Architectural Inspiration: The Clash - The Guest Blogger Series

Another day, another amazing guest blogger and brace yourself my darlings, this one is one of my favs! Couture Carrie runs a great blog full of fashion inspiration and always manages to find the funkiest frocks you just wouldn't believe. Enjoy!

Couture Carrie here, darlings! I am so excited to be guest posting today! Hope you adore this space and the look it inspired!

Architectural inspiration courtesy architecturaldigest.com.

Shopping suggestions via net-a-porter.com except where noted.

Vivienne Westwood Anglomania jersey dress.

Solange Azagury-Partridge lacquered silver ring.

Sonia by Sonia Rykiel long merino-wool gloves.

Marc by Marc Jacobs Little Ukita leather bag.

La Mer Collections oversized square watch, at shopbop.com.

Versace suede ankle boots.

Lugano leather suitcase at jcrew.com.

Don't be afraid to mix traditionally clashing colors, darlings!

xoxox,

CC

Be sure to check out Couture Carrie

for lots of amazing and chic inspiration darlings!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE SECOND ROBERT LIVINGSTON ERA

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prairie Pioneers (1941) – TBD.

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

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

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

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


Related posts:
• No. 1 The Three Mesquiteers (1936)
• No. 3 Roarin’ Lead (1936)
• No. 4 Riders of the Whistling Skull (1937)
• No. 5 Hit the Saddle (1937)
• No. 6 Gunsmoke Ranch (1937)
• No. 7 Come On, Cowboys! (1937)
• No. 8 Range Defenders (1937)
• No. 9 Heart of the Rockies (1937)
• No. 10 The Trigger Trio (1937)
• No. 13 Call of the Mesquiteers (1938)
• No. 14 Outlaws of Sonora (1938)
• Nos. 29 – 38 (1940 – 1941)
• No. 35 Prairie Pioneers (1941)
• Nos. 39 – 51 (1941 – 1943)

Elena Kuletskaya - Paris Fashion Week

She is working for MTV Russia
A look like a mix between Jean Seberg and Brigitte Bardot
with a touch of Michelle Pfeiffer. Beautiful !

Model - Paris Fashion Week

The Three Mesquiteers, No. 19 - Santa Fe Stampede (1938)

The Three Mesquiteers were created, let us not forget, as a box office draw to help the fledgling Republic Pictures off the ground. It was stocked with popular actors for that reason, men like Robert Livingston who could independently draw a crowd. But now, four years into Republic’s existence, they were experiencing unprecedented success, putting out more and better movies than their Three Mesquiteers series.

As the most popular, first-billed member of the Mesquiteers, Robert Livingston could be better used elsewhere in Republic’s arsenal. Thus in 1938, he was taken off of the Mesquiteer roster, to become a solo star as the Lone Ranger in The Lone Ranger Rides Again – a serial, but not a series. His Mesquiteer character of Stony Brooke would remain, but be recast in an advertizing blitz that anticipates what the James Bond movies would someday do. The key in publically recasting a popular role is picking an actor who will maintain the character’s central facets, but bring his own unique spin to the table. Given Stony’s traits, just about any western actor of the 30s could be chosen. Republic went with the best possible choice.

They went with Marion Morrison.

I guess I should use the actor’s stage name instead…

They went with JOHN WAYNE.


The Duke is one of the greatest icons in film history, representing the western notions of masculinity and heroism and oversized man-chests in the same way that Clint Eastwood would later come to symbolize things we still care about. He was not always a huge name, and the whole of the 30s saw John Wayne floundering in the same B-western morass the Mesquiteers were arguably at the top of. He served for Poverty Row studios such as Mascot and Monogram, a real snake pit of aesthetic doom. Around 1936, Wayne joined up with Republic to make some non-Mesquiteer westerns. Then he left briefly to try actual Acting over at Universal, which just seems silly. Realizing the Western was Wayne’s home, he returned to Republic in ’38, leading to his casting in The Three Mesquiteers, and thus the creation of –

THE JOHN WAYNE ERA

Mesquiteer movies were generally made in 8-picture cycles – hence the average 8 movies a year. John Wayne stuck around for one of these cycles, his name prominently huger than continuing costars Ray Corrigan and Max Terhune. This prominence indicates Wayne’s importance as a star. Consider his next movie following his Mesquiteering was Stagecoach – the film which raised the western as an entire genre to the A-level, making Johns Wayne and Ford the greatest name in the classical Hollywood western. This is nothing to sneeze at.

