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.

“These dramatizations are designed to demonstrate forcibly to old and young alike that Crime Does Not Pay…”

Back in June of 2010, I started what I had hoped would be a continuing feature at Thrilling Days of Yesteryear by mentioning a pair of the MGM Crime Does Not Pay two-reelers that I had caught on TCM on Demand (this was when Rancho Yesteryear was still located in the Classic City—Athens, GA—and Los Parentes Yesteryear and I subscribed to Charter Cable…may it roast in a fiery pit of H-E-double hockey sticks), Give Till it Hurts (1937) and Dark Shadows (1944).  I followed that initial post with one two weeks later with a more detailed write-up (screen captures and everything!) on Respect the Law (1941).  The idea would be that I’d tackle these shorts on an irregular basis…but much would depend on whether The Greatest Cable Channel Known to Mankind™ would schedule the showing of these shorts on that same basis (TCM seems to have more of an affinity for Pete Smith comedies…or those dull “TravelTalks” one-reelers that are most assuredly not my particular cup of Earl Grey).

At the time of those first two posts, the Crime Does Not Pay shorts weren’t available on DVD save for the occasional inclusion as bonuses on classic film releases (one of Warner’s film noir collections, Volume 3, had a fistful) …but that changed in June of 2012, when a six-disc collection containing all 50 shorts was released from the Warner Archive.  When I discovered in December 2013 that I had accumulated a hefty cache of “bonus points” at Rakuten.com (apologies for the commercial) I tried to acquire this set but was told it was “out-of-stock” due to the holiday season.  (I ended up giving the points to my fadduh, who bought me muddah a cookbook for their 51st anniversary…because I am a good son.)

For some unexplained reason—maybe due to classic movie forces beyond my and your comprehension—I was skating around the Amazon.com (another commercial!) site in September of last year…and saw that that CDNP set was on sale for $19.02.  I simply wasn’t going to pass that up (and besides, I had a gift card) so viola! it was given a home in the House of Yesteryear.  I then decided that once I had finished with all the VCI/Kit Parker “Forgotten Noir” flicks I’d reintroduce Crime Does Not Pay on a weekly basis.  (The last one of these I did was in November of 2014, so its removal from hiatus is very much warranted.)

The Public Pays (1936)

MGM produced these shorts—two of which, The Public Pays (1936) and Torture Money (1937), won Oscars for Best Two-Reel Short Subject—from 1935 to 1947, and not only were they popular with the moviegoing public, they served as the launch pads for the careers of such renowned film directors as Jacques Tourneur, Fred Zinnemann, and Joseph Losey.  Leonard Maltin writes in Selected Short Subjects: “Viewing some of the films today, one finds a naïve and right-handed outlook on the American way of life, although many of the targets of attack—the smuggling of aliens, retail stores selling stolen goods, undercover employment agencies that demand a kickback, shoplifting, evading United States Customs duties, and so on—are just as real, and just as scurrilous, today as they were then.”  (I should warn you right up front: the right-wing tone of a lot of these shorts makes them low-hanging fruit for a left-wing troublemaker like me addicted to mockery.)

A Thrill for Thelma (1935)

I’ve already done detailed write-ups on five Crime Does Not Pay shorts: A Criminal is Born (1938—a TDOY favorite), Jack Pot (1940), You, the People (1940), Sucker List (1941), and Respect the Law (1941).  What I’ll do when those shorts turn up in the rotation is recycle what’s been written (I’ll take the time to get new screen caps so I can ditch the TCM logo) and maybe revised some of the text if needed.  Some of the other shorts mentioned in passing, including A Thrill for Thelma (1935) and Know Your Money (1940), will get a more detailed bit of snark; I ultimately hope to eliminate the current “Crime Does Not Pay” section on the “Movies” Page of the blog and replace it with a timely listing of what has been covered.

