Monday, June 30, 2014

The Doris Delay Show II: Texas Blood Money


I had every intention of having a brand-spanking new edition of Doris Day(s) completed and up today…and then a series of unusual incidents unfolded that kinda sorta distracted me from getting it done.  Just…unusual sitcom-like incidents—for example, over the weekend some person or persons unknown left a dresser drawer in our front yard.  Not an actual dresser, just…the drawer.  The ‘rents and I have no freaking idea how it got there; we speculated that perhaps it fell off a truck while someone was moving (and once it was discovered missing, the individuals involved said “Damn if I’m going back for that”) but that didn’t make sense to me because the drawer was laying perfectly on the ground—it wasn’t tipped over or at an angle or anything.

When I pointed this out to Ma and Pa Shreve, the ensuing conversation sounded a little like an edition of that Hee Haw soap opera, The Culhanes

ME: Did either of you notice that there’s a dresser drawer on our front lawn?
DAD: I haven’t been out today—my leg has been botherin’ me somethin’ fierce…
MOM: It’s been there all weekend…but I wasn’t about to lean over and pick it up, only to risk being hit by a beer truck…
(I should point out that one of my mother’s gravest concerns is that one day either she or I will be hit by a beer truck as we venture across the road to collect the mail.  This despite the fact that I have never even seen a beer truck on our street in the time we’ve lived here.)
ME: So…what do we do?  Leave it for the squirrels to make a house?
MOM: If you want to risk being hit by a beer truck, go right ahead…
DAD: I’d go after it…but my leg has been botherin’ me somethin’ fierce…

The drawer finally got moved by the landscaping people, who tossed it in a wooded area near the house so the lawn mowing could commence.  Which was a shame as we were starting to get used it; if it was melting, it would have been like living in a Dali painting.

So…no Doris today, but I will do my darndest to get it done and up tomorrow unless something else wacky happens.  As long as I’ve rented the hall, I will let you know that Barnes & Noble has got one of their Criterion Collection 50% off sales going on until July 28th; I know you’ll find this stupefying to believe but I actually bought just one title—the Blu-ray of A Hard Day’s Night (1964).  (I know, I couldn’t believe it myself.)  I told myself I’d be good this time because I’ve got a couple of Blu-ray orders out already; I could not fight off the temptation of pre-ordering Flicker Alley’s The Mack Sennett Collection, Volume One nor was I powerless to resist a pre-order of Sleeping Beauty (1959), which Disney is dragging out of the “vault” again in October when they release Maleficent (2014) to disc.  (I missed getting it the last time it was released.)

I also ponied up some couch cushion money for Ben Model’s latest Kickstarter campaign—a DVD of ten rare silent comedy shorts starring Marcel Perez, with new scores by Mr. Model and gleaned from 35mm archival prints.  I have to come clean here—I had to do a little research on Perez because I honestly haven’t been exposed to any of his work.  But that’s the great thing about these discs from Ben’s Undercrank Productions—I’m able to make contact with funnymen that have slipped off my radar; an excellent example of this is another recent effort by Ben and author-historian Steve Massa to bring some of the “Mishaps of Musty Suffer” comedies starring Harry Watson, Jr. to the attention of silent comedy/classic film fans.  Ben and Steve used original 35mm prints from the Library of Congress for that release, and I can’t adequately express in words the gratifying feeling I received in knowing that just a few spare shekels went towards this rewarding film preservation project.

So mosey on over to Ben’s campaign and see what you can do to help the cause, hokay?

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Get your ‘thon on!

If you were worried that we might not have an installment of Doris Day(s) ready to go up tomorrow…fret ye not; I’m working on it as you read this (though it might be posted later than is the norm).  Now that you’ve all scattered to the four corners of the Blogosphere, I thought I’d bring your attention to a pair of upcoming blogathons in which you might wish to participate.

Having seized control of the levers of Blogathon power, Fritzi at Movies Silently is determined not to surrender without a major skirmish.  (By my count, this is Movies Silently’s third blogathon this year—we may have to stage an intervention.)  This time ‘round, it’s Accidentally Hilarious—which will concentrate on those classic movies that, in Fritzi’s words, “are amusing for all the wrong reasons.  The ones that ended up as gems of unintentional comedy.”  I’m going to have sit this one out—mostly because I’ve got some prior commitments, both blog-related and un-blog-related—but I wish her all the best.  The festivities will get underway from July 13-15.

Over at A Shroud of Thoughts, my man TTC is gearing up for The British Invaders Blogathon, scheduled from August 1 -3 and spotlighting “the best in British classic films. While many people think of Hollywood when they think of movies, the fact is that the United Kingdom has made many many significant contributions to film.  From Alfred Hitchcock to Hammer Films to Tony Richardson, the cinema would be a poorer place without the British.”  Certainly can’t argue with that.

I was thinking I’d have to take a pass on this one, too—but then I remembered that among the movies I’m hoping to clear from the U-Verse Total DVR-For-Life© is Went the Day Well? (1942), and I thought that would be a great fit for the ‘thon so I told Terry I’m in.  He’s got a few ground rules for this one so if you’re interested in participating, click here for the details.

Saturday, June 28, 2014

Government Agents vs. Phantom Legion – Chapter 9: Peril Underground


Last time on (Big) Government Agents vs. Phantom Legion, our hero, Hal Duncan (Walter Reed)—Special Government Agent!—was taken on a little maritime excursion over the bounding main by bad guys Regan (Dick Curtis) and Cady (Fred Coby)…with a little help from their sailor pal Payne (Eddie Parker).  Payne ends up being riddled with bullets from the gun of this slightly overzealous Coast Guard guy…


…seriously, I wasn’t aware that the Coast Guard was that gung-ho.  To avoid contracting a severe case of dead like their buddy, Regan and Cady hop off the vessel…and it naturally follows that Hal, having avoided confrontation at every turn simply by figuratively abandoning ship, would literally head for the briny deep seconds before the Coast Guard cutter rams the boat.

 
Chapter 9 is an unusual episode in that it doesn’t feature a meeting of the Interstate Truck Owners Association—instead, Hal regales ITOA secretary Kay Roberts (Mary Ellen Kay) with edge-of-your-seat details of his narrow sea escape.

