B-Western Wednesdays: Stagecoach to Denver (1946)/Vigilantes of Boomtown (1947)

After starring in sixteen Westerns (released from 1944 to 1946) as comic strip hero Red Ryder, “Wild” Bill Elliott gravitated to bigger and better things at Republic, just like another actor who had portrayed Ryder onscreen for the studio—Don “Red” Barry in the 1940 serial The Adventures of Red Ryder.  Replacing Elliott was Allan “Rocky” Lane, an actor who had become a big name at the studio on the strength of starring in four of their serials: King of the Royal Mounted (1940), its sequel King of the Mounties (1942), Daredevils of the West (1943), and The Tiger Woman (1944).  Lane had also headlined six Republic oaters between 1944 and 1945, so his western-action bona fides were never in question when he was tabbed to continue the Red Ryder franchise.

At the same time I purchased the VCI DVD containing the Red Ryder features Vigilantes of Dodge City (1944) and Sheriff of Las Vegas (1944), I bought a second Ryder disc that showcases three films from the franchise: two with Elliott (Lone Texas Ranger [1945] and California Gold Rush [1946]) and one from Lane (Homesteaders of Paradise Valley [1947Homesteaders of Paradise Valley [194x])greement between Republic and  abbed to continue the Red Ryder]), who appeared in seven Ryder films from 1946 to 1947 until a small clerical error on the option-renewal date led to a disagreement between Republic and Steven Slesinger (Slesinger wanted more money on the strength of the franchise’s success…Republic said talk to the hand) and ended the series.  (There would be four more Red Ryder features, produced at Eagle-Lion between 1949 and 1950, with Jim Bannon as Red.)  I had planned to have a look-see at this “triple feature” so that I could sample Lane’s work as Red (admittedly, my exposure to the actor has been mostly from the chapter plays mentioned in the first paragraph…well, that and reruns of Mister Ed) but thanks to Epix (Vault) on Demand I didn’t have to.  There were two Red Ryder movies available for download, beginning with Stagecoach to Denver (1946).

In Denver, Red Ryder’s aunt The Duchess (portrayed by OTR’s Martha Wentworth, who inherited the role from Alice Fleming from the Elliott Ryders) is operating a stage line out of the tiny hamlet of Elkhorn…but she’s asked by competitor Big Bill Lambert (Roy Lambert) to smash a bottle of bubbly across the bow of his newest stagecoach, making its maiden trip to Denver.  Two of the passengers on that trip, young Dickie Ray (Bobby Hyatt) and a land commissioner (Ed Cassidy) answering to “Felton,” are waylaid by outlaws while on that journey—Felton is killed (along with the driver) while Dickie is seriously injured.  Town medico Doc Kimball (Tom Chatterton) can perform an operation on Dickie to ensure he won’t be paralyzed the rest of his life…but he insists on getting an okay from the kid’s remaining relative, his aunt May (Marin Sais).  Aunt May is going to be on the next stage from Denver, along with Taylor (Frank O’Connor), a replacement land commissioner.

Emmett Lynn, Allan "Rocky" Lane, Martha Wentworth, Roy Barcroft

But May and Taylor never make it to Elkhorn…or the real May and Taylor, that is.  The stage ferrying Felton was sabotaged because unbeknownst to the good people of Elkhorn, Lambert is up to his eyeballs in a fraudulent land scheme…and the last thing he needs is someone honest exposing his nefarious doings to the antiseptic light of day.  A henchman in Big Bill’s employ, Wally (Stanley Price), impersonates Taylor…and in the role of “Aunt May” is Lambert’s lady friend, Beautiful (Peggy Stewart)—the real May and Taylor are being held hostage in an isolated hideout.  Beautiful starts to have second thoughts about her masquerade as Dickie starts his recovery; she becomes quite attached to the little nipper.

Lane, Barcroft

Stagecoach to Denver is a crackerjack entry among the Red Ryder westerns.  Lane seamlessly assumes the role from Elliott (the only difference I noticed between the two is that Lane is a little more “cowboy” in his speech patterns) and while I prefer Fleming’s Duchess to Wentworth’s interpretation (and I say this as a big Martha Wentworth fan) the franchise continued going (pardon the pun) great guns with the replacement performers.  What makes Denver so much fun is that The Baddest Serial Villain of Them All, Roy Barcroft, shines as the despicable Lambert.  Roy remains one of my favorite character actors, and as excellent as he was playing bad guys he was also exceptional when it came to representing the right side of the law (I’m always coming across Barcroft in TV reruns—he was great in a Tales of Wells Fargo I watched a while back—and old movies; I yelped with delight when I saw him execute a nice turn as a settlement shopkeeper in 1966’s Texas Across the River).  “The poor man’s Gabby Hayes,” Emmett Lynn, is also most welcome as Ryder’s adult sidekick Coonskin (a reference perhaps to Buckskin, Red’s partner in the comic strips), as are familiar faces like Ted Adams (as the sheriff in cahoots with Barcroft), Edmund Cobb, and George Chesebro.

