It’s been some time since I’ve had the opportunity to watch one of those classic M-G-M Crime Does Not Pay two-reel shorts…but it’s not because I’ve been lazy or anything, it’s just that lately they’ve become as scarce as hen’s teeth on CharredHer’s TCM on Demand. I try to make it a habit to check the listings every Friday (that’s when they change some of the titles) but for the past several weeks the “Shorts” section has been woefully…well, if you’ll pardon the pun, short of viewable offerings. In fact, one past week on TCM on Demand I had a choice between The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966), 20 Million Miles to Earth (1957) and…well, I forget what the third movie was but I think it may have been Mad Love (1935). The On Demand shorts offer the only opportunity I get to check out movies I haven’t seen—though this week’s On Demand schedule did offer up Poor Little Rich Girl (1936), a 20th Century-Fox musical with Shirley Temple, Jack Haley and Alice Faye that I have not viewed previously and therefore recorded this morning…whereupon I’ll get around to seeing it in, oh, 2016.
This week’s CDNP entry is Sucker List (1941), and once again our pal the MGM Crime Reporter is on hand to inform us that “for obvious reasons, fictitious names are used for all characters.” What Crime Reporter Guy doesn’t tell you, however, is that phony names are also used for the authoritative officials who lecture us in these mellerdrammers—because he honestly thought he could get away with introducing this gentleman as “James Sawyer, race commissioner of a state prominent in the field of thoroughbred horseracing”…
Great Caesar’s ghost! This, of course, is character great John Hamilton—best known to legions of young couch potatoes as Daily Planet editor Perry White on TV’s The Adventures of Superman. Since Superman won’t hit television screens for another twelve years, though, I’m willing to play along and listen to Sawyer’s spiel…
The sport of horse racing this year will give pleasure and employment to more persons than ever in its history…at the same time, its very existence will be threatened by racketeers seeking to prey upon its followers…of these racketeers, the worst are the crooked tipsters—whose favorite victim is the casual victim who, because of ignorance, folly, or need of money, hopes to get something for nothing…
Wait a second…are you implying that “the sport of kings” isn’t always on the up-and-up? I am stunned to learn of this revelation. Next thing you’ll be telling me boxing is a racket. Plus, I like that bit about the “casual victim” and “ignorance”—why not just come out and say “chumps”?
…aaaaaaaannnnnnd they’re off! Through movie magic, we are whisked to a racetrack where an exciting race is being watched by dedicated race fans and spectators clever enough to make an excuse to not show up for work. In the stands, we run across these two gentlemen…
Now, the guy on the left plays no significant part in our saga but the actor playing him is Joe Yule, who, if there truly was a God, would be suffering eternal damnation for bringing Mickey Rooney (Joe Yule, Jr.) into this world. The mook with the binocs is John Butler, an unsung character actor who I’ve come across in quite a few of Robert Benchley’s shorts such as How to Watch Football (1938) and An Hour for Lunch (1939). Anyway, Mickey’s old man asks him for a match but has to repeat his request twice and when Butler Butler
…inside, the villains of this piece are typing up “tip sheets” with the winners of these races which they will distribute to unsuspecting dupes who, quite frankly, are too busy scraping and scrounging and making a living to pay any attention when it comes to playing the ponies. Why they have to sit outside in a camouflaged truck is a question Sucker List doesn’t answer, but apparently the participants are of such dubious character they’re not even welcomed at a racetrack.