I’m tremendously jazzed about this project (hey, I even took the time to do a nice “poster” to promote it, pictured at the beginning of this essay) and I extend to you a laurel and hearty handshake for the official kick-off this Friday with the premiere short in the Crime Does Not Pay series, Buried Loot (1935).  I hope to see everyone there!  By the way, both the Academy Award-nominated Don't Talk (1942; in the promo poster) and Eyes of the Navy (1940) are not official Crime Does Not Pay shorts—according to Maltin, there were ‘MGM Specials’ “released in the same package as ‘Crime’ for the studio’s convenience.”  (They have, however, been included in the Warner Archive CDNP set...so they will be covered.  But we'll just keep all this on the Q.T., okay?)

“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.

B-Western Wednesdays: Johnny Mack Brown Double Feature - Man from Sonora (1951) and Outlaw Gold (1950)

There’s a reason why I tackled two entries for this week’s edition of B-Western Wednesdays.  I put one of Johnny Mack Brown’s Monogram vehicles in the DVD player (Outlaw Gold [1950]) last week and the moment the closing credits rolled, I completely forgot what the damn thing was about.  (This sort of thing doesn’t lend itself to good film reviews, by the way.)  And I felt guilty about this—though in my defense, I didn’t make the doggone movie—because I like generally like JMB, even in his “plump” period (this wasn’t my idea—I read it from a commenter over at the [always reliable] IMDb).  Brown is just a darn likable cowpoke; I’ve reviewed one of his Monogram features here previously and mentioned this anecdote:

…by all accounts from the people with whom he worked, Brown was the epitome of the true Southern gentleman.  He made many films with … Marshall Reed, who once related to a fan at a western film convention that Johnny would always tell his cast at the wrap: “Thanks for letting me make this film with you.”

For the record, Outlaw Gold finds our hero as a U.S. Marshal assigned to investigate a robbery involving government gold from Mexico, with the help of his deputy sidekick Sandy Barker (Milburn Monsante).  In the process of their search, the two men witness Joe Martin, the editor of Latigo City’s newspaper, and his daughter Kathy (Jane Adams) bushwhacked by assailants unknown.  Pretending not to know one another, Brown (as Johnny Mack Brown—the role he was born to play!) and Sandy agree to escort the Martins back to town; Johnny Mack will ride up ahead to interview some local ranchers and deputy Sandy continues on with Kathy and the injured Martin (shot in the arm by the desperadoes).

In Latigo City, Sandy wangles a job as a printer with the Martin’s paper…and Johnny, just arriving, is around long enough to witness Joe’s assassin finish the job with a rifle from an upstairs window.  Johnny soon finds himself accused of the deed!  Not to worry, Mr. Brown is eventually cleared of any wrongdoing, leaving him and Sandy to suspect that the man (George McDormand) who seemed mighty anxious to point fingers in the first place may be involved in some shady chicanery.

I don’t want to point fingers myself…but I suspect the reason why Outlaw Gold dissipates in the memory banks after one viewing is because apart from Myron Healey’s role as an ex-con named Sonny Lang (who’s harboring a grudge against Johnny Mack)—Healey manages to bring a little shading and nuance to what could have been a one-note performance—no one in the cast of Gold is a particular standout, nor is the plot all that memorable (though there is an amusing scene where Sandy produces the fruits of his first printing job—it looks like a ransom note).  The cast of Man from Sonora (1951), on the other hand, has a bit more “oomph” even though, like Gold, the plot of the film is little more than paint-by-numbers.

Sonora puts a twist on the hero’s occupation: Johnny Mack Brown (still playing himself) is a retired lawman who loses his valued horse “Rebel” to a gang of masked hombres who have just held up a stage on its way to Silver Springs.  (One of the men had to shoot his injured horse, and that’s why he “liberated” Johnny’s steed.)  Arriving in town, Brown gets reacquainted with his old pal Frank Casey (Lyle Talbot), who’s the law in Silver Springs, and Johnny tells the sheriff about the three men who put the snatch on Rebel.  Johnny’s got a hunch that one of the outlaws, Duke Mantel (Lee Roberts), is throwing a few back in the saloon, because of his loud, distinctive laugh (the masked man who swiped Johnny’s horse had a similar guffaw).  When Johnny enters the watering hole as the guest of Ed Hooper (House Peters, Jr.), Duke and his pal Pete (John Merton) start a little trouble…and Frank is forced to lock up both Duke and Johnny.