Peggy Stewart and Allan Lane in Denver

It's Peggy Stewart who wins the acting honors in Denver, however—her Beautiful earns more exposure than many a female ingenue in a lot of these B-westerns (many of them simply stand around and wring their hands waiting for the hero to return), and in many respects, it’s more her movie than anyone else’s.  The same can be said for her turn in Vigilantes of Boomtown (1947); Peggy portrays Molly McVey, daughter of a Nevada senator and an anti-gambling advocate who’s vehemently opposed to a boxing match that will take place between the legendary “Gentleman” Jim Corbett (George Turner) and challenger Bob Fitzsimmons (Mister John Dehner).  Corbett’s manager, Billy Delaney (Roscoe Karns), has rented out The Duchess’ ranch for Corbett to train…but the real trouble comes in the form of outside bandits (headed up by Barcroft as a no-goodnik named “McKean”) determined to steal the receipts from the match.

Lane and Wentworth with Robert Blake (as Little Beaver) in Vigilantes of Boomtown

Boomtown’s plot (screenplay by Earle Snell) is loosely based on a real-life Nevada event from 1897 that was also dramatized in the 1953 20th Century-Fox oater City of Badmen (with Wells Fargo star Dale Robertson, Lloyd Bridges, and Richard Boone): a boxing event that took place in Carson City shortly after the Nevada legislature legalized prizefighting.  Again, Stewart is first-rate in her role (Barcroft is good, but not the memorable menace he was in Denver); Chuck Anderson at The Old Corral observes “Two of Peggy Stewart's most memorable performances are in this movie and Stagecoach to Denver, perhaps because in both she didn't have to pretend to like Lane.” (Allan had a reputation of being a real dink to work with.)  Having TDOY fave Dehner around is always a plus, of course, and Denver’s George Chesebro and Ted Adams (an honest lawman in Boomtown) are also along for the ride, with comic relief supplied by both Karns and Abbott & Costello “court jester” Bobby Barber (as Corbett’s “second”).  Both Denver and Boomtown were directed by R.G. Springsteen, a journeyman whose name appears on a lot of TV reruns including Bonanza, Gunsmoke, Rawhide…and Tales of Wells Fargo.

On the Grapevine: You’d Be Surprised (1926)

Throwing a little soiree on his houseboat, District Attorney White (Earle Williams) has some startling news for those in attendance: a valuable diamond necklace has been stolen, and White knows that the guilty party is one of his guests.  He’s going to give the thief a sporting chance by placing the necklace case on the floor and dimming the lights—that way the bandit can return the jewelry with a minimum amount of embarrassment and social ostracizing.  Out go the lights…and when they’re turned back on, White is lying on the floor, really most sincerely dead.  (Murdered!  And someone’s responsible!)

Raymond Griffith

White had the foresight to notify the gendarmes before his ill-conceived stunt, and soon Inspector Brown (Tom McGuire) arrives with the city’s finest protectors & servers in tow.  But because of White’s murder, they’re going to have to call in the coroner on this one.  That man is Green (no, his name is Green—not his complexion), portrayed by silk-hatted comedian Raymond Griffith, who’s pressed into service to reveal the culprit.  Green’s going to have to work fast, though: he’s got tickets to the theatre, and the curtain goes up in an hour!

The names of the characters in You’d Be Surprised (1926)—Green, Brown, White, a valet named Grey (Granville Redmond)—telegraph to the audience that we’re in for an interesting round of the board game Clue…with the funster talked about previously in this space in features like Open All Night (1924) and Paths to Paradise (1925) in charge of the investigation in this most curious comedy.  I say “curious” because from a critical stand point, Surprised has almost as many admirers as it does detractors.  At the time of its release, the comedy was highly praised by critics like The New York Times’ Mordaunt Hall, who wrote “Although there is a lot of nonsense in this current effort, it is pictured in a clever fashion and Mr. Griffith is in his element in this type of comedy.”

Film historian Leonard Maltin has a dissenting opinion, noting “The key to this film's failure is perhaps its cold-bloodedness,” adding “it disappoints because of its claustrophobic setting and lack of comic action.”  But speaking for myself, I’m going to buck Lenny on You’d Be Surprised—I enjoyed the movie, though I will hasten to add that I like both Paths to Paradise and Hands Up! (1926) a lot more.  Griffith’s antics as the super-suave coroner In Surprised convulsed me from the moment he arrives on the scene (though I couldn’t quite figure out how he got there so quickly—the cops were called in for a jewel robbery, and only got the murder as a bonus); his Green enters from the back of the boat, and noticing the large crowd (comprised of cops and party guests) awaiting his arrival at the front asks one individual: “What time does the parade start?”

Dorothy Sebastian, Griffith

Raymond’s leading lady in Surprised is Dorothy Sebastian, who more than a few of you will remember as Buster Keaton’s co-star in Spite Marriage (1929).  (Well, that’s how I remember her anyway.)  Her character in the film has been fingered as the individual responsible for the murder, and Griffith’s unwavering belief in her innocence reminded me of Peter Sellers’ Inspector Clouseau in A Shot in the Dark (1964), who will not entertain thoughts of Elke Sommers’ possible guilt at any moment in the film.  Surprised also played at times like a Monty Python sketch of which I am most fond: an Agatha Christie parody (“Now, alduce me to introlow myslef…”) of a locked-room mystery that quickly develops a high body count.

