ERIC ALLEN – Hangtree Country. Pyramid G-329, paperback original, 1958; 2nd printing, March 1965.

   The first work of a prolific western author, but I’m afraid Hangtree Country will stay in my mind primarily because of a dreadful gaffe by the publisher.

   Author Eric Allen hangs his plot on a familiar peg, then handles it with some distinction. As the story opens, Buck Caldeen rides into town and surrenders himself to the local lawman. It seems he just killed a local nasty, with some justification perhaps, but this is the outskirts of Fort Smith Arkansas, and he can expect little in the way of empathy from Judge Parker.

   Flashback to a year earlier, and Buck Caldeen is riding into town after five years of ramblin’ — the result, it seems, of a romance gone bad. Buck no sooner gets back to his old stomping grounds than he learns that his brother Rube is in Judge Parker’s jail for shooting a man in the back. Moreover, Rube refuses to say anything about the killing, and it looks like he will soon end his days at the end of a rope.

   Unless of course Buck can find out the reason behind it all.

   What follows is nothing in the way of the great western writers like A.B. Guthrie or Milton Lott, but it is a bit out of the ordinary. No gunfights, bushwhackings or barroom dust-ups, just a feel of quiet tension and emotional growth as Buck scours the countryside looking for clues, witnesses and what-have-you, finds himself relating to those around him, understanding why his old romance turned so bad, and finally learning what made his fine and upstanding brother shoot a man in the back — and why he must die for it.

   These are the central themes of Hangtree Country: Why did Rube do it? And How can Buck discover the reason? And it coulda been a contender, as they say. Unfortunately, on the very first page of Pyramid’s first edition, the blurb page, right inside the cover, we read:

   And there you have it. Everything the hero is trying to learn for more than a hundred pages, everything the reader should be turning pages to find out, all laid out for you before the story even starts. Well crap.

   I’ve heard stories before of publishers doing dirt to their authors, but this one takes its own unique place. And I’m afraid it spoiled what might have been a pretty good read.

KING OF DIAMONDS. “The Wizard of Ice.” September 1961. (Episode 1, Season 1.) Syndicated: Ziv/United Artists. Broderick Crawford as John King and “introducing” Ray Hamilton as Casey. Guest Cast: Lola Albright, Telly Savalas, with: Bert Freed, John Anderson, John Marley, Joan Tabor, Sid Tomack, Juli Reding, Olan Soule, Clegg Hoyt, Frank Warren, Donald Eitner, Isabelle Dwan, Daran Marshall, Mike Masters, Dorothy Crehan, Tony Mafia. Executive Producer: Babe Unger. Associate Producer: Broderick Crawford. Writer-producer: John Robinson. Director: Irving Lerner.

   Michael Shonk wrote up a comprehensive overview of the entire series a couple of years ago on this blog, and you may want to go read that post first, including the comments, before going to read my own thoughts about this, the first episode. Just some things I thought might be interesting, plus the entire list of credits, which I jotted down in their entirety when the show was over, without realizing that perhaps I was duplicating Michael’s efforts.

   IMDb says John King’s young, handsome, buttoned-down assistant is Al Casey, while the Classic TV Archive says he was Casey O’Brien. He was referred to only as Casey in this first episode, so that’s still an open question. As to why Ray Hamilton was “introduced” in the opening credits, that’s also a small puzzle. He had parts in six earlier TV shows, starting in 1959. The roles were probably small, however. This would have been his first starring role. And also his last appearance on TV of any kind.

   Also note that Highway Patrol ended in 1959. This first episode of King of Diamonds could have been filmed then, or soon after, and not picked up for syndication until 1961. Also, for what it’s worth, IMDb lists Hamilton as appearing in only 13 of the overall 38 episodes.

   As for the series itself, Broderick Crawford plays John King, the gruff and rather burly head of security for a large international diamond corporation, and he’s the one who’s called right away when a staged automobile accident nets a gang of thieves two million dollars worth of uncut diamonds.

