Made in Miami

by Charles Willeford

Art student Ralph Tone is working in Miami as a bellboy. He meets Hollywood hopeful Maria Duigan and falls head over heels for the ambitious beauty. As Ralph fuels his obsession by booze, pills, and lack of sleep, they both quickly become entangled with sleazy pornographer Donald McKay. Charles Willeford's MADE IN MIAMI was originally released to the unsuspecting masses in 1958 under the title LUST IS A WOMAN by a publisher incapable of spelling the author's name correctly on the cover. Written in white heat by "the unlikely father of Miami crime fiction" (Atlantic Monthly) to match the requirements of the market, the book remains a textbook example of lurid 1950s pulp fiction. It was also a springboard to the author's later masterpieces MIAMI BLUES and SIDESWIPE.

Genres: Noir, Fiction, Mystery

164 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1958

About the author

Charles Willeford was a remarkably fine, talented and prolific writer who wrote everything from poetry to crime fiction to literary criticism throughout the course of his impressively long and diverse career. His crime novels are distinguished by a mean'n'lean sense of narrative economy and an admirable dearth of sentimentality. He was born as Charles Ray Willeford III on January 2, 1919 in Little Rock, Arkansas. Willeford's parents both died of tuberculosis when he was a little boy and he subsequently lived either with his grandmother or at boarding schools. Charles became a hobo in his early teens. He enlisted in the Army Air Corps at age sixteen and was stationed in the Philippines. Willeford served as a tank commander with the 10th Armored Division in Europe during World War II. He won several medals for his military service: the Silver Star, the Bronze Star, two Purple Hearts, and the Luxembourg Croix de Guerre. Charles retired from the army as a Master Sergeant. Willeford's first novel "High Priest of California" was published in 1953. This solid debut was followed by such equally excellent novels as "Pick-Up" (this book won a Beacon Fiction Award), "Wild Wives," "The Woman Chaser," "Cockfighter" (this particular book won the Mark Twain Award), and "The Burnt Orange Heresy." Charles achieved his greatest commercial and critical success with four outstanding novels about hapless Florida homicide detective Hoke Moseley: "Miami Blues," "New Hope for the Dead," "Sideswipe," and "The Way We Die Now." Outside of his novels, he also wrote the short story anthology "The Machine in Ward Eleven," the poetry collections "The Outcast Poets" and "Proletarian Laughter," and the nonfiction book "Something About A Soldier." Willeford attended both Palm Beach Junior College and the University of Miami. He taught a course in humanities at the University of Miami and was an associate professor who taught classes in both philosophy and English at Miami Dade Junior College. Charles was married three times and was an associate editor for "Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine." Three of Willeford's novels have been adapted into movies: Monte Hellman delivered a bleakly fascinating character study with "Cockfighter" (Charles wrote the script and has a sizable supporting role as the referee of a cockfighting tournament which climaxes the picture), George Armitage hit one out of the ballpark with the wonderfully quirky "Miami Blues," and Robinson Devor scored a bull's eye with the offbeat "The Woman Chaser." Charles popped up in a small part as a bartender in the fun redneck car chase romp "Thunder and Lightning." Charles Willeford died of a heart attack at age 69 on March 27, 1988.

Reviews

[Jayakrishnan · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was devastating. Damn! Willeford knew a thing or two about the inner lives of a lot of people. Made in Miami is greater than Taxi Driver. I don't understand some reviewers who said this was nowhere close to his best. This was cleverly plotted and features some of his most biting social commentary. I felt like Willeford was this sadistic doctor who knew the length and breadth of all my spiritual wounds. The scene where Ralph gulps down all the food on the boat even though he is on a date with Maria ..... Hahahahaha! Shit! Willeford really knew what was going on.

Ralph Tone, an aspiring artist and ex-soldier, falls for Maria Dugan, a buxom New York based typist, on a packaged Florida holiday at the hotel Ralph works as a lift attendant. The hotel owner Donald Mackay, who is also a porn aficionado and high class pimp, lures Maria away from Ralph, after Ralph invites her onto Mackay's yacht. Ralph goes apeshit!