With the dissolution of the favored Mesquiteer menagerie of Livingston, Corrigan and Terhune, present day access to these movies dries up considerably. Without waiting for TCM to play some of these later entries at 3 A.M. every other year, I am forced to present what little I can for the next eight films:

Pals of the Saddle (1938) – The Mesquiteers take on the spy genre, presumably in some contemporary setting, as Stony (Wayne) takes the place of a dead spy to aid, what else?, a beautiful girl. Then it’s a simple matter of besting a smuggling ring which is transporting monium (which sounds like another Poverty Row studio) down to Mexico. As in practically every entry, Stony is framed for murder.

Overland Stage Riders (1938) – With renegades robbing stagecoach gold shipments in the Old West, the Mesquiteers make an astounding realization – Hey, it’s nearly the middle of the 20th century! Thus they decide to replace stagecoach with modern aircraft, just like Afghanistan. But the renegades simply rob the airplane instead, I imagine in a stunt sequence where they leap onto it from horseback. The plane crashes, the gold is strewn, and we have something resembling Broken Arrow (the John Woo movie, not the western).

Red River Range (1938) – The Mesquiteers battle cattle rustlers…again. This time, they (the rustlers) are using portable freezers and slaughterhouses (!). Stony poses as an outlaw to infiltrate the rustling gang, while simultaneously an outlaw poses as a lawman. Yeah, it’s The Departed, only with John Wayne. Actually, that sounds sorta awesome!

The Night Riders (1939) – It seems the baddie’s a land owner this time, ‘cause there’s only so many villain types the Mesquiteers face. And their solution this time is...to become the Night Riders. I dunno, it sounds a little KKK to me!

Three Texas Steers (1939) – No, it’s not a gay porno, it’s another invocation of the circus (after Come On, Cowboys!, which also sounds like a gay porno). Some swindlers want a ranch, but a pretty woman also wants the ranch. Therefore, Stony helps the pretty woman. Also, she owns the circus.

Wyoming Outlaw (1939) – It’s Mesquiteers versus – sigh! – cattle rustlers. The only synopsis I can find suggests there is some kind of moral grey area in this film – that must be a mistake.

New Frontier (1939) – Ranchers are forced off of their land by the construction of yet another of FDR’s damn dams, so the Mesquiteers direct them to new ranch land. It turns out this land is worthless – whoopsie! What’d they do, simply rework the script from Gunsmoke Ranch?!

Then there’s Santa Fe Stampede, which was actually the third Mesquiteer movie John Wayne appeared in. It is also the only one from his era which I have access to. It’ll hafta stand for all eight movies, so here’s hopin’ it’s a good one…


The most interesting thing about Santa Fe Stampede is, of course, the Duke, John Wayne. He looks incredibly young and thin here, and shows only an inkling of the A-lister charisma he would one day exude. Really, seeing this without knowing his future career, one cannot see extreme talent, merely a competency at the B-western schtick required of him. Bless John Ford for seeing otherwise. For those who are familiar with what would come, though, Wayne’s cadence seems familiar, that distinctive, almost Shatnerian halting diction best suited to the word “pilgrim.” There is a certain gravitas and heroism nascent in Wayne, a silent strength that greatly increases the moral power of the tale.

It is clear the strong elements of Wayne’s performance as Stony Brooke are entirely Wayne’s doing; as written, Stony is as blandly romantic and do-goody as ever – it took until the 50s for western heroes to gain ambivalence. All in all, this is a tried-and-true, tiresome Three Mesquiteers entry, of little interest to a series fan in-and-of itself. Let us see how that is…

First up, who is the victimized, spineless twerp the Mesquiteers shall be defending today? Why, it’s Dave Carson (William Farnum), a miner who’s just happened upon the gold load that shall make his fortune. The only problem is, he never bothered to stake his claim legally, as he was too busy simply mining it. Uh-oh, Spaghetti-Os! We’re meant to sympathize with the man over this foolishness, which has shades of the current housing crisis – You mean I had to pay for my own house?! Good thing the Mesquiteers are here to “help.”