I call vehicles like You’d Be Surprised “who-turned-out-the-lights” movies, and while I certainly didn’t plan it this way, Surprised is the third of these such films I’ve watched within the span of a week.  Earlier, I caught a 1933 film (I grabbed this from Epix [Vault] on Demand, by the way) entitled Tomorrow at Seven which features Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins as a pair of incompetent detectives investigating a murder.  (Produced by independent Jefferson Pictures and released through RKO; apparently, Warner Bros. had nothing for McHugh or Jenkins to do that week.)  I followed this up with The Gorilla (1939), another murder comedy with three inept investigators: Al, Harry, and Jimmy—the Ritz Brothers.  (Don’t think I can’t hear you judging me out there.)

Character great Roscoe Karns has a small role as a party guest, and Columbia comedy shorts stalwart Monte Collins can also be glimpsed as the milkman on the "coroner's grand jury."

You’d Be Surprised is notable for a story and screenplay by Jules Furthman (The Big Sleep, Rio Bravo) and title cards co-written by Robert Benchley, who was the drama critic for Life at that point in his career.  Not everything works in Surprised: the scenes in which Griffith’s Green confers with Redmond’s valet didn’t quite work for me (the valet is a deaf-mute…or is he?) though others think they’re among the comedic highlights of the film.  But Raymond can’t help but be funny, and a few of the more amusing gags rely on the device of comic repetition (a “coroner’s grand jury” keeps declaring suspects “Guilty!” before hearing the evidence), which I have mentioned being a fan of in the past (“It’s nice to be back among the magnolias again!”).

In Kevin Brownlow’s classic The Parade’s Gone By, veteran comedy director Edward Sutherland (he worked with Ray on 1925’s A Regular Fellow) had this to say about the underrated comedian: “His big failing as a comedian, which I pointed out to him, was that he didn't know the difference between comedy, travesty, farce, or light comedy. He'd mix it all up. And he would never be the butt of any joke. Now the success of almost all great comedians comes from being the butt of jokes. Griffith was too vain for this. He would get himself into a problem, and then he'd want to think himself out of it. This worked well for a few pictures, but it wasn't a solid basis.”  I think Sutherland makes some good points, but it doesn’t keep me from appreciating the man’s talent…and as stated previously, because so many of Griffith’s feature films appear not to have survived we may be missing out on a great deal.  (I have an eye out for Changing Husbands [1924] and The Night Club [1925] next.)

“I really love watching him work,” declares my Facebook compadre Christopher Snowden on a Raymond Griffith thread at the Silent Comedy Mafia bulletin board.  “I love that he's distinctive, I love the sly looks, the confidence, the resourcefulness, the moral ambiguity.  I love that he's a rascal, even when he's on the right side of the law.”  I couldn’t have said it better myself.  You'd Be Surprised is available on DVD from Grapevine Video (I bought a copy back in December of 2012), and is well worth the purchase.

“You’re durn tootin’, Hoppy!”

Of the numerous movies to which I helped myself from Vault on Demand during our recent Epix freeview, a little over a dozen of these features were B-westerns starring William Boyd as Hopalong Cassidy.  Cassidy was a cowpoke created by Clarence Mulford in a series of popular short stories—a whiskey drinkin’, tobacco-chawin’, rough-talkin’ hombre whose wooden leg caused him to walk with a noticeable limp, earning him the nickname “Hop-A-Long.”  Movie producer Harry Sherman negotiated a deal with Mulford to bring his literary creation to the silver screen (beginning in 1935 with Hop-A-Long Cassidy) but a few cosmetic changes were made to the movie Hoppy: his beverage of choice was now sarsaparilla, the wooden leg was downgraded to an injury from a bullet wound, and he was so squeaky clean (honest, forthright, kind to kids and animals, etc.) he threatened to make Gene Autry look like one of the Dead End Kids.  There would be a total of sixty-six Hopalong Cassidy oaters produced between 1935 and 1948, and Boyd’s Cassidy would become not only one of the motion picture industry’s highly bankable box office mainstays but a real hero to the Saturday matinee crowd (despite that Hoppy was often clad in black…white was the sartorial choice of the good guys in westerns as a rule).

Russell 'Lucky' Hayden and William Boyd

Law of the Pampas (1939) and Riders of the Deadline (1943) are the only two programmers of the fourteen I downloaded that I’ve yet to watch—the remaining movies are nevertheless remarkably entertaining, and I can see why the Hopalong Cassidy series was so popular.  The plots may not be original (there’s only so much you can do with westerns) but the strength of the Cassidy films lie in the characters; Hoppy himself, as played by the prematurely graying Boyd, comes across as a father figure—he didn’t engage much in the arena of romance (though more than I had been led to believe), preferring to leave “the wimmin stuff” to the youngest member of his “trio,” Johnny Nelson (played by James Ellison).  Ellison portrayed Johnny up until the ninth of the Hoppys, Borderland (1937), and was then replaced by Russell Hayden as ‘Lucky’ Jenkins.  (Hayden became so identified with Jenkins that he was often billed as “Russell ‘Lucky’ Hayden” in his later films…and many of the characters he played, particularly alongside Charles Starrett [like in Riders of the Badlands], were named ‘Lucky’ as well.)