As you can see, that “Little Editor’s Do-It-Yourself Newspaper Kit” they asked Santa for Christmas came in real handy. They print up a few gazillion of these “Best Selections” sheets…
…and distribute them willy-nilly throughout the tri-state area, thus adding littering to their lengthy list of despicable deeds. (Actually, I thought this was kind of a nice touch on the part of List’s director, M-G-M veteran Roy Rowland.) Following that are three brief scenes with potential patsies glancing at the sheets and lamenting that they didn’t avail themselves of an opportunity to make some easy dough. Finally, the hearing-impaired Butler
Inside the headquarters of Best Selections, a mousy-looking little twerp (George Ovey) enters the office of a “Mr. Brown,” a common garden-variety racketeer played by Eduardo Ciannelli look-a-like Noel Madison, whom we’ve seen in an earlier CDNP outing, Know Your Money (1940). The mouse has given Mr. B a present of a ledger containing 10,000 names of individuals currently in hock to a loan company—and all he asks in return is a double sawbuck. Brown takes the ledger into another office where two of his confederates are catching up on some illegal paperwork…
…and if you’ve ever wondered how banker Milton Drysdale from The Beverly Hillbillies acquired his fortune—well, here’s how. The bookie to Brown's left is actor Raymond Bailey, and truth be told I can’t tell whether or not if he’s wearing his toupee in this short—it looks like real hair, so maybe this was before he went bald. Anyway, Brown gives his colleagues the lowdown on the ledger:
BROWN: This is our own little gold mine…a list of ten thousand customers of the Locust County Loan Company…ten thousand suckers…
ASSOCIATE (scoffing): Ten thousand deadbeats…
BROWN: Not deadbeats…setups for us…where else can they find a solution? Who else will promise to skyrocket their last ten bucks into a couple of hundred?
So you see…they actually want to help people. And their charitable intentions have been stymied by the mean ol’ local papers, who refuse to run Best Selections’ advertisements—so Brown summons a henchman named Jake, played by Mitchell Lewis—an M-G-M stock player who was with the organization from its startup in 1924 to 1956, the year of his death. Brown tells Jake to start making some telephone calls, specifically to the people on the ledger’s list:
BROWN (handing him a sheet of paper): Here are three horses… (Handing him the ledger) Now tell the boys to go through this list and call every name they come to…just say, “Hello, Mr. Jones—this is Best Selections”…then give a third of them this horse, a third of them this one and a third on this…then hang up before the other end can say it’s a wrong number…
JAKE (nodding assent): Oh…
(Brown crosses back over to where the other two are seated)
BOOKIE DRYSDALE: I don’t get it…
BROWN: If a sucker accidentally gets a free winner he’s as good as hooked, isn’t he? That means that one-third of that list becomes our steady customers…those three plugs are in the same race…one of them is bound to win…
BOOKIE DRYSDALE (smiling): Vulture…
“That’s Mister Vulture to you, my fine fellow!” And with operators standing by, the calls begin to go out…
…I know what you’re thinking—but it’s not the famous cartoonist. It is a humble car mechanic, the kind of Average Joe who might find a girlfriend with a pearl-wearing fixation and marry her, settling down in a small town with two sons…one of them nicknamed after a large freakin’ semi-aquatic rodent prone to building dams…
Gloriosky! It’s Hugh Beaumont, everybody! Hugh’s on the receiving end of one of those phone calls and when his fellow mechanic buddy (Ernie Alexander) asks him what’s doin’, Beaumont
“Sure, sucker…just don’t ask me to pull you out,” cracks his friend. Sage advice or atrociously mediocre dialogue? Ultimately, you must make the call.
The second name on the “sucker list” is William Allen—but it’s “Bill” to his close friends, and since I feel like we know the guy well I’ll just continue to call him that. Bill is played by actor John Archer, a dependable if not particularly remarkable thesp who you might recognize as the guy who shadows James Cagney’s Cody Jarrett in White Heat (1949) before turning things over to “the sweatiest man in noir,” Edmond O’Brien. Archer is also well-known among old-time radio fans as the man who kept the seat warm (along with Steve Courtleigh) for Bret Morrison by playing the part of Lamont Cranston, wealthy young man about town, on The Shadow. Here, Archer’s character is forced to model a rather dainty little apron that I’m sure would have earned him a series of never-ending catcalls from his friends should they have ventured by the apartment at that time.
The reason why Bill is wearing the apron is he’s waiting hand-on-foot on his wife Mary (Lynne Carver), who is great with child and is getting some much needed bed rest. Life is not particularly rosy for the Allens…
…although Bill has a respectable job as the assistant cashier for a furniture company, Mary’s impending bundle of joy has put a slight financial strain on their marital bliss. ‘We won’t be out of hock for four years,” he grumbles, after looking at the stack of bills.