Rather than simply go on down to Capital City (they actually call it that), the Mesquiteers decide the way to protect Carson’s claim is to get a petition signed – a petition basically saying…damned if I know, actually. It has something to do with protecting Carson against the predictable bad men hovering o’er his ore: Evil Mayor Byron (LeRoy Mason) and his hench-goon Sheriff Tom (Dick Rush – tee hee!). The Mayor, meanwhile, isn’t simply using his mayorly power to just swoop in and snatch up Carson’s claim whilst he can…nah, he’s gone the roundabout route routing some gold out, to test in some “labs” first to determine its value. As in roughly 100% of the Mesquiteer plots, the courses of action taken (by both the heroes and villains) make about 0% sense almost immediately.


As it happens, though, Carson’s petition is prepared, and he sets out with Stony to deliver it to Placerburg – petitions go to Placerburg, claims to Capitol City. Off they ride on Carson’s stagecoach with Carson’s young daughter Julie, while the other Mesquiteers (Tucson and Lullaby) just diddle around the mine in order to “guard it.”

Oh right, Carson has kids! Gotta work through that! So there’s the aforementioned Julie, who is rather the odd duck out. See, per formula, the old man victim usually has two kids: a young boy so the film’s juvenile target audience can have an identification figure, and an older daughter so Stony can have someone to break age of consent laws with (romance). Today, those roles are filled by Billy and Nancy (Martin Spellman and June Martel). So what’s little Julie’s purpose in this movie anyway?

To die!

Yup, we need our sacrificial lambs to mark out the Mayor and cronies as villains – especially since the old black hat/white hat dichotomy is failing us today. So Stony, acting as protection to Dave and Julie on their stagecoach, randomly decides to ride off on his own to go stake that claim at Capitol City anyway. This silly, spur-of-the-moment decision allows the Mayor’s foot soldiers to close in and murder Dave and Julie. Nice one, Mesquiteers! Had you not interfered, Dave would simply be out a potential fortune. Instead, he’s dead, and his beloved daughter! You kinda messed things up here, I have to say.

Stony is arrested for murder. The only reason the Mayor doesn’t have him immediately executed, Texas style, is because Stony’s pal Marshal Jim Wood (Tom London) has come in from Placerburg to ensure Stony gets one of them there fair trials. There is a little suspenseful horse riding which takes place here, because Santa Fe Stampede has been somewhat lacking for usual western action – sadly, this affords us plentiful views of Palmdale’s new power lines. But in the end, Stony is safely squared away in Wood’s hands.


Learning his father and sister have been killed, Billy angrily confronts Stony in the center of town. Stony kneels beside Billy, giving him his word as to his innocence. John Wayne’ own gravitas makes this work – a mere look in his eyes is enough to convince Billy. Wayne-wise, this is the strongest moment of Santa Fe Stampede.

The time has come for Wood to take action. Wait, why not Tucson and Lullaby?! Who knows, they’re mostly just following Wood’s orders now. And those orders are to find two men, Cary and Frank, who can act as witnesses on Stony’s behalf. (They signed Stony’s dinky little petition in such a context they can vouch for him – a whole 5 minutes I didn’t recap that seems mightily contrived and obvious.) The only problem is that the Mayor also knows about Cary and Frank, and sends his minions off to “take care” of them. That’s right, these guys are killed too, because the Mayor’s little scheme to legally seize Carson’s gold is growing wildly out of hand. (Mesquiteer villains cannot do anything without murder – Going on a grocery run? Murder someone! Giving alms to the poor? Murder someone!)


Hedging his mayoral bet, the Mayor spreads anti-Stony gossip throughout town. Thus a Simpsoniam lynch mob forms, the closest we come to a titular stampede. The townsfolk amass before the prison, dead set to stone Stony dead, while Wood stonewalls this mass of massacre-minded maniacs. It would almost be worth producing a screen cab of the mob, only John Wayne doesn’t appear in it.

This means Tucson and Lullaby alone reach the shack of Carl and Frank. In a very uncharacteristic moment, the two nameless goons awaiting them easily ambush our heroes. And while Carl and Frank somehow merited instant death (apropos of nothing), such treatment is never even considered for the marquee stars. So they’re just tied up instead.

Billy grows worried, witnessing the Tea Party-esque assembly of torch-wielding peasants. Using his magical plot-sensing powers, he races on his horse to go rescue Tucson and Lullaby. Ride, Billy, ride! So he unties the heroes, they punch some mook faces, and…that’s really the end of their involvement.