Hayden, Boyd, and George 'Gabby' Hayes

Flanking Hopalong Cassidy on the opposite side was an older, cantankerous sidekick in ‘Windy’ Halliday (though he also went by other surnames, depending on the movie)—portrayed by the Patron Saint of Garrulous Cinema Codgers, George ‘Gabby’ Hayes.  Hayes was in the first two Hopalong Cassidy pictures, but didn’t begin playing Windy until the third, Bar 20 Rides Again (1935).  Throughout the series, Windy and Johnny (and later Lucky) quarreled with and cussed at one another (Windy thought both “whippersnappers” despite the mutual affection), often requiring Cassidy to play mediator.  Hayes was with the Hoppy features until Renegade Trail (1939) and then, unable to come to terms with producer Sherman over his salary, switched to riding alongside Roy Rogers in a successful series of films at Republic (this is where he acquired the “Gabby” nickname).

Since the earliest of the Hopalong Cassidy films on Epix’s On Demand was Partners of the Plains (1938), I haven’t been afforded the opportunity yet to see any of the James Ellison films.  Plains is a very good introduction to the Hoppy features…even though ‘Gabby’ Hayes is absent from this one (he’s replaced by Harvey Clark as ‘Baldy’ Morton) it’s still business as usual: Hoppy and his friends work on a ranch where Britisher Lorna Drake (Gwen Gaze) has acquired a controlling interest, and Lorna—described by her Aunt Martha (Hilda Plowright) as being “a little willful and spoiled”—clashes almost immediately with foreman Cassidy.  But she’s carrying a torch for our hero (despite bristling at being told what to do); when Hoppy quits as foreman, she has the sheriff (Earle Hodgins) arrest him for “stealing” his beloved horse Topper!  (Hoppy doesn’t have a bill of sale…so in the eyes of the law, he’s a hoss thief.)

Lorna’s romantic designs on Hoppy do not go unnoticed by her fiancé, Ronald Harwood (John Warburton) …who accepts that Cassidy is the better man by taking bad advice from ex-convict Scar Lewis (character great Al Bridge)—great name, by the way—to remove Hoppy as his competition…permanently.  Everything comes out in the wash eventually, with a suspenseful forest fire climax and Lorna’s transformation from spirited filly to meek and docile submissive.

The young ingenue in Doomed Caravan (1941) is billed as “Georgia Hawkins” …but old-time radio fans know her as Georgia Ellis, whose best-remembered role is that of “Kitty Russell” on Gunsmoke.

Female characterizations don’t often fare well in the Hopalong Cassidy films…but I was pleasantly surprised by some of the portrayals, since many of the women are not content to just stand around looking helpless (in Doomed Caravan [1941], one of the top Hoppys, Minna Gombell’s freight owner is locked, loaded, and ready to tangle with the bad guys).  This is occasionally played for laughs; in Range War (1939), Ellen Marlow (Betty Moran) chafes at the thought of having to stay behind while the menfolk go after the outlaws.  She decides to avail herself of the only mode of transportation accessible to her: a broken-down mule who, alas, does not share Ellen’s zeal for her law and order mission.

Russell Hopton, Charlotte Wynters

A good example of a positive female character can be found in the last of the ‘Gabby’ Hayes Hoppys: in Renegade Trail, widow Mary Joyce (Charlotte Wynters) has had her hands full running one of the most prosperous ranches in Cactus Springs—the Circle J.  She accomplished this after the death of her husband, whom she’s told her son Joey (Sonny Bupp) over the years died a hero.  Surprise!  Hubby Bob ‘Smoky’ Joslin (Russell Hopton) has actually been serving a lengthy prison sentence…and now that he’s escaped, he’s threatening to reveal the truth to young Joseph—necessitating the need for many years of therapy in the young lad’s future, no doubt.  Mary agrees to provide cover for Smoky’s illegal activities in exchange for his silence (she tells everyone he’s her brother) …but she’s not particularly wild about the notion of his rustling her cattle, and neither are Hoppy and Lucky—who are in Cactus Springs to visit their old pal Windy (now the town marshal).

Roy Barcroft tangles with Hoppy in a lobby card for Renegade Trail (1939) as John Merton looks on (dis)approvingly.

The material has been done to death, I know…but the reason why I got such a kick out of Trail is that The Baddest Serial Villain of Them All, Roy Barcroft, is the wicked hombre in cahoots with Joslin (Roy’s character is called ‘Stiff Hat’ Bailey…and he not only gives Joey a smack in the kisser but kicks a dog for good measure) …and “Everyhench” John Merton is the chief goon.  It’s solidly paced, and well-directed by Lesley Selander…who directed a metric ton of the entries in the Hopalong Cassidy franchise.

The ‘Gabby’ Hayes deficit was made up in a few Hopalong Cassidy films by a character named ‘Speedy’ McGinnis (comically played by Britt Wood); I’ve only seen Wood in Range War, so I can’t really give you a full appraisal of what his character added to the series (a lot of Hoppy fans feel mostly “meh” about Speedy).  With Three Men in Texas (1940), the Hoppy franchise introduced my favorite of the elderly sidekicks in ‘California’ Jack Carson, played by veteran comedian Andy Clyde.  The fact that I’m such a huge fan of Andy’s admittedly colors my assessment of his contribution to the movie series…but Texas is a first-rate oater, and a beloved favorite among Cassidy fans.

