Vintage 50s Popular Hair Design Research for New Mystery Release by Janet Elizabeth Lynn

Introducing the Creators of the Skylar Drake Mystery Series

Published authors Will Zeilinger and Janet Elizabeth Lynn wrote individually until they got together and created the Skylar Drake Mystery Series. These hard-boiled tales are based in the old Hollywood of 1956-57.  Janet has published seven mystery novels and Will has three plus a couple of short stories. Their world travels have sparked several ideas for murder and crime stories. This creative couple is married and live in Southern California.

About Their New Release As Told by Janet

The next Skylar Drake Mystery, GAME TOWN,  the fifth and final book in the series, was just released  and yes...we are still married!

My husband, Will Zeilinger and I co-write the Skylar Drake Murder Mysteries, a hardboiled Detective series that takes the reader to 1950s Los Angeles and other areas of the west. Our new book, GAME TOWN, is set in Hollywood and exposes a scandal that rocks the toy companies in Los Angeles.

While doing in-depth research into 1950s Hollywood, we came across popular hair styles and hats. And since we have to dress our characters, I paid attention!

Janet shares fun research about the 50s, some of which I confess to remember, because I'm that old!  Morgan Mandel 

Hats --   Hats were essential for all but the most casual occasions in the early 1950s. By the mid-’50s, however, hats became worn less often – the formality of having a hat, gloves and bag was tailing off. Plus, hairstyles were starting to get bigger.  So hats became smaller, fairly simply in design and compact. Decorations were used, like feathers or a veil. Some were even worn on the side of the head, i.e., small berets

 Popular hats include the lampshade or flowerpot hat, small-brimmed cartwheels, French berets (especially liked by Beatnik college students), and the pillbox.

Head bands  -- Headbands were made of plastic, metal and material. They could be plain or decorated with like flowers, or jewels and sometimes fur.

        Headbands helped when growing out shorter hairstyles like the Italian cut. A headband was placed over the front hair, pulling it smooth, and the back hair would be fluffed out.

  Hair Accessories --  Combs and barrettes became extremely popular and necessary to control the hair and keep it in place. Some were decorated and came in many colors.

False Hair  --  Hair pieces were used to add detail like a chignon( bun) or plait (braid). They were also used to add length or volume as fashions changed quicker than hair could grow.  Some were used to turn short hair into an Updo for the evening.

They were made from real hair, the pieces came in all colors so they could be matched to the wearer’s hair color. Some pieces came ready curled and styled – they simply needed pinning onto the head and blending in with natural hair.

Wigs were reportedly all made by hand from human hair in the early 1950s. Synthetic hair wigs and pieces were available in the late 50's and 60's. Hair pieces could be used to embellish shorter hair

 GAME TOWN is the 5th & final book in the series and yes, we are still married!

Website:  Janet  Elizabeth Lynn     www.janetlynnauthor.com

Website:  Will Zeilinger                  www.willzeilingerauthor.com

About GAME TOWN

Skylar Drake and his partner are hired as bodyguards for two young starlets. They deliver the actresses home after the Oscar Awards ceremony, but stumble onto the murder of Silver Brovor-Smith, the mother of one of their charges, actress Holly Becker.  Drake wonders why the FBI is on the scene when it looks like a simple case of murder.

Drake is now embroiled in the murder investigation of Silver Brovor-Smith. Suspicion shifts between her husband Peter Smith, and Silver’s three older brothers.

At every turn Drake and Dolan are lied to or misled. Kidnapping and mysterious deaths follow them as they weave their way through the maze of Hollywood’s movie and TV backroom deals. The FBI shows up to make sure Drake and Dolan keep the high-profile people involved from becoming front page news.

Drake meets and falls in love with Miss Anne the perfect woman to help him move on with his life. But is she a suspect? Then there is Holly’s friend, the sexy, young starlet Theresa Lee who has her own plans for him.

The letters P-E-G-O seem to appear everywhere, and Drake wonders if they have anything to do with Silver’s murder or her husband’s kidnapping

Follow the detective to Hollywood parties where the forbidden is accepted and the games played are for keeps. 

Check out GAME TOWN in Paper Back or Kindle on Amazon, by Clicking Here.

Read On for a First Chapter Excerpt from GAME TOWN

     Two o'clock in the morning. I'd just left the Emmy Awards ceremony at the NBC Television Studio in Burbank. All of Hollywood and its finest had shown up tonight to honor the best of television for 1956. The winners and losers were either at a party celebrating or hiding somewhere licking their wounds. I'd just left the event driving south on Cahuenga toward Hancock Park. My partner, Casey Dolan was in the passenger seat. It was pouring rain when we left Burbank. It seemed to be lessening as we headed away from the valley.

