Lone Pine in The Movies: Roy Rogers (2011)

LONE PINE IN THE MOVIES

C E L E B R AT I N G T H E R OY R O G E R S CE N T E N N I A L

Roy Rogers Centennial Celebration Inside you will find over 100 pages of rare photos and fact-filled articles written by noted film historians who have chronicled filmmaking in Lone Pine.

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Nashville, Tennessee

JAMES V. D’ARC • ED HULSE • CHRIS LANGLEY • DON MILLER

LONE PINE IN THE MOVIES

C E L E B R AT I N G T H E R OY R OG ERS CENTENNIAL Packy Smith —publisher Ed Hulse —editor Michael Bifulco —design & type production Elizabeth Gulick —design assistance James V. D’Arc Chris Langley Sam Sherman —contributors Lone Pine in the Movies is published by the Beverly and Jim Rogers Museum of Lone Pine Film history for the 2011 Lone Pine Film Festival. The contents of this issue are copyright © 2011 by the Beverly and Jim Rogers Museum of Lone Pine Film History with the following exceptions: “The Men from Music Mountain” was copyrighted © in 1976

by Film Fan Monthly and is reprinted here courtesy of Jessiefilm, Inc. “Under Western Stars” is copyright © 2011 by Ed Hulse. All rights reserved. Nothing in this magazine may be reprinted in whole or in part, in any media or format, without written permission from the publisher and/or the respective copyright holders.

Photo and Art Acknowledgments: All stills, posters, and lobby cards reprinted in these pages are copyright © their respective years of publication by Allied Artists, Columbia Pictures Corporation, M-G-M and Loew’s Inc., Monogram Pictures Corporation, Paramount Pictures, Republic Pictures Corporation, Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation, United Artists, Universal Pictures Corporation, Warners Brothers, and their respective successors in interest.

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Introduction

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Under Western Stars How Len Slye Went to Lone Pine and Became King of the Cowboys

Editor Ed Hulse on this year’s special issue of Lone Pine in the Movies, along with a few words on contributors and some special thanks.

The full, detailed behind-the-scenes chronicle of events leading up to Gene Autry’s 1937 departure from Republic Pictures and the subsequent creation of a new singing-cowboy star: Roy Rogers.

18 The Men from Music Mountain Gene Autry and Roy Rogers

Don Miller’s informative overview of Republic’s top two Western stars covers both men in painstaking detail, comments on their best (and worst) films, and describes the extent to which their destinies were intertwined.

49 Of Movies and Mountains

Clarence Badger in Lone Pine

He is generally credited with making Clara Bow the silent screen’s “It” girl. But even dedicated movie buffs don’t realize that director Clarence Badger was instrumental in making Lone Pine a favorite location of filmmakers. Chris Langley tells the whole story.

63 Darryl F. Zanuck’s Brigham Young

Location Filming Par Excellence and a Celluloid Plea for Tolerance

Never one to shy away from controversy, Twentieth Century-Fox honcho Darryl F. Zanuck in 1939 greenlighted production of what would become one of the screen’s most historical epics: the story of Mormon church president Brigham Young’s quest for a land in which his followers could practice their faith without persecution.

79 Lesley Selander

Master Director of B Westerns

After working for many years as an assistant director, this talented journeyman finally assumed full control of the megaphone in 1936, eventually working with many of the top cowboy stars and becoming inextricably linked with location shooting in Lone Pine.

Former Film Festival director Chris Langley tracks his career.

Ultimate Lone Pine Movie Checklist 94 The After many years of requests from Film Festival attendees, the product of two decades’

research is finally between two covers for easy reference! This comprehensive list of films at least partially shot in Lone Pine gives the basic details and allows you to keep track of what you’ve seen—and what you still need to see.

Introduction

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n this very special issue we celebrate one of the key figures in Lone Pine film history. One hundred years ago, Leonard Franklin Slye was born in Cincinnati, Ohio. His family later moved to the small hamlet of Duck Run, where they worked a farm that produced a meager living. Young Len wanted a lot more from life, and he eventually got it—as Roy Rogers, King of the Cowboys, hero to millions of American children and a star of both big-screen and small-screen productions.

Roy began his storied career right here in Lone Pine, where his first starring film—Under Western Stars—was made in early 1938. We go into some detail on that motion picture in the article that follows.

