The Three Faces of Tom Keene

Under the old studio system movie moguls groomed promising new stars by first creating for them a new name. Today we look at the curious screen career of a B-movie star who acted under three different names, but is remembered today mostly for his many roles as cowboy star Tom Keene.

Keene was born in New York state in 1896 and eventually began an acting career in live theater and the movies using his birth name, George Duryea. Following a dozen worthy film roles in Hollywood, RKO Radio Pictures developed Duryea into a popular B-movie cowboy star after first changing his name to Tom Keene. Fifteen years later, when the starring roles stopped coming, Keene changed his name to Richard Powers and continued another fifteen years as a stage, screen and television actor.

In the late 50s, at the end of a fading film career, Powers permitted his once-famous Tom Keene moniker to be used in association with a few films, including a role in what many consider the worst movie ever made -- Plan 9 From Outer Space. According to the Internet Movie Database Duryea/Keene/Powers performed in 113 screen roles, including 86 movies and 27 television shows.

George Duryea's first screen appearance was in 1923 in a one-reel short called The Just A Little Late Club, produced by Better Day Pictures as a "Picturization of a Bruce Barton editorial." Bruce Barton was a pioneer in advertising and public relations who became nationally known as "God's Pitchman" after writing a best-selling book called The Man Nobody Knows. In the book, Barton argues that Jesus Christ was the world's greatest salesman. Producer/Director Cecil B. DeMille admired Barton's book and reportedly considered making it into a movie. While that didn't happen, DeMille did hire Barton as Technical Advisor for his epic production of King of Kings (1927).

George Duryea's association with Bruce Barton likely led to DeMille casting Duryea for the lead role in his production of The Godless Girl (1929).

The film is a religious parable with Duryea cast as a Christian student and class-president contending with a determined co-ed (Lina Basquette) bent on promoting atheism on campus and recruiting new members for her "Godless Club." The Godless Girl begins with a written prologue reminiscent of exploitation films like Reefer Madness:

It is not generally known that there are Atheist Societies using the schools of the country as their battleground -- attacking, through the Youth of the Nation, the beliefs that are sacred to most of the people. And no fanatics are so bitter as youthful fanatics.

Keene is seen briefly in a fascinating four-minute clip from The Godless Girl that you can watch here.

Barton and DeMille may also have played a part in Duryea's success in landing a dozen prominent film roles (several with major studios) during his first three years in Hollywood -- and perhaps why many of Duryea's future film roles would be associated with religious and historical themes. His experiences working on The Godless Girl and performances in Tide of Empire (1929) and Tol'able David (1930) paved the way for Duryea's rising star and first Hollywood makeover.

In 1930, RKO decided George Duryea had the rugged good-looks and talent to be cast as the star in a series of westerns they were planning. However, studio heads decided that a more marketable name was needed, and history suggests Duryea's new name "Tom Keene" was inspired by a popular cigar brand of the era. Keene starred in a dozen of these B-westerns for RKO beginning with The Sundown Trail in 1931.

Unfortunately, this first series of Tom Keene westerns, with a few exceptions, proved to be mostly pedestrian and lacked continuity of character. In each episode, Keene played a different role with a different name and wore undistinguishable wardrobes. The only distinction was that in each film Keene buckled his gunbelt in the back rather than the front. RKO discontinued the series in 1933, and it's unclear whether the decision was engineered by RKO or by Keene himself, who may have tired of being typecast in westerns.

Keene was next offered the lead role in director King Vidor's controversial 1934 Depression-era classic Our Daily Bread. While some assailed the films socialistic solutions for surviving the Great Depression, Keene and the film were mostly well-received by audiences and critics; nonetheless the film did poorly at the box office. You can read Victoria Balloon's essay and watch a dramatic scene from Our Daily Bread as part of last week's post.

