FORGOTTEN FILMS: TV TRANSITION

Though typically overshadowed by Hollywood's A-list, there were respectable performances by numerous actors and actresses who never became major film stars. A common occurrence was their transition to the new medium of television, often becoming familiar faces in homes across America. These periodic posts offer insight into their transition.

Jack Hogan: Richard Roland Benson Jr. (1929-)

Jack Hogan possessed an intensity and cockiness in many of his roles whether in western attire or a three-piece suit. The 5’ 9” actor’s potential sent him to television after only five films. He had starring roles in the loosely-based bio, The Bonnie Parker Story, 1958, the forgettable Paratroop Command, 1959 and The Legend of Tom Dooley, 1959, with the title character going to Michael Landon. The Cat Burglar, 1961, was Hogan’s final film and he shines in the title role. His mannerisms and physical appearance give the impression we are looking at a young James Caan. Hogan’s periodic voice-overs in the film were convincing indicating an understanding of voice acting and phrasing. Aside from his excellent performance, the low-budget film resulted in some unintentionally funny moments and an amateur female co-star.

Numerous television guest-starring roles were already a part of Hogan’s resumé. The medical anthology series, Dr. Christian, 1956, was his earliest recurring role. A television staple at the time, the western, whether it was Tombstone Territory, 1957, Have Gun--Will Travel, 1958 or Bat Masterson, 1959, offered Hogan some early saddle time. His most visible role was as the quick-tempered, womanizer Pvt. Kirby, in the 1962 ABC hit series, Combat!. Upon the show’s cancellation, Hogan was quickly cast in another combat role in Garrison’s Gorillas, 1968.

He had solo appearances on numerous series until his on-going appearances on Adam-12, 1968, then in the lesser-known, Sierra (1974). Hogan could be seen frequently in various roles on Hawaii Five-O between 1973-76. Though he made two appearances on CBS’ Magnum, P.I., 1980, his unseen credit as a casting director doubled his tenure. His final series with recurring appearances was the twelve-episode Berrenger’s, 1985, Jake and The Fatman, 1989 and the forgettable Raven, 1992.

Note: Born in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, Hogan was briefly an architecture student before his four-year stint serving in the Armed Forces. Returning to civilian life he studied drama at the Pasadena Playhouse and later moved to New York City to study at the American Theatre Wing. For the most part, a freelance actor and perhaps realizing acting can be fleeting, his interests also included painting, fishing, reading and poetry.

JIGSAW (1949)

This seventy-two-minute production by Tower Pictures Inc. and distributed by United Artists is a film noir with a title suggesting a puzzle and not the subject of a home-tooled horror movie. Its most distinguishing aspect is the brief cameo appearances of several major Hollywood stars in the film's early stages. But do not glance down to grab some popcorn or you might miss one. Considering the similarities of this film’s subject with Communism, their support of the film can be explained to the audience's delight. The producers thanked them for their goodwill at the very end. Each appears as inconsequential characters: John Garfield, Marsha Hunt, Everett Sloane, Henry Fonda and Burgess Meredith. Marlene Dietrich has the most clever appearance when she leaves the actual nightclub, “The Blue Angel,” the title of her early signature film.

An opening exchange between Franchot Tone and Myron McCormack is very telling about self-absorption. The insightful scene is apropos for the current century. McCormack is the tough newspaper editor who pulls no punches. When a local printer pays the ultimate price, he is convinced his death was not a suicide. The widow hysterically insists it was but fear can be a terribly effective weapon. Special prosecutor Tone argues these hate groups are just harmless lunatics. A hopeful guess, but no, says McCormack. "The murder was carried out by a neo-fascist organization calling themselves the Crusaders. It is their dream of power or political success; a financial scam to generate profits. Where he grew up nobody cared what country each came from. They got along. Then hate gave them derogatory terms for their beliefs or ethnicity. Ignorance is the vehicle and hate is the avenue for attacking an individual’s ideology." McCormack wraps up by saying, “Americans do not understand why they are supposed to be different.” He finds out firsthand (above right) what hate can do when dictated by a short script.

Franchot Tone holds the film together with ease and a subtle coolness. He is very adept at delivering witty lines, perhaps only second to Dick Powell in this regard. He is an assistant district attorney determined to flesh out those responsible for hate crimes in his city. Tone is connecting all the pieces of the puzzle but a few are not fitting properly.