For better or worse, Roy’s career crisscrossed and intersected that of Gene Autry, the screen’s first singing-cowboy star and the top box-office draw of Republic Pictures, where both men plied their trade for years. In his 1976 book Hollywood Corral, film historian Don Miller recognized their unique connection and decided to cover Gene and Roy together. His essay, “The Men from Music Mountain,” was of course included in the 1992 Riverwood Press reissue of Hollywood Corral. But both versions of Miller’s invaluable history have been out of print for many years now, and we’re confident that many people reading Don’s essay here will be seeing it for the first time.

Chris Langley, a former director of the Lone Pine Film Festival and still on the board of the Museum of Film History, has been contributing to Lone Pine in the Movies since we published the first issue in 2003.

From that number—which, like Hollywood Corral, is long out of print—we have reprinted by popular demand his groundbreaking article on silent-era director Clarence Badger. Chris is also represented in these pages with his latest essay, an overview of the career of director Lesley Selander, a frequent visitor to Lone Pine whose Westerns shot here include the vehicles of such major Western stars as Buck Jones and Tim Holt, as well as many entries in the Hopalong Cassidy series starring William Boyd.

This year, with his superb article on Brigham Young (1940), we enlist in our Writers Brigade a distinguished new contributor. James V. D’Arc, Ph.D.,

has been at Brigham Young University’s L. Tom Perry Special Collections since 1976. He is curator of the BYU Motion Picture Archive, the BYU Film Music Archive and the Arts and Communications Archive, and also runs the BYU Motion Picture Archive Film Series.

Jim is responsible for acquiring and assisting patrons with access to BYU’s motion picture-related manuscript collections that include Cecil B. DeMille, Merian C. Cooper, Henry Koster, James Stewart, Andy Devine, Max Steiner, Ernest Gold, Hugo Friedhofer, Ken Darby, Jack Mathis, and the Republic Pictures Music Archive. Since 1995, he has produced limited edition original soundtrack albums from the Max Steiner Collection at BYU, with a total of 18 titles in print. He provided the audio commentary for Fox Home Entertainment’s DVD of Brigham Young and can be seen on various documentaries, including American Epic: Cecil B. DeMille, Hello, I’m King Kong!, and The Ten Commandments: Making Miracles.

Jim is the author of When Hollywood Came to Town: A History of Moviemaking in Utah (Layton, UT: Gibbs Smith, 2010), a hardcover book with more than 350 illustrations with behind the scenes stories and that also identifies locations for the dozens of great western classic films made in Utah since 1924.

This is his second time at the Lone Pine Film Festival.

He previously visited us in 2009, when he graciously allowed us to screen one of BYU’s treasures, the classic 1943 Republic serial Daredevils of the West.

Once again we’re greatly in his debt, and we guarantee you’ll enjoy his impeccably researched article.

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inally, in responses to dozens—perhaps hundreds—of requests we’ve received over the last five years or so, we are including a revised and updated checklist of films made wholly or partially on locations in Lone Pine and the eastern Sierras. It’s a handy reference that will enable you to keep track of the movies you’ve seen, both here at the annual Film Festival and at home on TV or DVD. Ed Hulse September 2011

LONE PINE IN THE MOVIES

How Ohio Farm Boy Leonard Slye Went To Lone Pine And Became King Of The Cowboys

by Ed Hulse

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his year we celebrate the centennial of Roy Rogers’ birth. The King of the Cowboys has always played a role in Lone Pine’s annual Film Festival, but attendees of the 2011 edition have special cause to look back with wistful nostalgia at one of the great singing cowboys of motion pictures. Who exactly was he? How did he come to be a Western star? The story, gentle reader, is an interesting one. . . .

Born in Cincinnati, Ohio, on November 5, 1911, Leonard Slye spent most of his childhood on a farm in nearby Duck Run. As a boy he toiled long and hard; in later years he often said that about all the family could raise on their farm were rocks. Every now and then, on Saturday nights, the Slye family held square dances at which young Len would sing, play the mandolin, and eventually “call” the dances.

