For most of us, the first real western is 1939’s Stagecoach. Sure, that movie was tremendously epochal, solidifying the careers of the genre’s two great Johns, Ford and Wayne, and paving the way for the classical Hollywood western…which would then allow for the revisionist westerns, spaghetti westerns and neo contemporary westerns the genre since is known for. But when Stagecoach came out, the genre was already well codified; in fact, most of the work was done, except for making westerns “respectable.” Our current subject, and most westerns which have yielded franchises, belong to an earlier era, and a lesser form: B-westerns, of the sort practiced by studios such as Republic Pictures.
But before we can get there, let us look at the overall evolution of the genre, for it is an interesting one. Of all the cinematic narrative types, the western has seen the purest continuous move from history to historical fiction. Yup, the western emerged concurrent with the Old West, that period in U.S. history when a destiny of settlement and expansion was manifest. Ignoring for now the western’s literary origins (with “The Virginian”), instead we could consider the cinematic western (as a performer-based narrative form) as indirectly emerging from Buffalo Bill Cody.
Buffalo Bill was a true western icon, a genuine soldier, pioneer and…well, buffalo exterminator, who has become famous through legend, adaptation, and the lesser of two villains in Silence of the Lambs. He was also an inveterate entertainer, who took his own gunslinging exploits as the basis for exploitation almost the instant after they happened. While the Old West was yet to earn the first half of that sobriquet, Bill was taking “Buffalo Bill’s Wild West” show throughout the more civilized portions of the nation – the East. Here, starting in the early 1880s, city slickers could gawk droolingly at “accurate” recreations of roundups, stagecoach robberies, and, later on, Custer’s Last Stand.
More genuine Old West legends would appear in Mr. Buffalo’s programs, including the likes of “Wild” Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane. A performer subculture developed around Bill’s shows and others like it. These horse riders and stuntmen soon underwent generational change, so tales of the West started to become secondhand through age. Most of the early performers in silent westerns were products of this travelling spectacle. Hell, I’d wager the whole fact of Hollywood stuntmen derives from this tradition.
Westerns were popular on film from the very instant it became a narrative art form. The Great Train Robbery of 1903 is considered perhaps the first thing recognizable as real film – the earliest surviving artifact of when celluloid became more than a mere curiosity – and it’s a western (never mind it was filmed in New Jersey). Following its lead, the whole silent era could build on this example, as silent film is the perfect format to showcase location stunt work and horse riding and the other fun stuff early westerns were made of.
The sound era that began encroaching around 1927 did away with that. Clunky sound-recording technology prohibited location filming, and much stunt-based cinema (see the lamentable downfall of clowns like Buster Keaton). Westerns were right out, replaced by parlor dramas and, eventually, musicals. Surprisingly, it is this second genre which reignited westerns, not in their original form, but as B-movies. Along came the era of the singing cowboy.
Semi-independently of the Old West stuntman, country music developed from similar origins. Thus we have genuine cowboys, later performers, known for preserving the uniquely American myth of the frontier through song. Ken Maynard was the first to employ this format to film. He even bridges the gap back to the previous decade’s stunts, as he was himself a part of that practice.
The stage was now set for singing westerns, with the likes of Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, and other people that things are now named after in Southern California. In place of the vast expanses of the Southwest, westerns were now made on set, or on actor-cowboys’ ranches. These ranches were key. All a studio’s western output could be made on a single, permanent set in the areas outlying Los Angeles. The great metropolis’ urban sprawl has now vanquished all these sites.
The western of the ‘30s was a decidedly ragged affair. It was not critically acclaimed, and was an unprestigious arena the major studios wouldn’t touch. Basically, westerns had become children’s entertainment. They were meant as filler, as material to fill out the time in a movie theater’s programming – theaters then operating somewhat more like a scheduled television station than the cinema as we know it now. These were the Saturday matinees, really and truly the ‘30s equivalent to Saturday morning cartoons – which are themselves phenomena my aging ass fears are vanishing today. Filling this niche movie market, certain minor studios made a living – like the aforementioned Republic Pictures.
One of the most popular forms of singing cowboy movies in this environment was the “cowboy trio” picture. I cannot say just why there was such a huge market for specifically seeing three cowboys sing per picture, but there you go. I estimate at least six whole franchises emerged under this format – including The Rough Riders, The Trail Blazers, and The Texas Rangers. It’s odd, and worthy of parody, which is precisely why The Three Amigos! was made.
Perhaps the most famous of those “cowboy trio” franchises is The Three Mesquiteers (the title being a remarkably labored pun on “The Three Musketeers” and the idea that mesquite exists – as such, I like it). This franchise is notable for the future film western legends who passed through its doors – including a pre-Stagecoach John Wayne. Other hugely important names, which are now largely forgotten, include Ray “Crash” Corrigan, Bob Livingston, Duncan Renaldo, Bob Steele, and Max Terhune…among many others.
