Blog-o-ween 2026: Playin' Chicken with Stephen King's Christine — Day 22

Part 3: Chapter 44

It is three weeks after their clandestine meeting, and Dennis and Leigh have fallen in love. During that time, Dennis sends Leigh to the Libertyville Municipal Offices to get two items: copies of the registration slips for Christine. The ages of those slips of paper are separated by over twenty-one years, but the signatures are a lot closer. Arnie’s signature on the slip from 1978 matches his first signature of Dennis’s cast. The signature on the slip from 1957 is by LeBay, and it matches Arnie’s second signature.

Needing more information, Dennis decides to reach out to George LeBay again. Not knowing his phone number, Dennis contacts one of the men from the Libertyville American Legion who had been at LeBay’s funeral. He hands Richard McCandless a song and dance about needing to talk to LeBay’s brother, and then McCandless, in turn, hands Dennis a story about the time Christine tore the finger off of a fellow veteran during a practical joke.

Some joke…

Oh, Dennis… oh, Leigh… I know that some things can’t be helped, but you two picked a fine time to…

Close, but no.

It’s like the poet once said, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.” Well, I’ll tell you this for free, if falling in love behind a friend’s back is the disease, then the threat of getting run over by his haunted car is the cure. The roll call of the dead — Moochie, Buddy, Richie, Darnell — would be enough to encourage me to keep it in my pants. (Maybe.) Of course, as another poet once said, “The heart wants what it wants,” so… well, so be it.

We get some more hoo-hah about Arnie and LeBay’s signatures merging, but — again — I don’t see it. I guess this is why I don’t work for the FBI.

Still and all, I love me a good trip to an archive or library for a research scene. We don’t follow Leigh to the Libertyville Municipal Offices (maybe we would have had this been a scene in Part Two), but we have the fruits of her labor.

While Dennis and Leigh are comparing signatures for their similarities, Dennis’s dad is noticing something different about Arnie:

“‘I’ve seen him two or three times,’ my father said.

‘You have?’ I said, startled. ‘Where?’

My father shrugged. ‘On the street. Downtown. You know. Libertyville’s not that big, Dennis. He…’

‘He what?’

‘Hardly seemed to recognize me. And he looks older. Now that his face has cleared, he looks much older. I used to think he took after his father, but now—’ He broke off suddenly. ‘Dennis, has it occurred to you that Arnie may be having some sort of nervous breakdown?’” (394)

Oh, yes, Mr. Guilder. The thought has crossed your son’s mind. Of course, you’d need to ask the follow-up question: whose nervous system is having the breakdown? That’s a question I don’t think the best minds in Vienna could answer.

Who knew ol' Siggy invented the "gangsta lean"?

When Dennis calls Richard McCandless to ask about George LeBay’s address, the older man is described as sounding like “Andy Devine and Broderick Crawford” (396).

Who and who?

Andrew Vabre Devine (Vabre? Vabre?) was an American character actor best known for his work in westerns such as Stagecoach (1939), The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962), and How the West Was Won (1962), as well as countless Roy Rogers films. He was also the voice of “Friar Tuck” in the Disney animated film Robin Hood (1973). Devine was also well known on the radio on such shows as The Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok, The Jack Benny Show, and Andy’s Gang.

It was thought that Devine’s distinctive voice — wheezy and crackly — would keep him out of the “talkies,” but just the opposite happened. Instead, it became his calling card. Devine claimed that his voice resulted from a childhood accident in which he fell while running with a curtain rod in his mouth. (Say what?!) The rod pierced the roof of his mouth, and he was left with a scratchy voice. However, it’s been discovered that this is just one of several stories that Devine invented about the source of his voice.

Broderick Crawford was also an actor with a distinctive voice. His distinct barking line delivery saw him cast in plenty of tough-guy roles. It was his portrayal of “Willie Stark” in the film adaptation of Robert Penn Warren's novel All the King's Men (1949) that lifted him out of character actor roles and into the big time. He won both the Academy Award and the Golden Globe for Best Actor. Later, he took on the starring role in the television series Highway Patrol (1955–59).

Crawford was born in Philadelphia, PA. (Maybe he was a Phillies fan?) His family were vaudeville performers. Despite his patchy formal education, Crawford was accepted by Harvard, but he only stayed for a few months. He left college to work as a stevedore on the New York docks. Somehow, the sound of his voice fits better on the docks than in classroom, I think.

When Dennis calls Richard McCandless, he tells the man that he wants to contact George LeBay, because he promised to send him research material on Ezra Pound.

Who now?

Ezra Weston Loomis Pound is a major figure in the history of American poetry, Modernism, and Fascist collaboration. Pound is best known for The Cantos, a poem written in 109 sections between the years 1915 and 1962.

Pound blamed the horrors of the First World War on finance capitalism. (Fair enough, says I.) In 1924, he moved to Italy and embraced both Benito Mussolini and Adolf Hitler. (Not cool.) During the Second World War, he recorded hundreds of paid radio propaganda broadcasts for the Italian government, as well as the Salò Republic (Italy’s later incarnation as a German puppet state). He attacked the United States government, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Britain, international finance, the arms industry, Jews, and others as abettors and prolongers of the war. At the war’s end, Pound was captured and spent months in a U.S. military detention camp near Pisa, including three weeks in an outdoor steel cage. Ruled mentally unfit to stand trial, Pound was incarcerated for over 12 years at St. Elizabeths Hospital in Washington, D.C. He died in 1972.

Well, that’s a bit of a bummer, ain’t it, Blog-o-weeners? I see the neon sign of our motel is coming up fast, so let’s try to end on a sweeter note than American Modernism’s troubled history of Fascist sympathizing. Let’s end on America’s troubled history of allowing our pop stars to act and our actors to sing. Let’s talk Dennis’s sister’s favorite singer, Shaun Cassidy.

While still in high school, Shaun Cassidy was signed to Warner Bros. Records, releasing five albums from 1976 to 1980. At about the same time, Cassidy starred (along with Parker Stevenson) in ABC-TV’s The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries. Later, Cassidy turned his talents to writing and producing network and cable television programs. He created, amongst many others, the shows American Gothic (1995–1996 — produced with Sam Raimi) and Roar (1997 — starring Heath Ledger).

I have a confession to make, Blog-o-weeners. I had the 7” single of Shaun Cassidy’s hit “Da Doo Ron Ron” when I was a kid. Hey, wha’d’ya want? I was seven-years-old! I also had the KISS solo albums if that helps my “cool factor” any. (I know… it doesn’t.) I was also known to sing along with Joey Scarbury’s “Believe It or Not (Theme from “The Greatest American Hero”), dance to Ray Parker, Jr.’s “Ghostbusters,” and cry to “Snoopy's Christmas” by The Royal Guardsmen.

Again — wha’d’ya want from me?!

Sure I could say I was listening to The Ramones, King Crimson, and John Coltrane when I was seven, but that would be ridiculous. (I didn’t get into Coltrane until I was nine.) Instead, I’m taking this opportunity to allow myself to be vulnerable and admit to the bad taste of youth that we all experience. I’m sure there are some skeletons in your musical closet that you’re more than a little embarrassed by. It feels good to come clean, so be like me! After all…