Nancy (Billy’s still-living sister) goes along to free Stony, only…she’s knocked unconscious by an errant rock, because far be it from a 1938 movie to let a woman save the day. Instead, the prison catches on fire, and it’s up to Stony to pry the keys from Nancy’s hands, and carry her to safety from the burning building. (Hilariously, the Mayor et al gleefully cackle as their own town burns to the ground, because at least “that’ll be an end to that drasted Stony” whom they didn’t even care about one day earlier…Gold? What gold?)


John Wayne is now set loose for pretty much the first time in this movie. That’s it for the villains, because no one stands a chance against the Duke’s mighty authority. Our hero Stony simply has to hold a single pistol at the ten or so baddies, which prompts them all to right out confess to their misdeeds. That was easy, but really, would YOU remain stone-faced against the mighty Wayne?

As a Mesquiteers movie, Santa Fe Stampede is pretty generic, and not even a particularly good source of the awesome stunt work one can sometimes find. So while the film may disappoint through mediocrity, John Wayne fares quite well. I’ll maintain that his powers are not wholly evident here, but there’s enough of a sparkle of the Wayne to come to make it all worthwhile – especially in his scene with Billy. It’s mostly of historical interest, but that’s something.

Happy trails, John Wayne…


Related posts:
• No. 1 The Three Mesquiteers (1936)
• No. 3 Roarin’ Lead (1936)
• No. 4 Riders of the Whistling Skull (1937)
• No. 5 Hit the Saddle (1937)
• No. 6 Gunsmoke Ranch (1937)
• No. 7 Come On, Cowboys! (1937)
• No. 8 Range Defenders (1937)
• No. 9 Heart of the Rockies (1937)
• No. 10 The Trigger Trio (1937)
• No. 13 Call of the Mesquiteers (1938)
• No. 14 Outlaws of Sonora (1938)
• Nos. 29 – 38 (1940 – 1941)
• No. 35 Prairie Pioneers (1941)
• Nos. 39 – 51 (1941 – 1943)

Paris Fashion Legs

Model - Paris Fashion Week

The lady on the Bridge - Paris FW

This pic was taken on Alexandre III Bridge
after Guy Laroche Show

Mickey Lunettes - Paris Fashion Week

Cool !

Electric Blue Lady - Paris FW

Outside Pierre Cardin Fashion Show

Pourquoi Pas?

Why not XOXO darlings? Have you been catching up on the latest on the Upper East Siders? This season is very good even if my Louboutins and I are struggling to keep up. So sorry for the absence of post yesterday, I'm afraid the Blogger Bouncer was giving me the cold shoulder of his velvet rope and logging in was something that was just not going to happen. But no tears for me mes cheries maybe just some Wayfarers as I've been blinded by the amazing fabulousness of last nights costume. The show featured the girls at the insta-important Fashion's Night Out event that has swept NYC by surprise the last two NYFWs with its glitz and its glam.

{hollywoodlife.com}

Blair's dress was amazing. The perfect frock to turns those heads

as you step out the cab ready to party. Thank you Pre-Fall Valentino!

{gossiprocks.com}

But Serena's dress stole my heart. Flowy, unique, and backless,

its everything I always look for in a gown. Bisous Jenny Packham!

Whose heels would you walk a mile in darlings?

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The Rays are in the playoffs!! Is anyone actually watching?

Way way way back in June, I mentioned how the attendance of the Tampa Bay Rays is absolutely ridiculous:

“While watching the latest installment of the Rays-Marlins series, I can only look in shame as to what is taking place. What should be a big series that’s the talk of all Florida sports news is just a blurb in the pages. The attendance in this ballgame was 23,000, which actually is a little bit higher than usual Florida games. By comparison, we have the Pirates nabbing 38,000 fans in their homestand, and they are by no means a decent ballclub. No need to insult the Pirates, but the Marlins and the Rays are thick in the playoff hunt, with the Rays remaining the best team in all of baseball. And plus this is supposed to be a statewide rivalry, similar to the popular Subway Series up north. The last Rays home game reached 25,000 and a week before that against the Blue Jays, the attendance was a meager 16,000. Why such low numbers?”

It seems that the attendance has become an actual topic of discussion, months after I brought it up mind you (not tooting my own horn or anything, but HA! Saw it coming). With two popular Rays players pointing it out, a major backlash has occurred amongst fans of Rays and all of baseball. What started out as a simple plea for more support in the stadium has turned into a hot-topic issue that concerns an excellent young team struggling to find a consistent fanbase in a sport that has reached new levels of competitiveness with the influx of incredible pitchers.