TDOY fave Andy Clyde joins Boyd and Hayden.

The best of the Hoppy features that I’ve watched (so far, of course) is Pirates on Horseback (1941), which finds Hoppy, Lucky, and California on the hunt for a gold mine discovered by Carson’s distant cousin (very distant—like 42nd), Ben Pendleton (played by Britt Wood!).  Upon arriving at Pendleton’s shack, the trio meet his niece Trudy (Eleanor Stewart) …and agree to help her locate the mine, the location of which is gradually revealed via cryptic clues throughout Horseback’s running time.  Trudy is convinced by Ace Gibson (Morris Ankrum) that Hoppy and Company are working against her best interests…unaware that Gibson wants to get his grimy mitts on the mine himself!  Character veteran Ankrum was in a buttload of Hoppy westerns (the [always] reliable IMDb credits him with a baker’s dozen), and I got so used to seeing him play the villain that when he portrayed a good guy in Wide Open Town (1941) I kept suspecting it would eventually be revealed he was up to something criminal.

Years before starring opposite Richard Denning on TV/radio's Mr. and Mrs. North, Barbara Britton was paying her sagebrush dues.  In Secret of the Wastelands (1941), she plays an archaeologist who literally has to remove her glasses and let down her hair before Hayden's 'Lucky' realizes she's beautiful.

Wide Open Town was Russell Hayden’s swan song (after 27 films) with the Hopalong Cassidy franchise; his ‘Lucky’ Jenkins would be replaced by Brad King as “Johnny Nelson.”  (When the Hoppy films resumed in 1946—after star Boyd purchased both his old films and the rights to make more—the ‘Lucky’ character returned to the fold, portrayed by Rand Brooks.)  After King, the Cassidy series then showcased several rotating young sidekicks including Jay Kirby and Jimmy Rogers—in Bar 20 (1943), the sidekick is played by future TV Superman George Reeves!  The presence of the bland Kirby (as “Johnny Travers”) in Border Patrol (1943) didn’t detract from my enjoyment of this film; Hoppy and his crew match wits against an autocratic judge in Orestes Krebs (Russell Simpson), who’s been using kidnapped Mexicans as forced labor in his silver mine.  Judge Krebs puts the three comrades on trial that brings new meaning to the term “kangaroo court”—with Robert Mitchum (billed as Bob) as the foreman!  (Big Bad Bob appeared in several Hoppy westerns, notably 1943’s Hoppy Serves a Writ [which I haven’t seen] and Leather Burners [which I have].)  Patrol was my second favorite among the Epix Hoppys, with fine support from familiar faces like Claudia Drake, Duncan Renaldo, and Pierce Lyden.

The only gripe—and I’ll be honest, it’s a major one—is that the Epix prints of these movies have, to use the horse parlance, been rode hard and put up wet.  Two of the titles, Doomed Caravan and Wide Open Town, have running times of fifty-four minutes (most disappointing, since these are two of the best movies in the series) …leading me to suspect that these versions were the ones that were cut-up for television by NBC when Hoppy’s adventures came to small screens in 1949.  (Bar 20 Justice [1938] was missing its opening credits.)  A complete collection of the Hopalong Cassidy films was released to DVD by Echo Bridge in 2009 with restored prints, and that set, Hopalong Cassidy Ultimate Collector's Edition, was reissued in 2015 (sans collective lunchbox) …so I’m entertaining thoughts of grabbing one of these once the financial picture is a bit rosier here at Rancho Yesteryear.

Hurry on down to Hardie’s

My fellow classic movie mavens are well aware that in the month of February (and first three days of March—except leap year), The Greatest Cable Channel Known to Mankind™ runs their “31 Days of Oscar” tribute.  This event and “Summer Under the Stars” usually allows me to catch up with whatever I have squirreled away on our DISH DVR, and I was very much looking forward to watching the content (and slapping my favorites onto disc).

But…in the immortal words of Robert Frost: “The best laid schemes o' mice an' men/Gang aft a-gley.” (Who says this blog isn’t highbrow?  Besides 98% of the blogosphere, I mean.)

The good people at DISH decided to have a “freeview” weekend of HBO, Cinemax, and Showtime the weekend of February 17-20.  The following weekend, we were treated to free Starz.  The weekend after that, Encore.  And we just finished up a freeview of Epix this past weekend.  For a recovering movie nut like your humble narrator, this is an embarrassment of riches—particularly because when there isn’t anything on the schedule worth grabbing, there’s always On Demand offerings I can download.  I have been spending every free waking moment luxuriating in movies, movies…and more movies.

Laramie stars John Smith and Robert Fuller

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I went hog wild during the Encore freeview…because their On Demand features episodes of the classic TV westerns they offer on their schedule—this is how I was able to build my substantial Wanted: Dead or Alive collection back in December of 2015.   Encore Westerns on Demand has episodes of Death Valley Days, Laramie, The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp, Tales of Wells Fargo (a recent acquisition), and Wagon Train—which presented me with a dilemma: which show do I download?

