Singing In The Saddle

This week the Bijou is celebrating the singing cowboys of the silver screen. The rich history of this cinematic phenomenon is engrossingly told in Douglas B. Green’s book "Singing in the Saddle". Green, known to his many fans as Ranger Doug, is a founding member of the Grammy Award-winning country music group Riders of the Sky. Here is an excerpt from Ranger Doug’s book where he reveals how movie mogul Herbert J. Yates acquired full control of Republic Pictures and expanded his empire into the music industry.

Of the many associated businesses that Yates came to acquire under the umbrella of Consolidated Film Industries, one of the most fortuitous was Plaza Music, which became the American Record Corporation, a major record label that made Conqueror records for sale at Sears, Roebuck, and released the same masters for other mass marketers under the Perfect, Banner, Melotone, and Oriole labels. Many of the early cowboy singers, including Gene Autry, recorded for ARC. With either phenomenal foresight or phenomenal luck, Yates had poised himself to create a singing cowboy with a dual career on record and film. With the producer Art Satherley at the helm of his recording operation, Yates developed a profitable recording business in the heart of the Depression, selling western, hillbilly, folk, and blues records. At the same time, he gained full control of Republic Pictures and turned it into a minimajor by a similar approach, that is, by developing stars and themes that appealed to a huge rural audience ignored or even scorned by the major studios.

Yates ran Republic with an iron hand and an exceedingly tight budget, something that would cost him dearly in personal relations and legal actions with his major stars, Gene Autry and Roy Rogers. In his defense, Republic unquestionably made the finest, most consistent B pictures. Republic’s occasional forays into longer, more expensive A pictures were usually not terribly successful, although some were well received, including Dark Command (1940), which featured Roy Rogers in a strong supporting, non-singing role, and at least three John Wayne films—Wake of the Red Witch (1948), Sands of Iwo Jima (1949), and The Quiet Man (1952). But the B movie was Republic’s strength and its bread and butter. As veteran Republic writer Sloan Nibley said: “What Republic did better than anyone else was good, fast action shows for a price.”

If the hard-as-nails Yates had a weak spot, it was for the Czech ice-skating star Vera Hruba Ralston, whom he discovered in 1940, married in 1952, and developed into Republic’s top star during the 1950s. After the departure of Wayne, Autry, and Rogers, she headlined the studio’s biggest-budget releases. The lovely, athletic Ralston (considerably taller than the 5’ 4” Yates, and forty years his junior) had taken the silver medal in the 1936 Olympics, bested only by Norway’s Sonja Henie, and she was destined to remain in Henie’s shadow as both women entered pictures. Despite Yates’s energetic backing, most of Ralston’s films were not financial successes, unable to recoup their big budgets. The studio began to flounder in the 1950s as events conspired against Republic, among them the financial failure of Ralston’s movies; the evaporation of the B-picture market; the defection of Yates’s moneymaking singing cowboys and the decline of public interest in singing-cowboy pictures in general, along with a seemingly endless string of legal battles with stars, writers, and craft unions; and the rise of television. In addition Yates was growing old and was not in the best of health. A few years after a protracted lawsuit with Roy Rogers, he was sued by his stockholders, who came together, as the New York Times headlined its October 30, 1956, article, to “Charge He Used Film Company Funds for Wife’s Career.” As John Wayne said about the situation, “Yates was one of the smartest businessmen I ever met, but when it came to the woman he loved, his business brains just went flyin’ out the window.”

It is unfair to blame Ralston’s films for Republic’s demise, as some film historians have insinuated. Yates’s and Republic’s problems were many, and they worsened when he faced an unpleasant strike in 1958 by the Screen Actors Guild and the Writers Guild of America over the issue of residual payments, payments Yates was loathe to make. With the exception of 1948, Republic had turned tidy though unspectacular profits every year from 1940 to 1956, but much of the 1950s profit was not from current films, but from the sale of Yates’s older catalogue to television. This action infuriated Rogers and Autry, who brought lawsuits against Republic. Small-theater owners, long the bread and butter of Republic, were infuriated as well. They felt Yates was selling out to the enemy: Why would youngsters pay to see a reissued Roy Rogers film when they could see the same thing at home for free? Would they come to see the new Rex Allen movie if Roy, Gene, and Hopalong could be had without leaving the living room?