Hooper bails Duke out—Duke works for him as one of his “peelers”—and along with banker Fred Allison (Sam Flint), informs lawman Casey that his pal Johnny must vamoose out of Silver Springs; it’s all politics, you understand—Casey’s hands are tied in the matter.  This will prove most beneficial for Johnny Mack Brown; it will give him the opportunity to drop by Hooper’s spread and look for the missing Rebel.

There are a good number of serials/B-Western veterans in Man from Sonora: I always smile whenever I see John Merton onscreen (I read somewhere that whenever an oater or chapter play was being cast they took special pains to make sure Merton was on the list because he had several mouths to feed), and he’s in his element here as one of Peters’ henchmen.  Peters’ villain is a real piece of work, cold-bloodedly gunning down John and serial hero Dennis Moore (as a bad guy!) when things start to close in on him.  Phyllis “Gypsy” Coates, who also appeared in Oklahoma Justice (1951), is the banker’s daughter and kind of sweet on Johnny (there is no kiss at the fadeout, however, because Johnny has no use for wimmin folk despite always being courtly in their presence) …though as in Justice, Coates has very little to do.  Western veteran Pierce Lyden appears briefly as a harness salesman who draws his rations early (allowing Dennis Moore to impersonate him).

Both Outlaw Gold and Man from Sonora are present and accounted for on the Warner Archive MOD set Monogram Cowboy Collection Volume 1, which is also available for rent from the good people at ClassicFlix.  This past weekend, Rancho Yesteryear was the beneficiary of a Starz/Encore/Movieplex “freeview”—and I had hoped to snag a download of The Lone Star Trail (1943), a Johnny Mack-Tex Ritter Universal B-oater that I watched on Encore Westerns back in what I jokingly call my “carefree bachelor days” (before the ‘rents and I decided to share living space).  But I wasn’t able to get it off the On Demand in time.  Bummer.the doggone thing--because   And I felt guilty about this--though  credits rolled, I completely forgot what the damn thin

Still can’t get the parts…check back next week

Earlier this month, I received an e-mail from the folks at AT&T U-Verse that over the (Thanksgiving) holiday weekend, they were going to give all subscribers a free preview of their “U-450” package—which is the company’s top of the line subscription deal (the ‘rents and I have the “U-200”).  What this entailed for us was four days of premium channel largess: HBO, Cinemax, Showtime, The Movie Channel, Starz—you get the idea.  What this entailed for me was that because the On Demand access is also included (I think the only channels exempt from this were the ESPN stuff and Disney), it gives me carte blanche to add a few movies to the dusty Thrilling Days of Yesteryear archives.

They have some sort of block on the HBO/Cinemax stuff, so I wasn’t able to record anything off of those channels.  (Drat.)  This didn’t keep me from helping myself to a look at a few newer movies that I had not seen; my BBFF Stacia mentioned in an e-mail that she and Mr. Stacia were amused by The Lego Movie (2014), and I sat down with that Friday night.  I wasn’t particularly fond of the fact that the movie shifts gears toward the end (it gets a bit sappy) because a good portion of it is some fairly smart satire in a kind of Rocky and Bullwinkle mode (the kids will enjoy the Legos while the adults chuckle at the jokes) but overall it was most entertaining.

The best HBO offering I watched was Dallas Buyers Club (2013), which I thought Mom would like because she’s a big Matthew McConaughey fan (though not so big that she’s been able to figure out why I keep saying “All right, all right, all right” every time his Lincoln commercial comes on) and I didn’t think I would because the subject matter sounded depressing.  Yet I thought the movie was sensational (both McConaughey and Jared Leto won well-deserved Oscars) and she hated it (thought the profanity was a bit much—“It’s Texas, ma…whaddya gonna do?”).  A genuine first-rate film, one of the best I have seen in a long while.

Starz offered up the 2011 Academy Award winner for Best Documentary Feature—Inside Job (2010), which I also thought was a winner.  (I put this on for Dad…and he shrugged at it in a most uninterested way.)  Curiosity also bid me welcome to Saving Mr. Banks (2013), which, sadly, was simply not my cup of Harmless Harvest.  I liked Emma Thompson’s performance as P.L. Travers, the author of Mary Poppins…but the movie seemed to suggest that she was a bitch because she had daddy issues and it was up to ol’ Walt Disney (Tom Hanks) to come to her rescue.