Playing the widow of a prominent judge, Winifred Lenihan throws a dinner party for movers and shakers. One might find annoying her tiny voice and snooty New England dialect with a syrupy delivery suggesting she expects something in return. She makes it a point to introduce Tone to several influential men whom she believes can help his career. Nudge. Nudge. Foreshadowing a questioning Jack Webb on television's, “Dragnet,” the camera abruptly cuts between Tone and the men as each looks directly into the camera. While conversing with Tone, one only sees their lips move in silence. Tone's sarcastic voice-over interprets each man and their ambitions. Jean Wallace, introduced as a singer at “The Blue Angel” nightclub, is also an invited guest. Tone is surprised yet pleased to see her. What is a nice girl like her doing at a creepy party like this? Tone and Wallace, recently divorced in real life, have some cat and mouse interaction before she asks him, ‘You’re a special something or other aren’t you?’ Their scenes provide the only sparks in the film.

The ending takes a definitive noir turn with some nice elevated camera work casting long shadows from tall interior columns in an art gallery. The Crusaders are there to retrieve incriminating papers hidden behind a particular painting. Gunshots echo through the marble halls but only the bad die young in this one.

Note: Tone, Wallace, and Meredith would be together the following year in, The Man In The Eiffel Tower. A film that could have been a classic but the elevator never made it to the top.

NEVER TRUST A GAMBLER (1951)

NEVER TRUST AN EX-HUSBAND

Known mostly for being unknown, directing forgettable films in the Thirties and Forties, the name of Ralph Murphy might ring a bell for directing three costume adventure films teaming Louis Hayward and Patricia Medina in Lady in the Iron Mask, The Lady and the Bandit, and Captain Pirate. All in an effort to revitalize the swashbuckler. Months before these films, he directed this very predictable crime drama released by Columbia Pictures. The film was produced by Louis B. Appleton Jr. and Monty Shaff. It was developed from a routine screenplay by Jesse Lasky Jr. and Jerome Odlum with zero surprises. The adequate music score is by Arthur Morton. Clocking in at seventy-nine minutes, it is typical of the period but the commendable second-tier performers steady the film.

The film stars Bernard Zanville, aka Dane Clark, as a small-time gambler refusing to testify to supposedly protect his innocent friend accused of murder. The edgy Clark is always hiding behind curtains, peering between Venetian blinds when not packing a suitcase. His co-star is Cathy O’Donnell, playing the ex-wife. As a reserved school teacher she is well cast as her apparent weak acting fits the role. Her eyes are lifeless, at times as if she were playing a blind character. Her acting resume was thin. She reluctantly agrees to let him stay and tries to cover for him but she admits she is not good at lying like Clark. In her final scene after being manhandled as Clark's shield, I could not tell if she was crying or exhausted from laughing.

Rhys Williams makes an indelibly disgusting mark on the viewer with his short, but pivotal screen time as an off-duty police sergeant full of himself. He collides with O’Donnell in a market. He dated O’Donnell’s roommate and recognizes her. In spite of his rather clownish appearance, he assumes he is irresistible and obliged to make advances. Among her food items, she purchases a bottle of whiskey for Clark. The store clerk is that handsome beach ball with legs, Percy Helton. Williams teases her so persistently about that whiskey and living alone she just gives it to him to make him go away. But this guy is a leach. A sexual predator. He shows up at her home with the lame excuse of returning the whiskey. He gets physical and she slaps him a few times and instinctively calls out Clark’s name. The pervert thinks she lied to him about being alone and confronts Clark, thusly:

A fight erupts, Williams fires his gun,

Only hitting the ceiling, he is done.

Hit by a footstool on his head,

He is not alive but very dead.

Moviegoers rise up and cheer,

A pleasant movie moment of the year.

Tip #1: if you want to fill in a bullet hole in your ceiling,

you can use ordinary “kitchen soap.” Preferably white.

Clark decides to mask the manslaughter by sending Williams and his car over a cliff. A plan that rarely works. It is quickly determined Williams died well before the accident. In a silly bit, another officer spotted footprints and determined the shoes were in a hurry. The officer is amazing. Deserves a promotion. Yet the scenes with Clark leaving the scene have him walking, not running. Williams’ three-year partner is played by Jeff Corey. He confirms that whether on or off duty, Williams had only one thing on his mind. ‘a skirt.’ A character Hollywood salaciously included as expected male behavior but now, with selective indignation, have created their own hashtags.

Tom Drake, the lead detective, is solid in this role. He and Corey are naturals. Drake’s vocal quality and delivery, along with his body language add depth to his character. On his first visit with O’Donnell at her home, he senses she is hiding something, though he is there to ask about her former roommate who had a past with Williams. The roommate is later questioned and in no uncertain terms tells the police what a scumbag Williams was. The moviegoers stand and cheer once more.