Following Our Daily Bread, Keene performed in a few Paramount westerns before accepting an offer by poverty-row studio Crescent Pictures to star in a series of eight historical dramas based on real-life characters and world events. Mostly well-produced with low budgets, these were not traditional westerns and have titles like Drums of Destiny (1937), Raw Timber (1937), Under Strange Flags (1937), and Old Louisiana (1936), in which he co-starred with Rita Hayworth before the studios changed her name from Rita Cansino. One of the films in this series, The Law Commands (1937) can be watched in its entirety and for free courtesy of the Internet Archive.

While Tom Keene was busy making the Crescent Pictures series in 1935, Monogram Pictures was losing its identity in a merger with Mascot Pictures and Consolidated Film Industries to form Republic Pictures. Fortunately, about the time Keene was wrapping the Crescent series, Monogram was released from the merger and Monogram Pictures was reborn with much optimism and fanfare. As part of the studio's restart, Keene returned to his former role as a cowboy star in a series of four Tom Keene westerns; God's Country and the Man (1937), Where Trails Divide (1937), Romance of the Rockies ((1937), and The Painted Trail (1938).

Following the four Monogram westerns, considered by many to be among his finest work, Keene took a two year hiatus from acting, dabbled in real estate, and even made some personal appearances serving as the "Honorary Mayor" of Sherman Oaks, California, in 1939.

In 1940, Keene returned to Monogram for another round of eight Tom Keene westerns produced and released during 1940-42. This time around Keene's cowboy persona included some continuity of character with frequent sidekicks, wonder horses and gal pals. One in this series, Western Mail (1942) can be seen in its entirety courtesy of Internet Archive.

Ironically, his last film as a certified cowboy star was Monogram's Where Trails End (1942). This second round of Monogram westerns marked the end of Tom Keene's stardom and the beginning of his third makeover under the new stage, screen and television name of Richard Powers.

As Richard Powers, Keene had an ambitious, though greatly diminished, third act in show business. He began Act III as a contract player at RKO and appeared in many featured bit roles both as good guys and villains, credited and uncredited. He had small roles in Dick Tracy's Dilemma (1947), Dick Tracy Meets Gruesome (1947), with The Bowery Boys in Dig That Uranium (1955), and many other films. In 1950, as Richard Powers, he starred in Republic Picture's 12-chapter cliffhanger called Desperadoes of the West.

In 1951, Powers took his new name to television and appeared in such popular series as Hopalong Cassidy, The Millionaire, General Electric Theater, The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet, The Abbott & Costello Show and Death Valley Days. You can watch Richard Powers performing in the TV series Judge Roy Bean (1956) on the Internet Archive.

Powers allowed his famous Tom Keene screen name to be used a few times during the Richard Powers years; notably as one of several famous cowboy guest stars in the Roy Rogers film Trail of Robin Hood (1950), in a Dan Rowan and Dick Martin western spoof called Once Upon a Horse (1958), and in his swan-song appearance in what is arguably the worst movie ever committed to celluloid, Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959).

With the tagline "They Came From the Bowels of Hell," it would ironically be a Baptist Church that financed director Ed Wood's Golden Turkey Award winner and Keene's final film, but only after the church convinced Wood to change the film's name from Grave Robbers From Outer Space.

George Duryea, Tom Keene and Richard Powers retired from the screen in 1959 and again dabbled in real estate and insurance until dying of cancer in 1963, leaving behind a widow and stepson.

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Many of Tom Keene's movies can be seen on Turner Classic Movies and purchased at TCM or Amazon.com. Much more info on this and other popular cowboy stars of classic movies can be found at The Old Corral website.

Our Daily Bread (1934)

OUR DAILY BREAD (1934)
Victoria Balloon provides a timely and compelling background on this controversial and rarely-seen film classic about the Great Depression.

With dialog by Joseph L. Mankiewicz (All About Eve, Guys and Dolls) and a score by Alfred Newman (Wuthering Heights, The Seven Year Itch) director King Vidor found the inspiration for Our Daily Bread in a Reader’s Digest article. The New York Times review of 1934 called the film “a social document of amazing vitality and emotional impact,” and its tagline “Inspired by Headlines Today!” still reflects the American landscape 75 years later.