I eliminated Death Valley Days and Wagon Train right off the bat; I like both shows—but they’re not something I have to have.  I leaned heavily toward Laramie, particularly due to the piss-poor quality of the Timeless Media Group DVDs…but I’ve got a 30-day window with these downloads, and I didn’t think I could get all EW had in that amount of time (particularly since they’re 50-minute shows).  There’s DVR space to consider, too—I like to have enough of a “buffer” in case Mom (who learned how to work the DVR during her convalescence) wants to grab any Rambo movies or something with Jean-Claude God Damme.  (I don’t know why she insists on recording stuff with commercials…particularly since she hasn’t learned to fast-forward yet.)  So, it came down to either Wyatt Earp or Wells Fargo…and since all six seasons of Earp have been released to disc, I went with Fargo (its DVD release history is a little spotty).

Tales of Wells Fargo originally premiered as a December 14, 1956 episode of CBS’ Schlitz Playhouse of Stars, “A Tale of Wells Fargo”—with a teleplay by Frank Gruber from a Zane Grey story.  The producer of this episode, Nat Holt, had also produced the 1949 film that gave future Wells Fargo star Dale Robertson his first onscreen credit, Fighting Man of the Plains (Fargo creator Frank Gruber also wrote this screenplay…in addition to the novel on which it was based).  Holt had quite a time talking Robertson into doing “Tale” as a regular series—Dale initially didn’t think much of the script, and only agreed to commit to the pilot as a favor to his friend.  He never dreamed that the show would leap to #3 in the Nielsens in its second season (Tales of Wells Fargo officially premiered over NBC on March 18, 1957).  (Wells Fargo remained in the Top 10 in its third season, and continued to be a solid ratings performer until its final season in 1961-62.  More on this in a bit.)

I thought that by downloading all the Wells Fargo Encore Westerns had to offer, I could play a few for mi madre—a longtime fan of the show.  I know I mentioned this on the blog in the past (my previous experience with Wells Fargo was a single episode, “Jesse James,” which was on Timeless’ The Classic TV Western Collection) but my father used to tease my mother unmercifully about this series, derisively referring to the star as “Dale Roberts” and saying…well, I won’t repeat exactly what he said (it’s a little insensitive) but he hinted that Mr. Robertson was a few horses shy of a remuda.  I’ve watched 13 out of the 14 episodes in the first season (“The Silver Bullets” did not download properly, much to my dismay) and a couple from Season Two…and I don’t know why Dad kids Mom so.  Granted, I do not possess the sophisticated television tastes as my old man (and by “sophisticated television tastes” I mean shows about UFOs and cops placing people under arrest) but I’m finding Tales of Wells Fargo to be a pretty entertaining series.  It’s not a great show (there are superior western half-hours, like Gunsmoke and Have Gun – Will Travel) but it’s far and away better than The Cisco Kid or any other juvie oater you’d care to name.  Robertson didn’t consider Wells Fargo an “adult western” or a “kids western”—but a “family western,” assuming your family conducted private investigations for the Wells Fargo company for a living.  (That’s the premise in a nutshell: as Jim Hardie, Robertson chased down bad hombres who robbed the company’s stagecoaches or freight wagon in the 1860s/1870s/1880s, and brought the miscreants to justice.  This was quite a few years before the Wells Fargo company started committing fraud on a major scale.)

Hugh Beaumont as Jesse James

One of the aspects of the program that I’ve observed is its rather compassionate portrayals of its outlaw element: in the aforementioned “Jesse James” (07/01/57), future Leave it to Beaver dad Hugh Beaumont portrays Jesse as a very sympathetic sort, and in “Sam Bass” (06/10/57), rifleman Chuck Connors makes the titular bandit a jovial, happy-go-lucky fella (the real Bass was apparently also a “no worries” kind of guy).  (Connors also appears in the premiere episode of Tales of Wells Fargo, “The Thin Rope”—adding some interesting shadings to the villain.)  The nature of Hardie’s work dictated he make contact with many Old West legends, including Belle Starr (a nice turn by Jeanne Cooper), John Wesley Hardin (Lyle Bettger), Billy the Kid (Robert Vaughn), and Butch Cassidy (Charles Bronson).

Jack Elam

Of the episodes I’ve viewed so far, I was very impressed with “The Hijackers” (06/17/57); Hardie puts a premature end to his vacation by tracking down the son (Harry Holt, Jr.) of a wealthy man and his fiancée (Jacqueline Holt) and finds their trail leads to a ghost town, where they’re being held captive by Jack Elam and his gang.  There’s a beautifully done (and wordless) sequence in which Robertson and Elam play hide-and-seek in the abandoned burg, and when the closing credits rolled I was not at all surprised to see serials ace John English attached as director.  (The author of this one is N.B. Stone, Jr., later responsible for Ride the High Country.)  The following episode, “Stage to Nowhere” (06/24/57), is also first-rate; Hardie is escorting an outlaw (Walter Coy) to the hoosegow when their stagecoach is chased down by the man’s gang—also on board are a timid newspaper reporter (the ubiquitous Lyle Talbot) plus a woman (OTR’s Barbara Eiler) and her son (Bobby Clark), who have an important connection to Jim’s prisoner.

