(In Part 1, we saw how Western novelist William Colt MacDonald’s popular pulp stories about a fighting cowboy trio slowly made their way to the screen in the 1930s. After a faltering start with the low-budget The Law of 45’s, MacDonald’s Three Mesquiteers hit the big time with the release of “The Barnum and Bailey of Westerns,” Powdersmoke Range.) Read more

January 27, 2011 · Posted in Legends, Western  

They were Tucson Smith, Stony Brooke and Lullaby Joslin; for a while, they were also Rusty, Rico and the Masked Rider; but one name everyone knew them by was the Three Mesquiteers – a hard-riding, wisecracking trio fondly remembered as the heroes of one of the liveliest Western series ever to gallop across the matinee screen. Read more

November 14, 2010 · Posted in Legends, Western  


As if dealing with rustlers, ctrain robbers, and ubiquitous big-screen owlhoot Roy Barcroft weren’t bad enough, the B-movie cowboys of the early 1940s crawled out of their bedrolls one day to find sieg-heiling storm troopers and fifth columnists lurking behind every cactus. World War II had erupted all over the silver screen sagebrush, and while the conflict only occupied those six-gun heroes for a couple of years, during that brief time it was never quiet on the B Western front.

Unlike the drastic retooling that many industries underwent for the war effort, post-Pearl Harbor Hollywood was allowed to continue what it had always done on a largely unrestricted basis. During the early years, war-based entertainment was all over the place, particularly on the Saturday matinee screens … until the public’s need for more escapism made itself known at the box office, and the film capital increasingly turned away from global conflict and reverted to the sure-fire material of old.

But during that roughly two-year period, audiences had been treated to 51p7r8v3ydl_ss500_1such bizarre visions as the Three Stooges and Daffy Duck gouging Axis eyeballs, Sherlock Holmes matching wits with 20th century saboteurs, and Tarzan dealing justice to Herr Schicklegruber’s ruthless minions.

However, none of those attempts at retooling was as odd as Hollywood’s game of cowboys and Nazis. Riding out under gloriously loopy titles like Cowboy Commandos and Texas to Bataan, many of the Poverty Row Western heroes took on the Axis at one time or another – but nobody played that game as well as the flag-wavingest studio of them all, Republic Pictures. And of all Republic’s popular cowpokes, the Three Mesquiteers were the absolute best at stomping the Hun with a high-heeled boot.

The Mesquiteers were the heroes of a long-running series of films that saw a dozen different actors assuming the three leading roles as the years went by. With storylines that ranged from the 1880s to modern times (a financially convenient “modern West” in which covered wagons and gun-toting cowpokes co-existed with airplanes and jukeboxes), the Mesquiteers were quintessential utility heroes, and had often taken on social problems as timely as the morning newspaper. So when the threat of war in Europe began to rear its head in the late 1930s, they were natural candidates for a dustup with the world’s newest villains.

180px-palsofsaddleposterTheir first brush with the enemy actually came before the U.S. entered the fray, in 1938’s Pals of the Saddle, a typical Rover Boys-style romp that saw them thrust into the middle of a plot involving spies for a foreign power (unnamed in the custom of most pre-war films, but obviously Germany) which was bent on smuggling a poison gas ingredient called “monium” out of the country.

A youthful John Wayne made his first appearance as lead Mesquiteer Stony Brooke with this entry, and immediately found himself up to his big white Stetson in a preposterous adventure that saw him fleeing a trumped-up homicide charge and faking his own death in order to go undercover with the spy ring as a stand-in for a lovely Secret Service agent’s murdered partner.

(Got that?)

Of course, the plan goes awry in the best pulp tradition, and compadres Lullaby (Max Terhune) and Tucson (Crash Corrigan) have to ride to Stony’s rescue before Mesquiteer grit and the U.S. Cavalry save the world from germ warfare, bringing the villains’ monium-laden Conestogas to a slam-bang halt just this side of the Mexican border.

The boys’ next brush with the Axis came in 1942, and by that time the producers had stopped playing coy about who the bad guys were. Set in the waning days of American neutrality, The Phantom Plainsmen revolved around Nazi agent Hartwig’s attempt to force a lovable old rancher into selling his prize horses to the Third Reich for military purposes. However, Cap Marvin is such a pacifist that he won’t even sell stock to his own government’s armed forces, so Hartwig resorts to blackmail by having the rancher’s son Tad (played by young Richard Crane) dragged from his European studies and detained by the Gestapo.

The Mesquiteers pitch in to help, only to get tossed into the calaboose for steeletheir trouble. Luckily, their jailer is a singularly inept public servant (played by comic actor Vince Barnett), and after a whimsical jailbreak, our heroes bring Hartwig and his gang to justice by way of Fist City. It turns out that Tad has already been released from custody – a fact which Hartwig had kept to himself, the lying fascist – so Cap is now ready to commit his resources to winning the war that lies ahead.

Written for an audience of children and supposedly undemanding rural ticket buyers, the story relies on a wildly exaggerated opinion of the value of horseflesh in fighting a modern war. Even so, The Phantom Plainsmen is a first-class example of how easily the B Westerns could be adapted to wartime themes. Spy chiefs, often operating out of jalapeno-challenged New York City, were seamlessly substituted for the usual evil Easterners who made life so miserable for those good-hearted folks out West; and as there seemed to be no end to the number of hard-riding owlhoots who’d sell out their country for a handful of Deutschemarks, the game of white hats vs. black hats could continue unabated.

By this time, Wayne had left the series to give the Seabees and the Flying Tigers a hand, and Corrigan and Terhune had started the Range Busters franchise at Monogram (where they, too, would battle the Axis, though with a smaller war chest). Western legends Tom Tyler and Bob Steele became the new wartime Mesquiteers, joined at first by Rufe Davis and later Jimmy Dodd as Lullaby. (That’s the same Jimmy Dodd who would later become host of The Mickey Mouse Club, making a transition from movie Mesquiteer to TV Mousketeer.)

With his no-nonsense demeanor and propensity for furniture-shattering fistfights, the diminutive Steele was a terrific addition as Tucson Smith. The towering Tyler, enjoying his last hurrah at cowboy stardom, brought a larger-than-life quality to the role of Stony that would stand him well in the group’s next showdown with the Third Reich.

Valley of Hunted Men, also released in 1942, was the last and wildest of the Mesquiteers’ World War II adventures. The story begins with the escape of three vicious Nazis from a Canadian POW camp. As they make their bloody tomtyler1way into the States, they’re gradually whittled down to a single murderous goose-stepper, who passes himself off as the nephew of a kindly old inventor who’s working to help the Allies win the war.

Of course, it isn’t long before the prairie is swarming with spies and turncoats, and the Mesquiteers have their hands full trying to sort the mess out. In one of the movie’s high points, Tyler brings down an enemy airplane with a rifle bullet; and the climax offers the bizarre spectacle of Tyler and Steele charging the Nazis hell-for-leather through a stand of trees amid flashing hooves and blazing six-guns – a moment so wonderfully goofy and unabashedly heroic that one can’t help regretting that Republic didn’t sign the Mesquiteers up for the duration.

April 4, 2009 · Posted in Western