While the novel is a bit sexy, it is not an erotic novel or anything as some other reviews would suggest. All you feel while reading about these characters who are like boats stuck due to seaweed kelp, is a sense of foreboding. I mean haven't we all been in such desperate situations? Atleast I have. Willeford describes 1950s America as a kind of mental asylum with all these characters who live purely on instinct. Alcohol and food are the reason to be. Both Ralph and Maria celebrate their moral decline by drinking alcohol and tucking into high quality food.

“Morality and money are not synonymous. A man who becomes rich has always obtained his money through immorality. If he had a small town factory he became rich by cheating his workers. If he worked large land holdings, he forced out the small farmers and paid low wages. His front was phoney in the small town, but down here on the Gold Coast, a rich man can get away with anything. His immorality no longer has to be kept under cover, so he lets himself go.”

The above is Donald Mackay explaining the facts of life to Maria as they sail on his yacht. While it might seem utterly morally repugnant to say stuff like this, it is sort of the truth. Everyone around, including you are some kind of asshole or creep who has done shitty things in their life. Hahahahaha! Willeford probably had great fun writing these novels. Afterall, did he not mouth this awesome quote:

“Just tell the truth, and they'll accuse you of writing black humor.”

[Still · Rating 4 out of 5]

Second Time Around:

The lead character is a 25 year old college student working as an elevator operator at a run-of-the-mill hotel in Miami. It's not a bad gig ...tips are good. Lots of good looking ladies from all over the country spending their annual five day vacation staying in the hotel and accessing the beach in the day, the bar and the floor show at night.
The comedian-emcee for the floor show repeats his cornball jokes 3 times an evening to an appreciative audience.
Ralph Tone is not a fan.
That's our protagonist.
Ralph Tone.
Say that out loud a couple of times and try not to think of Franchot Tone ...the actor that ne'er-do-well fellow actor Tom Neal (of DETOUR fame) beat this close to senseless over Hollywood trollop and dope afficianado Barbara Payton.

This novel, better known by its original title by Charles Willeford, would have been a nice little happy-go-horny sleaze novel sold as an adult interest item back when it was originally published in paperback.
Like most things Willeford, it's all of that and even more.
Violence occurs with a frequency that rivals the sexual content which is just short of explicit.
The sexual content, I mean.
The violence?
Here are the first few paragraphs that (uh) kick the novel off:

The Filipino houseboy was conscious now and began to bang his head up and down on the floor and kick some with his bound feet. His hands and feet were tightly wrapped with copper wire and there was a dish-cloth rag in his mouth. Although he couldn’t make much noise on the thickly carpeted floor, his struggling annoyed Ralph at his work. Carefully placing the roll of red and yellow primacord on the end table by the fireplace, Ralph crossed the room to the Filipino and kicked the struggling little man in the head.

“Cut it out,” Ralph sharply advised, “or I’ll put you out altogether .”

Despite the admonition, the frightened houseboy banged his head on the carpeted floor again, terrified sienna eyes popping in his almost bloodless face. Ralph rolled the houseboy over on his stomach with a well-placed kick in the ribs, bent down and slugged the little man hard behind the ear with the pair of heavy pliers. The struggling stopped.

That's only half of the first page of this novel.
You know that Willeford wrote that section first. Sat on it for years, waiting for just the right paperback book assignment to come along so he'd already have an opening prepared in front.

What is this story about?
There's a wealthy man who lives in the penthouse of the hotel where Ralph Tone is employed. His name is McKay. Very wealthy. Everyone working at the hotel except Ralph knows this man to be a slimy but extremely successful pimp. He is never without the companionship of his bodyguard, "Tarzan", greasy, yellow complected, and for Willeford's purpose here - pretty much a mindless brute.

Also there are a couple of young ladies from New York City - typists for a sales firm- vacationing in Miami. They've both saved up five dollars from their salaries each week in order to spend their 5 day vacation in Miami. Their names are Peggy -plain, pimply, and slouchy and Maria -sultry, beautiful, and innocent.

Ralph falls for Maria the first night he spots her. They chat, she's a nice girl - easy to talk to. He asks her for a date. She's reluctant. What a fresh sap, she thinks. The nerve of this, this, this "elevator boy".

Ralph is quite friendly with Mr. McKay from upstairs. He's been out on his yacht several times. McKay is a great tipper and generous to the hotel employees, hell - he's one of the hotel's owners.
Good friend to have.
Ralph figures McKay can help him impress Maria with a ride of a couple of hours out on the ocean on his yacht.
So he introduces McKay to Maria.
It doesn't take McKay long to dump Ralph back at the slip and then take Maria on a long voyage up to Fort Lauderdale for a fine dinner served on the yacht along with several bottles of champagne.
He quickly realizes Maria is as innocent as a shiny new Franklin dime freshly minted.

