RANGER AL's WESTERN COMIX THEATRE #2: POW WOW SMITH in "Treasure Trail to Tumbleweed Gap," 1961

Albie's Note:  As I child I only came across a few of these POW WOW SMITH,  INDIAN LAWMAN stories, usually reprints used as back-up features in various DC magazines.  I always like them, though, because they were a nice blend of the western, super-hero, and mystery genres.

As to our hero, I'l let Don Markstein of the great TOONOPEDIA website introduce you to the character:

"Pow Wow Smith" was a monicker laid on the character by the townspeople of Elkhorn, where he did his lawman work, first as deputy and later as full-fledged sheriff. His real name was Ohiyesa, which means "Winner" in the Sioux dialect he grew up with back in Red Deer Valley. When he started exploring white society, he tried to use his real name. Eventually, he gave in to the inevitable and became Pow Wow Smith in everyday life, reverting back only when visiting home. His main supporting character was his deputy, Hank Brown. He also picked up a fiancee, Fleetfoot, along the way. Racial issues usually didn't concern him — he was liked and accepted by the Elkhorn populace, with only mild grumbling from an occasional curmudgeon (who was usually converted by the end of the story).

Here, from 1961's Westen Comics #85, is a fine story: "Treasure Trail to Tumbleweed Gap." 

[Thanks to the great THE FABULOUS FIFTIES blog for the following page-scans!]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Western Comics #85

 

 

PEACE

 

BIG AL's JOVIAL JUKEBOX #25: "Wild Honey" by THE BEACH BOYS, 1967

Albie's Note:  If you're old enough to actually remember honey coming in a tin can you're at least as old as me! 

That's the first thing I thought when I read the following on Wikipedia about this great Beach Boys tune from back in 1967:

"In a 1992 issue of Goldmine Magazine, Mike Love explained the idea for the lyrics of the song:

'Brian [Wilson] was doing this track with a theremin and we were doing the song. I went into the kitchen and we were in this health food thing and wild honey was all natural. So there's this can of wild honey and we're making some tea. So I said, I'll write the lyrics about this girl who was a wild little honey. And I wrote it from the perspective that that album was Brian's R&B-influenced album, in his mind. It may not sound like it to a Motown executive but that was where he was coming from on that record. In that particular instance I wrote it from the perspective of Stevie Wonder singing it.'"
 

I always liked this unusual song by the Boys, which was a Top 40 hit for them, reaching a respectable #31 on the Billboard charts.  It was definitely unusual for them, and not exactly surf music, but it still sounds VERY west coast to me... and I do hear the Stevie Wonder influence in there.   Sort of a similar sound to Stevie's "I Was Made To Love Her" which the boys actually covered on the WILD HONEY album that same year.

In any case, it was a joyous and energetic Rock and Roll song, with a perfect lead vocal by the late, great Carl Wilson.   The wild theremin and organ lines are just great, and to this day it is one of my favorite summer cruising songs.

That SoCal gal musta been a "wild li'l honey," indeed!

 

WILD HONEY

Brian Wilson and Mike Love

 

Mama I'm tellin' you as sure as I'm standin' here
She's my girl and that's the way I'm keepin' it now mama dear
No good will it do you to stand there and frown at me
The girl's got my heart and my love's comin' down on me
My love's comin' down since I got a taste of wild honey

You know she's got the sweetness of a honey bee
Wild honey

She got it on and stung me good yes sirree

With all the other stud bees buzzin' all around her hive
She singled me out single handed took me alive
Well can you, can you gonna take my life eatin' up her wild honey?

Oh mama she's sweeter
Gettin' sweeter
Sweeter, sweeter
Sweet

Wild honey

Let me tell you how she really got to my soul
It ain't funny
The way she make me wanna sing a little rock 'n' roll

There's nothing quite nice as a kiss of wild honey
I break my back workin' just to save me some money
So I can spend my life with her

Sock it to me wild honey
Honey wild honey she's mine
Honey wild honey she's mine
Honey bee

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PEACE

BIG AL's JOVIAL JUKEBOX #24: "(My Baby Loves) Western Movies" by THE OLYMPICS, 1958

 

Albie's Note:  When I was a wee lad my older brother Steve had this 45 -- among dozens of others -- and my buddy Bonky and I used to play it and try to sing along.   Even in high school in the late seventies/early eighties [I graduated in '82] I would often test the acoustics of  a  given men's room I entered with this very song [or maybe "Runaround Sue"].

 

Originally a #8 pop hit in 1958-- and written by Demon Records arrangers Fred Smith and Cliff Goldsmith-- behold the amazing doo wop tribute to cowboy TV:  "Western Movies!"  