     We'd been hired by Epic Studios to escort a couple of their up and coming starlets to and from the event. In truth, we were their bodyguards. The motion picture and TV studios weren't taking chances with their human investments.

     The two young ladies in the back seat were passed out cold. I suspected they'd had a little too much Champagne before and during the ceremony.

     I drove through the Wilshire Boulevard entry gate and onto Fremont Place, one of the most exclusive and expensive neighborhoods in Los Angeles. Ahead we spotted a lot of activity on the street. Dolan sat up and stared at the mess ahead, “What the Hell?”

     Several police cruisers and what looked like government cars were lined up in front of a house with their spotlights trained on it. As we got closer, I saw the address. 859 in brass letter, wattached to the beam above the front door – the address where I was to deliver the girls.

     Dolan rolled down his window to get a better look. He pulled his head back inside and said, “You sure this is the right house?”

     I parked at the opposite corner. Dolan said, “I'll stay here and keep watch on the girls.”

     I sprinted up the wet sidewalk and ducked under the yellow police tape. A uniformed cop approached me and held up his hand like a traffic cop. “Sorry, sir. This is a police investigation. You’ll have to step back.”

     I showed him my PI license and explained that I was a bodyguard for the two young ladies in my car and that I was to deliver them to this address.

     He took a look at my credentials and shook his head, “Sorry sir...”

I heard a familiar voice.

      “Drake, over here!” I almost didn't recognize FBI special agent Olivia Jahns. She looked like she'd just stepped off the red carpet, poured into a slinky black evening gown. She held up one side of her long gown and made her way over to me.

     “That's all right officer.” She said, “I'll take it from here.” He turned away while I followed Jahns into the mansion.

     “Olivia...er, Agent Jahns. What's this all about?”

     She glanced back at me and said, “You'll see. Just follow me.”

     I stopped. “I meant the dress, the hair and...”

     She too stopped and took a breath. “Come on Drake. You're wearing a tuxedo. I can have fun too.” She continued to the front door. “Right now, we have a problem.”

     Inside, the body of a woman in a pure white coat with a white fur collar was sprawled on the hardwood floor at the foot of a marble staircase. Her light blonde hair and fur coat were soaked with blood. The handle of a knife protruded from her waist. I bent down for a closer look. The blood in her hair was plastered to her face. Her mouth and hands were clenched. I detected a strong odor by the body. It wasn't cherry, but it was sweet.

     “Who is...?”

     “The victim's name is Silver Brovor-Smith.” Jahns interrupted me as most FBI agents do. “She's the mother of Holly Becker, one of the young ladies in your charge.”

     Brovor?...Brovor. Why did that name sound familiar? It dawned on me, "The Toy company Brovor?" I could visualize the logo – a big red circle with black and white letters.

     “Yep.” Jahns nodded. “You got it.”

     My mind raced. I remembered a lawsuit from years ago between family members after their father passed away. The papers had a field day with the scandal. I stood and asked Jahns, “You sure about Holly's lineage?”

     “Yup, no doubt, Brovor. Since you're in charge of her, I'll leave it up to you to break the news to the soon-to-be grieving daughter.”

     We looked out the front door. The press had already gathered on the front lawn. Radio and Television remote trucks had set up their lights and equipment while the newspaper photographer's flashbulbs blinded us. The reporters didn't help the chaos as the street in front of the house was already jammed with the Coroner's truck, loads of police cars and an ambulance. It seemed dark on the street. I looked up and saw that the street light was out. Strange that would happen on Fremont Place.

     Jahns looked at me. “Why are you still here Drake?”

     I headed for the door. It was late, and my brain had stopped working hours ago.

The two starlets came running past me, “No!” Holly yelled when she saw her mother's body on the floor.

     Theresa, the other young lady, shouted, “Oh my God. Oh my God!” She struggled to join her friend Holly, but Dolan had his hands full, holding her back from the scene.

     “What are you doing here?” I yelled over the two young women's screams. “You were supposed to keep them in the car.”

     “Hey!” Dolan said, “There are two of them and only one of me.”

     I took Holly by the shoulders and turned her away from the bloody scene. I hoped to say something comforting to her when she looked toward the stairway.

     “What did you do to her?” Holly shouted at an older man wearing a white tuxedo coming down the stairs. Holly broke away from me and ran toward him. She began kicking and punching him, screaming, “What did you do to her!”

     Several officers pulled her away, but she continued kicking and flailing, “You killed her!” 

Check out GAME TOWN in Paper Back or Kindle on Amazon, by Clicking Here.

