bestmovie: The Three Mesquiteers

Showing posts with label The Three Mesquiteers. Show all posts

Friday, October 1, 2010

The Three Mesquiteers, Nos. 39 - 51 (1941 - 1943)

Moving on now through 1941, The Three Mesquiteers franchise has become a hotbed for actor switches so complex, the best I can do to help is direct you to a helpful graph on Wikipedia. Once again, the final “era” of the series is marked by one actor’s departure, and another’s arrival. For while Bob Steele and Rufe Davis remain, Robert Livingston’s second (or third) departure again meant Stony Brooke had to be recast. This was the start of –

THE TOM TYLER ERA

Tom Tyler did thirteen Mesquiteers, ushering the series all the way to its completion in 1943. Like most of the actors in this franchise, Tyler was a stalwart and dependable B-western star throughout the ‘30s. Like many of the best members of that august fraternity, Tyler’s image was employed to best use in John Ford’s Stagecoach – where Tyler costarred with former-Mesquiteer John Wayne. More interestingly, the man essentially invented filmed superheroes, being the first man in human history to look good in spandex tights. In 1941 he played Captain Marvel in the serial The Adventures of Captain Marvel (the first superhero movie ever), and was in 1943’s similar The Phantom. He also played one of Universal’s lesser mummies.

Still, top billing for the remainder of the Mesquiteers would go to Bob Steele, not Tyler. Tyler was a contract player, pure and simple, and used to this. If only superheroism was more prolific than cowboying back then…

And how many movies do I have to watch from the Tom Tyler and/or Bob Steel Era? None, zero, zilch, zip, nada, squat, bupkiss, belch, burp, fwoozloid. So once again I am limited to providing what little knowledge I can dredge up about the remaining entries. Enjoy!

Outlaws of Cherokee Trail (1941) – Well, all I can figure out about this one is the bad guy: generic, motiveless outlaw Lemar. He lives in the Cherokee Strip, where Rangers fear to tread, and bides his time by killing the jurors on his trial. Yeah, that’ll sway ‘em. One guesses the Mesquiteers come along in some capacity to stop this man.

Gauchos of El Dorado (1941) – This one sounds like the plot of a Johnny Cash song. The Mesquiteers rescue a man from the clutches of evil gauchos (of El Dorado), only for him to die in their collective arms anyway. His dying wish is that they take his money to his mother. Complications arise when she mistakes Tucson for her own dead son – whom I assume was named “Sue.”

West of Cimarron (1941) – We’ve thrice seen the Mesquiteer story where war veterans are kicked about by bad, bad, bad, bad men following the war, in The Three Mesquiteers and Oklahoma Renegades and Prairie Pioneers. Those concerned WWI, the Spanish-American War and the Mexican-American War. Now it’s the Civil War, perhaps because they are Time Lords. In the film’s cutesy colloquialism, it’s a conflict between carpetbaggers and bushwackers. Throw in a little late era Mesquiteer infiltration of the villainous gang, and you’ve got West of Cimarron.

(Interestingly, Cimarron is in New Mexico, while the movie takes place in Texas…decidedly not west of it. Of course, all these titles are pretty arbitrary.)

Code of the Outlaw (1942) – The Mesquiteers shoot it out with more robbers. Most of the gang escapes, but their leader is killed, and their loot remains hidden. The Mesquiteers then adopt the leader’s orphaned son, purely out of the charitable goodness of their hearts…that, and to learn where the loot is hidden. Then the gang returns to also ask the kid about the loot. But when they do it, it’s evil – as usual, an action’s lawfulness is determined by the color of your hat.

Raiders of the Range (1942) – An oil well is being constructed, and one businessman wants it built, while the other opposes it. I wonder which side of this issue the Mesquiteers will take? Well, westerns are often political allegories, and conservative allegories at that. So…Drill, baby, drill!

Westward Ho (1942) – When you rob a bank, you end up with money. But there’s a way to make even more! Simply frame some poor schmoe, then capture him for the reward money. If these villains were thinking more clearly, they’d go the Good the Bad and the Ugly route and save the guy from his own hanging, let the bounty grow larger, then turn him in again. But they do not do that. Instead, they frame Lullaby for their latest robbery, and are then surprised to find they’ve incited the wrath of the – drum roll please – Three Mesquiteers.