MARY: Darling, you know we’re managing…if you just wouldn’t worry so much…
BILL: But, darling—it’s you I’m worried about…I want you to have the best of everything, but…I can’t hire a private nurse…don’t even know how we’ll pay the doctor…I don’t want to think of my wife having a baby in practically a charity ward…
MARY: Oh, Bill darling…I know a woman who had a baby in a streetcar…and she got along fine…
Except that her kid later developed a nervous twitch whenever someone couldn’t give him the exact change. Mary tells Bill it’s 8:30 and he rushes out of the house to make certain he’s not late…but not before he stops to look at this little piece of junk mail…
I got a bad feeling about this. Later, at work, Bill places a phone call to an unknown party and asks about the results of the fifth race at Oak Hill that afternoon…and upon learning the name of the winning horse (which paid eight to one), lets out a small “whoop”—he’s had a bit of luck on the gee-gees! His worries are over! Let those other schmoes spend their time answering e-mails that promise them big winnings in foreign lotteries—he’s found the secret to financial wealth and he’s moving Mary on up to a deluxe apartment in the sky!
MARY: Bill…what’s happened? (She grabs the lapel of his jacket and asks again) Bill, what’s happened?
BILL: Oh, just closed a little deal today…and I’ve still got sixty smacks cash money…
MARY: Well, tell me about it!
BILL: Believe it or not, I got a tip on a horse…
MARY: And you won…
BILL: Mm-hmm…
MARY: Mm-hmm…well, this goes right into the bank…just because you’re lucky once doesn’t mean you can do it again—remember…lightning never strikes twice…
Mary stops short when she sees what’s in the package that Bill carried through the front door…it’s a model train set. (Awwww…) “So you’ve decided it will be a boy,” she says coyly. “Why, sure,” is his pleased response, and they passionately embrace.
The scene shifts back to the Best Solutions offices, and you’ll no doubt recognize the gentleman to your right as character great George Cleveland, who was a guy I admired tremendously, role model-wise, as a kid because he was grandpa to Jeff Miller (Tommy Rettig), the first owner of the remarkable collie known as Lassie on the TV series from 1954-57. Cleveland, who passed away in July of 1957, also “died” on the series; they had his character shuffle off this mortal coil, paving the way for the departure of Jeff and his ma (Jan Clayton) and leaving Lassie in the care of that insufferable little brat (sorry, Linda) Timmy (Jon Provost). Now, if you go to the IMDb and look at the cast listing for List you’ll see that Cleveland is one of only four actors who got screen credit (the others are Archer, Carver and Madison)…but he’s identified as “Old Man Not Beaten Up.”
Not “Old Man,” or “Elderly Swindled Victim”—“Old Man Not Beaten Up.” That has got to be one of the funniest things I’ve seen at the IMDb because, by that rationale, there should be a credit for the “Old Man Who Was Beaten Up.” Anyway, Gramps is asking one of the friendly and courteous Best Solutions employees: “Why don’t you fellows retire if you can pick winners so easy?” “The more we get, the more we want…just like anybody else” is the CSR’s response. You have to admire that kind of honesty in a crook (“Well, to boil it down to its simplest equation…we’re all a bunch of greedy bastards”).
The camera pans along several Best Solutions assistants promising innocent dupes the moon until it rests with our pal Bill, who is chatting it up with an associate (Norman Willis) of Brown’s…and who promises our prize patsy that he’ll get a personal audience with His Crookedness. The associate goes into a side office where Brown is sitting with some equally crooked assistants and tells him Bill is outside—and that he’s one of the suckers who won on yesterday’s race. Brown decides that this simply will not do; he’ll give Bill another tip about a horse named “Blue Bolt” who hasn’t got a Chinaman’s chance of winning, and place the bet with bookie Drysdale:
BROWN: How would you like to run your winnings into some real money?
BILL: I certainly would…but…how much would I have to pay?
BROWN: Not a penny…just agree to split your winnings fifty-fifty…
Brown presses a button underneath his desk, which signals Drysdale the bookie to make his entrance. As Drysdale reaches for his hat, he sort of pauses as if he’s taken a moment to “get into character” and then makes tracks for Brown’s office through a side door…
BOOKIE DRYSDALE (to Bill as Brown makes out a slip): You know, I ought to turn this one down…the way he clipped me yesterday…
BROWN: That was nothing compared to what I’ll do today…
BOOKIE DRYSDALE (looking at the slip): Fifteen hundred…?
