McGowan/Syndicate, 1929. Director: J.P. McGowan. Scenario: Sally Winters. Camera: Hap Depew. Cast: Tom Tyler, Natalie Joyce, Al Ferguson, Al Heuston, Bill Nolte, Kip Cooper, Godfrey Craig, Frank Crane.
Slowly but noticeably, the silent Western is making a comeback in the world of home video. Over the last couple of years, enterprising independent DVD and Blu-Ray labels have been resurrecting long-unseen films featuring the cowboy stars of the silent era—not only the two top names, William S. Hart and Tom Mix, but some of the lesser-known stars as well. I’ve written about several of these rediscovered gems in this column, and now it’s my pleasant duty to report that Ben Model’s Undercrank label is releasing a Blu-Ray double feature showcasing the all-but-forgotten Tom Tyler. This disc is cause for celebration by Western fans, and it’s being released this month.
I like B Westerns, and I know I’m not the only one, but the low-budget Western as a category doesn’t get a lot of respect in the world of classic films. Actually, the inferior reputation of these pictures is largely a reflection on B Westerns of the sound era. Before the making of movies required an investment in sound equipment and attendant expenses, a producer on a shoestring budget could produce perfectly respectable outdoor pictures without taking on exorbitant costs. The only necessities were a cowboy star who could stay on a horse, a competent cameraman, and rugged, picturesque Western scenery, of which southern California offered an abundant supply for the taking. More than a few producers parlayed this combination of factors into a stream of polished, action-filled films that thrilled youngsters at weekly Saturday matinees.
Such a producer was J.P. McGowan, who unleashed a veritable flood of low-budget pictures, mostly Westerns, on neighborhood theaters throughout the 1920s and well into the sound era. McGowan’s company, Syndicate Pictures, was a true Poverty Row studio that operated on the fringes of the film industry—and, like many such companies, became adept at achieving the best possible results on the screen with a minimum of resources. When cowboy star Tom Tyler came to the end of a well-received series of solid, action-filled Westerns for Film Booking Offices (FBO), McGowan signed him for a new series at Syndicate. Tyler himself was a likely hero: tall, pleasant, with a commanding screen presence. Western aficionado Don Miller would later write of Tyler’s sound films: “The intriguing thing about Tyler was his somewhat sinister attitude, underlined by piercing eyes … More than any other range hero, Tyler gave the impression of tensile, quiet menace.”
But that would come later. No sign of a menacing presence in Tyler’s silent Westerns; instead he channeled that quiet strength into a likeable, wholesome persona. He evinced a caring attitude toward children, presumably including the small boys who idolized him and made up much of the audience for his horse operas. The Man from Nevada, one of the films featured on the new Undercrank disc, is an excellent example of all this. Sally Winters’ original story is simple enough: veteran villain Al Ferguson is here an unscrupulous rancher bent on driving a poor homesteading family out of the territory. When Tyler, as a sympathetic neighbor, intervenes on behalf of the family, Ferguson has him framed for cattle rustling.
That’s pretty much the entire plot—but it’s enough of a premise to support a solid five reels of hard-riding Western action. The proceedings are enlivened by an occasional touch of comic relief, courtesy of McGowan’s resident comic, Bill Nolte. Cameraman Hap Depew records the action with polished visuals that belie Syndicate’s impoverished circumstances: capturing a group of riders in a furious chase with long, smooth panning shots, or picturing a quiet moment in an elegantly composed long shot framed by foreground branches. The leading lady, Natalie Joyce, adds a note of beauty—but, in this family-friendly picture, her romance with Tyler is limited to a quick clinch in literally the last shot of the film.
If it seems surprising to see the tradition of silent Westerns continuing as late as 1929—the year when all the major American studios were completing their conversion to talking pictures—we should remember that McGowan and other Poverty Row producers were making their films for rural and small-town neighborhood houses, the last theaters to be wired for sound. In any case, it’s a joy to see another piece of this overlooked facet of American film restored to view. For preserving this film, we can thank the USC School of Cinematic Arts. For spearheading the campaign to bring 2K scans of this and its companion feature, The Law of the Plains, to Blu-Ray, we can thank Tyler specialist Mary Della Valle. And of course, like all silents on Undercrank discs, both films have the benefit of strong, evocative musical scores from Ben Model. These Tom Tyler silents have long been out of public view, but they’re making their comeback in a handsomely crafted showcase.