McKay introduces Maria to an exquisite dinner with even more champagne along with a main course of lobster and steak.
He begins a dissertation, expounding on the ways of the world as lived on the Gold Coast by the ruthlessly venal, soulless, wealthy men who populate the area.
This is so very much Charles Willeford, his words, his observations about men like McKay and other bigshots.

“Maria had never had such a dinner before in her life… McKay was a charming dinner companion and answered all of Maria’s questions about money with an amused air of quiet assurance.

She was unable to comprehend how so many people in Florida had made so much money. McKay finally got it through her pretty head.

“It isn’t really difficult once you understand, Maria,” he told her patiently. “There are thousands of very small towns in the United States, not counting the cities and their rich industrialists. In every small town there are one or two men who are well off. They own a small local factory, or perhaps large land holdings farmed on a big scale. Just one or two such men in every town. They work hard, and their money gradually piles up in the bank. One day they sit back, look around, and wake up. They are rich, and finally realize it. So they sell out and quit, thinking that they’ve worked hard and long enough, and move to California or Florida. Having lived rather frugally all their lives, they splurge. These are the people who make up the wealthy majority here. Do you see?”

“But what about all these women I see, driving around in convertibles? Where do they get all their money?”

“From rich men, of course.” McKay smiled easily. “A lot of their wives don’t like it down here. They miss friends, children, grandchildren and their homes. So they go back. But the husband stays. He finds himself a mistress, and the young woman takes him for all she can get, which is plenty. But so what? Now he can afford it, and he can’t take it with him, you know.”


“I see. But it all sounds so immoral.”

“Morality and money are not synonymous. A man who becomes rich has always obtained his money through immorality. If he had a small town factory he became rich by cheating his workers. If he worked large land holdings, he forced out the small farmers and paid low wages. His front was phoney in the small town, but down here on the Gold Coast, a rich man can get away with anything. His immorality no longer has to be kept under cover, so he lets himself go.”

Maria gets more and more sloshed from the champagne and begins to whine about not wanting to return to her drab life as a typist for a firm in New York.

“This is the way to live, Captain,” Maria said gaily as she accepted her glass. “I never want to go back to New York!”

“Perhaps you won’t have to go back.” He touched her glass with is, and before drinking, made a smiling toast. “To your virginity.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Maria laughed, and drained her glass. She held her glass for a refill, and peered owlishly at McKay. “You might think I’m kidding, Captain, but I am a virgin!”

“But I do believe you, my dear.” McKay set his brimming glass down on the table. “How much did your week’s vacation cost you, Maria?”

“It isn’t over yet,” she laughed. “Five dollars a week for fifty weeks. I save five dollars every single week out of my pay. You figure it out.”

McKay removed an ostrich-skin wallet from his hip pocket. As Maria watched him with mounting excitement, he removed twelve crisp twenty-dollar bills from the wallet, counted them twice, hesitated for a second, and then dropped one more twenty to the stack. He folded the sheaf of money once, and dropped the sum into Maria’s straw handbag.

“What’s that for?” Maria sat up as straight as she could and focused her eyes on McKay’s impassive face.

“For you.” McKay shrugged comically. “If you want it. Two hundred and sixty dollars. A year of savings for a week in Miami. Or if you look at it another way, about five weeks of office work for your firm. But you can have the same amount of money for a few moments of pleasant relaxation.”

“Why don’t you come right out and say what you mean?” Maria said sharply. “Although I know exactly what you mean! I’m not that kind of girl, and you know that, Mr. McKay!” Maria got shakily to her feet.

“Suit yourself, Maria,” McKay said indifferently. “I’m a man who always pays for what I want. And I usually get what I want. But I don’t argue price, and I don’t haggle. I believe the sum is enough, and there’s no point in trying to raise the ante.”

“You don’t understand, Mr. McKay!” Maria cried indignantly. “You’ve got my words confused or something. I wasn’t trying to raise the price or anything like that. There isn’t any price on my virginity!” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Now I’m getting all mixed up. Pour me some more champagne and let me explain.” She sat down again, and pounded her knees with a small fist.