After completing his second year of high school, Roy dropped out and took a job alongside his father at a Cincinnati shoe factory. He took an instant dislike to the monotonous factory work and decided to move to Southern California, where his married older sister Mary lived. He took many temporary jobs—they were about all one could find in the state during the Great Depression—for a time driving

a gravel truck and, in the spring of 1931, picking peaches for the Del Monte company. For a brief time he lived in the same labor camps described so vividly by John Steinbeck in his novel, The Grapes of Wrath.

Acting on a suggestion made by his sister, Len Slye appeared on the Midnight Frolic radio program, which broadcast from Inglewood-based KMCS and utilized amateur talent. He sang, yodeled, and played the guitar. Later, the boy from Duck Run admitted to being so nervous that after the show he couldn’t remember which songs he sang that night.

A few days later Len was invited to join the Rocky Mountaineers, an instrumental group that played “cowboy music.” As the sole vocalist he was singled out for attention during the group’s engagements, but he urged the Mountaineers to find another singer with whom he could harmonize. Shortly thereafter exlifeguard and aspiring singer/songwriter Bob Nolan was added to the band, and by year’s end a friend of Bob’s, Bill “Slumber” Nichols, had also come aboard.

Their performances as a trio created a singing style that would later be recognized as unique.

Len, Bob, Slumber, and newly recruited Tim Spencer left the Mountaineers in September of

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LO N E PINE IN THE MOVIES

1932. For the next year they barely eked out a living, something performing just for food. The boys briefly broke up and took jobs separately, but in the fall of 1933 they reunited (minus Slumber) as The Pioneer Trio. With newly written songs in hand, the three young performers rehearsed endlessly, perfecting their distinctive harmonies. Auditioning at radio station KFWB, they secured a berth on a program featuring Jack LeFevre and His Texas Outlaws. The Pioneer Trio delighted listeners with their own songs—among them “Tumbling Tumbleweeds” and “Way Out There”—and such other Western-music standbys as “The Last Roundup.”

KFWB put the Trio on staff at $35 a week, which thrilled the boys no end. When fiddler and vocalist Hugh Farr joined the group in 1934, the Pioneer Trio became the Sons of the Pioneers. The following year, Hugh’s guitarist brother Karl became part of the mix, and the Sons developed a following via recordings and radio broadcasts.

Since they were based in Southern California, the boys were naturals for movie work. After making their screen debut in Slightly Static (1935), a tworeel comedy short produced by Hal Roach, the Sons appeared in that year’s The Old Homestead and Gallant Defender, the latter being Charles Starrett’s first starring Western. Their celluloid ascent paralleled the development of the musical Western, and in 1936 the boys performed in support of Warner Brothers’ Dick Foran (Song of the Saddle) and Republic’s Gene Autry (The Big Show).

While boyishly handsome and undeniably gifted, shy, slender Len Slye did not “screen” especially well. Brawny Bob Nolan, who bore a superficial resemblance to veteran Western star George O’Brien, cut a far more imposing figure and might well have attained stardom on his own. But Nolan lacked any such ambition; he considered himself a musician rather than an actor, and he was perfectly happy writing and singing songs with his fellow Pioneers. Len Slye, however, had not forgotten his hardscrabble early years and was determined to take advantage of any additional opportunities that came his way.

The Sons could be heard regularly on radio (now for Los Angeles’ station KHJ), on recordings (for the Decca and Okeh labels), and in motion pictures.

They were back with Autry in The Old Corral (a

Republic’s very first publicity photo taken of Roy.

late 1936 release in which Len got a character name and had a few lines of dialogue) before signing with Columbia to provide music for the increasingly popular Charles Starrett Westerns. Starrett was then making eight pictures per year, guaranteeing regular exposure for the Sons of the Pioneers—exposure that could only enhance their record sales. But Len craved more. Soon, he’d get more than he bargained for.

Shortly after completing work on The Old Wyoming Trail (1937), first of the eight 1937-38 Starrett Westerns, Len was in a Glendale store, looking for a new Stetson hat, when he overheard someone say that Republic Pictures was looking for a new singing cowboy. Although the young man from Ohio could not have known the full story then, Gene Autry was flexing his muscles during heated contract negotiations and threatening to leave the studio that had made him a star.