 

Now... the lyrics are legendarily hard to decipher, but I gave it my best shot, as I think most guesses I found on the 'net were lacking, probably because they were written by people who don't actually watch old westerns!  I don't know who "Jim Hardy" was, but it does seem like that's what he's saying.   Also, I do think I may be right about the "Tom Jeffords" line... that was the name of the white guy on BROKEN ARROW... but then again there WAS a 1958 western series called JEFFERSON DRUM, so I reckon it could be something like: "Comes Jefferson Drum with his great big gun" ...  and "McCullough"  was the "man's man" hero on WAGON TRAIN...  

 

But I could also be way off.  I wonder if there was ever sheet music?  Um... Doubtful... :) 

 

Anyway, one thought I get when listening to it today is:  I can't believe a guy would complain about a girl like that!  :)

 

 

WESTERN MOVIES

 

To save my soul I can't get a date,
Baby's got it tuned on channel 8
Now Wyatt Earp and the big Cheyenne
They're comin' thru the T.V. shootin up the land.

Ah um my baby loves the Western movies.
My baby loves the Western movies,
Bam, bam, shoot 'em up Pow.
Ah um my babe loves the Western Movies.

I call my baby on the telephone
To tell her half of my head was gone
I just got hit by a great big brick
She says "Thanks for reminding me, it's time for Maverick!"
Ah um my baby loves the Western movies.

My baby loves the Western movies,
Bam, bam, shoot em up pow.
Ah um
My baby loves the Western movies.

Well Marshall Dillon is runnin' with Old Cochise
Jim Hardy , Jim Bowie and Sugarfoot.
They all "Have Gun... and Will Travel"
Give me back my boots and saddle uh huh.

Here's the story of the certain Wagon Train "McCullough"
And Broken Arrow has broken my heart.
Ol' Jeffords  shows up with his great big gun...
Unties my baby and the fight was won.

Ah um my baby loves the Western movies.
My baby loves the western movies.
Bam bam shoot em up pow.
Ah um, my baby loves the western movies.

 

 

 

 PEACE 

RANGER AL's WESTERN COMIX THEATRE #1: HOPALONG CASSIDY in "Secret Of The Buffalo Hat," June 1955

Albie's Note:  I love western comics... always have.   The first ones I ever read were in the early '70s [I was born in '64] and were the Marvel line-up of interchangeable "innocent outlaws" [Rawhide Kid, Kid Colt, Ringo Kid, etc.] and Gold Keys's Lone Ranger hold-outs.  I have loved the beautiful and spacious Four-color B-west ever since.  But before I was even reading comics-- before I was born actually-- there was the Fifties:   the absolute Golden Era of Western Comics. 
 

This tale-- well-drawn by the late great Gene Colan for DC's legendary and hard-to-collect run of Hopalong Cassidy-- is a good example of the quality, both in scripting and art, that went into the western comics feature during the hey-day of the American Television Western.  I love the Bill Boyd version of Hoppy, even though-- as people always note-- it was a ridiculously sanitized version of Mulford's original hard-drinkin' red-headed cowman.  I guess I come feel the same way critic Francis Nevins does; that both versions are really, truly great-- albeit in their own way. One great thing about the Boyd Hoppy is that there was such a high quality to everything associated with that product and name:  the Radio show, the Dan Spiegle comic strip, not to mention the 60 plus movie features... all have the same amazingly consistent level of quality.  



First in a new series, I present-- from HOPALONG CASSIDY #102--  the great "Secret Of The Buffalo Hat!"



Enjoy.

 

 

 

PEACE

POETRY BREAK #17: "To My Dog,'Quien Sabe'" by HENRY HERBERT KNIBBS, 1920

Albie's Note: Henry Herbert Knibbs [1874 - 1945] was born in Clifton (Niagara Falls), Ontario, Canada to affluent American parents.  He moved to California in 1901 where he wrote his first Novel, Lost Farm Camp. Most of Knibbs' novels are set in the West and in revolutionary Mexico.

Knibbs' poetry books include, First Poems, 1908 ~ Songs of the Outlands, Ballads of the Hoboes and Other Verse, 1914 ~ Riders of the Stars: A Book of Western Verse, 1916 ~ Songs of the Trail, 1920 ~ Saddle Songs and Other Verse, 1922 ~ and Songs of the Lost Frontier 1930. He also authored 13 western novels and many articles.  This is a classic "Dog Poem" that first appeared in the Songs of the Trail  volume.  Enjoy.

TO MY DOG, "QUIEN SABE"

(In the Happy Hunting Grounds)

by Henry Herbert Knibbs

Did the phantom hills seem strange, Quien,
When you left the light for the ghostly land?
Do you dream of the open range, Quien,
The tang of sage and the sun-warmed sand?

Does your great heart yearn for the sweep of space,
The desert dawn and the sunset glow,
When we had no care, nor a dwelling-place,
In the lonely land we used to know?

Do you dream of those outland days, Quien,
The fierce, white noon and the pinion~ shade?
The luck we shared on the ways, Quien,
Young and lusty and unafraid?

Comrade, keen for the hunt and kill;
Comrade, patient and strong and wise,
The firelight flares--and I see you still,
Calling me with your wistful eyes.