To quote Vonnegut - and so it goes.
Until Maria goes willingly into the crib of McKay and becomes one of his whores.
"Oh! Woe is uh me bop", sayeth the noted artist Captain Beefheart.

It's up to a college student, a fine artist wanna-be, sad-sack of an elevator boy named Frank Tone
to break the chains of lust that bind the lovely Maria to the disgusting, old perverted pimp McKay.

For best results, read the first chapter then skim the rest of the book until you reach the final two chapters of the novel.
Or read it from cover to cover.
That's what I did.

Available on Kindle for two bucks under Lust Is A Woman.
You can afford it.







*****************************************************************************
Finished it last night.


WARNING: For die-hard Willeford fans only!

If you like only the Hoke Mosely novels & didn't care for Black Mass/Brother Springer or Woman Chaser or Cockfighter you won't like this.

Me?
I soaked this tawdry little title up like a sponge!!!

Special thanks to Tiftoby for his generosity!

[James Thane · Rating 3 out of 5]

Originally published in 1957, this book has all the hallmarks of a potboiler that Charles Willeford churned out relatively quickly, perhaps because the rent was coming due or some such thing. Willeford would later become known for a series of excellent crime novels, most notably, Miami Blues and others featuring a protagonist named Hoke Mosley. This book isn't nearly up to the standards of his later work and, for that matter, it isn't really a crime novel in the traditional sense. Rather it's a titillating piece of soft-core porn, constrained of course, by the literary standards of 1957.

Back in the Fifties, a number of writers, including people like Lawrence Block, were turning out lurid novels like this one, sometimes under their own names and sometimes using pseudonyms, for the spinning paperback book racks that were so common at the time. They most often featured very suggestive covers, hinting that all sorts of interesting and often twisted sexual activity was to be found within the pages, and a common theme of these books involved a beautiful, but innocent young woman--usually a virgin--who accidentally winds up traveling in the wrong company and who is unfortunately led down the path to a life of degeneracy.

Such is the case here. Maria Duigan is a young secretary from New York who has saved her money for almost a full year so that she and a girlfriend can afford a vacation to Miami Beach. Maria is looking for excitement and attracts the attention of Ralph Tone, an art student who is working for the summer as an elevator operator in the hotel where Maria and her friend are staying.

One of the hotel's owners is a Mr. McKay, and he has taken a shine to Ralph for some reason or other. He invites Ralph to spend an afternoon cruising on his yacht, and in an attempt to impress Maria, Ralph impulsively invites her to come along as his date. Much to poor Ralph's dismay, McKay will turn out to be a pimp and a pornographer and once he sets his eyes on the beautiful Maria, her innocence and virginity will be in serious jeopardy.

Over sixty years down the road, this book is perhaps best read as an historical artifact--a reminder of a time when things were more innocent and unsullied, or at least a time when a lot of people wished that they were. The story is a bit overwrought and the conclusion is practically foregone. This is not Charles Willeford at his best, but it's still a fun read.

[WJEP · Rating 3 out of 5]

Told from the college-boy perspective, Ralph tries to save his soulmate from a life of harlotry. I didn't buy the trafficking angle. Maria has "melon-heavy breasts" and believes in free enterprise. She quickly became "hard as a brand-new ten-ply tire." Ralph is an idealistic chump. Willeford does a pretty good Orrie Hitt impersonation.

[Ron Hefner · Rating 5 out of 5]

Most of Willeford's early books had their titles changed by idiot publishers to appeal to the sleazy pulp market. Willeford's original title for this book was _Made in Miami_. The "lust" in this book has nothing to to do with the woman.

This is 1950's noir at it's best. It's so great to read the descriptions of Miami Beach in those days. A room in a nice hotel was $10 a night. Amazing.

Wileford never wrote a "cheap" novel, even though the price was cheap. He was a sarcastic social critic even back in the 50's. Read this one, and you'll see what I mean.

Willeford's stuff is so good, I can't believe only three of his books were adopted into film. Reading this book, I thought, "This could be an amazing movie."

[Andy · Rating 4 out of 5]

I think he wrote this one in a weekend so it's not up to his usual five-star greatness. If you have read all his others than this is worth looking for.

