Continued from last week:
So, I’d be sitting in the old Liberty Theater with 20 or 30 other impatient kids. We would talk excitedly, squirm about in our seats and ingest who knows what kind of sugar-rich, chocolate-coated treats, which probably contributed quite a lot to our agitated state. And when the houselights dimmed, an incredible, high-pitched screech would erupt from the crowd; a piercing, bone-chilling scream that must have proven painful to the inner-ear of any parents in the audience.
No sooner had that shriek started to recede when the familiar Loony Tunes melody produced another resounding cheer. The screen came alive with one or two animated cartoons –like Bugs Bunny or Mighty Mouse – and the place was shaken again by our rather hysterical laughter, which was followed by more yelling when the Three Blind Mice theme introduced a Three Stooges’ 15- or 20-minute short. When that ended and we had laughed to the point of exhaustion, there was a typed, orange slide – probably prepared by the theater’s owner, Gene Groesbeck – advertising next week’s film: Tim Holt in “Blazing Pistols.” (There were no trailers.) And finally, after all that, the main feature arrived: Gene Autry in “Red River Valley,” accompanied by one last screech of delight.
Autry was well-known nationally as the “Sing Cowboy.” Though Roy Rogers was also a singer, I didn’t care much for his voice. However, Gene had a wonderful, relaxed tone and style. He was the quintessential crooner, much better than Bing Crosby would ever hope to be. Of course, Gene would never rival Crosby in popularity, but some of his recordings still became instant classics, like “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.”
The name of the main song in any Roy Rogers or Gene Autry movie was usually the name of the film as well. Thus there were films entitled “Tumbling Tumble Weeds,” “Red River Valley” and Mexicali Rose.”
Neither Gene nor Roy nor any other cowboy movie star could act worth a tinker’s damn. (Even so, for a few years Autry was one of the top box-office draws in the country.) As pointed out last week, without exception, their films were pretty hokey; hokey plots, hokey morality and hokey acting. For all practical purposes, their movies were never shown in large, urban centers. They were produced for, and aimed at, rural, small-town America.
Both Roy and Gene were all-American, straight-laced, very moral fellows. Especially Roy, who avoided booze and Hollywood parties. Gene seemed a bit more sociable. He was known to have a few drinks with his friend John Wayne.
I always suspected Roy wasn’t the brightest bulb in the Hollywood marquee. How else can you account for the fact that, when his horse died, he had the animal stuffed? When asked about this, Roy seemed insulted by the question. “This was Trigger!” he defiantly declared. “Understand?”
No, Roy, I don’t. But my opinion withstanding, apparently some people do. A Christie New York auction recently sold the stuffed beast to a Nebraska TV station for more than $260,000.
Who’d a’ thunk it?