Unable to find work, John Sims laments: “Just try standing in line for three hours with a hundred other guys waiting for one measly job!” He and wife Mary jump at the chance to live on a run-down homestead even though they know nothing of farming. A Swedish man who lost the mortgage on his own farm teaches John about plowing and planting, and from this experience John gets the idea to form a “co-operative community.”


The farm quickly acquires a broad swath of unemployed America — carpenters and masons, but also a concert violinist, a cigar salesman and an escaped convict — who all pitch in to work. But when there is no food to tide the group over until the fields produce, and a platinum blonde tries to seduce John away from wife and farm, the future of the community looks grim. With the workers discouraged and the corn only a few days from ruin, is there any way to get water to the fields?


Vidor’s skilled use of what he called “silent music,” a technique learned from director D.W. Griffith, makes the last ten minutes of this film incredibly powerful. The scenes of the farmers digging a trench were recorded to the sound of a metronome and bass drum beating in 4/4 time. Picks swing down on beats 2 and 4, while shovels scoop on 1 and throw dirt on 3. By increasing the speed of the actors and decreasing the camera speed, Vidor creates visual urgency; combined with Newman’s score, flowing water becomes an emotional release.

After Vidor’s 1925 hit The Big Parade, MGM production head Irving Thalberg asked him what he wanted to do next. Interested in the lives and struggles of ordinary people, Vidor made his silent film The Crowd (1928), the story of a man reacting to modern urban life. Our Daily Bread is the sequel, only this time the young couple faces the economic difficulty of the Great Depression.

Vidor hoped to have the original actors from The Crowd play John and Mary, but alcoholism rendered James Murray unsuitable for the role of John. When Vidor directed Eleanor Boardman as Mary in The Crowd they had been married for two years, but their divorce in 1933 undoubtedly influenced his decision to seek a new actress for the part.

Vidor had worked with great stars before (John Gilbert, Lillian Gish), but for Our Daily Bread he cast relative unknowns to emphasize the “everyman” aspect of the story. Karen Morley’s previous experience included lesser parts in well-known films (Mata Hari, Dinner at Eight). Involvement in Our Daily Bread followed by Black Fury inspired her commitment to political activism; in 1951 she was called before the House Un-American Activities Committee, which ended her career.

Tom Keene, who also acted under the name Richard Powers and George Duryea, was primarily an actor in B-movie westerns (Scarlet River, Cross Fire); Vidor chose him for his resemblance to Murray. Both Morley and Keene appear to act with opposite extremes — she is understated, almost stiff, while he exudes “gee whiz!” boyish exuberance. Their performances may seem awkward by modern standards, but as metaphors for steadfast tradition (Mary) and the can-do spirit of Americans (John), they work. Today’s audiences may be most familiar with actor John Qualen, who played the Swedish farmer. Qualen had a similar role in Grapes of Wrath and played a Norwegian freedom fighter in Casablanca.

Despite King Vidor’s reputation and previous successes, no major studio would fund or distribute Our Daily Bread because it unabashedly addressed populist sentiments, questioning the success of American democracy and the viability of capitalism in the face of economic failure. Vidor had to put up his own money in addition to mortgaging his home and possessions to finance the picture. Eventually United Artists under Charlie Chaplin distributed the film, and Chaplin contributed ideas to the script. As Vidor recalls during seminars and interviews at the American Film Institute during the 1970s:

When we opened at the Pantages on Hollywood Boulevard, the fellows in publicity got up a full-page ad, and the day before the opening the ad was cancelled. The Hearst papers wouldn’t run the ad. We called them up and they said it was “pinko propaganda.” Then a group came from Russia, where the film had been screened, and they said to me, “We would have given you the first prize, except your film is capitalistic propaganda.” I don’t know which the film is, though I think it’s quite an honor to have one picture called both.

Our Daily Bread didn’t make a lot of money, but Vidor was able to pay back his debts. His career ultimately spanned 67 years (1913-1980) and included 69 films, earning him a place in the Guinness Book of World Records.