[Shawn · Rating 2 out of 5]

An early Willeford novel, so you can tell he is only writing for the money. It's a sex trafficking tale about a girl gone wrong and a white knight trying to save her. You can tell Willeford is grasping at straws with the trivial amount of details that go into everything. The shoes are this color, a list of all the furniture in the room, how much of and what they were eating. A little set dressing goes a long way unless you're trying to hit a quota. At one point, he even starts to describe the color of the setting sun and that's where I draw the line and start skimming for the juicy bits.

[Ben · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not one of his very best, but nonetheless it holds up pretty well and is very well written for a quickie paperback. A fairly depraved story, with some typically warped Willeford touches which keep it from being palatable for mass consumption.

[Dave · Rating 2 out of 5]

Not Exactly Brilliant Social Commentary

The story is that Willeford was challenged to write a book in the style of Orrie Hitt. He came up with this cheap dimestore sleaze. Lots of writers in the fifties churned out this stuff and there was an audience for it. There's better Willeford and better pulp to read. It's a story of an elevator operator at a Miami resort who falls for a young woman on vacation, the young innocent but vivacious woman convinced by a hotel tycoon who operated as a pimp in his spare time to work for him, and the elevator operator's growing frustration at her predicament. It's tawdry but not very compelling.

[Jure · Rating 3 out of 5]

Loads of drama, way too much in my opinion. Not that I have much against the genre and have in fact really enjoyed Willeford's early non-crime novels Pick-Up and High Priest of California. Both of them excellent character studies written in his distinguished style. But this one is simply extraordinary plain. Not good, not bad, just... well, it's just ordinary.

More here (review includes spoilers!):
http://a60books.blogspot.ie/2015/12/m...

[wally · Rating 4 out of 5]

#13 from willeford for me...paperback...originally published in 1957 as lust is a woman...this copy appears to be from 2008.

story begins:

the filipino houseboy was conscious now and began to bang his head up and down on the floor and kick some with his bound feet. his hands and feet were tightly wrapped with copper wire and there was a dishcloth gag in his mouth. although he couldn't make much noise on the thickly-carpeted floor, his struggling annoyed ralph at his work. carefully placing the roll of red and yellow primacord on the end table by the fireplace, ralph crossed the room to the filipino and kicked the struggling little man in the head.

ooga, booga...that's what i called a great hooker! onward and upward!

time place scene settings
*time is...?...the modern era
*the place is miami, the rotunda hotel
*mrs hirsch's rooming house, where ralph tone, one of our heroes, is staying
*"his car"...so far, willeford has not labeled this car w/a make model year...so, i'd hazard this is one of his earlier stories...late in the story, we learn it is a "custom ford"
*an unpaved narrow road...where the mckay residence, one of them, is located, and here again, willeford does not name the road as he does elsewhere, and in many other stories of a later date...although unpaved and narrow could connote a road w/no name...unlikely, but possible. later, we learn the house is near the glades...and still later, the name of a subdivision, everglade estates (2-3 houses therein)
*shopping on lincoln road
*fulton market (fish) ref. maria dugan
*faultless topcoat company--where maria/peggy work
*41st street bridge/ arthur godfrey road
*seaquarium
*coffeeshop on corner
*the gold coast...various "theme" hotels are described, too, shapes, motifs, etc
*the robert fulton in fort laurderdale
*jamaica house/lauderdale...place where mckay/maria go/eat
*east side of new york...maria/peggy from there
*marina where mckay's white, expensive cabin cruiser, the sea witch is moored
*mckay's yellow cadillac
*an inheritance of four negro houses in jacksonville/mckay
*a roadside diner/ralph
*two-hundred foot strip of sandy beach/ralph-maria
*jungle cruise/peggy
*hotel beauty parlor/maria
*swimming pool at the rotunda/maria
*an exclusive women's shop near the hotel
*the inter-coastal waterway
*basement locker room, rotunda hotel
*the first cocktail lounge he came to
*the package store next door
*an area consisting of second world war "temporary" housing
*cabin #6, garfield's camp
*ed's bar-b-que
*a cab
*railroad station
*mezzanine, mr. wallace's office, hotel rotunda
*#901, rotunda hotel...where maria is settled in
*mom's cafe/ ralph
*the old woman's house
*the curving driveway in front
*a neighborhood drugstore
*the highway towards dania, florida
*los pintos hotel
*munchen beer garden
*a corner table...the 91st street entrance
*datura street...highway one to drive-in movie
*fort benning...where ralph was stationed at one point
*hospital