“Talk about being in the right place at the right time,” the erstwhile Son of the Pioneers recalled in a live interview years later. “I [had gone] out there

LONE PINE IN THE MOVIES

The entire location crew of Under Western Stars watches Roy and Carol Hughes perform a scene.

to get my hat and there was a guy in the shop all excited. He was about six-four, six-six, a big tall guy, and his name was Carter. I’d never seen him before, and I’ve never seen him since, but I got to talkin’ to him, and he was goin’ to have a screen test the next morning. I found out that it was [at] Republic. He said, ‘Yeah, they’re looking for a new singing cowboy out there.’

“The next morning, I get up and I saddled my guitar and went out to Republic Studios. I couldn’t get in to see Sol Siegel, who was the producer of the pictures at that time. I didn’t know how to make an appointment or anything, so I waited around ‘till noon came and there was a bunch of extras goin’ back to work, so I just walked in with them.

And as I got through the door, a hand fell on my shoulder—I thought the security guard got me.

LO N E PINE IN THE MOVIES

And I turned around and it was Mr. Siegel, who knew me as one of the Sons of the Pioneers. And he said, ‘Roy [sic], we’ve been testin’ for a new cowboy.

We tested 17 different guys, and we’re lookin’ for a musical singing cowboy to start a new series.

And you never entered my mind until you walked through that door.’

“They liked the screen test [I did], and they signed me October the 13th. I was with them 14 years.”

The very day Len Slye signed his new Republic contract (for a whopping $75 per week), production began on Wild Horse Rodeo, a Three Mesquiteers opus directed by George Sherman in his first solo outing behind the megaphone. Sol Siegel wasted no time getting his “discovery” in front of a camera, and had the newly minted contract player slotted into the film as a solo vocalist. He was billed as

Getting ready to film a dialogue scene on a chilly morning in the Alabama Hills. (Note the coats.)

Dick Weston, under which name he appeared soon thereafter in another Autry vehicle, The Old Barn Dance. (Coincidentally, both films boasted exteriors shot in Lone Pine.)

Autry’s relationship with Republic—and especially with its president, Herbert W. Yates—continued to deteriorate. Although Gene’s per-picture rate had recently been boosted, he wanted more money.

Upon learning that his popularity enabled Republic to block-book its entire yearly output on the strength of his Westerns, Gene became convinced that Yates and company were exploiting him. Shortly after completing The Old Barn Dance on December 9, Autry announced that he would not report for work on his next picture, the already scheduled Washington Cowboy. Gene recounted his version of the walkout in his 1978 autobiography, Back in the Saddle Again: I hurried back to Hollywood and confronted Herb Yates. I wanted that [block-booking] practice stopped, and, while I was at it, a fairer share of the profits my pictures were producing. That was the wrong approach

to take with Yates. But if there was a better one I didn’t know it then, and I don’t now. . . .

I had a new movie scheduled to start in two weeks, to be called Washington Cowboy. When I walked out of his office, we both knew I wouldn’t be there when the cameras rolled. The trade papers made it sound like a range war. . . .

Of course, when I failed to show up for the first day’s shooting on Washington Cowboy, the studio suspended me. Yates said he would make the film without me and create a new cowboy star.

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ates and his Vice President of Studio Operations, Moe Siegel, had entrusted Moe’s brother Sol with the responsibility of overseeing production of Autry’s Westerns in 1937 following the departure of Jack Fier, who went to Columbia and supervised that studio’s B-Western and serial units. Sol was tasked with making Washington Cowboy a showcase for Republic’s fledgling star. The picture’s start date was delayed to give him time to prepare Len, who was rechristened Roy Rogers. Numerous wardrobe and makeup tests were shot; Republic was

LONE PINE IN THE MOVIES

notoriously (and justifiably) fastidious in clothing and accessorizing its cowboy stars. Youthful fans remembered the blocking of a hat and the tooling of a gun belt far longer than plot details or dialogue delivery. Getting the right look was an integral part of marking a new cowboy star.

Since Roy’s eyes were naturally squinty, Siegel suggested he use a certain type of eye drop that would widen his pretty peepers. Roy disliked the drops as they made working in bright sunlight uncomfortable for him.