I guess what I’m trying to say is because I have been distracted by all this movie goodness—not only have I been able to watch some more recent films but I’ve been indulging with past favorites like Blow Out (1981), Big Trouble in Little China (1986) and The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985)—that’s the reason why there’s no Serial Saturdays in this space…and why there’ll be no Doris Day(s) on Monday.  (Now…now…let’s not all be disappointed at the same time.)  But I will have material at the ready this week, including an interesting entry in Tuesday’s “Overlooked Films” feature and a review on a Grapevine Video purchase as well.  In the meantime, my look at The Strange Love of Molly Louvain (1932) is available for your perusal at ClassicFlix.  Now—back to the screening room!

Of bagels and blogathons

One of the reasons why I’m taking a break this week from our regularly scheduled Serial Saturdays shenanigans was I had an insider’s tip that sister Kat, her partner Katie, and my nephew Davis would be in town for a quick visit before they have to head back to their new home in the wilds of the PNW.  We have been experiencing sheer delight spending time with the five-year-old bundle o’fun, who has apparently shelved his obsession with all things Thomas (the Tank Engine) and found a new interest in a Disney Channel cartoon series, Jake and the Never Land Pirates.  (Kat joked that all of his Thomas toys and forty miles of track will probably turn up soon on an eBay near you.)

Because I am the good uncle, I found a handful of episodes of the show via the On Demand option on the ol’ AT&T U-Verse and I put one of them on for him the other day in direct violation of his moms’ “Don’t-let-him-watch-a-lot-of-TV” edict.  (Sticking it to The Man!)  For those of you unfamiliar with the program, it’s basically an extension of Disney’s Peter Pan franchise (featuring a trio of “pirate” kids battling the forces of Captain Hook and his crew).  I don’t have a high opinion of the show (it’s repetitious in that “this-is-for-kids” fashion) but I get a chuckle out of hearing Corey Burton flawlessly imitate Hans Conried (as Hook) and Jeff Bennett channeling his inner Bill Thompson (as Mr. Smee).

Anyway, we watched another episode this morning while we breakfasted on some of the best bagels I have ever eaten—purchased from a jernt here in the Classic City what’s known as The Ideal Bagel Company.  It’s the “sister eatery” of a place called Ike and Jane’s, a famous Athens establishment once profiled on The Today Show (they have an “Elvis donut”—peanut butter, banana and bacon—that my brother-in-law proclaimed worthy of The King hisself), and I have to say…the bagels are worlds better than those at the overrated Panera Bread.  The ‘rents and I don’t get the opportunity to sample much Athens cuisine, sadly—we usually make do with leftover gruel.

Since Davis and Kat had an appointment for haircuts this morn I thought I would take advantage of this lull to mention a couple of blogathons that I got wind of thanks to Classic Movie Hub (the proprietress of that site mentioned it on Facebook).  It’s only fitting, therefore, that the CMH gets first mention with The Rita Hayworth Blogathon, an event coordinated with the ever-popular getTV—who’ll be saluting everyone’s favorite red-headed glamour queen on Thursdays in October with schedulings of her films.  As such, the Ritathon will be in effect in the entirety of October, and as an added inducement, participants have the opportunity to be entered into a giveaway for a DVD of Gilda (1946) (provided by the channel).  If you’re interested, click this linky for details.

The other ‘thon in October has been (fiendishly) devised by Aurora at Once Upon a Screen (still recovering from the Rooneython, mayhaps) and Kay at Movie Star Makeover: a tribute to Latinos in classic film entitled Hollywood’s Hispanic Heritage Blogathon.  This one looks as if it’s going to feature some great essays; I unfortunately am going to have to sit this one out (and the Ritathon as well) because I just have too much on my plate here in October (the Heritage ‘thon will run from October 11-12).  But that shouldn’t deter you from participating, so go around to the back door (the password is “swordfish”) and tell them I sent ya.