characters
*sanchez, the filipino houseboy...of danald mckay, rich man
*ralph tone, who wants to be a great artist one day, one of our heroes, 3rd-person, down in miami w/his friend tommy grant, who talked him into miami, instead of ashville, for their summer break/vacation/work. ralph works as the elevator boy in the rotunda hotel. he is going to school (fsu) on the korean g.i. bill. home to ralph is orlando and he is 25 years old. ralph and tommy are fraternity brothers, as well...and at one point, tommy mentions going to orlando to make concrete bricks for ralph's old man
*comedian skippy mccarthy, entertaining in the rotunda room of the rotunda hotel, miami, florida
*tommy grant, classmate of ralph at florida state university, and he works, found work as a busboy, now the head busboy, at the rotunda hotel. tommy is from valdosta, georgia
*tarzan, bodyguard of mr mckay, chauffeur, boat crew
*donald mckay, one of the owners of the rotunda hotel,
*miss maria dugan, staying at the rotunda, 4th floor north, 419, w/a co-worker, miss peggy vittorni. the two of them work at the faultless topcoat company as typists. they are from the east side of new york.
*peggy vittorni, came to miami w/maria for vacation
*lifeguard, a whining old man in an old-fashioned gray bathing suit
*spanish mother of maria, works at mamie's hat shop
*irish father of maria, rodney dugan, a barge captain on the hudson
*sidney halper, a guy who has asked maria to marry him; she has [not given him a straight answer], a small cog in management, in charge of a show room, his take-home $87.50 a week
*johnny townsend, another elevator boy, ralph's relief, he is 17, a runaway from flint, michigan, claims to be "20"
*mrs. hirsch, a member of the miami natural diet society, owner of the rooming house where ralph stays...feeds the roomers "natural" food that they all despise, big turnover of renters
*waitress at the coffee shop
*the fishermen on the numberless bridges
*the passengers in passing automobiles
*the maitre d w/two waiters...from the robert fulton hotel
*that guy, bruno fisk, used to be a waiter, now a male prostitute
*a rich guy on vacation
*some guys on the west coast (florida/naples)
*eight men there...at mckay's house/bruno's story
*half a dozen girls
*manager of the rotunda hotel, mr. wallace, a portly man in his early 40s
*grace, his secretary
*people who owe mckay favors
*one of them a lawyer
*a few guests sitting in the lobby read the paper
*mrs barnes, a schoolteacher, and that little brunette schoolteacher from georgia/maria & peggy
*the workers as they scurried about their construction tasks on the site of the new hotel
*a young workman in the pit
*the masseur, a putty-faced woman in her early 40s
*three old ladies & two small children/swimming pool
*hotel doctor
*the bell captain/hotel, old sourball
*hazel, a woman tommy knows, sends ralph to her, #6
*a woman's voice
*a man opened the screen door of the first cabin
*ed...of the bar-b-que stand
*a small negro boy
*a tiny hunchbacked girl from atlanta named alice
*the waiter, a weary, wrinkled man with aching feet
*elevator operator, one of the night boys
*brothers & sisters/maria
*driver/cab
*doorman/hotel, big tim
*a maid
*two other high class call girls on the 9th floor
*miss snootybutt, mrs green
*mrs mattox
*helen & temple...two other girls in mckay's employ, hostesses
*six guests, 6 girls
*a new york publisher
*an ex-director from broadway
*"mr smith" & "general smith"...guests of mckay's
*a naked man
*two bald, middle-aged bartenders
*mr reese, that one of them took for three-fifty (change)
*night desk clerk
*operator twenty-two, new york
*an impatient driver behind him
*a middle-aged negro
*"ralph jessup"...the alias ralph uses at the los pintos motel
*a nice-looking blonde at the miramar bar
*48 patients...73 patients...a doc
*a night watchman


the blue-yellow thread, a personal breadcrumb
ralph at one point puts on a yellow silk scarf, lemon yellow bermuda shorts, a blue izod sports shirt that he borrows from tommy grant...and black socks. recent sightings of the blue-yellow motif include: The Devil's Star & others i may or may not post depending on energy and so forth....The Deep Blue Good-bye....Burnt Orange Heresy

update, finished, 1:21 p.m. e.s.t. 20 jan 13, sunday afternoon
this one...the reader should treasure for although this is not willeford's best, it does show what i can only assume is a beginning writer...there's at least one big wow-wow toward the end that...hmmmm, only a beginning writer would...write? something like 'at.