   There are a few twists and double-twists after that, mostly involving Lola Albright’s character, who wants the diamonds and doesn’t care how she gets them. This particular episode was filmed with very quick transition scenes and even quicker dialogue, so after a while it is easy to sit back and watch with no real need to pay close attention. They managed to get a lot of story crammed into only 30 minutes of running time, and as you can see, the cast was a large one.

   Some of the scenes take place in a nightclub with both King and Casey hanging around a good-looking young lady playing the piano. I’m sure this was not an idea wholly original to the series.

TWO-GUN MAN FROM HARLEM. Merit Pictures, 1938. Herb Jeffrey, Marguerite Whitten, Mantan Moreland, Clarence Brooks, “Stymie” Beard, Spencer Williams, Mae Turner. Screenwriter-Director: Richard C. Kahn

   An all-black Western from the 1930s, beneath contempt for most critics, but I enjoyed it.

   Now I know many of you out there hang on my words with slavish devotion, but I should warn potential viewers that Two-Gun has its short-comings: bad script, bad acting, low budget, insipid stunt work and continuity gaffes that could give you whiplash — the usual results of a lack of time and money. There is, however, a magic in the movies that can transcend these things for those who are spiritually attuned or simply deficient in critical judgment, and I must be one or the other.

   Star Herb Jeffrey has real screen presence; and I mean when he walks in, he dominates the tawdry screen around him just as Bogart, Gable and Flynn ruled their more sumptuous surroundings. In his flashy cowboy-hero garb or “disguised” as a bad guy, he moves with that natural assurance that distinguishes the Western Hero, and he carries a tune (yes, this is a singing western) as well as any of them.

   Two-Gun is actually a re-make of a 1931 film, Two-Gun Caballero, a film now considered lost, though it may simply be hiding. Whatever the case, it’s B-Western boiler plate about a man accused of murder who flees the scene, assumes a new identity, and returns in disguise (not terribly convincing, but it seems to fool even those who knew him well) to sort things out.

   If you were charitable or trying to sell the film, you might refer to it as “noirish” since the killing in question is of a rancher done in by his wife’s lover — the old Postman Rings Twice thing — in her presence. The wife (Mae Turner) frames the hero to clear her paramour, but when she starts pressing her boyfriend for a commitment, he contracts with a local outlaw (Spencer Williams) to have her killed. Which is when our hero re-emerges, disguised as a notorious killer from Harlem—hence the title of the piece.

   But this flick is not so much Noir as simply Black. Academics might call it an attempt to translate the prominent cultural iconography of its day into distinctly ethnic terms. To the rest of us, it’s just a B-western made primarily by African-American actors, aimed at that segregated niche market in its day.

   Mantan Moreland is (surprise!) the comedy relief here, and at first I thought his capable talents were going to be wasted in an unrewarding part as Jeffrey’s side-kick with very little screen time and no worthwhile dialogue at all. Then, late in the picture, Jeffrey warns the local outlaw to get out and “…Don’t look back; remember what happened to Lot’s wife.”

   A few minutes later we’re back in the Outlaw Hideout, where Mantan has infiltrated the gang as a cook (?!) and bad-guy Spencer Williams pauses in the middle of some trifling skullduggery, turns to Mantan and says, “Hey. What happened to Lot’s wife?”

   Which is all the excuse this veteran funnyman needs to launch into an extended biblical riff about how Lot’s wife was running around on him “…and the neighbors started scandalizin’ on her (You know how they do.) and one day she was leaving her boyfriend’s place….. ‘Your husband’s coming, Honey!’…. commenced to running…. and it rained 40 days and 40 nights… and she sat down to rest and couldn’t move because she was turned to salt… more rain… salt melting…and that spot where she sat down is where Salt lake City is today.”

   And I guess it’s moments like that which will keep Two-Gun Man from Harlem on my mind long after much better films have been forgotten.