The Three Mesquiteers has always been a rather political series, using the “no gray area” moral authority granted to them by the B-western. And the positions it takes are often strangely specific – the sort of conclusions that would be easily contested in a logical medium. Consider the series has vilified Natives (Riders of the Whistling Skull), freaking animals (Heart of the Rockies), and godless cattlemen (too many entries to count). So when I realized that Prairie Pioneer concerned the Californian range conflict between noble American settlers and the Spanish dons, I greatly feared a staunchly anti-Spanish position. The movie does make feints in that direction, notably towards the beginning, but this is a much later Mesquiteer beast, self-aware and well-versed in the delicate political correctness of 1941. Indeed, so many actor switches after the last entry I saw, it only makes sense for things to have changed.
But first, let us consider those settlers, and follow the potentially opinion-forming, racist narrative an earlier Mesquiteer movie would have told. For not only are several Caucasian (and therefore moral) American settlers arrived in newly-stated California, but they’re even war vets – see the original Three Mesquiteers, as well as Oklahoma Renegages, and others I’ve probably forgotten. Per the Gold Rush time period, it’s the Mexican-American War they’ve returned from, and now they want land.
Never mind the land these “Americanos” choose to settle on is already owned, by the Ortega family of Spanish noblemen. These people are rightly concerned with preserving their estate, and seek diplomatic relations with the incoming settlers to discuss matters. Son Roberto Ortega (white guy Robert Kellard, future Lone Ranger – as seemingly all these late era Mesquiteer actors are) leads a band of vaqueros out to calmly address the issue with the settlers. But these Americans, backed with the unmistakable moral right Manifest Destiny has granted them, are readier to scrap than to listen, and respond to Roberto’s reasonable offers with a punch to the face.
Now, the settlers’ behavior would normally peg them as the villains – aggressive in temperament, intruding upon the existence of others. But consider the Three Mesquiteers, who are randomly here in California for ill-stated independent reasons, instantly defend the Americans, just because. Trained as I am by the means of sophistry employed by former Mesquiteers, I take this to mean the Spaniards are the bad guys – they’re ethnic, after all, and their hats are black, never mind that’s a historical accuracy.
Ah, but Prairie Pioneers is a little more complex than that. Remember, we completely skipped over the career of Duncan Reynaldo, a Hispanic performer taking the place of Ray Corrigan’s former Tucson Smith. Reynaldo is no longer around, but a likely respect towards Iberians remains. And Reynaldo’s replacement, also named Tucson Smith (but now Bob Steele) is the one here who maintains a level head re: Spain. He is pals with Roberto, and is able to talk combined sense into all other parties. So a potential film-wide conflict has been thankfully nipped in the bud, and I no longer have to worry about Stony Brooke’s potentially xenophobic opinions. (That Stony is played by Robert Livingston, the only Mesquiteer member from the older, less rational days, is appropriate. To give this film too much due, that might even be why he’s given the hateful opinions.)
To celebrate their newfound multiracial respect (California maintained hippy ideals even in 1848), the Ortegas invite the settlers to their hacienda for a fiesta. Maintaining an outdated representation of the Spanish, there is even hat dancing around the sombrero (ain’t that Mexican?) and singing “La Cucaracha” (ain’t that Mexican?), which is comically interrupted by a Chihuahua (wait, ain’t that Mexican?). Joining Roberto among the Ortegas is his father Don Miguel Ortega (white guy Guy D’Ennery – I mean, look at that name!) and sister Dolores Ortega (Esther Estrella – now she’s a Latina, meaning rowl!). So everything is going very swimmingly, Stony is starting his designated romance with Dolores, even if it is miscegenation (presumably a big 1941 Hays “No-no”), and everybody is laughing at the intentionally comic antics of Lullaby Joslin – Rufe Davis, a bland and fat man who’s at least resolved everything that was terrifying and off-putting about Max Terhune’s interpretation of the character. But where’s the conflict?
Don’t worry, for there’s a third party of characters involved (the settlers’ land disputes shall become a complete non-issue from here on out). And these are our baddies: local miners. Hydraulic miners, just as evil here as in Clint Eastwood’s Pale Rider, led by standard dastardly businessman type Fields (Ken MacDonald). But the real villain is Don Carlos Montoya (white man Davison Clark), a so-called friend of the Ortegas. However, he’s a dreaded half-breed, the sinful result of a Spaniard and American interbreeding – What, you thought this film would be completely racism-free?! Ha! Montoya even gets an “Iago speech” outlining the reasons for his villainy – basically, because he’s Spanish, he hates Americans, and because he’s American, he hates Spanish, as is apparently only natural. He spends each night throttling himself.
Fields’ miners lust after the Ortega property, and aim to obtain it through the dastardliest dartardiness a dastard ever dastardized. They dress up as vaqueros – in an effect so poor, I didn’t even realize it until 10 minutes later (the disguise is basically The Man With No Name’s serape, which none of the vaqueros where). Anyway, a henchman “looks” like a Spaniard – at least to the belittling eyes of an American – and proceeds to commit pointless acts of violence against the settlers. Several men are killed and, for contrived reasons I haven’t the energy to get into, Roberto Ortega is found responsible.
Really, Roberto has been framed – yeah, every entry sees the framing of an innocent man – and the Three Mesquiteers decide to take his case because of a pure Colbertian feeling they have about everything. Of course, they’ll have to work fast, because Roberto is due to be executed by firing squad in one day’s time – yeah, there’s also always a time limit like this.