HAL: The cutter picked me and we looked around for Regan and Cady…but we never found them…
KAY (looking at a newspaper on her desk): Maybe this explains why…”Two unidentified men were picked up by a fishing boat just outside the harbor last night…they refused to explain what happened to them and disappeared as soon as they were landed…”

Must not be a lot of news for the papers to cover in that town.

HAL: Well, that’s probably the answer…so we’ll be having trouble with them again…
KAY: Are there any more important shipments scheduled?
HAL: Just routine stuff…nothing the hijackers would be interested in…say…I’ve got an idea

Hal’s cunning plan involves the listening device planted at the ITOA in Chapter 8, which has apparently been sitting in an adjoining room all this time—yet is still working away, eavesdropping on casual conversations.  I’m sure this will come as a surprise to Hal’s sidekick, Sam Bradley (John Pickard), who took one of the cleaning crew into that room for a little “what-have-you,” if you know what I mean…and I think you do.  Hal decides to give his nemeses a little something to do, and without further ado we present a little production by The Interstate Truck Owners Association Players.

HAL: Good morning, Kay…
KAY: Hello, Hal…anything important today?

“Yes, Kay…I’ve fallen in love with another secretary, so collect your two weeks’ severance and have your desk emptied by noon.”  Regan and Cady listen to the rest of this counterfeit charade via a radio in The Voice’s office.

HAL: Yes, I have to prepare shipping instructions for another consignment of uranium…
KAY: Same usual sealed orders?
HAL: No, we’re going to try something different this time…we’ve had the uranium packed in dummy boxes marked ‘soap powder’—we’re going to bring it in as ordinary cargo…
KAY: Oh, I see…and…who’s going to haul it?
HAL: Well, give it to Armstrong…just make out a regular shipping order and have him bring it in on his number seven truck over Highway 26 tomorrow morning…I’ll take the orders over myself…goodbye!
KAY: Goodbye, Hal…

Bro…ther.  As corny as this plays out, Regan and Cady take the bait.

CADY: They sure laid it on the line for us…
REGAN: Yep!  That’s all we need to know—the boss will pay plenty for that uranium!

The henchman hurry out of their office as Hal gingerly places the device back into the spare room.  “Well, I hope someone was listening in to appreciate our little act,” says Kay breathily.

“Well, if they were—they’ll certainly get a surprise when they stick up that truck tomorrow!” says Hal in a celebratory tone.  Since Regan and Cady are real rats, they’re naturally attracted to the cheese in the trap—which, in a dissolve, is in the form of a truck being driven by a nondescript guy named “Joe.”  Regan and Cady force the truck to the side of the road and order Joe at gunpoint to open up the back.


Surprise!  “This is the soap powder you’re looking for, boys,” crows Sam, “but I don’t think you want it.  It really is soap!”  Haha, it’s a joke because the two thugs are dirty.  Hal and Sam disarm Regan and Cady, and Joe is told to be on his way (he’s probably relieved that he’s not going to die in this chapter).  Hal and Sam will take charge of their prisoners in their own Bad Guy Sedan.

HAL: Hold it…well, I see that you have a radio…can you get in touch with your boss?

“And is he hiring?”

HAL: Well, think it over…you two have got an awful lot of charges against you to be taking the whole rap alone…
REGAN (after a pause): What’s the deal?

“Pretty much how all our deals operate…volume, volume, volume!”  Hal orders Regan to get on the horn and contact The Voice—to let him know they’ll meet the Head Bad Dude at the same barn from Chapter 5 (the one where Kay was kidnapped).

REGAN (with mike in hand): Calling V-317…calling V-317…
VOICE: Come in, Regan…
REGAN: We got the uranium but…it doesn’t look like the real stuff…

“Looks more like solium—it could be Rinso, for all I know…”

REGAN: …you better come out and look it over…
VOICE: You want me to come out from here?
REGAN: Yeah, you’d better…this is very important
VOICE: Very well…where will I meet you?

The Voice is given instructions to head out to The Barn, and no sooner does he over-and-out with Regan than he contacts another one of his men, Barnett.  Barnett is played by Eddie Dew, a B-western veteran who also appeared in such serials as King of the Texas Rangers (1941) and G-Men vs. the Black Dragon (1943).


VOICE: Calling R-46…calling R-46…
BARNETT: Barnett speaking…come in…
VOICE: Regan’s in trouble…I don’t know just what’s wrong…but he asked me to meet him at the old barn on Oak Mountain Road…he knows I never allow myself to be seen, so he must have been forced to call…

“I never venture out in the daylight.  I freckle easily, you understand.”  Barnett is ordered to drive out to the barn and investigate.  A dissolve finds Barnett arriving near the barn, where he quickly spots the Duncanmobile—meanwhile, our heroes are holding the other two goons captive inside.  Upon reaching Hal’s car, Barnett pulls out his gun and fires one shot into the air.  Hal runs to a window in the barn to investigate.


SAM: What’s up?
HAL: I don’t know…I can’t see from here…I’m going out the back door—watch ‘em…


Doubling back to the front of the barn, Hal spots Barnett and orders him to come out in the open.  Barnett responds by shooting at Hal, and an outbreak of gunfire commences.  Inside the barn, Sam goes over to the window to get a better look.  As Hal manages to kill Barnett, the unsuspecting Sam is hit with something Regan found on the floor of the barn, and the useless Bradley falls to the floor unconscious.  Grabbing Sam’s gun, Regan and Cady wait for Hal to return by hiding behind the barn door.  Hal enters and is immediately disarmed.

REGAN: Okay, copper…we’re taking over…

“I’m no flatfoot—I’m a Special Government Agent, and don’t you forget it!”

REGAN: Now you’re gonna get a chance to meet our real boss…he’ll be glad to get some information about your government shipping schedules…get goin’!
HAL: What about my friend?
REGAN: He can take care of himself when he comes to…

“I got news for you—he can’t take care of himself when he’s conscious!”  This development of the henchies taking Hal to meet the REAL boss is sort of interesting, however, because you’d think they could have done this earlier instead of waiting until the ninth chapter.  Think of all the time this would have saved.  We could have had a nice dinner, maybe take in a movie…

So having put the snatch on Hal, the baddies are forcing him at gunpoint to drive their sedan…and here’s where things get a little odd.  (Clearly, screenwriter Ronald Davidson was at a loss as to how to bridge the new material with the stock footage at the end of this one.)  Looking around, Duncan puts pedal to metal and begins driving like a drunken maniac, terrifying the sh*t out of Regan and Cady in the back seat.


