Joe Hutch
Mate of the bloke
I’ve been watching episodes of Perry Mason over the past few weeks. The one I watched last night starred Frankie Laine as a washed-up comedian. No doubt he was instantly recognisable to a ‘50s US TV audience, but not to me (I always get him mixed up with Frankie Vaughan).
In a supporting role was one Bobby Troupe, as a moody hipster pianist who didn’t dig squares, man. The name seemed familiar so I Googled him. His main claims to fame were writing Route 66 and producing Julie London’s hit records.
The programme included a scene or two in a hipster cafe. Paul Drake, the fictional private detective, reported to Mason ‘There’s no lights, no music, and no fun. They just sit in dark corners, hating themselves.’ Hmm, sounds like my kinda place!
In a supporting role was one Bobby Troupe, as a moody hipster pianist who didn’t dig squares, man. The name seemed familiar so I Googled him. His main claims to fame were writing Route 66 and producing Julie London’s hit records.
The programme included a scene or two in a hipster cafe. Paul Drake, the fictional private detective, reported to Mason ‘There’s no lights, no music, and no fun. They just sit in dark corners, hating themselves.’ Hmm, sounds like my kinda place!