As with so many early films, there are obvious (and sometimes vulgar) ethnic caricatures. Vidor uses these stereotypes to demonstrate the cross-section of America affected by the Depression and how, despite their differences, they are united by their desire to find honest work. Our Daily Bread can be seen in its entirety at the Internet Archive, but right now we’d like to give you a small taste of it here on the Bijou Blog Screen. In this segment John reflects on how much he’s learned from the Swedish farmer in such a short time. He wonders aloud to Mary how many others might be in similar straits, and if perhaps there might be some way to help them…

Screwball Comedies

There’s no better way to escape life’s troubles than by watching a laugh-filled classic film comedy! Contributor Victoria Balloon takes a look at those wonderful screwball comedies of the 1930s and 40s.

Combine outrageous scenarios with slapstick humor, then add witty, fast-paced dialogue and light romantic situations and you have that wonderful cinematic treasure called the screwball comedy — or as film critic Andrew Sarris describes it, “ a sex comedy without the sex.” The basic elements of the screwball comedy were not particularly new; director Ernst Lubitsch had made sophisticated comedies such as Trouble in Paradise and slapstick was integral to the silent films of Charlie Chaplin, while Hollywood already had tough-talking blondes like Mae West and Broadway had light comedies by Noel Coward. What made screwballs a completely new genre was the combination of these elements against the backdrop of three events in Hollywood history: the transition to sound in film, stricter enforcement of the Production Code and the Great Depression.

Though the Production Code (sometimes called the Hays Code) was adopted in 1930, it wasn’t rigorously enforced until 1933. The transition to sound in the movies made language-based comedy a natural, but the stricter application of the Code meant the language of sex and sexuality had to be more subtle; writers and directors that understood dialogue and comedic pacing were key. But to describe these movies only in terms of sex misses the point of their enormous audience appeal. During the Great Depression people went to the movies to escape. The portrayal of class in screwballs, often with a rich versus poor theme and usually with the rich receiving their comeuppance, had a particular appeal to audiences that went to the movies to laugh and to feel better about their own economic circumstances.

Considering these three events it’s no coincidence that the birth of the screwball comedy came shortly thereafter in 1934 with what most consider the first of the genre: Frank Capra’s It Happened One Night. MGM and Paramount execs loaned Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert to "poverty row" studio Columbia as punishment, but the picture earned both stars an Oscar. It is the classic model of a screwball comedy: the physical expression of romance comes not from kisses and clinches, but the outrageous situation the hero and heroine find themselves in and the physical comedy that follows. Romantic tension comes from watching characters exchange witty dialogue and verbal darts; we know how the story will end, but the tension comes from wondering when the hero and heroine will finally realize that they are in love.

It Happened One Night, The Awful Truth, and Bringing up Baby are classic screwball comedies, but there are lesser-known screwballs which represent the early efforts of some of Hollywood’s great writers and directors. We suggest the following quartet of screwball comedies — follow the links for a rib-tickling romp!

Easy Living (1937)
When working girl Mary Smith (Jean Arthur) receives a sable coat from investment banker J.B. Ball (Edward Arnold), gossip and mistaken identities make her the hottest socialite in New York. But when she befriends a waiter who turns out to be J.B. Ball Jr. (Ray Milland), the mix-ups and misunderstandings set off a stock market crash to rival the one in 1929. Jean Arthur’s squeaky voice and uncomplicated looks have a girl-next-door quality that gives Preston Sturges’ script a delightful, “it could happen to you!” feeling. Arthur was riding high at this point in her career, having just finished hits like The Whole Town’s Talking and Mr. Deeds Goes to Town.

Ray Milland was well on his way to stardom; because he usually played suave and sophisticated roles, it’s extremely funny to see him stuck in a bathtub (Milland was truly unable to climb out of the huge, magnificent bathtub and director Mitchell Leisen kept the cameras rolling). This is the fourth of six films Milland would eventually make with Leisen. Easy Living also features one of the most luxurious art deco hotel suites you will ever see, as well as a delightful glimpse of a Horn & Hardart Automat.