REGAN: Slow down, Duncan—you’ll kill us all!
HAL: Why not?  I’m a dead duck anyway, so I might as well take you along with me!

Yikes!  The pressures of being a Special Government Agent! have clearly got to Hal, and in his suicidal state he enacts such darn fool craziness as driving up this embankment…


…and then down the other side…


He’s a wild man, I tell you!

CADY: What’s the deal?
HAL: Drop your guns here in the front seat!

So they…drop their guns in the front seat.  (I swear I’m not making this up.)  Hal does a bit more crazy driving, with the sound of squealing tires being drowned out by the rolling of the audience’s eyeballs.  He eventually comes to a stop, and directing Regan and Cady to get out of the car, the two goons will now be taking in some fresh air with a brisk hike…with Hal following close behind in the car.


They go a-walkin’ a little ways, and then Regan shouts out “Now!”  The two bad guys run down an embankment into the woods, with Hal apparently deciding not to shoot them right in that instant (even though he had his pistola drawn) because it wouldn’t be sporting, old sock.


Regan and Cady run through scenery we’ve seen in a hundred serials, and luckily stumble onto a cave.  They duck inside, and with more idiotic scripting from Davidson more fool luck, find that it’s actually an ore mine.


REGAN (coming to a stop): Wait…


REGAN: …the doors are closed—that means the ore dump’s loaded…we’ll fix Duncan…here…let’s dump this car over and block the tunnel…


Tipping over a mine car, the two men then attach a handy rope (hell, everything in this serial has been handy) to the lever that opens the ore dump’s doors…and then lie in wait for Hal to come blundering in.  He does not disappoint them, having to use stock footage from King of the Forest Rangers (1946) (Chapter 4, “Deluge of Destruction”).

Friday, June 27, 2014

The MGM Blogathon: Tarzan’s Greatest Adventure(s)


The following essay is Thrilling Days of Yesteryear’s contribution to The MGM Blogathon, currently underway from June 26-29 to celebrate the 90th anniversary of the “Tiffany’s of movie studios” and hosted by Silver Scenes.  For a list of the participating blogs and the topics/films discussed, click here.


In 1912, the most famous literary creation of author Edgar Rice Burroughs made his debut in the pages of a pulp magazine entitled The All-Story.  The son of a British couple marooned on an island on the Atlantic coast of Africa by mutineers, Tarzan of the Apes obtained the “of the Apes” portion of his name since he was raised by those very same island inhabitants after his ma died of natural causes and his faddah was croaked by the leader of the ape tribe that would later raise him to manhood.  Tarzan, identified as John Clayton in Burroughs’ novel, eventually made his way back to civilization for book larnin’ and to claim his heritage (his title was the Viscount Greystoke, or Earl of Greystoke, depending on which novel you’re immersed in).  He would later return to his jungle home after marrying a young Ballimer woman named Jane Porter after becoming somewhat disenchanted with civilization.

Burroughs’ Tarzan has gone on to become one of the best-known literary characters in the world—and a true pop culture icon having appeared on radio and television and in comic books and comic strips.  Of course…we can’t leave out the movies; with his feature film debut in 1918 (Tarzan of the Apes, the lead played by Elmo Lincoln), Tarzan has been the subject of nearly 200 movies, according to the (always reliable) IMDb.  Of the many actors to don the loincloth—including Buster Crabbe, Bruce Bennett, Lex Barker and Gordon Scott—it’s former Olympic swimming champ Johnny Weissmuller who stands out in the minds of classic movie fans as the definitive ape man…even though his debut film, Tarzan the Ape Man (1932), didn’t necessarily please creator ERB.  (Burroughs liked Weissmuller well enough…he just didn’t care for the filmmakers revamping his Tarzan into a noble savage who spoke Pidgin English.)

Despite his lengthy movie resume, MGM’s original game plan for Tarzan was to feature him as a character in a sequel to the studio’s previous jungle movie success, Trader Horn.  MGM had a buttload of stock footage left over from that film, and it seemed a shame not to waste it.  It was ERB’s general manager who proposed the Tarzan-Horn merger, but the studio eventually decided that Tarzan would go it alone.  (Not to worry—they still used the Horn footage early and often.)  Weissmuller had a couple of brief movie appearances to his credit when MGM awarded him the role of the Lord of the Jungle—he not only beat out Crabbe and Bennett (who, as noted, got to play Tarzan in other ventures) but actors Joel McCrea and Clark Gable.  (I always break up when I think of a Gable Tarzan).  Then MGM hit a snag with their Weissmuller plans—Johnny was under contract as a model with BVD, the underwear people.  The studio was eventually able to work around this by agreeing to feature studio stars like Greta Garbo and Marie Dressler in the company’s ads (sorry about putting the image of Dressler in her skivvies in your head, by the way).

I can’t state this for certainty but I’ve long suspected that the reason Weissmuller’s Tarzan was portrayed as a monosyllabic sort was due to his limited thespic range.  Check out any of his later Jungle Jim movies (once memorably described by a critic as “Tarzan with clothes on”) and you’ll see what I mean.  Finding Tarzan’s “Jane” was a bit more daunting—it proved quite a task to locate an actress capable of projecting the right amounts of sophistication and innocence…but when the casting director got a gander at a photo of a young Irish actress named Maureen O’Sullivan, the search was over.  Tarzan the Ape Man would be Mo’s introductory MGM film.  Also making its debut was the ape man’s famed “ahh-ee-yahhhh-ee-yahhhh” call, the origin of which remains a mystery to this day.  (Weissmuller often claimed that it was inspired by a yodeling contest he entered as a boy—other sources report it was the work of studio technicians or an operatic tenor; the speculation is never ending.)