BROWN: Mm-hmm…Mr. Allen is coming in with me for a small amount…
BILL: That’s right…
BROWN: Two hundred dollars…
Well, he wasn’t lying about that “not a penny” part…apparently this is going to cost Bill a couple of C-notes…
BILL (incredulous): Two hundred dollars? I don’t have that much, Mr. Brown…
BROWN: No?
BILL (after an awkward pause): Not in cash, I mean…
BROWN: That’s all right, Mr. Allen… (Reaches into his drawer for a checkbook) Your check will do just as well…
BOOKIE DRYSDALE: Why, sure…if it clears before race time…
BROWN: Fine…
BILL: Well, I-I don’t know…
BROWN: That’s quite all right, Mr. Allen… (Pushing the check in front of Bill) There you are… (Bill reluctantly puts his John Hancock on the check) And the horse is…Blue Bolt…
Let me take a minute to say just one thing…for shame, Mr. Drysdale! Shame, shame, shame on you! What would Miss Hathaway say? (Actually, it would probably be something like: “Chief, this is outrageous! The Clampetts will never go along with this horse racing scheme!”)
Well, since you don’t have to be Damon Runyon to see where this is headed I’ll spare you most of the gory details—suffice it to say, Bill goes to the track to see Blue Bolt run and despite a strong start ends up an also ran…
Poor, poor Bill…schmuck. His tale of woe is sort of abandoned at this point; but the implication is that he shot his wad on that sorry nag and now his wife will have to have Bill, Jr. in a streetcar. Though I have to tell you—it’s almost as if the folks at M-G-M weren’t trying very hard with this one; to really drive the message home I’m surprised they didn’t have Bill embezzling from his company to bet on the losing horse…then he’d really be boned.
No, we have bigger fish to fry…Ward Cleaver—er, I mean Charles Adams bet on the same race and he’s not a happy camper. His mechanic buddy takes it upon himself to really rub Adams ’ nose in it: “Remember me?” he asks. “I’m the sourpuss who said you’d be taking it on the chin…you know, I said…”
“Oh, shut up,” is Adams ’ reply, only because they wouldn’t let him say “(expletive deleted)” at that point in movie history.
So by now you’re probably asking yourself, “What are the responsible officials at the State Racing Commission doing to combat these frauds?” Well, for the answer to that, leave us eavesdrop on Per…Commissioner Sawyer:
SAWYER: This racket is a menace to the entire community…I think Mr. Johnson, as chairman of the track association, seconds that opinion…
JOHNSON: You bet I do…it’s just as great a menace to legitimate racing…
COP: Unfortunately, bunco victims seldom cooperate with the police…they’re afraid of ridicule…of jeopardizing their jobs and reputation…
SAWYER: Well, we’ve got to have action all the same… (To another man) Now, Dodd, you’ve already cooperated by getting these crooks’ ads banned from all newspapers, including your own…and now I want more help…
DODD: I’ll do everything I can…
Look at this Dodd guy (Richard Kipling)—what a toady. “I exist only to do your bidding, your Commissionership…” Dodd is asked by Sawyer to start a hard-hitting editorial campaign against Brown, “mentioning everything but his name.” (That’s for Legal to sort out, I’m guessing.) At the garage, Adams ’ buddy is continuing cruising for a bruising, waving a newspaper and gloating like there’s no tomorrow:
MECHANIC: So you’re the guy who knows all about the races, hah? Ha ha ha…take a look at this…that’ll tell you a thing or two…
Pretty strong meat from the fellows in the fourth estate—so much so that a clearly pissed-off Adams tears out the editorial and decides to pay the fine folks at Best Selections a visit to have a sit-down about their questionable business practices. But it would appear that Gramps has gotten there first…
GRAMPS: But he said that horse couldn’t lose…he said it couldn’t lose…
JAKE: Did he give you a money back guarantee? No…now come on, we’re trying to close up…that’s it…
Jake tries to hustle Gramps out the door, but Adams is waiting on the other side—he barges in and confronts Brown’s associate:
ASSOCIATE: In the first place, we stood only to win if you did…and in the second…
ASSOCIATE (moving menacingly towards him): Take my advice, sonny…don’t be a fool…
“You’ll hear from my solicitor in the morning!” Adams takes a powder, and on his way out Jake shoves Gramps out of the office, too, telling Adams to take Gramps with him. Associate Guy compliments Bookie Drysdale by sneering: “That was smart…comin’ in here…” The three men decide that it would be in the best interest of the company to go after Adams and Gramps because Adams seems like the sort of guy who would tattle to the cops.