The first suspicious fact is just how Roberto was arrested – the local Spanish cavalry (which is yet a fourth party of interests in this surprisingly complex Mesquiteer) was tipped off to Roberto’s hiding place by an anonymous source. And with Don Miguel falling sick, the vile Montoya has taken charge of the Ortega estate – which he promptly announces shall be sold to Fields’ mine. Mwah hah hah!
To root out all these doings, the Mesquiteers question the local population of padres at the mission – What, a fifth party now?! Actually, I’m not even all sure what they have to do with anything.
Tucson resolves a piece of the puzzle by trailing Fields back to the mine – with a standard Mesquiteer lack of tact, he outright accuses Fields of ill doings when he (Tucson) is in no position to do anything about it. So Tucson narrowly escapes on horseback, in one of many action scenes which make up every Three Mesquiteer entry – though I’m sad to say the quality of the action is rather listless today…which does somewhat compliment the performances of Steele and Davis, if I must be honest.
Stony and Lullaby have worked out the other side of the puzzle, connecting Montoya back to Fields. This makes them all confident that they’ve sniffed out the necessary villains, yet it does no good in their efforts to get Roberto freed. (It also puts a damper on the romancing of Dolores Stony would surely rather be involved in.) Tonally, if not in terms of content, this is the darkest hour for the Mesquiteers, enlivened only by Lullaby’s running gag where he struggles to mount a horse – How’d no one think of doing that obvious B-western gag anytime before 1941?
With crowds gathering for Roberto’s noon execution, the Mesquiteers perform one final desperate mine examination. At last they discover the so-called vaquero outfits Fields has employed – and if you wonder what the only bit of exonerating evidence is still doing in the villain’s clutches, you haven’t normalized yourself to the peculiar illogic of The Three Mesquiteers. The mines shall make for a good enough shootout setting, so let’s get that underway. Stony and Tucson are holed up in the evidence shack, goons ready to dynamite them to kingdom come, when Lullaby gets his hands on the hydraulic pressure hose for a comic comeuppance.
Collecting up both the evidence and the confession-happy Goon #1, the Mesquiteers make a mad dash on horseback back to the pueblo, just as Roberto’s last rites are being read to him. They actually make a really good show of stretching out the execution suspense to the last bearable moment, making this legitimately exiting, even though we know the Mesquiteers will come through in time. This they do at the last possible moment, horses practically stampeding through the upraised rifles, shouting out accusations of the nearby Montoya and Fields. Both elderly men try to flee, but it does them little good. Both Stony and Tucson are capable stuntmen (Lullaby’s too busy mangling the Spanish language to be of any use), and they easily run the nogoodniks down. Roberto is freed, the villains are punished capitally off screen, and racial tolerance flourishes throughout California for the rest of days.
Prairie Pioneers is interesting enough, to me at least, in how it initially appears far less tolerant than it truly is. This may be fallout of having not seen the intermediate entries, making the contrast notable and striking. This does not grant Prairie Pioneers as much interest in the pure business of being a B-western. Stunt coordinator Yakima Canutt remained all throughout the series’ lifespan, but by now his best and brightest ideas were well in use elsewhere – Stagecoach for one. That means the action here is perfectly good, but never reaches the greatest heights of the earlier, rawer Mesquiteer movies. Credit goes to director Lester Orlebeck for doing what he can with these pieces – consider the suspense of the execution.
But The Three Mesquiteers live or die by their central trio. About Robert Livingston, I can offer up nothing but praise – he has a confidence and gravity far greater than what he previously brought to the Mesquiteer table, evidence of his interim as the Lone Ranger – See, everyone is the Lone Ranger!
Sadly, his costars are a different matter. They’re perfectly acceptable in their roles, but Bob Steele and Rufe Davis are little else. Tucson was never a particularly interesting role, so all Steele can do is look good while firing a pistol and riding a horse, without getting in Livingston’s way – this he does, while never reaching the heights of Ray Corrigan as a stuntman (I’m not a huge fan of Corrigan as an actor).
As for Davis, well, he’s dropped the absolute worst things about Max Terhune’s Lullaby – the hickish attitude, general misogyny, and disgusting puppet – but he’s brought little else. He’s like the fat guy they’d hire to fill in for John Candy, assuming John Candy had just died…No, I can do even better – he the replacement for Chris Farley! Or…whomever the de rigueur fat white man of choice is nowadays. But at least he’s inoffensive, and does nothing to upset the dramatic content of the A-story – and that’s something Terhune couldn’t claim, in even the best of his entries (Range Defenders).
But if we think back to the history of the Mesquiteers, we again consider them as the central jewel in Republic Pictures’ crown. And whither Republic, whither The Three Mesquiteers. War in Europe or no, the early 40s were hearty times for this gung-ho Poverty Row studio. The budgets were luxurious (without being anywhere near an A-level), the scripts…decent, and everything done with a level of competent professionalism. And that’s what Prairie Pioneers exudes (and, I’d imagine, the other late entries I haven’t seen). It’s sort of the 40s equivalent of a really OK off-season modern studio release, but that’s something.
Related posts:
• No. 1 The Three Mesquiteers (1936)
• No. 3 Roarin’ Lead (1936)
• No. 4 Riders of the Whistling Skull (1937)
• No. 5 Hit the Saddle (1937)
• No. 6 Gunsmoke Ranch (1937)
• No. 7 Come On, Cowboys! (1937)
• No. 8 Range Defenders (1937)
• No. 9 Heart of the Rockies (1937)
• No. 10 The Trigger Trio (1937)
• No. 13 Call of the Mesquiteers (1938)
• No. 14 Outlaws of Sonora (1938)
• No. 19 Santa Fe Stampede (1938)
• Nos. 29 – 38 (1940 – 1941)
• Nos. 39 – 51 (1941 – 1943)
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