After years of complaints from fans about what had been happening to the team, the owner gives the team a new name, a new look, a new attitude, and a fresh start. The Rays did what the Expos did in the early 90s; rely heavily on a good farm system and a core of hungry young stars. Before you know it, Tampa became a tough scrappy team that was three wins away from actually winning it all. And nowadays, they have among the best records in baseball in the toughest division in ALL of sports (There is no argument here, do not even think about arguing this).



The owners even lobbied for a new stadium, which was promptly put down by the city of St. Petersburg. So now, there is recoil amongst the few Rays fans in the area when David Price and Evan Longoria complained about the terrible attendance in a potential playoff-clinching game. The backlash has been quite heavy amongst ESPN and the Tampa Bay media. Want my take? They are totally correct in every possible manner, and I am about to explain why.


The Tampa Bay Rays are on a much smaller payroll than the Red Sox, Yankees, Phillies, Dodgers, and other teams. Even with the payroll expanding several 20 million dollars in the last couple of years, it was still among the lowest in all of MLB. The fact that they are competing with such a young scrappy group of players (and winning most of the time) is quite unbelievable. They have been described by the Northeastern media as the “Team That Won’t Go Away.” Unlike the Rays teams of the past (leading up to 2008), this team does not give up, will not give up. Every game, they will give you 110%. In spite of all this, they are still among the lowest in attendance. Even the Pirates can average bigger numbers than the Rays, and this is even with Tampa playing fan favorites like the Red Sox and Yankees constantly. Just how much do empty seats affect the psyche of a baseball team? Observe this stat from the article back in June:

“The Rays are 18-15 at home, far from the best home record in baseball. I am sure the sluggish numbers, the amount of empty seats, and lack of support (especially when the Yankees and Red Sox come into town) contributes to their weaker play in Tampa. In comparison, here are the home records of the teams with extremely high attendance: Yankees (24-10), Phillies (17-14), Dodgers (23-13), Cardinals (23-11), Twins (23-13). See the difference (unless you are the Phillies)?”

Now look at the home records of the said teams:
Yankees (52-29)
Phillies (54-30)
Dodgers (43-35)
Cardinals (47-28)
Twins (52-29)

The three best home records amongst those five are all going to the playoffs. Home field advantage does exist, but if there are few witnesses, the advantage ceases to exist. But are the prices high in Tropicana Field? Not in Tampa. You can easily find good seats for prices between $15-$30 for regular games, $20-$40 for more important and high-profile games. Parking? The prices range from a high $20 to a lower-than-usual $10. So why aren’t they going to the games? The games are generally cheap, the parking isn’t ridiculous (and sometimes even free), and the team is clearly winning and clearly bothering the big boys of baseball the Yankees and Red Sox. So why was there a laughable 12,000 watching the Rays attempt to clinch?

Many fans are crying foul because “overpaid ballplayers are telling fans to spend their money and head to the game”. The overpaid part is slightly true, but slightly justifiable. We Americans are obsessed with sports, especially football. At least five NFL franchises are worth over a billion dollars, and the Yankees are the richest baseball team with a billion in revenue. No matter what the economy is, sports can and will forever make good money, no matter what the circumstances are. So, the overpayment comes from the fact that these ballplayers are extremely valuable, and owners can and will pay top dollar to maintain them. Longoria isn’t the one demanding the overpayment, the business demands it.

Now, look at it from the player’s point of view. The Tampa Bay Rays are in a terrible location, in a nasty division, and a terrible stadium that literally stole a win from them earlier this year (against the Twins, when a popup turned into a hit because of catwalks). Quoting me from earlier:


“Tampa Bay represents St. Petersburg, Clearwater, Ybor City, Treasure Island, amongst other little spots next to Tampa. However, they chose a more secluded and uglier part of St. Petersburg for the home team. If you’ve ever driven around there, the location is very tricky and somewhat confusing to reach. The surrounding area isn’t exactly the best area, and it takes 10 minutes of driving to even find the highway.”