Midnight (1939)
Showgirl Eve Peabody (Claudette Colbert) wants money and social standing, and she knows she won’t get it from cab driver Tibor Czerny (Don Ameche). When she finds herself falling in love with him, she runs away and poses as “Baroness Czerny.” But how long can Eve keep up the charade when “Baron Czerny” starts looking for his “wife?” Eve knows that “every Cinderella has her Midnight,” and this script written by Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett has the intrigue getting more convoluted and hilarious by turns.

Colbert’s performance in It Happened One Night may be better known, but her performance in Midnight is no less delightful. When Eve gets off the train in Paris she has nothing but a lovely lamé gown and her wits, and it is precisely this kind of sophisticated woman confident in her own resources that Colbert portrays so well. While not a romantic lead in the typical Hollywood sense, Don Ameche brings an honesty and earnestness well-suited to Czerny’s democratic appeal.

Midnight is a movie that suffered a number of problems while filming — Barrymore’s difficulties with alcoholism meant cue cards had to be on hand, Mary Astor was several months pregnant and scenes had to be rewritten around her condition, and Colbert refused to be photographed from the right because she believed her nose was crooked (but only on the right side). Nevertheless, the onscreen result is pure fun.

The Major and the Minor (1942)
The Major and the Minor is also from the writing team of Wilder and Brackett. Susan Applegate (Ginger Rogers) disguises herself as a twelve-year-old in order to purchase a half-fare train ticket, but ends up having to hide her age from Major Phillip Kirby (Ray Milland) and 300 “junior wolf” cadets at a military academy. Ginger Rogers may be better remembered as Fred Astaire’s dance partner, but she was truly an actress in her own right, winning an Oscar for Best Actress in Kitty Foyle and becoming one of Hollywood’s most beloved stars.

Director Billy Wilder does pay a sort of homage to Rogers’ dancing roots; during the tap dance scene at the switchboard, Rogers may be playing twelve-years-old, but she hoofs it like a pro. In the five years since Easy Living, Ray Milland polished his understated comedic touch, but it wasn’t until another film with Wilder that Hollywood recognized the full range of his abilities; The Lost Weekend garnered four Oscars: Best Actor, Best Director, Best Screenplay, and Best Picture. While unusual that Wilder had his directorial debut with such A-list actors, both Rogers and Milland signed on to the project because they believed Wilder had what it took to be a director. With this film they were proven right.

After seeing her in so many glamorous roles it’s quite a shock to see Rogers without makeup. Wilder himself admitted the idea of a thirty-year-old playing a twelve-year-old was preposterous. However, she made it work, and in "Nobody's Perfect: Billy Wilder, A Personal Biography" by Charlotte Chandler, Rogers explained, “Mother and I often didn't have enough money when we traveled, so I carried my stuffed doll named Freakus, which made me look younger, especially when I hugged it and talked with it, and then, at night, I could just use it as a pillow. Just like Sue-Sue, I often pretended I was younger than I was, so I could travel half-fare. I was Sue-Sue!” The role of Mrs. Applegate in the movie was in fact played by Rogers’ mother, Lela Rogers.

The Palm Beach Story (1942)
After five years of marriage, Tom (Joel McCrea) and Gerry Jeffers (Claudette Colbert) are broke, and Gerry believes Tom would be better able to pursue his business ventures without her. She flees to Palm Beach, where she hopes to get a quick divorce, but instead she finds one of the richest men in the world, John D. Hackensacker III (Rudy Vallee) to finance Tom’s invention.

When Preston Sturges directs his own scripts, it isn’t just the hero and heroine who are screwy; everyone is, from the Wienie King tasting the toothpaste in the Jeffers’ bathroom to the drunken millionaires with their hunting dogs tracking Gerry on the train. Stripped to their essence, the story elements are not humorous: Gerry, more of a calculated gold digger than Eve Peabody ever was, suggests divorce purely for financial reasons; the hunt club destroys a train car completely detached from the consequences of their excesses. The only reason the film comes off as funny is because the lies become broader and wilder and reality never intrudes, and no one else but Sturges could have made this work.