The Phantom Plainsmen (1942) – Things seem normal enough at first. The Mesquiteers are herding horses, and selling them to a business associate. They grow skeptical, though, when they find out he is selling the horses to the Third Freaking Reich! Pretty soon, the horse ranches of the Old West are crawling with Nazi agents, because apparently horses do not exist in Germany, and are essential to Hitler’s war machine.

That’s right, by 1942 every cinematic hero was battling Nazis! For the spies and detectives this made sense, but…westerns?

INTERMISSION – Again, for the final time, we get an actor switch. Boy, that’s something I’ve sure missed! Rufe Davis is out (contracts and all), and his replacement…? Well?...The one Mesquiteer who was also a Mouseketeer (and never a Musketeer, somehow). Of all the people in the world, they found the future MC of “The Mickey Mouse Club.”

[Strike chorus!]

Who’s the actor with the role of playing Lullaby?
J-I-M-M-I-E D-O-double-D.

Hey there, hi there, ho there! Aren’t you glad they cast this guy?
J-I-M-M-I-E D-O-double-D.

Jimmie Dodd! [Donald Duck!]
Jimmie Dodd! [Donald Duck!]
Forever let the Mesquiteers ride – ride – ride!

Of all the crazy things in the world! Here’s the guy who spearheaded the show which gave us Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears (and, er, Christina Aguilera), starring as the third-string hero of a 1940s B-western series.

Shadows on the Sage (1942) – We’ve seen this plot like three or four times already. The trio battles outlaws, whose leader looks exactly like a Mesquiteer. In the past it’s always been Stony, but now that Tucson’s actor is the lead, it’s Tucson. Really, the only difference here is it’s Bob Steele playing dual roles instead of Robert Livingston.

Valley of Hunted Men (1942) – Oh god, it’s Nazis again!

Let me get this one straight: It’s 1941 now (pretty far in the past for a 1942 movie), and the Nazis have escaped from a Canadian prison which may or may not have anything to do with Ilsa. And this time, it’s the Nazi who has the doppelganger – that man being a friend of a friend of the Mesquiteers. Can you see where this is going? The Nazi poses as a rancher, finds the Old West woefully lacking in Jews, and instead preys upon the local mad scientist who has developed a secret formula to extract rubber from rubber plants. SAY WHA’?! So…not only does every movie from 1942 – 1944 have to be about ze Germans, but they’re always, always after some scientist’s secret formula. To go by Hollywood, approximately 1,389 new chemical elements were discovered during this era.

Thundering Trails (1943) – The date is now 1871, and the Nazis are – I’m kidding, no film studio would be stupid enough to place Nazis in the 19th century…well, maybe Monogram.

Actually, it’s the Mafia, Old West-style. How that works is the old “paying for protection” gambit: Pay for police protection, otherwise the outlaws (who are also the police) will beat you up, and kill you if it’s a Wednesday.

The Mesquiteers stop this.

The Blocked Trail (1943) – The Mesquiteers are seeking a three-foot-high horse named Brilliant which can find a gold mine…I – wait – who – what – That don’t make no sense! It seems pretty clear at this point, the 49th entry, the series is running low on ideas.

Santa Fe Scouts (1943) – A squatters rights bill is about to pass, causing all the evil businessmen to come out of the woodwork to start squatting. The Mesquiteers, rather than doing squat, rally together to fight this evil scourge of – whatever bad thing is being done here. I guess the Mesquiteer people were politically opposed to squatters, or something, and could only propagandize against them by having businessmen murder random people for no reason. I hate it when this series has a message.

Riders of the Rio Grande (1943) – Bank robbery. Just…bank robbery. And the Mesquiteers have to stop the bank robbers. Yup!, the inspiration went bye-bye!

*************************************************************

With even the synopses revealing this franchise as languishing in Nazi-soaked first gear, it seems clear the thing is at an end. This was obvious to Republic, which chose to let their actors’ contracts expire – hence the last few entries were produced with the series’ conclusion already a foregone…conclusion.

On its own, this is not a very inspiring or notable franchise finishing. But The Three Mesquiteers had done what is was designed to do – it put Republic Pictures in a position of popular power, where they could produce pictures with success far in excess of the Mesquiteers. The Mesquiteers were to get Republic’s foot in the door; that done, the series could bow out. From now on, Republic could focus on their other western interests instead, with actors such as Roy Rogers and Wild Bill Elliott.