Tarzan the Ape Man sends treasure hunters James Parker (C. Aubrey Smith) and Harry Holt (Neil Hamilton) into the African jungles on a hunt for the famed elephant burial ground, with James’ daughter Jane (O’Sullivan) along for the trek.  Their party meets up with the titular jungle protector (Weissmuller) and his ape pals, with Tarzan kidnapping Jane and the two of them gradually becoming quite smitten with one another.  When Tarzan says “not a chance” to returning to London with Jane, she elects to stay behind with him…well, you can’t really blame her—there’s nothing for her back there once her Dad snuffs it.  Before the credits roll, we see Tarzan, Jane and his chimpanzee pal Cheeta (Jiggs) serene and content in their jungle paradise.

Tarzan the Ape Man was a surprise hit for MGM, and the studio decided to follow it with an example of that rare sequel that managed to be better than the original.  (Ape Man is entertaining, but there are some draggy spots in that thing.)  In Tarzan and His Mate (1934), Jane’s ex-fiancé Harry Holt (Neil Hamilton again) returns to the jungle with partner Martin Arlington (Paul Cavanagh) to take another whack at that elephant graveyard again…and Harry is reunited with Jane, who has “gone native” in a big way.  Mate is in many way a bookend of the first film; Tarzan the Ape Man tells the tale of the titular character while Mate concentrates on Jane’s experiences since deciding to stay with her jungle man.  (Spoiler warning: Arlington is a bit of a rotter, and winds up getting Holt and himself killed by lions while at the same time placing Jane in great danger.)

Tarzan and His Mate’s cult status stems from its rather frank presentation of “Jane of the Jungle,” including a notoriously racy skinny-dip sequence featuring our heroine swimming in the altogether with her “mate.”  (O’Sullivan was actually doubled for this, by Olympic swimmer Josephine McKim.)  It’s curious that the rather straitlaced MGM studio would allow these kind of shenanigans (perhaps they took one too many swigs from their cough medicine) although there were in actuality three different versions of the swimming scene (nude, half-nude and clothed); but the nude version didn’t make it to home video until 1991.  Most of the time, Jane is clad in a tiny halter top and loincloth that doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination…if you know what I mean, and I think you do.  Her choice of clothing seems to symbolize a sort of sexual freedom, and it’s also telling that MGM credits O’Sullivan’s role as “Jane Porter” to emphasize that she and Tarz are canoodling despite not being lawfully wedded.

This adult take on Tarzan disappeared with the third film in the series, Tarzan Escapes (1936).  With the Production Code in effect, the steamier aspects of the Tarzan franchise had to go away to live with relatives…so the decision was made to ramp up the violence content instead.  Originally filmed as Tarzan Returns, the story revolves around two of Jane’s relations, Eric (William Henry) and Rita (Benita Home), who have commissioned Captain John Fry (John Buckler) to take them to the escarpment that’s home to Tarzan and Jane.  The cousins inform Jane of an inheritance due her, and Jane is able to persuade her jungle man to allow her to return to London and settle the estate.

Unfortunately, Captain Fry has his own agenda: he wants to capture Tarzan and put the jungle oddity on public display…and he succeeds in caging the Lord of the Apes, but winds up in trouble when the natives that he thought he made a bargain with pull a double cross.  To add insult to injury, Tarzan eventually escapes from his cage prison…and he’s not a happy camper.  Premiering in October of 1935, audiences did not respond well to the film, what with its killer pygmies and torture murders (there was also a sequence involving vampire bats that went over like a fart at a funeral), so MGM took it back into the shop for some major tweaking.  The new picture, Tarzan Escapes, was released a year later and performed so well at the box office it was able to absorb the expense of shooting both films.

Jane’s outfit in Escapes—several sizes larger than her wardrobe in Mate—signaled the “family” direction the series was now taking…and the fourth film in the series, Tarzan Finds a Son! (1939), was the signet-ring-and-sealing-wax on the franchise.  Tarzan and Jane rescue an infant from a plane wreck in the jungle, who matures (in five years) into a character called Boy, introducing child actor Johnny Sheffield to the series.  A safari party, consisting of Boy’s uncle Sir Thomas Lancing (Henry Stephenson) and a pair of conniving relatives in Mr. and Mrs. Richard Lancing (Ian Hunter and Frieda Inescort), arrives in Tarzan’s domain; the Lancings persuade Jane to help them take Boy back to civilization and his considerable inheritance.  (Mostly the inheritance.)  Jane unwittingly betrays Tarzan…but he doesn’t hold a grudge; he and Boy rescue her from a murderous native tribe and everyone lives happily ever after.  (More or less.)

Tarzan and Jane’s adoption of Boy was meant to give the franchise a bit more family appeal (and was in part dictated by those tongue-waggers still worked up about the couple’s rather libertine jungle lifestyle)…but for a brief moment, it looked as if Tarzan might have had to soldier on as a single parent.  Maureen O’Sullivan was great with child while Tarzan Finds a Son! was in production, and she had intended for this movie to be her last; Jane would die from a spear wound and make tracks for that big jungle treehouse in the sky.  There are two different versions on the changing of that outcome: one has creator Burroughs strongly objecting to the killing off of a character he created, so MGM wound up offering Mo a little more money to stay with the series.  The more plausible explanation involves the negative audience reaction to Jane’s demise in the preview, and the studio bowed to public pressure; whichever version is true, the filmmakers tacked on a happy ending with Jane surviving the spear incident and all involved moved on to the next film.

Tarzan’s Secret Treasure (1941) was the fifth film in MGM’s Ape Man franchise.  Once again, strangers—this time in the form of Reginald Owen, Barry Fitzgerald, Tom Conway and Philip Dorn—insist on mucking about the escarpment, where they learn about a fortune of gold from gullibly innocent Boy.  Conway and Dorn wind up abducting Jane and Boy in order to force Tarzan to tell them where the gold is…and on cue, they are in turn captured by natives—paging Tarzan of the Apes (Ungawa!)!  Treasure is unquestionably the weakest of the MGM Tarzans, though Conway is a memorably slimy villain and Fitzgerald manages to steal scenes from Cheeta—not an easy task.  The interesting aspect of Treasure is that in the course of the film, Boy befriends a native kid named Tumbo (Cordell Hickman); an orphan who ends up adopted by the Tarzans at the end of the film.  (Before you cheer on this enlightened attitude—particularly in light of the fact that the Tarzan films have often been criticized for their racist overtones, and rightfully so—I should point out to you that if you’re looking to see Tumbo in the next movie you’re doomed to disappointment.)