Michael Landon

You’ll spot a good many familiar future TV faces and veteran character thesps in these episodes of Tales of Wells Fargo: Michael Landon is not only in “Sam Bass” but “Shotgun Messenger” (05/07/57)—which I’d wager was the first time he worked with his future Little House on the Prairie co-star Kevin Hagen (as one of the bad guys, of course).  Some time back on Facebook, I made a joking reference to actor John Carroll being “the poor man’s Clark Gable” …and my social media compadre Christopher Snowden (the proprietor of Television Diary) responded that he always considered Dale Robertson to be quite Gable-ish.  When I concurred that I can definitely hear a Gable-ness in Robertson’s speech patterns, Chris observed: “[H]e's also there in scenes where Robertson's character is charming the ladies—chin down, and eyes uplifted as a big ingratiating smile spreads wide.  And all of these mannerisms are still in place twenty-odd years later, when he appears for short stretches on Dallas and Dynasty.”

The moustache helps a lot.  (From a 1965 TV pilot, Diamond Jim.)

William Demarest with star Robertson

In the fifth season of Tales of Wells Fargo, Earle Lyon replaced Nat Holt as the series’ producer; Lyon related in an interview: “I took over the last two years.  Dale Robertson called me one day and said he felt Nat was getting too old and couldn’t remember things.  Dale was pretty upset with the way things were going with the series.” NBC decided to side with the show’s star, and Holt’s inaugural season as producer went so swimmingly the network made the decision to not only expand Wells Fargo to an hour in Season Six but produce it in Living Peacock Color.  A cast of regulars was also added as Jim Hardie acquired a horse ranch near San Francisco (star Robertson was quite the horseman in real life) including future My Three Sons co-star William Demarest (as the stock crotchety ranch foreman, Jeb Gaine) and future Folgers’ pitchwoman Virginia Christine (as Hardie’s neighbor, The Widder [Ovie] Swenson).

Tales of Wells Fargo had stiff competition in its final season—it was scheduled Saturday nights opposite Perry Mason, and though it came in a respectable second, ratings-wise, the decision was made (the show was getting a bit expensive for the cost-conscious MCA/Revue to produce) to send it to the Old Syndication Retirement Home.  Star Robertson would later headline Iron Horse, another boob tube oater that barely hung on for two seasons, and J.J. Starbuck (1987-88), a Stephen J. Cannell creation that also resurrected Ben Vereen’s character of E.L. “Tenspeed” Turner (which he had played on the short-lived 1980 series Tenspeed and Brown Shoe, also created by Cannell).

Tales of Wells Fargo’s first and second seasons are available on DVD (Tales of Wells Fargo: The Complete First and Second Seasons); in addition, there’s a collection containing “selected” episodes from Seasons 1-5, and Tales of Wells Fargo: The Best of the Final Season in Color.  In looking at what I downloaded from Encore Westerns, neither seasons five or six seem to be in their package—perhaps they will air these in the future.  Wells Fargo plays much, much better than I had hoped…and later, I will make a small sacrifice to the satellite gods for allowing me to grab these episodes for the dusty Thrilling Days of Yesteryear archives.

Epix picks

I had every intention of getting back into the blogging bidness this weekend…and then got distracted the moment I turned on the AT&T U-Verse Saturday morning.  Onscreen, I received a message to…check my other messages.

The first was a notice that U-Verse is adding that SEC Network of ESPN’s that will debut August 14; Mater and Pater were curious as to whether we would get the channel on our current package, and while normally an upgrade to the U-300 lineup would be necessary to watch SEC-ESPN…if you’re subscribed to U-200 (as we are) and, to quote the U-Verse folks, “reside in an SEC state,” no upgrade is needed.  (I’m pretty sure Georgia qualifies.)  The last time I spoke with Sater, er, sister Debbie on the Ameche she mentioned that she and my bro-in-law were going to get a satellite dish so that they, too, can have access to SEC.  (My brudder-in-law is a Vandy alum, and has vowed to watch their games by hook or by crook.  Snip also mentioned that they will probably throw in and get the MLB network so that she will know the pleasures of seeing an actual Braves game on a regular basis—the closest she gets is when the Bravos play the Cubs or the Cardinals.)

The news about the dish came quite as a surprise to yours truly only because my sister and her husband usually approach such matters with extreme caution—it’s not dissimilar to someone deciding to blow the rent money on lottery tickets or like that.  I think Snip has already broke ground on Project SEC; an e-mail I sent her over the weekend bounced back in that familiar Mailer-Daemon fashion.

But back to our story: the second U-Verse message announced the acquisition of pay movie channel Epix, and since they were nice enough to give us a free weekend (July 25-27) I decided to play hooky and get caught up on some recent movies I had not seen.  (I only wish I knew about this beforehand; I could have planned accordingly.)  The channel must have had some baseball promotion going on because they were spotlighting a number of national pastime-themed films including Major League (1989) and all three of the “Bad News Bears” movies.  I watched the first one—the good one—along with Eight Men Out (1988) and John Grisham’s The Rainmaker (1997), with the ‘rents.