By the mid-1950s what profit Republic generated was not from its current film releases but from those sales of old films to television, from renting out the studio’s well-equipped lot, and from the film-processing arm of the business. Having given up on the kinds of films that had built the studio—serials, B westerns, and singing cowboys—Republic concentrated solely on A features after about 1955 and more than once considered suspending film operations altogether. After losing $1.36 million in 1957 and $1.48 million in 1958, the flow of red ink was too much for the ailing Yates, who sold the firm on July 1, 1959. Ownership of the studio has passed through various hands, and while Republic still exists on paper to this day, it no longer produces feature films. Yates, whose defiant and independent spirit guided and defined Republic, only briefly enjoyed his retirement, due to failing health, and he died in 1966 in Sherman Oaks, California.

We are grateful to Vanderbilt University Press and the Country Music Foundation for permission to share this excerpt with our readers. Singing in the Saddle can be purchased here.

The Original Tom & Jerry

Movie pop culture is replete with live action and animated comedy teams which have met with varying degrees of success. While Laurel & Hardy are universally beloved by audiences, reaction to Abbott & Costello or The Three Stooges usually ranges from wildly enthusiastic to take ‘em or leave ‘em.

MGM’s Technicolor Tom & Jerry cat and mouse cartoons from the 1940s fall into the first camp, while the original Tom & Jerry cartoons from the early thirties fall into the second. In 1930 theatrical animation was scouting for fresh characters and concepts to assure success. With the economy in depression, a studio's survival depended on compelling screen content that would attract large audiences. Movie stars sold tickets -- and popular cartoon stars added greatly to the appeal of each show. Accordingly, Tom & Jerry became the first original cartoon stars to be developed by the Van Beuren studios for distribution by RKO.

The original T & J were created as human characters similar to Mutt & Jeff, with Tom drawn tall and lanky, and Jerry short and pudgy. Each had little personality, but loads of attitude and spunk. In some cartoons their personalities are blandly interchangeable with the humor derived from the action around them. In others Tom is distinctly nervous and passive, while Jerry is confident and mischievous or even mean-spirited.

With the coming of sound, animation pioneers who had honed their skills in silents had a powerful new voice to spice up their cartoon concoctions. Adding music and effects meant story lines could go in uncharted new directions. A popular song or melody could suddenly motivate characters in a single sequence or be the foundation for an entire cartoon. The studio hired bandleader Gene Rodemich to create original music scores and, with Jack Ward, coordinate and synchronize the music and effects with the output from the animators. From 1931 to 1933 under directors John Foster, George Stallings and others, the Van Beuren studio turned out 26 Tom & Jerry cartoons.

Before T & J became cartoon stars they had an earlier incarnation in four Van Beuren Aesop’s Fables cartoons produced prior to 1931 as Waffles the Cat and Don the Dog. Surprisingly, even after Tom & Jerry were established, the studio made one more attempt to bring back Waffles & Don in a 1932 cartoon called Magic Art.

The wild, bizarre humor and surreal characters that populate these cartoons bring to mind the animated content found in Monty Python’s Flying Circus, created by the popular 1960s British comedy team. The great joy of Monty Python, like the Tom & Jerry cartoons, is the comedy of the unexpected. If one particular outrageous sequence doesn't work for you, it’s over before you know it and the next one will have you rolling on the floor. The random plots in both series find humor in risqué gags and grotesque situations, like decapitations and dancing disembodied body parts.