MGM decided to close the Tarzan series with a winner—and one of my favorites, which I talk about in detail here—in Tarzan’s New York Adventure (1942), an entertaining entry (which has some falling-down funny moments mixed in with the serious drama and adventure) that finds Boy kidnapped by two big game hunters (Charles Bickford, Chill Wills) after they witness what the little tyke can do in the jungle.  They take the kid to the U.S. of A., where they sell him to a skeevy circus owner (the one-and-only Cy Kendall).  Jane and Tarzan take after them, and Adventure offers an interesting variation on the Tarzan mythos where Tarzan is the stranger in a strange land, and must receive lessons on surviving civilization from his worldly wife.  Jane and Tarzan ultimately succeed in rescuing Boy and convincing a judge (Russell Hicks) to let them take Boy back to the jungle (this part of the movie, granted, is a bit hard to swallow) and once again the Tarzan Family triumphs over the forces of eevill.

Maureen O’Sullivan had had enough (she was thrilled that the final Tarzan movie took place mostly outside the jungle, which she described in later years as a miserable experience), and she left the movie business briefly to look after her seven children (she would not be seen in another film until 1948’s The Big Clock).  Though the Tarzan series continued to be a most profitable one for MGM, the studio was concerned about slow returns in some of their foreign markets (particularly with the Second World War in full swing) and so decided not to renew their option on Tarzan when it lapsed that same year.  Tarzan would find a home at the budget-minded RKO the following year, with Weissmuller and Sheffield appearing in six more vehicles before Little John became Bomba, the Jungle Boy and Big John Jungle Jim.  For Tarzan fans, however, the MGM series still represents the high water mark of the Ape Man’s onscreen adventures…entertaining both old and new fans through the magic of home video and, of course, The Greatest Cable Channel Known to Mankind™.

Monday, June 23, 2014

Doris Day(s) #21: “The Con Man” (03/11/69, prod. no #8533)


We’re back—did you miss us?  Of course you did!  It’s Doris Freaking Day(s)!  And there are big doin’s in this week’s episode, which starts off with a bath for Nelson the Purloined Pooch (Lord Nelson), administered by none other than the Widder Martin (Doris) and her father, laird and master of Rancho Webb-o, Buck Webb (Denver Pyle).  Their topic of conversation as they rid Nels of his flea and tick problem is how to approach a committee chaired by Doris with the idea of a community center for Cotina.


DORIS: Look…if there’s any possible chance of getting a community center built we have to take it!  Now I mean it!  Look at all the letters we’ve been getting…from that cattlemen’s convention…and that touring theatre guild and…and…what was it?  The Philharmonic concert…
BUCK: Sure, sure…
DORIS: They all want to come here!

At the risk of giving anything away—though the title of this episode is pretty much a spoiler warning in itself—why any of these mildly important groups would want to visit a town with little else but a “Pizza Pagoda” should be a tip off that something’s not quite kosher.  (Foreshadowing!)

DORIS: …that’s exactly why I want to listen to what this Mr. Flanders has to say…

Ned Flanders?  Okely dokely do!

BUCK: Doris…now wait a minute…it’s a matter of money…now that committee of yours is not about to spend a dollar unless they can see five dollars coming back…

I see the GOP has made some inroads into Cotina…

DORIS: Well, it’s time for a change…and we’re gonna bloody well do something about it!

Doris!  You watch your phraseology!  Doris’ faithful domestic, Juanita (Naomi Stevens), enters the barn to let her mistress know Mr. Flanders has arrived early…and because Dor feels she looks a fright, she saddles Juanita with the task of finishing Nelson’s bath while she and Buck go and greet their guest.  Normally, Juanita is not given much to do in the comedy department, but I did chuckle at her warning Nelson not to shake after his wash (“Okay, kid…don’t shake”) and the dog pretty much deciding he’ll do what he’ll damn well please anyway.


And outside the barn, here’s our special guest this week—Joseph Campanella!  (Joe is still with us, by the way, having celebrated his 89th birthday last November 21.)  As I hinted last week, I grew up remembering Campanella for his recurring role as Ed Cooper, the ex-husband of Ann Romano (Bonnie Franklin) on the long-running sitcom One Day at a Time (and I’m not surprised she divorced him—he was a jerk)…but he also had stints on the first season of Mannix (as Lew Wickersham, the head of Intertect), the “Lawyers” segment of the rotation series The Bold Ones (1969-72), the first season of the short-lived Dynasty spin-off, The Colbys (as Hutch Corrigan) and roles in such daytime dramas as Days of Our Lives and The Bold and the Beautiful.  You could probably place a bet that you could randomly turn on your TV set to an old series and stand a pretty good chance he’s guest-starring in the episode—that’s how long his boob tube resume is.

By the way, I should warn ya—this Roger B. Flanders guy is slicker than whale sh*t on an ice flow.

DORIS: Excuse the way we’re dressed…
BUCK: Yeah, we were just washing the dog…

Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

FLANDERS: Well, I know what that entails…hey—this is a fantastic spread you have here…I couldn’t help admiring your cattle on the way in…

“In fact, if I were still in my former line of work I’d probably rustle a few…”  Doris and Buck exchange a little more boring small talk with their new friend, and Dor invites him in for a cold drink.  Flanders asks Buck to help him carry a large item into the house—and reveals it to be this…


FLANDERS: The architectural design is ideally suited for small towns…and can easily serve as a combined community center… (Lifting the lid) A theater in the round…concert auditorium…convention hall…

“Abattoir…”

FLANDERS: …well, you name it…
DORIS (gasping): That’s an ingenious plan, isn’t it?
BUCK: It sure is…
DORIS: Did you design that, Mr. Flanders?
FLANDERS: Yes, I did…

“Yes…I am awesome…”

BUCK: Boy…Cotina has been needin’ somethin’ like this for a long time…
DORIS (sipping some lemonade): You said it…
BUCK: Can’t you just see that sittin’ down there in the square?

“Right by the Tastee-Freeze?”