They are in one of the most grueling schedules in all of sports, and all they want is to see major support. They want to see the support that the Red Sox, Phillies, and Yankees receive on a yearly basis. After years of totally shifting the franchise from joke to near-champ, the players felt like they deserved it. We all know they deserve the press, fame, and popularity that they were (somewhat) getting. Yet, inexplicably, they just weren’t getting the fans. Not only that, but the fanbase of the Sox and Yanks were more powerful and present during those heavily-contested matchups. Does this sad scenario sound familiar? Well, it shouldn’t, unless you are a baseball buff.

Anyone remember the Brooklyn Dodgers? Well, back in the 40s and 50s, the Brooklyn Dodgers was also a young, scrappy team that was constantly taking on the big boys. In spite of lower attendance numbers, smaller fanbase, and a stadium built in a tough location, the Brooklyn Dodgers would play year after year, constantly trying to thwart the Yankees. What eventually happened was that when the Brookyln area refused to help the dwindling attendance of the team by building a new stadium, the owner went to the west coast in a shockingly fast rate and crafted the Los Angeles Dodgers. To this day, Brooklyn has some ghosts from that fateful day. The Tampa Bay Rays of today are becoming the new millennium’s Brooklyn Dodgers (to an extent, the 1994 Montreal Expos), and if something doesn’t happen soon, they will move as well.

St. Petersburg straight-up is not supporting their team, not supporting their future. The fans haven’t really been there to support either. Why would the owner spend more money if the fans aren’t arriving? While the owner’s decision sounds a bit selfish, from an economic standpoint, it makes sense. I am a huge Rays fan, but I admit that we really don’t deserve the success of our ballclub. The Marlins-Rays game I went to several months ago was embarrassingly empty. Even the insane Yankees-Rays series didn’t hit sellout crowds. St. Petersburg doesn’t want a new stadium for our team, nowhere in Tampa Bay can you find land available for a new stadium, it just wasn’t being allowed. I have constantly screamed that the solution to this dilemma is this: start supporting our hard-working franchise, or move the team to a place that will support them better. Orlando anyone?

The Tampa Bay Rays can potentially create more jobs, and create more revenue, but there just isn’t enough support to allow for this wonderful franchise to flourish. And once again, I am being quite critical on an area, on a state that has been economically hit in recent times. However, as a community, you have a beautiful gem that is not fully being appreciated. I am not saying that there are no loyal Rays fans, but what I am saying is that they deserve more. Why can’t they have the heavy fanbase of winners like the Yankees and losers (well, not loser per say, but a team missing the postseason) like the Cardinals, Rockies, Mets, and Pirates?

Bottom Line: I am a big Rays fan that will follow the team no matter where they go or what happens to them, because I can’t see the Rays remaining happy in St. Petersburg much longer if this continues. They clinched as I typed this article, but still didn’t see a sellout crowd, still didn’t see a full house, and they even had the always-reliable David Price pitching. Now do I ask for sellout crowds every single night? Of course not, but I should see full houses on important games, on heavy matchups, on most September games, and when the playoffs arrive. I totally agree with Longoria and Price and sympathize with their pain. In comparison, they sound like a great writer that has no readers, like a great band that has no audience when performing. They aren’t telling you to spend money on them; they are telling you to help support a young team in a heavily contested league that needs whatever small edge they can get.

Congrats to the Rays, this team is excellent for baseball. However, if Tampa Bay altogether doesn’t see what me and most baseball buffs see, who knows what might happen to the franchise in the future. I’d hate to see them go, but I hate to see them suffer too. Just watching the Orioles-Rays game the night before, and seeing the sadness and subtle despair on their faces was quite heartbreaking.

If you are a Rays fan, I want you to prove it. Support your team.


Stop sitting! Get up, be loud, be proud, and shout it out:



GO RAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Three Mesquiteers, No. 14 - Outlaws of Sonora (1938)

While The Three Mesquiteers may have been conceived and marketed as a cowboy trio series, when one looks at the marquee posters over time, something becomes clear: there was really only one star. Robert Livingston. His Stony Brooke has always been the heart of the series, with Ray Corrigan and Max Terhune simply serving as support.

Outlaws of Sonora is undoubtedly Livingston’s starring vehicle, where his talents (as an actor and stunt man) are brought ever more into the forefront. But there is only so much one can do with a necessarily limited role such as Stony. What’s Livingston to do? Go the Peter Sellers (or Eddie Murphy) route, basically, and perform a dual role. And not just any. The villain! This is not the first time this has happened, oh no, not by 1938 (I’ve seen many a silent comedy short with the same plot), but Outlaws of Sonora marks an occasional new direction for the B-western.