I had seen Epix one time before; I got a free weekend several years ago when I was still in my bachelor digs and I sat down with Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Walk-In Tub Skull (2008) and Star Trek (2009).  It seems fitting, then, that one of the movies I watched was Star Trek Into Darkness (2013).  I don’t consider myself a movie geek (others may have dissenting opinions) but I genuinely love the Star Trek movie franchise; I liked the old TV series (though I might be considered a heretic for refusing to read too much into it) and enjoyed the vehicles made with the original cast…and I even like the ones with the TNG people, even though I probably haven’t watched more than a dozen episodes of that show.  (I went with some of my nerd friends when 1998’s Star Trek: Insurrection came out and was nearly hung for expressing my approval of the movie.  Fortunately, I was able to slip away when my chums were preoccupied calculating the equation involving my weight and the necessary dimensions of the gallows.)

In spite of Into Darkness’ excesses—you have the usual explodiations and stunts out the wazoo, which is par for the course with these films—I don’t regret tuning into this one; it’s well-made, has a fairly absorbing plot and the thesps playing the younger versions of the Trek originals are quite good.  (Though I’ll confess I had trouble watching Zachary Quinto in Margin Call since I saw that after Star Trek; I kept expecting his character to remark: “I find this volatility in our mortgage backed securities highly illogical.”)  Into Darkness possesses a sense of tongue-in-cheek fun (there are references to Tribbles and Harcourt Fenton Mudd); its only major stumble is casting actor Benedict Cumberbatch as a young version of Khan Noonien Singh, the Enterprise’s nemesis in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan and the Star Trek episode “Space Seed.”  (Cumberbatch is a great actor—but I think this is one role he should have taken a pass on, considering the original character—played by Ricardo Montalban—was of Indian descent.)

While Star Trek Into Darkness got a big thumbs-up from me I wasn’t quite as charitable toward The Avengers (2012); everybody and his brother has told me that it’s a great superhero movie…but here’s the problem—the folks who make these movies assume that I’ve seen all the prior films (Hulk, Captain America, etc.), and I have not.  (I think I saw the third Iron Man movie, which came out after The Avengers.)  So forty minutes into the thing I still can’t make heads or tails of the plot; I don’t know why Samuel L. Jackson is wearing an eye patch and I keep thinking a “tesseract” is that device in A Wrinkle in Time.  I gave up on the movie after that.  I don’t mean this as a criticism: it’s possible that I was too tired to watch any more of the film (plus I have sworn off any more superhero movies since I sat through The Dark Knight Rises and found it’s essentially a rehash of Batman Begins) and maybe if I gave it another chance with fresher eyes I might like it.  But not today.  (I stick to the one with Patrick Macnee and Diana Rigg.)

Flight (2012) stars Denzel Washington as pilot William “Whip” Whitaker, who miraculously manages to land a plane that experiences an in-flight mechanical failure with minimal casualties (out of 102 people onboard, four passengers and two crew members perish).   The problem for Whip is that with the death of four passengers, there’s got to be a scapegoat; Whitaker is struggling with some inner demons (he has a substance abuse problem, and relations between his ex-wife and son are strained) and even though no other pilot could have duplicated Whip’s amazing feat, the evidence of his pre-flight drinking will surely send him to the slammer despite the help of a dedicated union rep (Bruce Greenwood) and a savvy criminal attorney (Don Cheadle).  There’s a subplot involving a troubled woman (Kelly Reilly) who is helped by Whitaker and who tries to return the favor; Flight’s a good movie (the flying sequence is phenomenal) that’s essentially a cross between Days of Wine and Roses (1962) and Fearless (1993).  (John Goodman provides some lighter moments as Whip’s “connection.”)

I was really disappointed with Friends with Kids (2012); the only thing worse than an indie film that’s all too aware it’s an indie film is an indie film that also wants to be a Woody Allen movie.  Adam Scott (the owner of TV’s funniest deadpan on Parks and Recreation) and Jennifer Westfeldt (who directed, wrote and co-produced) are a platonic couple who decide not to make the same mistakes as their married friends (Maya Rudolph and Chris O’Dowd; Kristen Wiig and Jon Hamm) and enter into an agreement to start a family (have a kid) without all the messy marriage bidness.  It takes them a running time of one hour and forty minutes to realize that they should be together all along, despite knowing each other for nineteen years.  Westfeldt’s Kissing Jessica Stein (2001) was a real delight (I saw it a month or so back) and I was hoping Friends would be its equal but despite a strong cast it’s shallow and only sporadically funny; I had difficulty relating to any of the characters, to be frank.  (Wiig is particularly wasted—they could have cast her part with anyone.)

I finally wrapped up this free weekend viewing with The Bay (2012), a novel ecological horror film directed by Barry Levinson that’s sort of a wry take on his previous “Baltimore trilogy” (Diner, Tin Men, Avalon).  A small Maryland coastal village experiences an outbreak of parasites identified as Cymothoa exigua (“sea lice”) that have become life-threatening due to the toxic pollution in the Chesapeake Bay (the water has been the recipient of the effluence of a nearby chicken processing plant…chock full of steroids in the feces).  Bay is not for the squeamish; it’s presented in what is called a “found footage” style which translates to a lot of shaky camera work…and that made me more nauseous than the idea of parasites eating people from the inside (though this will certainly put you off your lunch, too).  The Bay tells its cautionary tale in an economical 85 minutes and features a cast of mostly unknowns…but it would make for a great double-bill with The East (2013).