Certain stars came to be associated with the genre: Claudette Colbert and Carole Lombard both vied for the title of “Queen of the Screwballs;” Cary Grant must certainly be considered King. Audiences loved watching the chemistry between Myrna Loy and William Powell (The Thin Man) and Irene Dunne and Cary Grant (The Awful Truth). Depression-era audiences wanted glamour and an insider’s-view of the society pages, and Hollywood offered up its most popular stars displaying the latest fashions and lavish sets of posh art deco nightclubs populated by playboys driving sleek cars.

Screwball comedies made stars, but the genre also made directors and writers. Both Easy Living and Midnight were directed by Mitchell Leisen, who began his Hollywood career designing costumes for Cecil B. De Mille and became a director with an eye toward visual styling, as evidenced by both Easy Living and Midnight. Easy Living represents one of the first on-screen writing credits for Sturges, who would go on to write and direct such screwball comedies as The Lady Eve and The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek. Midnight was co-written by Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett; the two would go on to do more serious films together, such as Sunset Blvd. and The Lost Weekend as a director / producer team, but Wilder himself also directed comedies such as The Seven Year Itch and Some Like It Hot.

In later years both Sturges and Wilder complained about changes Mitchell Leisen made to their scripts, which may in part have cemented the perception of Leisen as an aesthete focused more on inconsequential details than how plot moves. Nevertheless, Easy Living and Midnight are both stylish comedies with the witty, sometimes sharp observations about the values of the rich that Depression-era audiences loved.

Screwball comedies gave writers and directors the opportunity to explore subjects that would never get through the Production Code as drama. Gerry Jeffers is a woman using beauty and charm to obtain material comfort, but because the Wienie King and John D. Hackensacker III have a fairy-godmother’s generosity, never for a moment do we think of her as a prostitute. Screwballs dealt often with class distinctions and money, but current news and world events seldom intruded into the reality of the picture. Major Kirby wants to be sent to a war where nobody seems to die, and Tibor Czerny drives his cab through a Paris blithely unaware of encroaching Fascism. Screwball comedies allowed Americans to laugh at the turbulence of the stock market and forget that “midnight” was fast approaching for an Old World Europe on the eve of World War II.

Audiences in the 1930s got plenty of reality from newsreels; they didn’t always want it in their pictures. For their hard-earned dime they wanted to sit for a few hours in comforting darkness lit only by the flickering silver screen. Perhaps the greatest legacy of these films is that they allow us to see how Depression-era moviegoers came to terms with the frustrations of the modern world by laughing at their limitations or escaping reality altogether. Even across time, we too can join in their laughter at these wonderful films.

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The Internet provides so many wonderful ways to learn more about screwball comedy. Check out any of these links the next time you find yourself needing an escape!

Who’s the queen of the screwballs? You decide with these fan tribute links to Claudette Colbert and Carole Lombard. Or you can watch Colbert in action with Gary Cooper in this trailer from Bluebeard's Eighth Wife (1938) written by Wilder and Brackett; or Lombard in a screwball scene with Fred MacMurray in Hands Across the Table (1935) directed by Leisen. Who's the king of screwballs if you had to choose between Cary Grant and William Powell? Check out the Home of the Screwball for some history, more directors and titles, and hard-to-find original New York Times film reviews. An abundance of information of the films and artists mentioned can be found at The Internet Movie Database and Allmovies.com. If you have the time, My Man Godfrey (1936) is available in its entirety at the Internet Archive. Directed by Gregory LaCava and starring Carole Lombard and William Powell, it’s a classic screwball story of how a ditzy socialite enlists a homeless “forgotten man” to be the family butler — then falls in love with him!

Theatrical Newsreels

Traditional movie Newsreels, produced between their theatrical debut in 1911 and their demise in 1967, are wondrous windows on the world that once was, and collectively serve as a perpetual record of our shared history and popular culture.