In Swiss Trick (1931), a Swiss mountain man is walking a chunk of Swiss cheese on a leash. Tom & Jerry steal and eat the Swiss cheese only to break out with holes all over their bodies. When the mice get wind of this the chase is on for the mice to catch and eat Tom & Jerry. Very Pythonesque! In other T & J adventures artist Tom attempts to paint a dancing cow's portrait and plays a cash register like a piano. In a diner, eggs and sausages dance while being cooked in a skillet, meanwhile at the lunch counter an effeminate man with a macho voice asks the studly man sitting next to him to pass the salt, only to have the butch customer respond in a sissy falsetto.

Often the parts are better than the whole in these cartoons, and racial clichés do pop up from time to time associated with blacks, rabbis and Chinese stereotypes. But overall these cartoons hold up quite well with contemporary audiences and remain highly imaginative and entertaining diversions.

When the early Tom & Jerry cartoons were sold to television two decades after they were made, the cat and mouse Tom & Jerry had become an established hit with theatergoers, so the boys' names were changed to Dick & Larry for TV to avoid confusion.

Our friend and colleague Jerry Beck has much more info on the original Tom & Jerry on his Cartoon Research website, including a comprehensive filmography on all 26 cartoons written by David Gerstein and Pietro Shakarian.

Oh, Buck! Wasn't that a battle!

In 1934 an obscure movie short called Buck Rogers in the 25th Century -- An Interplanetary Battle with the Tiger Men of Mars was released, but not in theaters. David Stelle accurately describes it in the IMDb: “A signal from Buddy Deering on Mars warns Earth that the Tiger Men of Mars and their cruel king have broken their treaty and are attacking. Buck Rogers and Wilma Deering go to rendezvous with the Earth battlefleet before setting off to fight the tigerships. Baldpated genius inventor Dr. Huer uses the ‘cosmic radiotelevision’ to watch the space battle. Which side will be victorious? The tigerships and their paralysis ray? Or our Earth forces, armed with the flash ray and Dr. Huer's new magnetic ray?”

You might well ask -- “What the heck is this anyway?” -- either before or after you watch it. While not exactly a Hollywood movie, it is a jaw-dropping curiosity.

The first Buck Rogers film was shown to the public during the second year, 1934 edition, of the Chicago World's Fair. The Century of Progress International Exposition was held in Chicago in 1933 and 1934 to celebrate the city's centennial. The theme of the fair was technological innovation. Its motto was "Science Finds, Industry Applies, Man Conforms" and its architectural symbol was the Sky Ride, a transporter bridge perpendicular to the shore on which one could ride from one end of the fair to the other. After a winter break, the 1934 Fair ran from May 26 through Oct. 31 and included a new Island Midway area that faced Lake Michigan. The "Buck Rogers Show," as it was called on admission tickets, was located on the Enchanted Island playground for children, at #125 on the left hand section of the 1934 Fair Map. It is unknown whether this film was the entire show, or if fans were treated to some live action event as well for their dime. It is certain that after watching the movie, visitors could purchase the very same toy spaceships and ray guns they had just seen. Pretty tricky, huh?


Buck first appeared as Anthony Rogers in an issue of the pulp magazine Amazing Stories in August, 1928. John F. Dille, president of the National Newspaper Service syndicate, saw the potential of the futuristic adventure and arranged for the author, Philip Francis Nowlan, to turn it into a comic strip for Dille's syndicate. The strip was re-named "Buck Rogers," inspired by the name of cowboy star Buck Jones, and that name was used for the character from then on. Dille assigned staff artist Lt. Dick Calkins to the project, and he successfully drew the strip for the next 18 years.

The 1934 film on a zero budget resembles a “home movie” hastily thrown together with lots of spirit but little skill by amateurs. It was in fact produced by the John F. Dille Co. and filmed in the studios of the Action Film Company of Chicago. Dick Calkins appears briefly at his drawing board. The actor playing Buck is John Dille, Jr., the son of the strip’s owner! While Junior looks the part, his, um acting, um, speaks for itself. The actress playing Wilma Deering was Junior’s girlfriend when the film was being shot. Their onscreen chemistry hints at the length of the relationship. The listless delivery of her last line -- “Oh, Buck, wasn’t that a battle!” -- is priceless. Dr. Huer is played by Harlan Tarbell, a stage magician and illustrator, who also “directed” the film but never directed or acted in any other film. His baldpate make-up positively flops around on his head. The sets and special effects are equally impressive. This camp classic must be seen to be believed, so we won’t give away more of the fun!