Website:  Janet  Elizabeth Lynn     www.janetlynnauthor.com

Website:  Will Zeilinger                  www.willzeilingerauthor.com

A Simpler Time

by Ben Small




I was watching the last episode of the first season of I Love Lucy the other night: Ricky Asks For a Raise. Seems Lucy and Hitchcock are usually better than much of the nightly television fare these days. Anyway, the plot was interesting. Ricky wanted a raise, but was afraid to beg Mr. Littlefield (Gale Gordon), owner of the Tropicana Club, for one. Littlefield’s a blustery, excitable chap who just might go off the deep end, and Ricky, when not croaking Ba-ba-loo, can be a bit shy. Ricky mumbled something like, “You wouldn’t be able to give me a raise, would you?” Littlefield delivered the expected negative response.

So, flustered by Ricky’s timidity and knowing that her household budget, like always, was overdrawn, Lucy took over negotiations. She told Littlefield that Ricky had other offers, anywhere from four to twelve, depending upon which lie (Lucy’s or Ricky’s) Mr. Littlefield believed.

Littlefield fooled them, as we the audience expected. Littlefield told Ricky he wouldn’t hold him back; the Tropicana would let Ricky go, free him to accept one of the higher paying offers.

Lucy Ricardo (Lucille Ball): "Don’t you want to change your mind?"
Alvin Littlefield (Gale Gordon): "No, N-O."
Ricky :Ricardo (Desi Arnaz): {to Mr. Littlefield] "Well then I quit! K-W-I-T!"

But Ricky didn’t have any other job offers.

Lucy had done it again: She’d gotten Ricky fired. Xavier Valdez is replacing Ricky.

Insert rapid-fire Spanish fury here.]

What’s Lucy to do?

Sabotage the new act, of course. We’re talking Lucy here.

So Lucy, Fred and Ethel make reservations under fake names, lots of reservations ― including one for a party of thirty.

The Tropicana is expecting a big night, a great crowd for the new guy. In walk Fred, Ethel and Lucy, in various disguises, including one where Fred’s in drag. Each fake party enters, learns Ricky Ricardo’s no longer playing the Tropicana, and storms out, expressing fealty to Ricky and promising never to return to the Tropicana until Ricky Ricardo is back.

Ethel Mertz (Vivian Vance): "I can’t make one more phone call. My finger is all worn down to a nub."
Lucy Ricardo (Lucille Ball: "You don’t have to; they’re all sold out."
Ethel Mertz (Vivian Vance: "Good."
Lucy Ricardo (Lucille Ball): "Harry and Bess Truman got the last two tables."
Lucy Ricardo (Lucille Ball) [dressed as Tropicana customer]: "Ricky Ricardo ain’t here no more? Well, I’m getting out of this crummy dump."

The Tropicana is empty.

Littlefield panics. He orders Ricky re-hired at twice the salary.

Funny stuff. And so like Lucy.

But what would happen if Lucy tried this today?

The New York show media would learn in a heartbeat that Ricky was gone. They’d be curious about the new job. The lie would be exposed, probably before Ricky and Lucy left the Littlefield apartment. Ricky would be trashed as a liar, and a stupid one at that. That it had been Lucy who’d made the claim would be forgotten. Ricky would be painted in the Arts & Entertainment sections of the New York print media as a turncoat, a cheap hustler who can’t be trusted. Page 6 of the Post would do an exposé, flash a picture of Ricky looking confused and guilty and maybe one of Lucy in a strutting pose. The innuendo would suggest greed, arrogance, and stupidity.

Littlefield, having cash flow problems in this economy like everyone else, might go out of business. He can’t afford an empty house, not when he’s spent a fortune on food and booze and entertainment, not in New York. He may have to put the club into bankruptcy.

Littlefield, or his attorney, will grow suspicious and investigate further. They’ll realize that all the canceling patrons sorta looked alike, about the same height and build, similar vocal tones. Maybe a freckle or mole identical on two supposedly different people. And Ricky’s not working. He and Lucy lost a gambit; they lied.

Littlefield would realize he’d been duped.

Littlefield would call Ricky’s replacement, Xavier Valdez, tell Valdez what he suspected. Both of them would call the prosecutor’s office and file felony fraud and malicious trespass charges, one for each fake reservation or costumed appearance. Their lawyers would file civil suits, putting Ricky, Lucy, Fred and Ethel in the position of facing depositions on the civil side that could adversely affect their criminal cases. They’d be forced to plead the Fifth, and refuse to answer the questions.

Someone, either plaintiffs or defendants, would seek to have the civil case suspended until the criminal case concluded.

