Public Enemy by Hugh Clevely


published 1953



Public Enemy


[George Oxford is getting ready to go out]

After he had put on a clean shirt, he looked over the clothes in his compactum. He had decided to go out immediately after supper.

There was deliberation in his movements. He hesitated for a moment over the brown suit which had been made for him by Boon and Riddell, in High Street, and then his hand moved on and lifted the dark grey Eade-Peckover suit from the rail. This was his best suit, which he had bought from the expensive West End tailor with some of the money he had brought back from Germany. From the tie rail he took the silk Liberty tie which Cindy had given him for a Christmas present. He put brilliantine on his hair, and took a silk handkerchief from the drawer. He was dressing up as if for a special occasion, but there was no special occasion. This dressing up was an act of revolt. He was hoping that he might meet Elsie Hargreaves in The Antelope; but he didn’t know that he was going to meet her…

The suit really was good; it set off the lines of his broad-shouldered, slim-hipped figure admirably. Wearing it he felt a pleasant confidence in himself. He became George Oxford, the best-dressed man in Hailford.


commentary: Hugh Clevely also writes as Tod Claymore: his book written under that name, Appointment in New Orleans, was on the blog at the end of last year. I was intrigued because I had read books by both authors without realizing that. But, now that I have read two books in quick succession, you can certainly see a similarity. The author is very keen on tennis, and so are his main characters. Protagonists are handsome, capable men who had a good war. There are the right sort of women, and the other kind – although this is not a moral judgement at all. He has quite a nice line in independent, inventive, active heroines.

In this case, it is clear that George is extremely unhappily married. Something is going to happen, and it is obvious that George (however much or little he is to blame) is going to be suspected of terrible things. There will be the danger of blackmail, there will be good luck and bad luck. The author will constantly persuade us to be on George’s side, no matter what.

And George is endearing, true enough, and his relationship with his step-daughter Cindy is very nicely done: his treatment of Cindy would redeem him in the reader’s eyes no matter what. In his adventures he comes across a young woman called Tilly, who is quite splendid – I liked her very much. She is more than a match for George, much cleverer.

Although this book is by no means a mystery – we are always pretty much aware of what is going on – it was full of twists and turns and surprises, I was very impressed about how he kept the impetus going, and I really did want to know how the plot was going to pan out. The answer is: satisfyingly.

I’m surprised the book was never turned into a film: it would make exactly the kind of black and white film that the channel Talking Pictures TV is now reviving – you can just see George getting ready in his dapper way, and a lot of very fast driving between London and the coast. The whole thing must have been just the job when it was written, and it still is in that very nostalgic way. Car salesmen who are attractive and rather glamorous figures (those were the days), with a past driving at Brooklands before the War… He springs fully-formed in front of the reader.

I had never heard of a compactum wardrobe, and couldn’t find it in any dictionary. However a little research shows that it was a very common word in books of the early-to-mid 20th Century. Alec Waugh (brother of the more famous Evelyn) features one in quite a few of his books. It seems that compactum wardrobes had ‘a labelled compartment for everything a gentleman might need, including cravats and plus fours’, they seemed to combine hanging space with drawers shelves and cupboards. They seemed to be for men, and there are a couple of instances where (surprisingly) they are given to a longserving employee as a retirement gift.

One last point of interest - one of the dedicatees of the book was Delano Ames, another popular 1950s writer often on the blog.

The picture, from an advert, plainly shows George in the lounge bar of The Antelope, giving the glad eye to flirty Elsie…
















Comments

  1. I'll pass on the Brilliantine, but I do love a smartly dressed man with a silk handkerchief poking out of the breast pocket. I may read this, purely on the strength of that description!

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    1. It was a short sharp enjoyable book - not for everyone, but anyone with an eye to a well-dressed man will enjoy...

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  2. There is something about a natty dresser like that, isn't there, Moira? Sounds like a solid story, too, with engaging plot twists. All that and good clothes descriptions, too! What more could you want?

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    1. Exactly Margot - it may be the perfect Clothes in Books book!

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  3. The glad eye! What a lovely expression that is, Moira. Weren't car salesman often shady figures? The kind of person you might meet at one of those road houses we yearn for . . .

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    1. Exactly - we can safely pine for the days of roadhouses and well-dressed rakish men, even if we KNOW what they would have been like in real life. George is a quite splendid anti-hero. Only a foolish woman would go for a drive with him in his roadster. In which case, we are all foolish women....

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  4. Moira: On the rare occasions I have been in a club in a big city in recent years I cannot recall a man dressed in his best suit. It would be a surprise if there was a suit. The current fashion (men and women) appears to be dressing casually in black. When I was young over 40 years ago going out in Saskatchewan guys were casual. Girls usually dressed better than the guys. It appears you have to go back over 60 years for men and women to dress their best for an evening out.

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    1. Oh it's a long time since suits were stylish for young people in the UK, and like you I miss that. I sigh for the idea of a well-dressed man in a suit... Much as I love my husband, he is definitely on the casual side!

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    2. After reading your reply I thought you might be interested in what I wore to the office yesterday. I had on a deep blue wool suit with a fine line of lighter blue in a windowpane pattern. I had a sky blue shirt with white cuffs and collar. For a tie I had a navy base with small polka dots of light blue, medium blue, dark blue, red and pink in rows. I had square cuff links with 16 small squares of light blue, pink, purple, yellow, red and green.

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    3. Oh that sounds marvellous! I love the detail in the cufflinks, and the colourfulness of the tie. I well remember that some time ago on the blog I illustrated a reference to 'hideous ties' and you told me firmly (and correctly) that the ones I chose weren't nearly hideous enough!

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  5. Maybe it was just me but I missed the date of publication and saw "Public Enemy" and then the first illustration and the great dressing scene and thought "oh, is this a recent book about gay men in the 1950s?"

    I guess it still technically is, just under a different meaning of the phrase!

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    1. Oh that's hilarious, and I see exactly what you mean!

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  6. (sigh, my computer just ate my comment. Again. Let's start over, and try an recreate all my lost brilliance.)

    The broad-of-shoulder, slim-of-waist man (even without Brilliantine) is simply not for me. Too comic bookish. But nonetheless, the book sounds intriguing. Sadly, all the Hugh Clevely books at Toronto Public Library are in the reference stacks. (Because this is how they keep their vintage mysteries and science fiction from disappearing.)

    But the compactum. What a concept. Too bad the name sounds like a device for dealing with dead bodies before packing them in a small box and mailing them to a non-existent address in Leeds.

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    1. "The broad-of-shoulder, slim-of-waist man (even without Brilliantine) is simply not for me"

      Don't knock it till you've tried it ;-)

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    2. Susan, I'm with Shay, I think he sounds very attractive - but I think the compactum sounds even more desirable, a wardrobe like that would be just the job. Not even going to think about the dead bodies...

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  7. I think I can safely go through my life, none the poorer for not reading this one.

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    1. .... and yet somehow I can see you as a stylishly-dressed man in a suit with a compactum wardrobe...

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  8. Sounds interesting. And interesting that I don't recall running into any of his books at all. I will watch out for some of his books.

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    1. Don't forget they come up in two different names - the one above and Tod Claymore. I think the fact that he was published as Penguin Crime in the UK ensured his survival here. But his kind of books were swept away by James Bond I think - they belonged to a gentler era.

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