Drake could also be quite charming. He and O’Donnell have lunch together and they enjoy each others' company. But a probing question unravels her suspected sheltering of her ex-husband. A lot of interviews later, Corey and Drake know they are after that Clark skunk. The detective duo returns to the O’Donnell house but she is not there. The day’s heavy rain causes the roof to leak, conveniently revealing the bullet hole in the ceiling. Amusingly, on the floor is the plug of soap.

Tip #2: if you want to fill in a bullet hole in your ceiling,

have a leak-proof roof.

Clark, at his wits’ end, lies about supporting O’Donnell’s constant plea of turning himself in. Unknown to him, she witnesses him packing a revolver in his suitcase. He forces her along on his escape, getting more desperate by the mile. They stop for gas and she offers to pay by credit card. While signing the receipt, she adds a note for the attendant to call Drake. Clark does stupid things during the climax of the film in typical B-movie fashion. The screenplay ends the film on a lighter note as Drake and O’Donnell cozy up in the rear of Corey’s vehicle. He looks through his rearview mirror, smirks, and adjusts the mirror downward. 

Note: There is a comical scene with Sid Tomack, a bus driver. Drake arrives to question him about passengers he picked up on the night of the Williams’ killing but his nagging wife “Ginger,” played by Ruth Warren, thinks the police are there to arrest her husband for stealing again. It is pretty obvious she runs their home. When Drake introduces himself, Tomack tries to take a step backward out of fear but his wife pushes him forward. Nervously, he tells the police he has not done anything wrong with his wife instantly calling him a liar. Tomack however, saves face by confirming Clark was a fare.

A FILM BRAKE: TELEVISION'S INTEGRAL CHARACTER

CHEYENNE (1955-1963)

Out of the unknown came Clint Walker to play the soft-spoken, handsome television cowboy, Cheyenne Bodie, who—for a man of impressive stature—possessed sensitivity, compassion, and uncompromising ethics to uphold the truth. He was not to be lied to and could defend himself with a lightning-quick draw. Cheyenne may save a town from self-destruction by calmly reasoning and presenting facts that both sides can accept—those still alive—by the episode’s end. He will end up getting whacked on the back of the head almost weekly with the butt of a revolver. It is a wonder he could remember how to ride a horse, let alone shoot straight. Some scripts called for the well-built Walker to lose his shirt. I am not referring to money lost in a poker game, either. The hero always escapes the clutches of hateful people or defends someone in a similar predicament. Truth overrules lies. In today’s Hollywood, one cannot always recognize the good guy or that evil characters have become the central focus.

Though standard fare for the era, television budgets made it obvious when stock Warner Bros footage was inserted. The studio was not happy with the first few episodes in which Cheyenne traveled with a comical sidekick, L.Q. Jones. Roy Huggins was asked to better develop the title character, distancing him from a Saturday morning cardboard figure. There is a commonality between Cheyenne and his later Richard Kimble character. Each could make a positive change in people’s lives. Both characters moved from town to town being hired for a variety of jobs. Each had no ties but often had admiring females. The two shows were a timeless account of an individual correcting the wrongs within his circle of influence. One person making a difference.

There were few experiences Cheyenne was not equipped to handle, whether defending or fighting the American Indian, acting as trail boss for a cattle drive or a scout for the U.S. Cavalry. By far, he was most often confronted by crooked, single-minded sheriffs or townspeople, judges, or cattle-rustling outlaws who hate him because he throws a wrench in their devious plans. It is a coordinated effort by a deceptive leader in which he or she rules by coercive behavior. The show can be frustrating week after week because these blind individuals lack any sense, common or otherwise. In their self-serving behavior, they accuse without allowing facts to be presented. Truth is irrelevant. Jail him, run him out of town or their favorite option, hang him before the mob changes their mind. It is a timeless illustration of narrow-minded individuals intimidating the innocent. These people will not agree to disagree, respect each opinion, and remain friends. The person is simply an enemy.

The ABC series was the first sixty-minute western and the grand-pappy of the “adult” western, premiering a week before the thirty-minute Gunsmoke. When watched today, most Cheyenne episodes are engaging enough—thanks to Clint Walker's straight-arrow charm—to help the hour go by quickly. At least, via DVR. Eventually, the sun set on the prime time show, but it continued to be a role model for many youngsters in reruns. Walker has humbly stated that his autograph line was the longest of other television western peers during classic western hero conventions. Cheyenne remains an integral character to admire when truth, justice and common sense prevailed.