FLANDERS: Well, it’s possible…it’s been done before…
DORIS: You don’t know my committee…
BUCK: They’re a little slow…

“Precisely the reason why I’m here!”  Doris also points out that the membership is a bit conservative, while Buck suggests “penny-pinching” might be a better turn of phrase.  Flanders counters that he has a great deal of experience fleecing the rubes persuading closed minds, and he’d like the opportunity to discuss it with them.  And with a simple dissolve, Doris makes it happen.

As Doris calls the meeting to order, I thought we’d introduce a few familiar character faces in her committee…


…you can’t see the gentleman in the back too well, but he’s billed as “Councilman”—and has appeared on the program before in a brief bit as a painter at the end of the episode “The Relatives.”  Give it up for Bard Stevens, everyone!  To his left (our right) is Dodie Warren as “Committeewoman #3”—Warren’s acting credits, according to the (always reliable) IMDb, include such films as Divorce American Style (1967) and Maryjane (1968); the IMDb also reveals (if we are to believe their insistence on comprehensive accuracy) that she later became a makeup artist, working on such sitcoms as Amen and Night Court.

In the foreground on the left, in the role of “Committeewoman #2,” is Evelyn King—whose IMDb resume includes classic film favorites such as A Guide for the Married Man (1967) and Scream, Evelyn, Scream! (1970)…in which she does, in fact, play a character named Evelyn.  That leaves Committeewoman #1 on the right…but actress-show dialogue coach Kay Stewart really should have been billed as “Verna McIntosh-Carpenter” because she’s reprising the same role—the manicurist who marries Buck’s BFF Doc Carpenter (Walter Sande)—she played in the earlier “Buck’s Girl.”


They don’t acknowledge it as such in the credits—but if you listen closely in a scene at the end of “The Con Man,” you’ll hear Buck say “Say hello to Doc.”


On the other couch, starting at the left is actor James Milhollin, one of those oh-so-familiar TV faces even when you can’t quite come up with his name.  Around Castle Yesteryear, he’s best remembered as the haughty department store supervisor in the classic Twilight Zone episode “The After Hours”…but his movie resume includes such favorites as No Time for Sergeants (1958), Zotz! (1962) and The Ghost and Mr. Chicken (1965).  Milhollin answers to “Horace Burkhart” in this Dodo episode.

In the middle, in the role of crotchety Jed Anslinger, is character veteran Peter Brocco—Brocco made the guest star rounds of a number of television favorites (I’ve seen him as a waiter in a few Burns & Allen repeats) and played any number of small parts in classic movies such as The Reckless Moment (1949), Champagne for Caesar (1950) and His Kind of Woman (1951).  (By the oddest of coinky-dinks, I caught him as a wino in 1950’s The Killer That Stalked New York the other day.) 

The lady to Brocco’s left is a far more familiar television face; that’s Madge Blake, whose boob tube immortality was cemented playing “Aunt Harriet Cooper” on the TV version of Batman (1966-68).  She also played Flora MacMichael, sister to George (Andy Clyde) on The Real McCoys (the MacMichaels were the McCoys’ neighbors); and the smothery, overprotective Margaret Mondello (mother of Beaver Cleaver chum Larry) on Leave it to Beaver.  (This Doris Day Show appearance as “Mrs. Harty,” if the IMDb is to be believed, was Blake’s second-to-last show bidness gig.)

Now that the introductions are out of the way, leave us return to the action of this mesmerizing episode!

DORIS: First, I’d like to tell you the reason for calling the meeting…we’re here to talk about building…a Cotina community center…

Dun-dun-DUN!!!  Dor’s announcement predictably starts a lot of shocked conversations between the various committee members.

ANSLINGER: Now look, Doris—you know there’s not enough money in the treasury to throw away on a fool idea like a community center
DORIS: Jed…would you please give me a chance to talk to you about this?
BURKHART: What’s wrong with my meeting hall?  It’s been good enough for twenty years…
VERNA: That’s why it’s time we had a new one, Horace…
HARTY: And I gave up a bridge game for this…

Doris bangs her gavel, realizing that there are too many petty personal agendas for her to be heard above the din…so she turns things over to Flanders, who delivers a pitch so spellbinding you’d think Cotina has just added a pool table in town.  (Little Music Man reference for those of you still with us.)

FLANDERS: Mr. Anslinger probably feels that this is just some kind of moneymaking scheme that I’m trying to foist on all of you…well, you know something?  He’s right—I intend to make money from this project…for preparing the plans, and supervising the building…I expect to be well-paid…however…Cotina will also profit…and to a much greater extent…I feel that no community, no matter how large or small, can afford to overlook a chance to bring in greatly increased revenues that will benefit all…

Flanders then starts reeling in the rubes by showing them his little community center dollhouse and bragging about its multi-purposed capacity…something that Burkhart isn’t too wild about, since he’s concerned about the competition it will afford his meeting hall.  Two of the committeewomen have no problem with this (“You’ve been getting away with murder for years,” chimes Number 3) but the super salesman reassures Horace with some b.s. that he’ll continue to do just fine since competition is necessary for a free market, and he’s sure to make money from the overflow (those individuals who couldn’t book the center because it’s so freakin’ full).  “We’ve already gotten offers in the mail,” volunteers Doris, because there is a multitude of theater guilds and philharmonic concerts who are going to commit hari-kari if they don’t get the chance to perform in beautiful downtown Cotina.  Now let’s talk money.

DORIS: How much is all this going to cost?
ANSLINGER: That’s right, Mr. Flanders…thank you, Doris…
FLANDERS: Yes…thank you…we can’t forget the cost…I can build this particular model for you for $210,000…

Wellllll…goodbye!  “Why—there isn’t that much money in the town treasury!” sputters Anslinger, after the paramedics have restarted his heart.  Oh, Jeddy…you don’t think Flanders would try to sell you this white elephant without a comprehensive plan, do you?