Of course, the B-western remained viable for the remainder of the B-era, through to the end of the 40s. The Three Mesquiteers were largely to thank for that. They’d help create the careers of many notable western stars, including none less than John Wayne. And multitudes of other western trio series arose from the Mesquiteers’ ashes – The Rough Riders, The Trail Blazers, The Range Busters. And at least one of these (The Range Busters) was practically a direct, semi-parallel continuation from The Three Mesquiteers. That one we’ll be visiting sooner rather than later.

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)
• No. 35 Prairie Pioneers (1941)

The Three Mesquiteers, Nos. 39 - 51 (1941 - 1943)

The Three Mesquiteers, No. 35 - Prairie Pioneers (1941)

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)

The Three Mesquiteers, No. 35 - Prairie Pioneers (1941)

Thursday, September 30, 2010

The Three Mesquiteers, Nos. 29 - 38 (1939 - 1941)

Max Terhune did not appear in the final two Mesquiteer movies of the John Wayne era (Wyoming Outlaw and New Frontier). His contract was up, and he was pissed with Republic Pictures over wage disputes. Thus Max and his terrifying dummy Elmer made their terrifying way over to Monogram Pictures – That’s called “out of the frying pan, into the fire.”

As his replacement, for the following nine movies, Raymond Hatton was cast as Terhune’s replacement. Despite Wayne’s having taken the role of Stony Brooke in Robert Livingston’s absence, Republic apparently felt it would be “confusing” for another man to essay the Lullaby Joslin role Terhune in fact stole from another actor before him. Hence Hatton plays Lullaby’s brother, Rusty Joslin, for what little difference it makes. Having not seen any of Hatton’s performances, I can only assume it means a reduction of ventriloquism terror. That can only be a good thing.

Terhune’s departure was but the first sign of a major shakeup in the Mesquiteers. Ray Corrigan, the sole remaining Mesquiteer since the very start of the franchise, left twenty-four films in. His reasoning was cash, same as Terhune’s. They’d become bosom chums in their time together, Corrigan presumably under Elmer’s evil, puppet-like control the same as Terhune. What they went on to do together is a story for another time, but here’s the short of it – They started another franchise, The Range Busters. (We’ll get to that one someday.)

Corrigan had to be replaced as well. This was done by Duncan Renaldo, who would only earn real fame in the 50s when he played the Cisco Kid in, well, “The Cisco Kid.” That’s a TV show, preceded by a like-named franchise for Monogram. (We’ll get to that one someday.)

For now, though, Renaldo plays Rico Renaldo (ooh, reeeaaal creative), because they weren’t confident enough in having someone else take on the Tucson Smith mantel Corrigan had worn. I have nothing to say about Renaldo’s input either, as I’ve seen nothing he did.

Meanwhile…John Wayne also left. Yup, all the Mesquiteers left Republic over a very short two movie (and two month) period. Wayne’s departure was to greener pastures – Stagecoach, The Searchers, an airport named after him in Orange County. Godspeed, Duke.

So his role of Stony Brooke needed to be recast as well. And who do you now get for the role originated by Robert Livingston? Well, how about Robert Livingston? Indeed, Livingston makes his triumphant return to the Mesquiteers, the series’ worth having risen in Republic’s estimation under Wayne’s guidance. Thus Livingston, a brighter star in Republic’s firmament now than when he started with the Mesquiteers (he’s credited as “Robert” now, rather than “Bob”), was again a welcome addition to the fold. This is the creation of –

THE SECOND ROBERT LIVINGSTON ERA

This era lasted for another fourteen pictures, from 1939 to 1941. Yeah, it took ‘em three years to make as many movies as it might make the Saw guys fourteen years to make – and I’m being generous there. It only ended when Livingston left for other B-picture studios. Having already played the Lone Ranger (in between Mesquiteer stints), it only made sense that producers would wish to confuse us more by having Livingston play someone called the Lone Rider in another franchise, The Lone Rider. (We’ll get to that one someday.)

Even under this new Livingston situation, the franchise was not without actor shakeups. Hatton and Reynaldo jumped The Trigger Trio at the same time, part of a simultaneous contract expiration. Renaldo went off to be useless for half a decade, while Hatton went on to join two other cowboy actors (Buck Jones and Tim McCoy) to start his own western trio franchise, The Rough Riders. (We’ll get to that one someday.)