You cannot know that I cannot come --
My work is here for a while -- and then ...
My heart cries out, though my lips are dumb,
And my hands are chained to the wheel, Quien.

Yet I am glad that your soul is free
To run the trails of our old delight:
Only -- I ask that you wait for me,
And you will know, be it day or night,

Know, and leap at my call, Quien,
And forever pace with pony's stride,
And never a start shall fall, Quien,
And never again our trails divide!

 

PEACE

REVIEWING THE SPUR WINNERS #2: RED SABBATH by Lewis B. Patten, 1968

I have come to really like ol' Lewis B. Patten. 

My first encounter with him was a short story I liked so much it led me to his novel ORPHANS OF COYOTE CREEK [reviewed HERE] and then several others.   Though sometimes I wish his books were a bit longer [a compliment more than a complaint] I now see him as a fine western writer; he was truly gifted in the areas of characterization and observation,  and he has-- so far-- never failed to keep this reader's  attention with the tense and vivid stories he unravels. 

So... I decided to try his Spur award winner RED SABBATH from 1968 [the award was from the Western Writers Of America  for best western historical novel of that year.] 

All in all, I am not sorry I checked it out, but I had-- unexpectedly-- some reservations when it came to calling it a classic.

First off, I should explain that the title refers to Sunday, June 25, 1876, which any student of western history will immediately recognize as the date of Custer's Last Stand.   When Patten wrote his treatment, that whole event had already been "down to death" as they say-- in both fiction and non-fiction--  and to be honest, ol' Lew doesn't offer us much that is new in either perspective or viewpoint.

As far as perspective goes, I actually like Patten's.  He is no hero-worshipper or military apologist, and Custer comes off as a vain, glory seeking nit-wit  [which didn't bother this old "peacenik"  Libertarian reviewer one bit!]  Also, Patten is great at describing geography and logistics, not to mention human emotions... I must say I actually felt I was "right there" when the ravaged soldiers of Benteen's command struggled to re-group and simply survive while being pinned down without provisions or water.  Patten never fails to paint a vivid picture of war and its difficulties.

I guess what left me somewhat disappointed was that Patten created a great fictional first-person narrator-- war-weary Army scout Miles Lorrette-- but really couldn't place him in a very suspenseful story, since we all know the basic outcome of this one.   In fact the narrator's "back story," told through Miles' thoughts in flash-back as he stuggles to survive, was actually far more interesting to me than what was going on in the immediate story.   Not only that,  Lorrette's mere survival-- after personally killing about at least 20 Indians-- gave the story a Hollywood-macho,  "RAMBO" kind of vibe that-- while I am quite sure it was unintentional-- compromised a lot of the otherwise realistic and generally "anti-war" story.  [A far better example of this type of "military western"-- from an artistic point of view-- was one I also read in 2013, REMEMBER SANTIAGO, by Douglas C. Jones, about a lawyer and his Osage Indian sidekick in the Spanish American War.]

Still, I can see why his peers gave Patten the award back in '69.  Those old word-slingers knew a well-written piece of historical fiction when they read one.

Me?  I give it 3 stars out of 5. ***

 

 

PEACE

BIG AL'S JOVIAL JUKEBOX #23: "Abandoned Love" by THE EVERLY BROTHERS, 1986 [RIP Phil :(... ]

Albie's Note:  Phil Everly (January 19, 1939 – January 3, 2014)  has passed from this mortal coil.  On a TV show in the '80s I once heard John Sebastion call him "the greatest high harmony singer who ever lived." 

The Everlys are SEMINAL...  Basic American Music 101, plain and simple.

Here is a cut I always liked from their BORN YESTERDAY album; Don and Phil doing a sad Bob Dylan song and making it somehow joyous. 

But then agan...ALL their stuff came out that way!  PEACE.

ABANDONED LOVE

Words and Music by Bob Dylan

I can see the turning of the key
I’ve been deceived by the clown inside of me
I thought that he was right but he's afraid
Oh, something’s  telling me I wear the ball and chain

My patron saint is fighting with a ghost
He’s always off somewhere when I need him most
The Spanish moon is rising on the hill
But my heart is  telling me I love you still

Everybody’s wearing a disguise
To hide what they’ve got left behind their eyes
But me, I can’t cover what I am
Wherever the children go, I’ll follow them

I march in the parade of liberty
But as long as I love you I’m not free
How long must I suffer such abuse
Won’t you let me see you smile before I turn you loose?

We sat in an empty theater and we kissed
I asked you please to cross me off your list
My head tells me it’s time to make a change
But my heart is telling me I love you but you’re strange

So one more time at midnight, near the wall
Take off your heavy makeup and your shawl
Won’t you come down from the throne-room where you sit?
Let me feel your love one more time before I abandon it

I come back to the town from the flaming moon
I see you in the street, I begin to swoon
I'd love to see you dress before the mirror
Won’t you let me in your room one time before I finally disappear?

REST IN PEACE, PHIL.