Next to his costuming and weaponry, the cowboy star’s most important accoutrement was his horse. Several stables that supplied Republic with horses submitted their handsomest stallions for consideration. As Roy later recalled, the third horse he mounted was a beautiful golden palomino that handled smoothly and reacted quickly to a rider’s

prompts: “He could turn on a dime and give you some change,” was how Roy routinely described this horse, whose name was Golden Cloud. According to one account, Smiley Burnette—Autry’s sidekick, temporarily assigned to Rogers—was watching the “audition” and mentioned how quick on the trigger this horse was. Roy agreed, and decided on “Trigger” as the perfect name for the stallion with which he would become forever identified.

Fortunately, Siegel was able to drop his “discovery” into Washington Cowboy (which was retitled Under Western Stars) without having to make significant script alterations. Apparently Herbert Yates was in deadly earnest when he promised to replace Autry with someone in the original singing cowboy’s image and likeness. Like Gene, Roy in his debut film would be functioning in a contemporary West.

Like Gene, Roy would have the dubious benefit of

Another great candid shot of Roy and Republic’s crew in the Alabams for Under Western Stars.

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Roy and Carol Hughes at left, performing one of their Lone Pine scenes together in Under Western Stars.

Smiley’s “Frog Millhouse” as a sidekick. And perhaps most importantly, like Gene, Roy would be playing himself. Or, at least, Republic’s newly crafted version of himself. Unfortunately for Autry, the template had been so well established (with only minor modifications as time went on) that Yates could hardly fail to make lightning strike twice in the same place—namely, on the Republic lot. That is, as long as Roy was similarly talented. Which he was.

Roy Rogers the character was neatly shoehorned into the Under Western Stars script, written by Betty Burbridge with brothers Dorrell and Stuart McGowan. It was Burbridge who perfected the Autry format by making sure that the preternaturally placid Gene was routinely matched against feisty, outspoken young women, usually spoiled Easterners. Early on the Autry films dispensed with sweet young things clad in crinoline; instead he found himself dealing

with sassy socialites and dizzy debutantes with more money than brains. Invariably they believed they could get the best of him, but in the last reel their schemes—often furthered by smooth heavies taking advantage of them—collapsed and Gene won the day with ingenuity, common sense, and a swift right cross. Once the dust had settled, the chastened ingénue would make calf eyes while he serenaded her. Washington Cowboy had been devised along the same lines, and there was no reason to believe that the equally personable and more handsome Rogers would be any less successful while following the formula.

Joe Kane, who had directed Gene’s first starring film (Tumbling Tumbleweeds, 1935) and many of Autry’s subsequent efforts, had been assigned to Washington Cowboy and now had the responsibility for pouring Roy Rogers into the leading-man mold.

LONE PINE IN THE MOVIES 11

It is not known whether Sol Siegel had already chosen Lone Pine as the primary location—Autry and Kane had recently done several pictures there— but by sending the company there for exteriors he guaranteed that Under Western Stars would get good production value. Cinematographer Jack Marta, one of the studio’s best cameramen, could be depended upon to capture eye-pleasing images of the Alabama Hills and the Sierra Nevada.

Speed was of the essence. As long as Autry believed himself irreplaceable in the short term, Yates would have no luck negotiating with him. Only by successfully introducing a new singing cowboy— fast—could Republic’s prexy hope to bring his recalcitrant star to the bargaining table. Moreover, the Rogers vehicle was desperately needed to satisfy the demands of exhibitors furious about having no new Autry films to play. There was a lot riding on Under Western Stars.

Having been quickly schooled in the rudiments of screen acting and action, Roy put his trust in Kane, a stern taskmaster under the best of conditions.

The two didn’t hit it off very well, but each knew how important this film was to the other. Principal photography began in mid-March. In addition to Smiley Burnette, the supporting cast included former Warners contractee Carol Hughes, a buttoncute brunette who effectively projected snobbishness and petulance on cue; stolid, perpetually exasperated Guy Usher; silent-screen veterans Tom Chatterton and Kenneth Harlan; oily, villainous Alden Chase; rotund, pompous funnyman Dick Elliott; and familiar horse-opera types Earl Dwire, Burr Carruth, Slim Whitaker, Jack Rockwell, and Earle Hodgins.

Autry’s regular double Joe Yrigoyen performed the same function for Rogers, with trick rider Nellie Walker substituting for Carol Hughes as needed.

Production went relatively smoothly. To Joe Kane’s surprise and relief, Rogers proved to be a quick study.