Today we have instant and worldwide access on our televisions, computers and hand-held devices to witness news in real time as it happens. Prior to the advent of the newsreel, Americans primarily depended on radio and print media for news and information. Only by going to the movies and watching the newsreels could one see and hear history in relatively real time. The newsreels superbly fulfilled that important purpose until television came along and access to filmed news went from twice weekly on the silver screen to daily broadcasts on the TV screen.

Theatrical newsreels were typically structured much like a daily newspaper. They changed twice weekly taking about 10 minutes to tell 6 or 7 short stories. Each newsreel focused on current events, politics, natural and other disasters, sports, movies and contemporary pop culture in general. Occasionally an entire newsreel would be devoteed to a single story or event of optimum interest, like the attack on Pearl Harbor or the inauguration of a president.

Theater owners routinely booked their newsreels from any of five major newsreel companies: Pathe News (1910-1956), produced by Pathe Film, later distributed by RKO Radio Pictures(1931-47) then Warner Bros. (1947-56); Hearst Metrotone News (1914-67), produced by Hearst, distributed by Fox Corp. (1929-34), then MGM (1934-67), the name was later changed to News of the Day; Paramount News (1927-57), produced and distributed by Paramount and promoted as "The Eyes of the World;" Fox Movietone News (1928-63), produced and distributed by Fox Corp; Universal News (1929-67), produced and distributed by Universal Pictures, later Universal-International.

A sixth newsreel series The March of Time (1935-51) was created by Time, Inc. in part to upstage the fierce competition among the five major newsreel companies. It was conceived as a costly $50,000-monthly news magazine to offer "pictorial journalism" to movie-goers by integrating authentic news footage with freshly-filmed reenactments and dramatizations. While popular with audiences, it proved controversial among media purists and never managed to attain profitibility.

The March of Time's compelling visuals and the commanding voice of narrator Westbrook Van Voorhis were satirized with considerable bombast by Orson Welles in Citizen Kane. Welles' pioneer masterpiece is a thinly-veiled bio of William Randolph Hearst (a prototype of contemporary media magnate Rupert Murdoch). In Citizen Kane, Hearst's own Metrotone News is further satirized during the opening sequence, which establishes the film's plot utilizing a fictitious newsreel titled News on the March.

By the mid-1920s it was estimated that between 85-90% of the 18,000 U.S. theaters exhibited one of the five major newsreels to a weekly audience numbering in excess of 40 million people. By the 1930s, most newsreel companies released two editions weekly, on Mondays and Thursdays. The March of Time was released in monthly installments.

Now lets tap into the incredible technological wonders of the internet and watch some fascinating samples relative to newsreel history. Follow the live links to watch the content as described.


Among the most shocking newsreel footage ever captured was the fiery crash of the German Zeppelin The Hindenburg on May 6, 1937. After successfully completing many transatlantic air ship crossings, The Hindenburg crashed upon landing at Lakehurst, N.J. All newsreel companies had photographers on hand when the explosion took place. Here is the Pathe News coverage of this horrific event.

In a 1935 Pathe Newsreel, we see and hear dramatic coverage of FDR's response to the housing crisis brought on by the Great Depression. The narrator tells us; "1928 was a good building year. Almost 3 billion dollars of new residential construction saw the light of day. But in 1929, even before the depression became general, building dropped off to slightly under 2 billion. Year after year throughout the depression this decline continued, each succeeding year meaning more men laid off in the building and allied industries. Until in 1934, all of the new homes built in the U.S. were worth only 227 million dollars. A decline of 92% from 1928. But due to the stimulation of the National Housing Act, 1935 presents a different picture... And now, through the use of the National Housing Act an insured mortgage is brought within the reach of all citizens on a monthly payment plan no greater than rent." We then see a young couple tour a modern house costing $4800, with $960 down and $27.62 a month in mortgage payments.

Depression-era urban unrest and escalating inner-city violence prompted many of FDR's New Deal programs. In this 1934 Pathe News report we witness dramatic images of the famous San Francisco maritime union strike. The tension reached fever pitch on May 9, 1934 and erupted in the “Bloody Thursday"riots between union members, strikers and police.

