HI-JACKED (1950)

Unlike last month's Highway 13, this project has a greater element of authenticity thanks to the Lippert team director, Sam Newfield, and cinematography by Philip Tannura. No sped-up film gimmicks nor does it have a 1930s look and feel. Sigmund Neufeld Productions produced this sixty-six-minute little gem, one of the better Lippert suspense-filled crime dramas. Expect commendable performances by low-budget actors and location filming of interstate trucking. This time around, it is not sabotage but hijacking. Iris Adrian (below right) adds her usual spark as the diner waitress.

Jim Davis drives for a company experiencing more than their fare share of truck hijackings. He is also trying to shake the stigma of his incarceration for embezzlement. Now on the up and up, he becomes the unwitting pawn to ship millions in stolen furs. Davis still has a chip on his shoulder, believing his employment future is bleak as an ex-con. His pessimistic, smart-aleck attitude toward a highway patrolman during a trailer inspection is not going to help. The patrolman says as much.

The film has a strong opening sequence in a driving rain. Davis stops to help a motorist, but it is simply part of a gang of hijackers, who leave him in a ditch. Lots of film is used to show Davis in a late Forties GMC ACR 723 tractor during deliveries. An eyeful from bygone days. The mob's goons slip a sleeping sedative in his coffee thermos while distracted at the diner, resulting in another hijacking. He later takes a beating at home, and they hide a fur coat in the room. Rodney Dangerfield could relate. Davis tells his wife, Marcia Jones, that someone must be working from inside the trucking firm. He logically narrows the culprit down to the shipping manager. After a pretty exciting climax of fist-o-cuffs and gunplay, the police arrive to arrest the mob, the finger man, and the fence.

Note: Lippert regulars, House Peters, Jr., and Sid Melton, take their usual spot in this film. “Killer” Melton is the comedic relief as an awkward goon who dreams of having his own gun and someday being a mob kingpin. He is hopelessly in the wrong line of work. Speaking of levity, one cannot ignore Iris Adrian as the quintessential diner waitress. Do not blink and miss Myron Healy as a police dispatcher.

Check out my series on seven other Lippert films that ran from February to July 2022, starting here.

HIGHWAY 13 (1948)

Robert L. Lippert Productions churned out countless low-budget films. I profiled seven of them beginning here. This project's budget came in under Sixty grand and Sixty minutes. It was distributed by Screen Guild Productions. Top billing goes to Robert Lowery, sans mustache. He is supported by Pamela Blake (below right) and Michael Whalen, whom Lippert tapped into more than once, and everyone's favorite sardonic curmudgeon, Clem Bevins (below left), who plays her uncle. Whalen and Maris Wrixon both have pivotal roles.

Trucking was a popular movie theme during the early years of overland shipments with engines that could increasingly go the extra mile. It was a noisy, physical job to pilot a tractor or single-axle truck during the 1940s and 1950s. Sabotage was a sure-bet premise. This film is not subtle about addressing this, as the opening scenes use a constant barrage of trucks—at least one miniature—crashing over a cliff on a mountainous section of “jinxed” Highway 13. Out of sequence is a sedan that enthusiastically powers over a cliff. The driver, Whalen, survives, but his wife, the heiress to the trucking company, does not. After a period of recovery, he returns to the office and expresses to the owner his concern that the rash of driver eliminations is more than accidents. He seems sincere. He later meets the truck driver who found his wife after the fiery crash. Lowery. Imagine his surprise to see that Walen survived.

Bevins, whose age seems to always be pushing ninety, regularly checks the trucks over before the drivers hit the road again. Adjacent to the studio garage set is a diner set where Blake takes short orders. Lowery is a regular customer, and after their back-and-forth teasing quips, it is apparent they are planning a future together. As per usual, Bevins is likable as “Pops” with disparaging remarks about coffee's effect on him. Not entirely on the up-and-up, however, he starts spreading rumors that Lowery may be responsible for the rash of crashes.

Walen hires a private detective to pose as their newest driver to investigate the sabotage. Expect the usual sped-up truck sequences as they power around a curve like a sports car. The climax involves an unconscious Lowery, a stowaway Blake, and the truck pilot, Bevins. With a strong bit of suspended disbelief, you might accept the unlikely and clichéd final sequence.

Note: One interesting historical element is the lost art of using a manual choke lever on the dashboard. Way before electronic fuel injection, a manual choke provided a way to get the right mixture of fuel and air in the carburetor. It was mainly used during cold starts, especially in winter. A full choke at start-up, however, might “flood” the engine with too much fuel, making it nearly impossible to start immediately, and a short waiting game ensues until the fuel drains from the carburetor. Once underway, pulling the choke all the way out would provide enough fuel to keep a vehicle slowly rolling without a foot on the accelerator pedal. Lowery does this early in the film (albeit a studio prop truck) as he opens the door, places his left foot on the running board, and stands to get a better view of an accident ahead. Bevins also uses the manual choke in the movie's climax for his stunt double to jump from a moving truck.