there's other things which i've already mentioned...and what else? oh...there's a time, least once, when a section of dialogue is...dunno what adjective to use...the mark of an immature writer, & by immature i mean someone who hasn't really discovered, as yet, what works, what doesn't.
so...treasure the bad...as the man said.

still, that is not to say this is a "bad" story...it is a straight-forward narrative, a follows b follows c...protagonist ralph...antagonist mckay...etc etc so on so forth...a change or two three, a resolution...a bit quick and thin on the details, but a resolution nevertheless.

so...all in all, this was a good read, for one can see that willeford's later work has improved...you see the kernels here, the seed, the plants beginning to grow...but that growth is not as developed in his later stuff...

all is well and all manner of things are well...ooga booga

[Toby · Rating 2 out of 5]

“The Filipino houseboy was conscious now” - great first lines.

This little book was found in a "bookshop" that allows "customers" to take 3 books for free every day; quite the perfect place to discover a pulp oddity such as this little gem.

Charles Willeford, later to become known for his Hoke Moseley series of noir novels, must have written this in a weekend with a need to get paid. His preferred title as submitted was Made in Miami, a title which on first glance is pretty bad in and of itself but upon reflection after reaching the end is not too bad at all and even a little seedy. But it would be published in America as Lust is a Woman with the de rigueur lurid artwork and sleazy tagline/blurb combo PLUS they spelt his name incorrectly on the jacket! This first edition was published in Letchworth Garden City, UK, the town I just happened to be staying in during my recent trip to that grey, rainy country, and in England they seem to have changed the title from Lust to Sex but still not fixed the author surname typo! This book is a piece of pulp history all on its own, I imagine things like this were quite common at the low end of the market back then but most of them haven't survived. I wish somebody had taken better care of this dirty little paperback before it came to me, glue might save the binding but I'll always know.

If you read the blurb before reading this book you might be forgiven for expecting a femme fatale in the vein of Linda Fiorentino in The Last Seduction, a ruthless woman leaving a path of destroyed men in her wake and making a deal with the devil for the ultimate power, all the while exploring her rampant sexuality with a myriad of men. Oh how disappointed you would have been.

Actual blurb could read, Ralph Tone, college boy working as an elevator operator in a Miami Beach hotel during semester break falls for beautiful but naive girl, inadvertently helps local businessman to seduce her in to a life of prostitution and has to find the inner resolve to help save her.

There's very little in the way of exploration of the female character, she is very much from the boy's own adventure school of female characters; beautiful, dumb, in need of a man to save her, regularly looks at herself naked in the mirror, has "melon-like" breasts, discusses her brief lesbian affair with her best friend all the while saving her "dignity" for marriage. She certainly doesn't make any conscious choices, has no ladder of personal success she wants to climb and even worse no insatiable lust for life. COME ON! What a load of horseshit this is, does anybody know anyone who has ever behaved this way? Shame on you Willeford, the pulp genre, men in general and anyone else who condones writing of this kind. I don't even care about the misogyny, it's of the era after all, but this writing is just plain lazy and the marketing just plain cynical.

Beyond that I don't have a huge amount to say about the content, this book still exists and solely as a curio as fas as I'm concerned, it was meant to titillate and I don't think Willeford was the writer to do that and yet as a pulpy crime novel it fails to step beyond the confines of the throwaway nature of the genre thanks to lazy and thoughtless writing.

[Andy · Rating 2 out of 5]

"Made In Miami" is the literary equivalent to those Dave Friedman movies they sell on Something Weird Video with the comb-over old swingers and the poorly lit sets in Florida.

It's the shaggy dog tale about the she-yokel who comes to The Big City (Miami) and gets corrupted into a life of prostitution and porn. Only problem is our girl comes from New York City, not exactly the capitol of innocence. Pretty bad. I think I'll send my copy to Mike Vraney.

[Douglas Castagna · Rating 3 out of 5]

I found this on Scrib. I had been looking for it for a while since I am a big fan of Willeford. I was not fully aware that it had been reprinted but when I saw this I borrowed it and devoured it as I do much of his work.