The film may well have thrilled fair goers, particularly young kids who had never seen anything quite like it. The futuristic serials The Phantom Empire, Undersea Kingdom and Flash Gordon did not hit movie screens until 1935 and 1936, while the Buck Rogers serial with Buster Crabbe came later in 1939. Also keep in mind that Buck’s fans in 1934 avidly listened to his weekly radio exploits. The narrated space battle sounds much like a radio show and is actually more exciting, though far less funny, with your eyes closed! If the spaceships in the big battle look like toy models, that’s exactly what they are, and darned good ones we all wish we had today. To top it off, the show neatly fit into the futuristic theme of the Century of Progress.

There is no indication this first Buck Rogers film was ever shown in movie theaters, where even matinee audiences might have found it laughably amateurish. The June 1936 issue of the trade magazine “Toys and Novelties” reports that the film had a second life by being shown in department stores to promote Buck Rogers merchandise. More Buck toys were sold in the 1930s than Mickey Mouse, with countless games, puzzles, figurines, Big Little Books, ray guns, spaceships and even a full costume for boys. Toy stores devoted entire sections and Christmas displays to Buck and the film doubtless attracted even more customers.

A granddaughter of John Dille discovered a 35mm print of this forgotten film in her basement around 1983 and donated it to UCLA, who struck a new print. It was unleashed on the modern world at the 1984 Cinecon convention in San Francisco. The auditorium rocked with laughter. Despite the copyright notice at the head, the film was never registered with the Library of Congress and so is in the public domain for all the world to enjoy.

Matinee at the Bijou - An Update

The time has come to provide our faithful readers an update on the status of Matinee at the Bijou. Here is a complete behind-the-scenes report on our progress to date, and some timely words about the challenge that lies ahead.

Two years ago PBS gave the green light to the Matinee at the Bijou sequel series, with the beloved Debbie Reynolds as host, subject to the securing of sponsorship. Due to the history and success of the series, we expected that with a little hard work and patience, corporate sponsorship would follow. After all, during the 1980s, Matinee at the Bijou was one of the most popular programs on PBS and for five consecutive seasons often ranked among the top ten shows (even though it was a fringe time show) with a weekly audience often exceeding ten million viewers.

After many months of attempting to get the attention of obvious sponsor targets, and in most cases not getting any response at all, we came to the realization that we lacked the necessary expertise to attract a sponsor ourselves. We further learned that most corporations do not review unsolicited proposals, but instead send them on to a mega-agency that does this for them. So we contacted one of these agencies to inquire which of their clients might find interest in MATB. To our dismay, we learned that sponsorship proposals today are initially processed by computer. Specific data is fed into the computer and it does the analysis. The person we spoke to, in a kind-hearted attempt to spare us further wasted time, told us that if the project is for PBS, the computer automatically spits it out because: “If it’s a PBS show, further consideration is unwarranted, as PBS ratings and key demographics fall below required thresholds.”

We also learned that to succeed we needed to incorporate the emerging new Web 2.0 associations - now essential for TV series sponsorships. Web 2.0, as it relates to television shows, includes a blog or website, a presence on YouTube, and a variety of other social networking applications. So in November, 2006, we launched the Bijou Blog, and last year began our weekly series of Bijou Mini-Matinees on YouTube.

We further realized that we needed professional representation, so we approached the WGBH Sponsorship Group for help. We talked with Suzanne Zellner, only to learn that, ironically, the WGBH Sponsorship Group had temporarily ceased taking on new clients until they overhauled their operation and adjusted their contracts to incorporate all the new Web 2.0 language and codices. Suzanne complimented us on our MATB Web 2.0 development and graciously took the time to review our pitch package and provide some tips and suggestions.