FLANDERS: A special building fund drive has brought immediate results every time…
BUCK: But what do you mean—a building fund drive?
FLANDERS: Let me show you how other towns have raised their money…

Flanders whips out his briefcase, and upon opening it pulls out a gold plaque—anyone who contributes a C-note to this boondoggle will have his or her name put on this plaque, which will be placed in the lobby of the center to show their friends and neighbors that they were willing to pony up for charity while they were hoarding their funds in that upstairs mattress of theirs.  A fifty-dollar contribution will get them a silver nameplate—and a $25 ante a bronze one—which will be attached to the back of one of the center’s “orchestra seats”…and for the really tightfisted, any contribution will earn them a mention in the “honor roll” of every printed program.  “That’s a good idea!” marvels Buck.  There is noticeable hubbub from all assembled that they agree with Mr. Webb—a snatch of conversation is heard along the lines of “That will be wonderful for the children.”  (For God’s sake—won’t someone think of the children?!!)

FLANDERS: Now I can’t believe that Cotina doesn’t have enough public-spirited citizens to raise enough money this way to build your community center!

Beeeeelieve it!  No, seriously—Doris comforts Flanders with the knowledge that the populace of Cotina is civic-minded enough to go along with this, never mind the results of the last SPLOST referendum.

DORIS: Look, I know it’s a huge amount—it’s staggering…but he’s going to show us how to do it…so let’s do it, because I think it’s a fabulous idea!  And we’ve just got to have it!
BUCK: Where would we get them plaques?
FLANDERS: Through a special arrangement with the manufacturer, I can get them for you…however, I believe I have enough in the car to get you started…
ANSLINGER: What are they gonna cost us?
FLANDERS: You can have them for exactly what I paid for them…as my contribution towards us getting this project off the ground…depending on exactly how many you’ll need, I estimate the cost will be about two thousand dollars…

Um…they’ll need to pay you two large for those chintzy plaques—but that will be your “contribution”?  I do not think that word means what you think it means.  But all Flanders needs now is to have the net at the ready so he can yank them into the boat.  He asks Buck if he’s seen the plaque he showed to everyone in his demonstration…a plaque that happens to have Doris’ name emblazoned on it.  (Yeah, he’s got some sort of Jim Rockford-type of printer in the back of his rental, I’ll bet.)  Doris swoons at the sight of the plaque, and announces that she’ll be the first to donate $100.  “Put me down for one, too,” Buck says eagerly.  (Oh, this is like picking money up off the sidewalk.)


And the meeting ends with all the committee members swarming around Flanders as they ooh and ahh over the gold plaques.  You know, they could have renamed this burg “Ravenswood” and I would not have batted an eyelash.

The scene then shifts to the guest room at Rancho Webb—Doris and Buck are not going to allow their new pal Roger B. Flanders to bed down at the Cotina Super 8, thank-you-very-much.

FLANDERS: You know…there are some things you get completely out of touch with living in a big city…like good old-fashioned country hospitality…
DORIS: I do have an ulterior motive…
FLANDERS: Whatever it is, I agree…

Doris!  You brazen hussy, you!

DORIS: Well…I thought since you’ll be spending the weekend with us, Mr. Flanders, that I could maybe talk you into helping with the fundraising campaign…
FLANDERS: In the first place—it’s Roger…please…and it’ll be my pleasure to help…
DORIS: Will you?  Oh, that will be so nice…

Years later, as he sat gently rocking on the porch of the Cotina Retirement Home, Buck Webb’s thoughts often drifted back to that time when he still owned the ranch and he sincerely believed that Roger B. Flanders was his friend.  (“He seemed like such a nice fella…”)  Seriously—you people might want to count the guest towels before this essobee leaves.

Buck suggests that he and Doris make themselves scarce so that Rog can get situated and that they can later discuss the “campaign” after dinner—but before she leaves, Doris wants to confirm that the amount of the certified check the committee will need to issue is twenty-one hundred dollars (is the $100 Doris’ contribution?  I would think that would be separate, unless it’s for “incidentals”), which she’ll have for him Monday morning.  She leaves, and as he closes the door he’s careful to lock it before he opens his briefcase and places a small portable typewriter on the desk.  As he begins to type, we hear his thoughts:


FLANDERS: Dear Mr. Mayor…as president of the Southwest Philharmonic Concert League, I’m writing to you regarding including your fair city of Jamesburg in our new symphony series…however…it is necessary to have a community center of sufficient size to accommodate the large audience…

And fade out to commercial!  (Hokey smoke, cartooners—this is getting exciting!)

Back from selling a little Ralston-Purina, the fundraising drive for the prospective community center is going like wildcakes, with Doris having to constantly answer the phone to accept pledges as the evil Flanders jots down information on a pad.  In fact, she is viewed after the commercial accepting a phone call from a person identified as “Nell Collins”; we don’t get to hear the other end of the conversation, but Nell has appeared on the show before in “The Job” (we actually heard her voice then—the lady with the colicky baby) and the inference here is that she is Cotina’s resident phone operator.  When Doris completes the call, she announces that Nell has pledged the necessary gitas for one balcony nameplate.

BUCK: Isn’t that nice…she works so hard for her money…

So hard for it, honey.  She works hard for the money so you’d better treat her right.  Well, in case you were thinking we might get through an episode without hearing from Doris’ idiot children, Billy (Philip Brown) and Toby (Tod Starke)—allow me to disappoint you immensely.  The two boys enter the house at top speed, mewling about the money that they’ve taken from their chums at the playground with their successful bully concession asking for community center donations.  (On the bright side…we do not have to put up with the tired shenanigans of ranch hand Leroy B. Semple Simpson [James Hampton] this week…so cloud, meet silver lining.)

BUCK: Did you get a list of their names?
BILLY: Yeah!
BUCK: Well, give it to Mr. Flanders so he can put them on the honor roll…


“And believe me—that’s the only honor roll those little jamokes will ever be on.”  Billy announces that they might have to check the spelling on some of them, because morons, but Flanders laughs this off and announces that he’s got to go by the post office—so why not bribe the little tykes on the way home with a couple of sodas.  Look at the expression on Toby’s face at this suggestion.  (“I want one with cheese!”)  Doris’ Bill Cosby-like mugging also cracked me up.

FLANDERS: How about you, Doris—would you join us?
DORIS: Oh, I’d love to—but I have to answer the phone!  The money is pouring in!
FLANDERS: Okay…mind the store…

“See if we need any more of those tote bags, too—will ya?”  Flanders also promises to bring back Dodo some Rocky Road ice cream, and as he heads toward the door with the kids in tow he’s stopped by Buck.