It doesn’t take long for Stony to run into his dastardly doppelganger, in the form of Dude Brannen. In a case of “incompetence necessitated by the opening act,” Stony is captured by Dude’s lawless band of outlaws in a cross-country delivery of “$” sacks. Stony’s life is only saved when Dude notices their uncanny, and highly coincidental, similarities. See for yourself:


Hold up, that isn’t right. But it really works on the same principles. Mustache = evil. Darker outfit = evil. Such easy visual shorthand rather frees Livingston from that pesky need to differentiate his characters through acting. (He’s no Alec Guinness, circa Kind Hearts and Coronets.) See for yourself:


“You look just like him, Dude,” one of Dude’s goons opines, in the first of many lines which recall The Big Lebowski. And Dude (it sure feels odd without the preceding “the”) has precisely the brainstorm the screenwriters were wishing for. He shall shave off his mustache, wear good guy clothes, and pin all his misdeeds on Stony. Then where’s a bounty on Stony’s head, they collect. Mwa hah hah hah HAH!

You’d think this setup would be enough to fill out the scant hour these Mesquiteer masterpieces run, but you woefully underestimate this series’ need for purposeless padding. So get ready for 5 minutes of billiards, with an unnamed pool player who is actually credited fifth (Otis Harlan). He’s not even a professional pool player, or someone who could lend this scene interest. He’s just the guy who voiced Happy in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs – that’s his big claim to fame. What is this scene doing here?!

Okay, now [the] Dude can enact his reign of quasi-terror. With unerring plotdar, he goes to the same bank which has been entrusting Stony with their “$” sacks. So Dude is handed an “$” sack. So he shoots the bank manager dead. Just like that. It’s like the inhumane executions in Fargo, NOT a kids’ 30s matinee serial! Dude escapes town, but makes damn sure he is seen by all, and predictably mistaken for Stony. Mesquiteers Tucson and Lullaby do not know how to take this news, and simply deduce that “He is loco.’


In a movie that absolutely cannot settle down on telling a rounded story with complete scenes full of non-filler material, Outlaws of Sonora reveals its other ace – the Montage. Around 35% of the movie is montage, while another 35% is time-wasting – that means under a third is actual movie. So Dude’s reign of Stony terror is conveyed through the usual 30s means: stock footage, spinning newspaper headlines (oh yeah), and Robert Livingston performing context-free variations on all his favorite stunts while attempting an “evil” persona. His maniacal laugh peppers the film, which is to its detriment since Livingston cannot conjure up a single genuinely evil iota. It’s like trying to be a Justice League villain on helium.

Oh, and even the freaking montages need filler content! So they don’t just show us assembled clips. They fade ever soooo sloooowly between clips, creating massive pockets of unwatchability throughout. (The image above partly suffers from that.)

Nothing’s progressing on the Tucson/Lullaby side of things, and Dude is engaged off in Montage Land, so let’s look in on Stony. Film well over half over, he manages to get the better of the least competent guard I’ve ever seen in a genre full of incompetent guards. He then knocks out Dude’s dukes, taking Dude’s place as Stony pretending to be Dude pretending to be Stony. Thank Jeebus, this movie is finally starting to take advantage of its “mistaken identity” premise!

For…all of half a minute. That’s how long it takes Dude to recover, and holler out Stony’s deceit. The various nearby goons instantly know who the real Dude is – ‘cause far be it from a B-western to present the tiniest amount of hero/villain confusion, even when it’s purely appearance-based (not moral). But this at least leads us to something expected, which we’ve been mostly denied – a horse chase. With gunplay. (Oh, and it’s largely expressed in montage, naturally.) And I’m not even counting this stuff as “time wasting,” even though it surely is, because by Mesquiteer standards this is content.


No, here’s what I would call “time wasting” – A 10 minute scene set in an Old West saloon, with zero connection back to the “story.” This is Rosita (Stelita Peluffo), who sings a saucy Spanish number, but it’s been dulled and slowed enough to be palatable to a 1930s white audience. In other words, it’s completely stultifying. And guys, it’s a little late to attempt the “sexy Latina” thing (nine entries after failing to do so with freaking Rita Hayworth!) when your leading lady is as strangely odd in appearance as this. (At least we’re not saddled with a love interest this time, as Outlaws of Sonora can barely get its act together long enough to tell an A-plot.)

