jewelry collection, because when one is all in, for good or bad, there’s no going back.

Author Lionel Olay might not be known to the general readership (he died in 1966), or even to those who avail themselves of a deep dive into the world of ’60s freelance writers and the period’s many left-leaning publications (Ramparts) and skin magazines attempting to show some class (Cavalier) that purchased their writing. I first became aware of this legendary author after reading Hunter S. Thompson’s eulogy to him, “The Ultimate Freelancer,” which was published in the now-defunct Distant Drummer in 1967, and then collected in 1979’s The Great Shark Hunt Gonzo Papers, Volume 1. Thompson called Olay “a freelance writer hustler, grass-runner and general free spirit.” Thompson also gave Olay a shout-out in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1971).

Olay’s first novel, The Heart of a Stranger (Signet, 1959), which takes place in the under-belly of Hollywood, is certainly on my reading list, and a subject he would again cover for a major slick. On location in England to report on a movie producer for Life magazine, Olay turned in a hit piece; he called the Hollywood bigshot a “pompous toad” among other things, and he was back on the street hustling gigs. His two novels are scarce on Internet book sites, but but Munsey’s Library & People Search will allegedly allow readers to download both. I was unable to navigate the site, or even to open an account, but will return to try again. It would be a boon to readers if Olay’s journalism was available there, or anywhere, for that matter. While a few articles can be found online, what a triumph of sorts it would be for them to be anthologized; the works of other lesser-known but prolific writers such as Isaac Rosenfield and Seymour Klonsky have been collected, so why not Olay’s? Thus far, credit is due to Hunter S. Thompson (and perhaps to me) for keeping his name alive.