This means, six films into Livingston’s new reign, he needed two new partners in Mesquiteerism. While it would be two entirely new actors, they would assume the titles previously held by the other original Mesquiteers – that is, it’s the glorious in-name-only return of Lullaby Joslin and Tucson Smith.

“Starring Rufe Davis as Lullaby Joslin.” He doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page.

“Starring Bob Steel as Tucson Smith.” Steel was a B-western star on a par with Wayne for most of the 30s, and like Wayne he starred in a John Ford 1939 masterpiece – this one being The Grapes of Wrath (though its one-year release delay allowed Ford to win the Best Director for both). Apart from his newfound fame as a Mesquiteer, Steele was best known for his Billy the Kid franchise with PRC. (We’ll get to that one someday.)

So that is the history surrounding the Second Robert Livingston Era (SRLE), a history of actor changes. While there is some critical opinion that this is the superior era of Mesquiteer production, as a result of increased Republic resources and a more professional cast, it remains profoundly unavailable. I cannot find a single entry in the remaining 31 Mesquiteer movies…except for Prairie Pioneers. So we’ll get to that one tomorrow, but for now, let us consider what little can be gleaned about the remaining SRLE entries:

The Kansas Terrors (1939) – What’s first after our change of pace in casting? A change of pace in setting. So it’s off to the Caribbean, of all places (not Kansas?), where Stony and Rusty meet Renaldo for the first time. Here they aid him in a peasant revolt, and he permanently joins the Mesquiteers (for 7 entries).

Cowboys From Texas (1939) – A title like that is equivalent to saying Aliens From Outer Space. Homesteaders! Cattlemen! Range wars! I think we’ve seen all this…at least once before.

Heroes of the Saddle (1940) – Once again the series goes the cheap route, and vilifies the Rod Blagojeviches of the world who would murder men for the opportunity to use orphans as child labor. I’m serious. Not that the plot is that focused.

- First: The Mesquiteers’ friend dies in a rodeo accident.
- Second: The trio becomes his daughter’s guardian, but yet is legally required to put her in an orphanage until they can afford to get her out of it. The reasoning for this is beyond me.
- Third: They visit the orphanage, which seems to be in cahoots with the old folks home in Happy Gilmore – the girl’s foot is mysteriously injured.
- Fourth: The Mesquiteers decide to raise the money to repair her foot – forgetting about the other reason they’re raising money. To do this, Stony becomes a boxer. Are you still with me?
- Fifth: The orphanage has already fixed the girl’s foot, entirely to deflect suspicions away from them. Naturally, this makes the Mesquiteers suspicious.
- Sixth: Child sweatshops are found! The villain has ties to Kathy Lee Gifford!

(For some reason, this movie’s IMDb page has a picture of Willie Nelson on it.)

Pioneers of the West (1940) – It’s the “crooked real estate developers” plot again, with baddies selling worthless land to innocent settlers, then trying to get the same land back the instant it becomes useless. Methinks their schemes would work better if they just avoided the whole “victim” middleman. No matter, the Mesquiteers aim to raise the needed money for the settlers, because damned if anyone is to defend for themselves in these movies. The Mesquiteers sell cattle, the bad guys rob their cattle, the bad guys frame the Mesquiteers for robbing their own cattle – okay. The Mesquiteers then lash out with violent force, as is their peaceful wont, as Stony becomes a Masked Rider.

(The Masked Rider conceit is a fallout of Livingston’s Lone Rider role, because this allowed them to reuse footage he produced for The Lone Ranger Rides Again. Ah, show business laziness.)

Covered Wagon Days (1940) – Smuggling into Mexico was the concern of Pals of the Saddle, so this one concerns smuggling from Mexico – silver smuggling. Renaldo’s uncle Don Diego runs a mine, and is murdered, Renaldo’s brother found guilty. The Mesquiteers set off to stop those responsible, and clear Renaldo’s brother. (Framing a guy – the easiest thing in the world to do, according to 30s and 40s movies.)

Rocky Mountain Rangers (1940) – Title aside, this takes place in Texas, specifically in the Panhandle. Apparently, this is lawless Obama-run federal land that is never visited by Texas Rangers (even Chuck Norris). The Mesquiteers, though, will go there, where they find a wounded boy and nurse him back to help. Then the bad guy outlaws simply kill the lad anyway, because these later Mesquiteers seem a bit less squeamish about plot-mandated child murder.