Last fall we approached Adam Gronski at PBS affiliate WETA for advice. WETA is the venerable PBS station that brings us Washington Week and the Ken Burns’ documentaries, and has a separate sponsorship department much like WGBH. Adam was impressed with how we had integrated the MATB series content into the new Web 2.0 demands. He described MATB as having “all the arms and legs” and ripe for pitching to sponsors. Adam agreed to rep the series and he and his talented associates spent several months attempting to secure a sponsorship, but without success.

We learned from WETA that for MATB to achieve corporate sponsorship on PBS alone would require what is known as “common carriage.” Common carriage means that a show is on all (or nearly all) PBS stations on the same day and at the same time. We proposed to PBS the idea of airing MATB on Friday nights at 10:00 pm in common carriage, but were told that the competition was already too keen for what little PBS prime time was not already booked with established PBS shows.

Based on the foregoing experience and education, we believe we have figured out the key to successfully funding MATB. Our new approach follows the emerging pattern of establishing two separate broadcast (or webcast) homes for a single series. As an example, “Dexter,” the Showtime original series, recently established a separate broadcast home on commercial CBS. Showtime premieres each episode first, and a few months later the episodes begin showing on CBS – along with commercials. Accordingly, we are seeking a commercial network to become a “dual home” broadcast partner with public television stations in bringing back the MATB series.

Fortunately, there are now emerging a number of niche networks highly suited to MATB content. For example, Retirement Living TV is a new and dynamic commercial cable TV network catering specifically to the underserved senior demographic. We recently pitched them MATB, with very encouraging results. RLTV is soon to expand from a weekday-only to a 24/7 broadcast schedule, but it all won’t be in place until next year. We were encouraged to revisit discussions with RLTV in the fall if we have not found our home by that time.

Another growing niche network that is currently expanding its programming prowess is RFD-TV. RFD is filling the void left when the Nashville Network was replaced by Spike TV. RFD’s demographic appeal is to rural America. Once during the 1980s, The Nashville Network expressed interest in MATB, but we were already committed to PBS as the series home. Perhaps the second time around.

The new Smithsonian Channel accepts advertising and is programmed by Showtime, so the same “dual-home” combination fueled by commercial ads and underwriting spots would have potential here as well. America’s classic movie heritage is a key asset among America’s treasures. And after all, where else on television but on Turner Classic Movies or TV Land can you watch classic cartoons, shorts and serials? The Hallmark Channel owns the Laurel & Hardy shorts, but doesn’t show them. Even The Cartoon Network has pretty much abandoned the showing of classic pre-1960 cartoons.

The Bijou Team is currently preparing pitches to the various pay-cable movie networks, since they depend upon original programming to attract new subscribers, but until now have not tried showcasing a weekend daytime original series. Matinee at the Bijou, with the wonderful Debbie Reynolds hosting, would surely attract new subscribers to HBO, Showtime or Starz channels.

Then there are doors to knock on across the pond. The British love classic American movies and we are preparing a pitch to BBC Worldwide, ITV and Channel Four. Web casting networks continue to emerge with unique new advertising models which we are also investigating.

In the days and weeks ahead, the Bijou Team will continue our quest for a commercial-based network as a second home along with public television. Adam Gronski of WETA will continue to represent the series.

Meanwhile, through the Bijou Blog we will continue to share what we learn along the way and introduce our readers to the passionate people we encounter who are also working effectively to preserve our classic movie heritage. And the weekly Bijou Mini-Matinees will continue to change on Wednesdays. We welcome comments and suggestions (or leads) from our readers. Please address your correspondence to executive producer Ron Hall at fesfilms@aol.com.

Product Placement in Movies

Product placement didn’t start with Austin Powers, James Bond or E.T. Before this annoying phenomenon became ubiquitous in movies and on television, it had long been a controversial concept dating back to the birth of the movies. For captive audiences to see a client’s product on the big movie screen is every product marketer’s dream.