Like so very many franchises, The Three Mesquiteers derives from literature – specifically the western writing of William Colt MacDonald. (With a name like that, what else could the man do?) This is not great literature, and probably has very little influence on the form The Three Mesquiteeers took – other than character names and the notion of a trio (trios being the most common team size throughout history anyway). Many MacDonald adaptations were churned out in 1935, the year before The Three Mesquiteers was devised. Among them are The Law of 45’s and Too Much Beef (which is a damned awesome title for an oater).
Nineteen-thirty-five was also the year that Republic Pictures came to be, a great B monopoly that saw the feared Monogram as just one of its subsidiaries. Republic intended to form a name for themselves, specifically in westerns, and needed a product to gain attention. The Three Mesquiteers would do, seeing as it combines a (then) recognized author brand name, and the need for three (rather than one) western stars. As the series wore on, even the marquee name could indicate what it was, even while the specific cast would cycle through semi-regularly.
All in all, the series saw an astounding 51 distinct features, spanning a very compressed 8 year run. That’s an average of over 7 movies a year, putting Charlie Chan’s four-per-year previously-amazing maximum into perspective. But when we picture these movies as pure programmers, time filler, all of them under an hour, produced with as much care as your average Hanna-Barbera episode, it becomes easier to understand the situation.
Below I have listed out the entire franchise. As usual, those entries which are still available for viewing are noted in bold.
1. The Three Mesquiteers (1936)
2. Ghost-Town Gold (1936)
3. Roarin’ Lead (1936)
4. Riders of the Whistling Skull (1937)
5. Hit the Saddle (1937)
6. Gunsmoke Ranch (1937)
7. Come On, Cowboys! (1937)
8. Range Defenders (1937)
9. Heart of the Rockies (1937)
10. The Trigger Trio (1937)
11. Wild World Rodeo (1937)
12. The Purple Vigilantes (1938)
13. Call of the Mesquiteers (1938)
14. Outlaws of Sonora (1938)
15. Riders of the Black Hills (1938)
16. Heroes of the Hills (1938)
17. Pals of the Saddle (1938)
18. Overland Stage Riders (1938)
19. Santa Fe Stampede (1938)
20. Red River Range (1938)
21. The Night Riders (1939)
22. Three Texas Steers (1939)
23. Wyoming Outlaw (1939)
24. New Frontier (1939)
25. The Kansas Terrors (1939)
26. Cowboys From Texas (1939)
27. Heroes of the Saddle (1940)
28. Pioneers of the West (1940)
29. Covered Wagon Days (1940)
30. Rocky Mountain Rangers (1940)
31. Oklahoma Renegades (1940)
32. Under Texas Skies (1940)
33. The Trail Blazers (1940)
34. Lone Star Raiders (1940)
35. Prairie Pioneers (1941)
36. Pals of the Pecos (1941)
37. Saddlemates (1941)
38. Gangs of Sonora (1941)
39. Outlaws of Cherokee Trail (1941)
40. Gauchos of El Dorado (1941)
41. West of Cimarron (1941)
42. Code of the Outlaw (1942)
43. Raiders of the Range (1942)
44. Westward Ho (1942)
45. The Phantom Plainsmen (1942)
46. Shadows of the Stage (1942)
47. Valley of Hunted Men (1942)
48. Thundering Trails (1943)
49. The Blocked Trail (1943)
50. Santa Fe Scouts (1943)
51. Riders of the Rio Grande (1943)
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“Starring Ron Livingston as Stony Brooke.” Livingston was a frequent figure in movie serials (different from a series) before joining the Mesquiteers – he lent a decent degree of marquee value. His character, Stony Brooke, is a fighter and a lover (from one film’s evidence, at least), as quick with a pistol as he is with his…pistol.
“Starring Ray Corrigan as Tucson Smith.” “Crash” Corrigan started out as fitness instructor – to the stars! He also owned his own ape suit, which was damn well all you needed to become a big celebrity in 1930s Hollywood. His sudden Mesquiteer success was such that one year in, in 1937, Corrigan set up his own movie ranch for filming, Corriganville.
Tucson Smith is basically the exact same person as Stony Brooke, especially as regards boring virtues such as honesty, fair play, workmanship, and other things that define B-westerns and sell tickets. He is not as impulsive as Stony, evidently, nor as romantic. In Three Amigos terms, he’s the Chevy Chase to Stony’s Steve Martin.
“Starring Syd Saylor as Lullaby Joslin.” Saylor is just vaguely weird looking. As for Lullaby, he’s easily the most interesting of the Mesquiteers – meaning this’ll be his only entry. For one, Lullaby is not a gunslinger, nor familiar to the west. His competence is certainly variable. As the city slicker and comic relief, he mostly eschews western genre trappings, rather riding around in a motorcycle with sidecar.
Wait, what?! That’d be just a tad anachronistic in most westerns, doncha think? That’s why The Three Mesquiteers takes place in 1919 – almost entirely to justify this one motorcycle, and a minute’s worth of WWI stock footage lumped in at the start. It’s otherwise still a bizarre period to set any western – Too old to be contemporary in 1936, but well too late to be the Old West.