With the film entering its final 10 minutes, and the conflict between Stony and Dude seemingly forgotten about, what do they do? They load up the highest quotient of Elmer Horror in any Mesquiteer film so far. That is, long, loving shots abound of Lullaby’s Satanic ventriloquist doll, and I can say without exaggeration that these images could never be charming. I’m surprised 30s audiences could stand for such mortal terror, seeing as these are the same people who thought the original Dracula was “scary.” I no longer have any new ways to warn readers about Elmer’s soul-sucking appearance, so let us just say Elmer is suddenly on screen for way too long, and it literally made me shiver.

Here he is, in the middle of mentally undressing Rosita:


And here he is – AH GAHGGHH! – I don’t even know what the hell beast is doing here!


And so, finally, in comes Dude (or maybe it’s Stony…nah!, it’s clearly Dude – confusion is never even attempted), He’s finally realized the problem with his plan to frame Stony – he looks exactly like the man! Since this is what inspired Dude in the first place, I’m surprised it skipped his mind. And his solution is to seek out the town doctor, and demand some plastic surgery…Uh…WHAT?! Plastic surgery, in the Old West?! Oh sure, my insistence on questioning Mesquiteer logic is a fool’s errand. Remember, the late 30s practically invented plastic surgery as a “cure all” plot device – see roughly 13 different Charlie Chan movies…

Stony arrives and – A fistfight resolves everything. For the good guys. I have lost the energy to over-elaborate upon this.

Only…Stony dukes it out with Dude. One actor, remember, done five decades before the CGI era, trying to play two guys fighting each other. Needless to say, it isn’t a hugely successful effect. Nor does Stony’s ultimate victory ease my “concern” that random riding posses still won’t try to kill him for the bounty – which the movie conveniently forgot all about half an hour ago.

Before I sign off, let me consider the rest of The Three Mesquiteers’ first cycle – the final two films made while this most famous trio remained. (Livingston left.) These movies don’t exist on DVD, or online, or really anyplace other than rotting in some basement in Los Angeles, so there’s not much I can respond to. Here goes…

Riders of the Black Hills (1938) – The Black Knight, being a horse and not a Middle Ages warrior or a cheap Batman knockoff, has been horse-napped. The Mesquiteers are framed and arrested for this job, seeing as they (in)conveniently have a horse which looks exactly like Black Knight. (If it was good enough for Stony...) It seems as though everything climaxes with lookalike steeds racing in each other’s steads at the big derby. If it’s anything like Charlie Chan at the Race Track, I would hate it. (Interestingly, it’s starting to seem as though all 1930s franchises visit the same settings. If the Mesquiteers go to the opera, I’ll know something’s up.)

Heroes of the Hills (1938) – The Mesquiteers, being kind and loving friends to all humanity, decide to do the charitable thing in light of prison overcrowding and start their own chain gang. Did I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang teach no one in the 30s that this was an asshole thing to do? Conflict arises when the Mesquiteers face off against an evil developer (is there any other kind?) who wishes their chain gang to fail so her can profit from building a new prison – Never mind the fact that this chain gang was started in the first place because there wasn’t enough money for a new prison. Plot holes, in a Mesquiteers movie? No!

This is not the end of the franchise, not by a long shot (16 down out of 51), but it is the end of an era – the Original Era. There is nothing new under the film series sun, and the 30s were just as open to recasting major parts as any film period since then. And even with Robert Livingston (temporarily) bowing out, that means we haven’t seen the end of Stony Brooke. What joy!


Related posts:
• No. 1 The Three Mesquiteers (1936)
• No. 3 Roarin’ Lead (1936)
• No. 4 Riders of the Whistling Skull (1937)
• No. 5 Hit the Saddle (1937)
• No. 6 Gunsmoke Ranch (1937)
• No. 7 Come On, Cowboys! (1937)
• No. 8 Range Defenders (1937)
• No. 9 Heart of the Rockies (1937)
• No. 10 The Trigger Trio (1937)
• No. 13 Call of the Mesquiteers (1938)
• No. 19 Santa Fe Stampede (1938)
• Nos. 29 – 38 (1940 – 1941)
• No. 35 Prairie Pioneers (1941)
• Nos. 39 – 51 (1941 – 1943)