As early as 1896, French film pioneers the Lumiere brothers were mixing it up with the Lever Bro’s when they featured Sunshine Soap in their films in what was surely a mutually beneficial exchange.

The original Matinee at the Bijou series featured a 1938 theatrical cartoon produced by Walter Lantz that was actually a commercial short made for Bristol Myers. It featured colorful characters from the syndicated comic strip “Reg’lar Fellers” promoting Ipana Toothpaste on the big screen.

Soap and toothpaste and other benign consumer products take a back seat in the controversy over product placement in movies. Cigarettes and smoking remain in the driver’s seat when it comes to outrage among social critics, consumer activists and health-care professionals.

In 1989, much media attention accompanied the prominent integration of Lark cigarettes into the screenplay for the James Bond movie, License to Kill. This commercial transaction between Philip Morris and United Artists led to the inclusion of a “United States Surgeon General Warning” in the closing credits of the film, along with calls for an outright ban on the practice.

However, long before James Bond drew fire, White Owl Cigars paid out $250,000 for a tie-in to WB’s 1932 Scarface gangster movie in exchange for the right to claim that star Paul Muni smoked them in the movie. Chesterfield got a similar deal with Columbia on behalf of You'll Never Get Rich, a 1941 movie starring Fred Astaire.

And long before Joe Camel was indicted for influencing kids to start smoking, cigarette companies had been subtly and secretly targeting kids as young as 2 years to eventually adopt the addictive habit. The cigarette companies always denied this, of course, but as evidence, the British Medical Journal published the following in their review of previously secret tobacco advertising:

The tobacco industry recruits new smokers by associating its products with fun, excitement, sex, wealth, and power and as a means of expressing rebellion and independence. One of the ways it has found to promote these associations has been to encourage smoking in entertainment productions. Exposure to smoking in entertainment media is associated with increased smoking and favourable attitudes towards tobacco use among adolescents 2–8.

While the tobacco industry has routinely denied active involvement in entertainment programming, previously secret tobacco industry documents made available in the USA show that the industry has had a long and deep relationship with Hollywood. Placing tobacco products in movies and on television, encouraging celebrity use and endorsement, advertising in entertainment oriented magazines, designing advertising campaigns to reflect Hollywood's glamour, and sponsoring entertainment oriented events have all been part of the industry's relationship with the entertainment industry.
Case in point is an outrageous and bizarre 1935 cartoon called "Kool Penguins", created by Brown & Williamson Tobacco Company and promoted to theater managers and chains as "amusing for grown-ups and a real laugh for the youngsters". The cartoon depicts an animated penguin battalion flying in from the South Pole to Kentucky where they participate in the production of Kool cigarettes. The penguins then drop cartons of cigarettes over New York City until the skyscrapers are blanketed in snowdrifts -- of Kools. The final shot depicts the Statue of Liberty lighting up a Kool before the camera pans up to show a pack of Kools in Liberty’s hand in place of the torch.

Brown & Williamson marketing campaigns were strategically engineered to include window displays and placards advertising the “Kool” cartoon and how theaters could get the cartoon for free, along with advertising displays that integrated the name of the feature movie being shown. The theater got a free cartoon and display, and the cigarette company got a priceless association with the latest hit movie.

Fortunately, when cooler heads prevailed, the studios would occasionally offer a more positive message in their cartoons, shorts and features. One such example is an anti-smoking cartoon and a Bijou favorite called Wholly Smoke, starring a very young Porky Pig. A neighborhood bully convinces Porky to take a puff from his cigar, causing Porky to hallucinate and conjure up a character named Nick O. Teen, who teaches Porky about the dangers of smoking. A song Little Boys Shouldn’t Smoke accompanies a lively musical soundtrack with performing cigars, cigarettes and pipes, along with celebrity caricatures of Cab Calloway, Bing Crosby, The Three Stooges and many others.

Great Thanks to our friend and colleague Steve Stanchfield and Thunderbean Animation.