And did you know about all those post-World War One homesteaders, and their deadly conflicts with evil cattle ranchers? It’s surely a historical fact that it happened sometime in the U.S., but 1919?! Nah! Let’s just try to forget the whole WWI thing, despite Lullaby’s repeated insistence by means of bike and freaking grenades, and take The Three Mesquiteers for what it is: An incredibly archetypal old western, using the old homesteader vs. rancher standard as a justification for various horse-ridin’, gun-slingin’ stunt work.
The thing about a justification like this is you need little context for it. As all the potential action sequences in a Three Mesquiteers movie concern riding the horse and slinging the gun, context is hardly an issue. That makes it easier to schedule the exact same shooting schedule the whole franchise through, without ever worrying about the danged script.
But what of the script? The homesteaders arrive in New Mexico via wagon train (yup, it’s 1919!), led by a Bob as bland as any (Gene Marvey), and his sister Marian (Kay Hughes). Marian shall be Stony’s love interest for this entry, and presumably forgotten about entirely after that.
The homesteaders march into the same flat-fronted Old West Hollywood town I expect to see plenty more of. They earn the ire of devious rancher baron Brack Canfield (J.P. McGowan) and his top henchman Bull (John Merton). For this scant justification, the villains try putting Lullaby to sleep, and Stony and Tucson team up for several straight minutes of face-punching. Lullaby knows the title, and wants to join this duo, only Stony and Tucson are going to delay the trio’s official announcement until the final minutes. It’s an introductory film, after all.
So, wagon train a-movin’ when – Brack’s pack enacts their next context-free villainies: dynamiting out an avalanche. This means lotsa model rocks pounding model trees and cabins, intercut with horses running. And running. And running. This is how they’re stretching this out to feature length. (I’m keeping my own comments brief until the sequel.)
Also, the tail end of the rock slide sees the opportunity for an indecisive shootout sequence, so…Indecisive shootout sequence ahoy!
The homesteaders reach their promised land of milk and mesquite. Now, this bunch is made up of war veterans (okay, another scant 1919 justification), many of them with serious war disabilities: one arm, one leg, Italian descent. The Italian guy, when asked how this valley makes him feel, breaks out his accordion for a song. That’s right, these things were also musicals! Pretty lousy ones at that. But did you know, while an accordion’s playing, cabins can be hewn from the primeval forests in mere instants? Ah, the glories of the montage.
Now that’s out of the way, and all the “plot” that goes with it, it’s down to business – A barn dance where the film can show off that sinful “two-step,” and afford more time wasted through song. Bob of all people croons “Home on the Range,” an honest Old West tune about Kansas which was already in the public domain.
Later, the evil ranchers come in to terrorize Bob. Somehow, he is specifically allergic to horse-riding, so they force him to ride a horse – it’s torture by way of the same stunts as always. Bob is dead, which is just the sacrificial lamb needed to spur the Mesquiteers into action. They (indirectly) killed one of our homesteaders? We’re gonna ride into town and straight up murder all those ranchers, in the name of peace and honor! It occurs to me there’s sometimes a double standard when it comes to heroism and villainy.
Stony barges manfully through the saloon doors in a way so pure and pre-ironic, I never thought I’d actually see it. One standard tense standoff later, and a shootout has erupted on Main Street Movie Set. Individual shots make no sense relative to each other, suggesting confused action geography is not a modern invention. And we get plenty classic western stunts, in the form of balcony falling mostly. Then Lullaby arrives and earns his partners’ respect, as he employs a pineapple grenade to single-handedly rend the flesh off of 20 different ranchers all at once. Ranchers – Boo! Hiss!
When word arrives that another batch of godless, heathen ranchers has been spotted in the next valley over, the three Mesquiteers all take to their horses and ride off into the sunset, to kill again.
Homesteaders vs. ranchers…That’s a strange dichotomy to build your good vs. evil story around. Was there really such moral distinction between two different 19th century agrarian approaches? Betcha never even knew men who let cattle graze the land freely were to be abhorred. Maybe it’s really about the rightness of hat fashion – everyone deemed “bad” has on a black hat, meaning this western cliché is true. But when your picture is a Saturday matinee, for the kiddies, such concerns are groundless. They just wanna see some singin’ and ropin’, cowboys being the giant CGI robots of the 1930s. And undoubtedly this film was successful – it did render a franchise, after all.
Related posts:
• No. 3 Roarin’ Lead (1936)
• No. 4 Riders of the Whistling Skull (1937)
• No. 5 Hit the Saddle (1937)
• No. 6 Gunsmoke Ranch (1937)
• No. 7 Come On, Cowboys! (1937)
• No. 8 Range Defenders (1937)
• No. 9 Heart of the Rockies (1937)
• No. 10 The Trigger Trio (1937)
• No. 13 Call of the Mesquiteers (1938)
• No. 14 Outlaws of Sonora (1938)
• No. 19 Santa Fe Stampede (1938)
• Nos. 29 – 38 (1940 – 1941)
• No. 35 Prairie Pioneers (1941)
• Nos. 39 – 51 (1941 – 1943)
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