Jet magazine, 1960. Pre-Serpico, this would have made a great film, surely, with the faux beat cop Sylvester hanging out in cellar bars, learning to play bongos and talk hip. With his 'natural cat-like mannerisms', he fooled many a beatnik into selling him dope, the dirty rat! If I'd made the film, he would have been unable resist the allure of those crazy chicks and cool sounds, and gone AWOL in San Francisco. Did he never get Charlie Parker and LeRoi Jones, I wonder?