Here the 1940 collapse of the Tacoma Bridge is depicted with awesome images and narration. The controversial bridge opened in 1940 and the collapse four months later was captured on film by local camera store owner Barney Elliott. This newsreel sequence was selected by the Library of Congress for inclusion in the National Film Registry as being "culturally, historically or aesthetically significant."

Foreshadowing today's reality television, this provocative and harrowiong Universal-International newsreel clip features a foolish mom recklessly tossing real knives at her two infant daughters purely for the purpose of "entertainment."
In this brief Universal Newsreel clip, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt speaks before 8,000 members of the Illinois Federation of Professional and Women's Clubs and urges women throughout the nation to aid the destitute unemployed by co-operating with local unemployment committees in their fund raising efforts.
In 1938, a pre-Citizen Kane Orson Welles broadcast his stunningly authentic "War of the Worlds" radio simulation. Many listeners tuning in by chance concluded the fictitious alien invasion to be actually happening, which triggered a national panic. In this brief Paramount News clip, Welles coyly responds during a national press conference.
From 1942-45, the U.S. Government commissioned a newsreel series called United News that was collectively produced by the major studios on behalf of the Office of War Information and distributed worldwide to America's Armed Forces.

A WWII War Bond drive is showcased in this United News report loaded with celebrities of the day, including James Cagney, Irene Dunne, Tyrone Power and Joe Louis.

In 1929, Fox opened the Embassy Theater in New York City as an "all-newsreel" theater. They ran the biweekly editions of all five major newsreel companies back-to-back and continuously throughout the day. Author Raymond Fielding in his book "The American Newsreel, 1911-67" writes; "(newsreel companies) discovered that in FDR we had the greatest single attraction. Announcement of his fireside chats, which were always filmed, brought hundreds of patrons to the theater. Anti-New Dealers came to hiss. The vigorous years of the New Deal under FDR and the rise of Mussolini, Hitler, Stalin and Chang Kai-shek aroused great interest in newsreels." The all-newsreel theater concept expanded with more companies participating and proved immensely popular in Britain and other countries.

In the end, newsreels simply could not compete with the timeliness and relevancy of television news. Audiences quickly became accustomed to a daily diet of TV news and sitting through it all again while seeking real-world escapism at the movies was an unappreciated redundancy.
Universal was the last company to produce theatrical newsreels and the phenomenon died on screen in 1967 following a decade of dwindling dollars, diminished audience interest and declining quality.

Television news began in 15 minute doses on NBC in 1948 with Camel Newsreel Theater, anchored by John Cameron Swayze. It was a daily live news broadcast that featured Movietone newsreel footage. The following year the name was changed to Camel News Caravan and the footage was provided instead by NBC News cameramen. Newsreel footage was no longer necessary. In 1955 the sponsor, R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Company, cut its sponsorship to 3 days a week. The other two days were then sponsored by Chrysler's Plymouth brand and called Plymouth News Caravan, anchored by David Brinkley. These newscasts were replaced in October 1956 by The Huntley-Brinkley Report.
In 1974, Universal Pictures gifted its entire Universal Newsreel library to the U.S. National Archives exclusively for public purposes. This included 30 million feet of film produced between 1929 and 1967. Here is a copy of the deed transferring the rights to the American people.


The history of movie newsreels is profoundly complex and we have scarcely scratched the surface in this brief distillation. To learn more, a website called History of the Newsreel offers a detailed, chronological history and is highly recommended. We also recommend a one-hour documentary called Yesterday's Witness: A Tribute to the American Newsreel (1979)
Theatrical newsreels served the nation well in an era when motion pictures defined our world. Newsreels are abundant with original source content and today represent ideal teaching tools for comprehending our shared history and culture.

Here you can sample a typical American newsreel from the 1940s. This United Newsreel was produced at the end of 1944 and authentically demonstrates our world in transition at the outset of 1945. Sequences include reports on D-Day, the liberation of Paris and Brussels, rounding up of Nazi war criminals, Russia's move into Poland and the Balkans, the bombing of Japan and Macarthur's return to the Philippines.