BUCK: Hey, Roger—when you get to town…would you mail those for me?
ROGER: Oh, sure… (Looking at the envelope) Southwest Philharmonic?
BUCK: Oh, yeah—since the campaign is going so good, I thought we’d let a few people know we’re in business…

I suppose Roger could have given him a big kiss on the forehead because Buck is such a chump…but that would kind of give the game away.  (There’s a snicker moment after Roger leaves with the boys and Buck asks Doris: “How do you spell ‘symphony’?”)  There’s a dissolve, and we find Doris doing some household chores (that really should fall under the purview of Juanita) when Billy asks when Mr. Flanders is due back from town.  She explains that he and “Grandpa” were supposed to pick up the check at nine (apparently it’s Monday already) and that because he has to leave “right away” they should be arriving pretty soon.  This gives Nelson the dog enough time to enter Flanders’ room and jump up on the bed, knocking Roger’s briefcase to the floor.  Doris scolds the dog and starts to pick up the papers.


Cue the sad trombone!  No, this just has to be a mistake—so Doris grabs the phone and gets Donna Summer Nell Collins on the horn for long distance information.  As we are already aware, the Southwest Philharmonic Concert League is merely a pigment of Flanders’ imagination (little shout-out to Leo Gorcey there)…and this is confirmed for Doris’ suspicions.  A dissolve finds our heroine pacing the kitchen, and becoming angrier by the minute.  She then peers out the window to see Roger and Buck returning to stately Webb Manor.

Flanders is greeted by Doris’ brood, who ask if they can see the big honkin’ check he’s getting for fleecing the Cotina townsfolk.  Roger proudly shows it to them, and then announces he has to finish packing so he asks the boys to help.  (Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll take hostages.)  So that allows Doris ample time to explain to her father that they have been flimflammed.

BUCK: What’s wrong?
DORIS: He’s a crook!
BUCK: Who is?
DORIS: Roger B. Flanders, that’s who!
BUCK: What in tarnation are you talking about?
DORIS: He’s a phony!  A con man!

Doris shows her dad the faux letterheads for the theatre guild, etc. that fell out of his briefcase and that she just happened to stumble across.  “All the outfits that inquired about coming to Cotina,” ponders Buck.  (Nothin’ gets past you, big guy!)  Doris further explains that in her further inquiries, none of these organizations exist.  “Then he wrote all those letters,” continues Buck…or perhaps I should say, Farmer Obvious.

DORIS: You bet he did!
BUCK: Just to get us worked up about our community center…
DORIS: Oh, that’s the bait—then he just happens to come into Cotina, get everybody in a big spin about the center…sell the twenty-one hundred dollars’ worth of plaques that he…probably cost him fifty bucks…and then he takes off for the next sucker town!  What are you laughing at?
BUCK: He’s good…he’s real good…

Buck explains to Doris that he’s channeling his inner Bogart-as-Sam-Spade because he admires Flanders’ con (you almost expect him to say: “Hell, I don’t know why we didn’t think of this”) and while Doris is all set to phone the sheriff, her father points out that Rog hasn’t done anything illegal. 

DORIS: He’s a fraud and he should be in jail!
BUCK: He sold us $2,100 worth of plaques and nameplates—and a perfectly good working plan for a community center…now if we want it, we’ve got to build it…not him…
DORIS: Now you wait a minute…he told my committee that he would supervise the construction of that building…
BUCK: You got a contract that says that?

This fall on CBS: Buck—For the Defense!  Buck reasons with Doris that they have to take the initiative and get the construction of the center off the ground after Flanders moves on to the next burg with his counterfeit spiel.  “This town will fall apart like a two-dollar watch,” Buck intones, and he convinces that Doris needs to talk to Flanders as opposed to having Cotina law enforcement administer a proper rousting.  After all, Flanders appears to be a savvy architect—“We know that from his plans and his model, right?”

“What are we supposed to do?”  Doris asks her father.  “Let bygones be bygones?”

“No!” Buck returns.  “You don’t let bygones be bygones—you just take that energy and his talent and point it in a different direction.”  (“And besides…there’ll be plenty of opportunities for tar-and-feathering later…”)


I’ll go ahead and cut to the quick on this.  Flanders is readying to get the hell out of Cotina…until Doris lets him know that the feline is out of the burlap.  She further shames him—as only Doris can do—by pointing out that a man of his architectural ability should stick around and see that such a fine center comes to fruition by supervising its construction.  (“Not just a model in a box—but the real thing,” pleads Doris.)  “Suppose I don’t come back?” Roger asks her.


“Then we both lose,” she says quietly.  (Okay, that’s about as far as the “romance” goes—sorry about misleading you with the teaser last week.)  There is then a dissolve to Buck entering the kitchen, where he remarks that the committee is turning ugly…and that’s not much of a turn to start with.  Doris was positive that Flanders would come back, but now she’s not so certain.  So has Roger let her down?  Of course he has—in the next scene we see that he’s spent all of the Cotina cash on hookers and blow as he careens wildly down a deserted highway in his new rental car.

Okay, I’m just kidding—just as Doris is about to announce to the committee that they’ve been hoodwinked, Roger does return to address all assembled…he simply had a flat tire, which delayed him.  Despite using all her powers of sugary goodness to reform Flanders, Dor was a little concerned Rog was going to let her down…but smiling her smiley smile, she announces that their “Chief Architect” is there to issue the first progress report on the new community center venture.


The quick coda on this one finds the committee meeting adjourned and its members slowly filing out of the Webb house.  Nelson, that rapscallion, jumps up on the sofa and knocks Roger’s briefcase to the floor—prompting Doris to respond “Nelson, not again!”  That’s when she shares with Rog how she found out about his disreputable dealings.  Laughing, Flanders promises to build Nelson a big honkin’ doghouse (which doesn’t make much sense, since the damn dog is inside most of the time)—but only “after the community center,” as the curtain falls on our little morality play.

Next time on Doris Day(s): a story with Mayberryian overtones as Doris is dragooned into supervising the school play…and our guest star will be a true character veteran best known on TV for his long-running role as Sheriff Coffee on Bonanza.  It’s “The Musical”—be sure to join us!