But which criminal case? See, Littlefield’s got friends in power. He knows his local Congressman. The Congressman asks the U.S. Attorney’s Office to look into the matter. Maybe Lucy or Ricky used a computer, phone or the mails to set up these fraudulent and malicious acts. The first two would be Wire Fraud, a separate count every time the phone or computer was used as part of the conspiracy. The latter would be Mail Fraud, again a separate count for each use of the post office.

Both of these charges are felonies, too.

And Lucy’s co-conspirators did use these facilitators. They used phones and computers to co-ordinate among themselves and to make the fake reservations. And maybe Lucy used the mails to send Littlefield fake job offers, or the new contract was sent by mail.

The prosecutors, city and federal, would be operating independently, but would be sharing information. They’d try to separate each co-conspirator, offer incentives to turn against the others.

And Fred, most likely, would turn.

What? You doubt Fred turning? Fred’s a curmudgeon. When has he ever been happy about one of Lucy’s schemes?

So Fred, Lucy, Ethel and Ricky are being pressured by prosecutors, federal and state. One lie to the Feds, and there’s another felony ― remember Martha Stewart.

Each felony means up to a three year term in jail and a substantial fine. Ricky’s career is over. Three of our Fab Four ― excepting turncoat Fred ― will do hard time, how much and where depends on judges in two courts.

Nancy Grace will have fun for years. She may get her own network. Anderson Cooper will compare the Ricardos to the Lohans. Dr. Phil will consult with Lucy and then blab her confidences all over the air waves. Britney will rejoice: There’s somebody dumber than she is.

Ba-ba-loo will be popular at Attica. Ricky will be a hot date.

But that’s not the worst of it. The defendants are all broke, too, so deep in debt they’ll see nothing but an abyss. Consider Ricky, Lucy, Fred and Ethel will each have separate counsel, maybe more than one set depending on how the city and federal criminal and civil cases shake out. Defense fees will total in the millions of dollars. Then there are the fines. Again, substantial. Tacked on will be the costs of prosecution. Ricky, Ethel and Lucy are up against authorities with limitless resources. These prosecutions aren’t cheap, especially when so much of the department’s budget can be transferred to the defendants.

A conviction on one of the criminal cases makes the civil cases, both federal and state, slam dunks. And because the fraud was intentional, punitive damages will be awarded.

The Ricardo Fab Four will be famous, yes, but there’s no insurance to cover their financial exposure. Broke, angry and bawling like Jim Bakker, Ricky, Lucy and Ethel will disappear, probably for eight to ten years. Fred will probably turn to pimping. You can see him on the steps of a rundown building, arguing with taxi driver Robert De Niro over a teenage Jodie Foster.

Ten years later, Ricky, Lucy and Ethel, all divorced and living on the streets, will write tell-all books. Lucy will claim Ricky beat her, that Fred came onto her, that Fred liked to wear women’s underwear. She’ll say Little Ricky was fathered by Claude Akins, because Ricky suffered from ED and Lucy was lonely. She’ll say Ethel smelled and was a lousy housekeeper, that it was all Ethel’s idea to sabotage the Tropicana. Ethel had anger issues and often struck out at others and then blamed Lucy.

Ricky will write that Lucy was a meth addict, that she was always stirring her coffee because she thought insects were crawling up the side of her cup. He’ll say he’d contacted a divorce attorney and had been ready to serve Lucy, but that she’d gotten wind of his plans. She’d struck first, and got him fired. But she didn’t stop there; she’d sabotaged the club, wearing outrageous and transparent disguises, foolishly thinking only Ricky would be blamed. Lucy was dumb, he’ll say, as stupid as a red rock in Yellowstone.

Ethel’s book will declare that the Lucy-Ricky marriage was a sham, that she and Ricky were carrying on for years. Fred hadn’t turned down the apartment building’s heat. Ethel had done it; she wanted Ricky underneath her electric blanket. She’ll say Lucy discovered the affair, and instead of taking action to break it up, used it to blackmail Ethel into participating in her schemes.

Little Ricky’s book will blame his lifestyle and Gay Pride activist activities on spending so much time alone or with Mother McGillacuddy, who was a demeaning man-hater. Mrs. McGillacuddy put L’il Ricky in dresses, and forced him to sit on the toilet. So L’il Ricky turned to dolls and makeup and lace.

Fred won’t write a book. He’s too busy recruiting twelve year olds at the bus station, and his computer is filled with porn—induced viruses. All Fred sees is the Microsoft Blue Screen of Death and soiled bills from his drug and sex trade.

All things considered, I’ll take the simpler times. Bring back Lucy and the gang.

Man, I love Lucy.