These later Mesquiteers are also heavy with Stony’s exact duplicates existing everywhere. It seems in every other entry, Stony has a doppelganger, suggesting some sort of steam-punk meta plot about cloning conspiracies (like a contemporary TV show would do). In the context of 1940, though, it simply means Stony can infiltrate the baddies’ gang, and bring them to justice.

Oklahoma Renegades (1940) – In a franchise that can never settle down on a historical era, with a century-wide margin of error, it is now the waning days of the Spanish-American War. The actual plot is the same as always – victimized homesteaders terrorized by needlessly violent landlords and/or cattlemen – only the historical context allows those victims to specifically be war veterans. So…it’s the exact same plot as The Three Mesquiteers, which was the very first entry. These guys are lucky the Internet didn’t exist in 1940 to call them out on such shenanigans.

Under Texas Skies (1940) – This is the entry where Bob Steele and Rufe Davis came aboard. That means it’s Tucson and Lullaby again. And the heavens rejoiced.

The filmmakers’ celebration involves killing off Stony’s father. The man thought guilty is none other than Stony’s former friend, Tucson Smith. Stony helps Tucson until his father’s deputy (who is the real villain), convinces him otherwise. It is now friend against friend, as Tucson goes on the lamb from the deputized Stony. He is only permanently convinced of his friend’s innocence when Lullaby Joslin, now the local barber, overhears the villain’s confession mid-shave. You know, this sounds like an actual story, not just a context-free reunion. I would’ve liked to have seen this.

The Trail Blazers (1940) – A telegraph has been erected between two Old West forts, meant to stop a band of local outlaws. But the outlaws retaliate – by killing everybody. And I mean everybody – well, except for the outlaws themselves, naturally…and the Mesquiteers. Everyone else – the love interest, the spunky comic relief children, whomever Yakima Canutt certainly plays – all dead! Holy underwear, Batman, these movies are getting dark! Damn that WWII!

Lone Star Raiders (1940) – The Mesquiteers’ ranch (now named for once – it’s the Circle H) is going under, due to drought, dust storm, rivers of blood and locusts. Or…just the first two. To remain financially solvent, the trio aims to sell their horses for an Army contract. But the bad guy also wants that Army horse contract – so our heroes go to war to ensure their horses can go to war.

Prairie Pioneers (1941) – TBD.

Pals of the Pecos (1941) – Apparently it’s the same old Mesquiteer plot as always, but this time with everyone fighting over the U.S. Post Office. The Post Office! I understand mail delivery was more exciting in the 19th century, but still…

Saddlemates (1941) – In the ninth (of ten) entries to sound like it could be pornography, the franchise goes back to vilifying Native Americans, which was still OK in 1941. Due to the magic of bureaucracy, part of Texas along the Red River is declared Indian Territory – this means the Army is well within its jurisdiction to come in and heroically slaughter whole families of natives. Ever the defenders of the common man, the Mesquiteers nobly serve as the Army’s guides and strategists in their murder campaigns. The villain proves to be a villainous Indian chief, Wanachee, who will stoop as low as self defense to protecting his people against the righteousness of Manifest Destiny. I’m glad I didn’t see this one.

Gangs of Sonora (1941) – Wyoming’s statehood. The villains are involved. The villains opposing it, that is. And someone named Kansas Kate, whose alliterative name invokes the wrong state, is caught up in the middle. Also, Mesquiteers. Meh.

Next up – the only movie from the SRLE made available to civilians: Prairie Pioneers

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)
• Nos. 29 – 38 (1940 – 1941)
• No. 35 Prairie Pioneers (1941)
• Nos. 39 – 51 (1941 – 1943)

The Three Mesquiteers, Nos. 29 - 38 (1939 - 1941)

“Starring Rufe Davis as Lullaby Joslin.” He doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page.

Friday, October 1, 2010

The Three Mesquiteers, Nos. 39 - 51 (1941 - 1943)

The Three Mesquiteers, Nos. 39 - 51 (1941 - 1943)

The Three Mesquiteers, No. 35 - Prairie Pioneers (1941)

The Three Mesquiteers, No. 35 - Prairie Pioneers (1941)

Thursday, September 30, 2010

The Three Mesquiteers, Nos. 29 - 38 (1939 - 1941)

The Three Mesquiteers, Nos. 29 - 38 (1939 - 1941)

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