…and Gramps is speechless because his friend went down like a Savannah hooker on Bay Street—Adams the mechanic is apparently a bit of a creampuff because he really wasn’t hit that hard. Turning to Gramps, the still-sneering Associate has some unfinished business—but don’t worry; we know from Cleveland
ASSOCIATE: Now it’s your turn…
GRAMPS (whimpering): I never meant to go to the police…I won’t say anything…
ASSOCIATE: Okay…but that was just a small sample…the minute you let out a squawk, you’ll get yours…and after you, your family…and don’t even squawk to them…
“Especially to your fathers…and your fathers' fathers…and your fathers’ fathers’ fathers…and your fathers’ fathers’ fathers’ fathers…” Having satisfied their appetite for mayhem, the three Best Selections thugs go on their merry way, leaving poor Gramps to struggle with carrying
Lassie! Go get help, girl!
Gramps manages to get Adams to the street, where the big palooka slumps to the sidewalk…and then…
Oh, spiffing…where the heck were you clowns when they were getting their butts handed to them in the alley? So Officers Toody and Muldoon question Gramps as to what’s the dealio, and since Gramps won’t squeal he’s told they’ll have to come along with them. Back at Best Selections:
BROWN: Just when things were getting hot you’ve got to go risk everything by beating up a couple of harmless dopes…
BOOKIE DRYSDALE: Who were headed for the cops...so we can rest easy…
BROWN: Unless they go to the cops anyway…
Well, at least one of them won’t be chatting with John Law anytime soon…because he’s out colder than last night’s flounder. The Blue Knights question Adams ’ mechanic pal and he tells them that his now-unconscious friend saw the newspaper editorial and had “blood in his eye.” So Gramps is their only real lead…
Do you remember earlier when the cop in the commissioner’s office made the statement “Bunco victims seldom cooperate with the police…they’re afraid of ridicule”? Well, that’s a load of road apples—they’re probably more frightened at the prospect of being rubber-hosed by the police, because that same cop and his buddy are grilling Gramps right now in the sweat box. Gramps puts on a brave face and refuses to give out with any information, but when the police receive notice by telephone that
COP 2: Now will you tell us the truth?
GRAMPS: I tell you I don’t know…I don’t know!
COP 1: Let’s stop beating around the bush…now everything you’ve told us has been a lie…you say you never heard of Brown—but you’ve got one of his tip sheets in your pocket…you say you never saw the murdered man before—but he was a customer of Brown’s, too…you say you found him unconscious on the sidewalk…and yet we can prove he was struck down in an alley and couldn’t have moved without help!
Lassie! Go get legal help, girl!
COP 1: Why did you do it?
GRAMPS: I…I…I do what? I haven’t done anything…won’t you please let me go? I’m sick…
COP 1: Why did you murder him…?
GRAMPS: Murder him? I didn’t do it! They did it!
COP 1: Who?
GRAMPS: Brown’s men! They threatened my family if I told! You’ve got to protect us!
Well, let’s wrap this puppy up…Brown and Company are busy packing stuff in boxes—Brown directed his cronies to do so regardless of the prognosis of Adams’ busted bean—when a flunky named Larry bursts in to let everyone know that Adams has succumbed to The Big Sleep and it’s every goon for himself. Alas, even the diabolically fiendish Brown neglected to plan in the case of an emergency…
…and the gendarmes conveniently round up the hard-working staff of Best Selections, who will soon be relocating to their new offices…in the Big House. Take us home, Commissioner Sawyer!
Turf men and horse owners who love and support racing have always sought to protect it from unscrupulous outsiders…but complete success can only come with your help…don’t patronize any but duly licensed and registered information services…help us make horse racing the cleanest—as well as the most exciting—American sport!
I think there’s a lesson there for all of us. G’bye now!
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