If you are new to Willeford I would not recommend starting with this title, as it is not one of his best. It is, as they say for fans only. I enjoyed it, though I feel that the last few chapters were rushed, and the ending was a bit of a cheat to me.

[TJ Kory · Rating 2 out of 5]

Fast-paced Miami crime was promised; fast-paced Miami crime was delivered! It’s entertaining and kind of fun to see how this sort of story would work back in like the 50s-60s when it was written and how they lived differently from today. But ultimately it’s sort of a mean, hard-edged book, without the humor that some of Willeford’s other novels have to cut the mean-spiritedness.

[Ron Zack · Rating 4 out of 5]

Charles Willeford is a master at whatever he writes. I have enjoyed his fascinating non-fiction (memoirs) and various style and genre novels. "Lust is a Woman" is another variation that Willeford applies his abundant skills to.

Allegedly, a pulp assignment from his publisher in the late 1950s, Willeford was tasked with writing an Orrie Hitt type novel. In other words, with a strong focus on sex. Because it is Willeford, this has to be a cut above a lot of what populated the pulp stands back then. And I think it is.

The result is powerful, with nicely developed characters, crisp dialogue, brilliant description, and an interesting plot with all the elements needed to captivate the reader. The sex scenes are typical of the time and I did not feel disappointed. There is certainly a case for sleaze as an art form.

I don't know why Willeford is not more popular. He is, in my opinion, a giant of American literature.

[Steven · Rating 3 out of 5]

The first chapter is a cracker, more start at the end, rather than in the middle of the action. The writing is a bit uneven after that. Some beautiful set pieces interspersed with some going through the motion scenes where the descriptions and dialog could have been streamlined without loss. So Willeford at both his best and his worst.

Note that the book description is totally wrong: Maria has no interest in Hollywood, it is never even mentioned. She is on vacation in Miami with a girlfriend and is "seduced" by a rich guy with a big yacht who also happens to be blackmailing young woman like her into becoming high-priced escorts. How that plays out, and what the (other) protagonist - the young college student working as an elevator operator for his summer job - does about what happens to Maria is the story.

[Steve · Rating 3 out of 5]

I didn't realize it until I checked Goodreads, but I read this book under its other title, Mace in Miami, in 2008. Didn't really remember it from them.

It's the story of Ralph, a young student who is working as an elevator operator in a hotel in Miami, who falls, quickly, for Maria, a young woman vacationing in Miami with a friend. Ralph, somewhat inadvertently, hooks Maria up with Mr. McKay, who seduces Maria into working for him as a sex slave/prostitute. The story is how Ralph reacts to that and his taking ironic revenge.

A fast read, but as I showed, pretty forgettable.

[Nik Maack · Rating 4 out of 5]

Trashy, dumb, fun. Is it sexist? Oh yeah. Repeatedly it describes women as "dumb". Is it gruesome? Kind of. Favorite character has to be Tarzan. (That's just his nickname. He's not actually Tarzan.) He is a bad man.

This is one of those books that yells "Beware the perils of lust!" as it gives you the delightful perils of lust.

Sometimes it's well written and sometimes it's terrible.

If you like dated trashy novels, you will like this.

[Blair Roberts · Rating 5 out of 5]

Originally published in 1958 as LUST IS A WOMAN. Willeford’s story has aged well after 64 years.

[J. Fakename · Rating 3 out of 5]

A bummer!

[Patrick Strickland · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not Willeford’s top form.

[Michael · Rating 2 out of 5]

I love Willeford. Pick-Up is the best pulp/crime/noir novel I've read and is highly recommended. This book, Made in Miami, is not his best work and is only recommended for Willeford completists.

The lead characters are ignorant, simple, one-dimensional. This makes for an uncomplicated, rather boring story. No snappy dialogue or descriptions. Willeford must have turned this one out quickly for the money.

[A Cesspool · Rating 4 out of 5]

Principle takeaway: a redeemed Willeford gem!

My first gf out of college worked at a dungeon -- rather, hostess at a Cheesecake Factory, who got recruited (by a co-worker) to moonlight at a dungeon.
haven't thought about that in-forever and almost certainly would have forgotten completely, if not for Made in Miami (aka Lust is Woman)'s Maria Dugan provoking something in my mind grapes.