He would win no Academy Awards for acting, but he hit his marks and delivered lines adequately. Perhaps more importantly, he looked very much at ease in the saddle; in Marta’s running inserts, shot along Movie Road in the Alabama Hills, Roy and Trigger appeared to be glued together.

Musically speaking, Roy left nothing to be desired.

His voice was different than Gene’s, and today’s fans still argue over which of them was the better vocalist.

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Eleanor Fairbanks (Carol Hughes) and Roy Rogers make an informal camp in the dusty Alabama Hills.

But the newcomer “sold” songs just as effectively as his predecessor. In fact, as performed by Roy, the picture’s standout song—the haunting, melancholy “Dust” (written by Autry and Johnny Marvin)— proved unforgettable. Republic submitted it to the Motion Picture Academy for consideration as a Best Song nominee . . . the first and only time a song written for a B Western achieved that distinction.

Editor Les Orlebeck delivered a final cut that ran 65 minutes. Spread out over seven reels, Under Western Stars was nearly a thousand feet (roughly 11 minutes in running time) longer than the typical Republic Western. But recently the Autrys had been trending that way, largely to give Gene time for a few extra ditties.

The Republic brass screened Roy’s debut film and decided they had the makings of a hit on their hands.

Screenings were hastily arranged for members of the

trade press and Republic’s publicity department got to work on marketing and promotional materials.

“Meet Roy Rogers, Mister Exhibitor!” exhorted pressbook copywriters on a double-page spread.

“He’s headin’ your way with six-guns aimed at your box office . . . ready to shoot holes in all previous records!!! Paired with Smiley Burnette to make a new sensational screen team bubbling with personality plus . . . Thrills are in store for your audiences in Under Western Stars!”

Prints were struck and rushed to Republic’s exchanges for rapid distribution to the company’s first-run exhibitors. The film’s national release date was April 20, 1938, and not long afterward Western fans were buzzing about Republic’s new find.

Under Western Stars begins with a montage of scenes revealing the devastation caused by the lengthy drought that has turned a swath of the West

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into a dust bowl. Ranchers in Sage County storm a dam and attempt to open the valve in a bid to get water for their dying cattle. Roy Rogers and his pal Frog Millhouse intervene on the side of the cattlemen and get arrested for their trouble. But the fracas at the dam makes Roy a hero to his neighbors, who nominate him for a Congressional seat currently held by blustery William P. Scully (Dick Elliott), the tool of a water company headed by hard-hearted John D. Fairbanks (Guy Usher).

While mounting his run for office, Roy finds an ally in beautiful, sophisticated Eleanor Fairbanks (Carol Hughes), who hides from the would-be legislator the fact that she is the daughter of the water company’s president. Upon winning the election, Roy promises his constituents that he will obtain federal assistance for them when he reaches Washington. Impressed with the young man’s sincerity, Eleanor sends an anonymous note urging him to solicit the aid of powerful Congressman Edward H. Marlowe (Tom Chatterton) in crafting a water bill.

Rogers fails to get anywhere with Marlowe while attending a fox hunt on the latter’s estate, but Eleanor again comes to his assistance by suggesting he throw a party for the Washington elite and use the gathering as an excuse to plead his case. Roy hosts an old-fashioned square dance, and during a break in the festivities he runs newsreel footage purporting to document conditions in Sage Valley. Although the film correctly represents his district, it was taken in another, similarly afflicted state.

After Marlowe arrives in Sage County to begin his own investigation, Old Man Fairbanks learns of Roy’s deception and informs the initially sympathetic Congressman, who leaps to the conclusion that Rogers has purposely misled him to gain government assistance. Shortly thereafter, while driving out of the area, Marlowe, Fairbanks, Eleanor, and the old man’s henchman, Tom Andrews (Alden Chase), are ambushed by mystery riders. Their car is disabled and they are left with horses for transportation. The party starts off for town but is forced to take shelter when a dust storm kicks up.

Tired and thirsty, they finally reach a ranch house.

The next morning Roy Rogers arrives there with water. Marlowe realizes that the young Representative staged the ambush so that the car’s passengers would be forced to brave the elements and thus gain first-

hand awareness of conditions in Sage Valley. The veteran legislator promises his support anew, at which point Mayor Briggs (Earl Dwire) rides up and breathlessly tells Roy that the local ranchers, tired of waiting for help from Washington, have gathered near the dam to blow it up. When Marlowe warns Roy that such blatant destruction of watercompany property would kill any chance of a relief bill’s passage, the latter leaps astride Trigger and races to prevent a disaster. With seconds to spare, he diverts an explosives-laden wagon that has been loosed downhill toward the dam. Fairbanks softens his position towards the residents of Sage Valley and an equitable water bill passes Congress easily.

Reviews were uniformly positive, and most predicted a rosy future for Republic’s new singing cowboy. Film Daily averred that Rogers “should prove a hit.” Boxoffice called Roy “a new crooning son of the saddle . . . to travel far and fast toward the top among the action favorites.” Variety reviewer “Hurl,” writing in that venerable paper’s “slanguage,” delivered an unabashedly favorable review: Apparently it cost some coin, but Republic got away from the norm and produced a Western that is different. In addition to being entertaining, it’s plausible sage stuff that will hold the adult mind as well as the credulous kiddies. Add to foregoing [the] presence of new star, Roy Rogers, a cinch b.o.’er, timeliness of utility-company theme for exploitation, sensible music, plausible action, and the answer is a Western among Westerns. Definitely an improvement, but limited [in big-city moneymaking potential] because of the cacti stigma. . . .

In Roy Rogers [the] producers present a cowboy who looks like a wrangler, is a looker, an actor and a singer. Pushed into a quick starring spot after only a couple appearances as supporter, he lives up to every expectation, and then some. His appeal to femme [moviegoers] can also be counted upon. Walks away with the film despite presence of Smiley Burnette and Carol Hughes, and other good supports. End of year will find Rogers firmly embedded in [box-office] draw firmament.

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ven more successful than Republic had dared hope, Under Western Stars won Roy an instant following, and after receiving rave reports from

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Early publicity photo for Under Western Stars, shot in Washington D.C. Note the dark hat, which Roy does not wear in the film.

enthusiastic exhibitors, Yates decided to add a Rogers series to the company’s already Westernheavy schedule.

The first Rogers picture had not yet seen the inside of a movie theater when Gene Autry, having heard how well the picture turned out, reopened negotiations with Republic. Before the walkout he had been making five thousand dollars a picture.

He wanted fifteen. But he settled for ten. Still quite a victory.

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(Later, Gene learned that Yates had been under intense pressure from exhibitors to get the original singing-cowboy star back on the screen. Those who made enormous profits on Autry films threatened to stop buying other Republic product—including the nondescript programmers Republic block-booked with Gene’s pictures.)

In his autobiography, Autry swore that his relationship with Yates was not terribly damaged—at least, not at that juncture. “While our attorneys got together and worked out a compromise,” he wrote, “we went off to play golf. In a way, there were no hard feelings. All he had done was call me disloyal and threaten to ruin me. In return, I had called him a cheapskate and a tyrant. In those years, in Hollywood, no one took anyone else seriously. So we played golf.”

Gene and Roy both returned to the screen in the fall of 1938, the former in one of his very best pictures, Gold Mine in the Sky, and the latter in Billy the Kid Returns, first in a series of period Westerns that found him playing such historical figures as William Bonney, Buffalo Bill, Jesse James, and Wild Bill Hickok. His starring vehicles were standardized six-reelers, none of them displaying the production value that characterized Under Western Stars. Some fans still believe a wary Gene Autry insisted that Roy be marginalized lest he again become a threat. Herbert Yates waited another four years to boost Rogers into the upper bracket, productionally speaking—and only then because Autry went into the Armed Forces, leaving Republic without its top Western draw. Beginning with Heart of the Golden West (1942), Roy’s movies grew in scope and size. Once again he appeared in the contemporary West, once again playing Roy Rogers. Only then was he crowned King of the Cowboys, a title he held during a reign that lasted another eight years at Republic.

Roy returned to Lone Pine for several films, most notably Saga of Death Valley (1939), which is certainly the best of his period Westerns. The Man from Music Mountain (1943), Hands Across the Border (1944), and Utah (1945) also unfold amidst the pictorial splendor of the Alabama Hills. But in some ways his first Lone Pine film was his best—and in all likelihood the finest send-off any B-Western star ever received. ■ ■ ■