This week,
we will abandon our usual Fine Arts mandate to observe the 80th
anniversaries of several glorious examples of American Pop Culture.
So as not
to disappoint usual Jade Sphinx
readers who expect a certain amount of grousing about the deplorable conditions
of the world in which we live – let me take this moment to pour the mixture as
before. At one time, American Pop
Culture was a great and glorious thing: though made to be disposable and never
with the pretentions of High Art, occasionally Pop Art created things of great
and lasting beauty. The Great American
Songbook, for example, was art of the most popular kind … and may end up being
our sole, enduring legacy. Movies, too,
when they were made for adults and weren’t special-effects laden pap made to
sell toys, were also Pop Art of a significant and lasting kind. All of this, of course, was before the rot
set in. Today, “disposable” is perhaps
the kindest thing that can be said for the rancid and diseased corruption
crafted to amuse the groundlings in our movie theaters and in front of their
television sets. The fall from Cole Porter to rap music, or from Ernst Lubitsch to J. J. Abrams is a precipitous one – and quite possibly fatal.
But as
potent as music and movies were in the 1920s-through-1960 or so, so were pulp
magazines and radio drama. Many people
today consider pulp magazines to be the precursors of comics, but that’s an
oversimplification of a more intellectually challenged time. In fact, pulp magazines were monthly novels
and short story collections – already more demanding of even the most casual
reader than comics – and the magazines could be devoted to western stories or
science fiction or romance or detective tales or the recurring adventures of a
single character, like The Shadow or
Doc Savage. (More on Doc later this week.)
Similar to
the pulps and equally important was radio drama. Before television, people sat around their
radios … looking at them. Radio was truly a theater of mind because
gifted actors and often brilliant sound effects men were utterly invisible to
the listener. It was the art of the
radio writer to create landscapes out of the airwaves and people them with
compelling stories and captivating characters.
Unlike the spoon-fed tosh found on any (most? all?) television stations,
radio drama demanded from the audience attention, imagination, and most of all,
participation.
Few radio
icons have left a deeper or more mythic footprint on our subconscious than The Lone Ranger. Created by writer Fran
Striker (1903-1962), The Lone Ranger first appeared in 1933 on radio station
WXYZ, owned by George W. Trendle (1884-1972),
who also claimed credit for creating the Ranger. The show was an enormous hit – it was geared
towards kids, but more than half of the audience was made up of adults. The show would last on radio until 1954 –
but, as is often the case, the Lone Ranger was to ride again in a television
show from 1949 to 1957. The Lone Ranger
was also the subject of two movie serials, three motion pictures (with a fourth
one on the way), and one execrable TV movie.
The Lone
Ranger also was featured in eight novels by Striker, countless comic books and
Big-Little-Books, and the daydreams of boys without number, including your
correspondent.
Though the
mythos has often been tweaked over the past 80 years, the basic origin of the
Lone Ranger remains the same. He was one
of a band of Texas Rangers who were ambushed in Bryant’s Gap by the notorious Butch
Cavendish gang. All the other rangers
died in the attack; their bodies found by an American Indian named Tonto.
Tonto
buried all of the rangers, and also made a fake grave for the surviving ranger,
so that Butch and other bad men of the West would not seek him out and finish
the job. As Tonto said, “you only ranger
left; you Lone Ranger.”
Donning a
mask to keep his identity a secret, the Lone Ranger and Tonto first set out to
bring Cavendish to justice. And when
that job was completed, the duo realized that – having no real fixed or
official identities – that they could…. well, as various announcers for the
series said, With his faithful Indian companion, Tonto, the daring and
resourceful masked rider of the plains led the fight for law and order in the
early Western United States. Nowhere in the pages of history can one find a
greater champion of justice. Return with us now to those thrilling days of
yesteryear. From out of the past come the thundering hoof-beats of the great
horse Silver. The Lone Ranger rides again!
The Lone
Ranger is a remarkable creation for a number of reasons. First off, Striker and company obliviously
hit some kind of nerve in creating a kiddie show character that so resonated
with adults. To understand the Lone
Ranger’s popularity at the time with both children and adults, think of our
contemporary obsession with Batman –
and then realize that the Lone Ranger was even more popular in his prime.
I suspect that
one of the reasons for this is that the Ranger was his own man in his own
time. He had no secret identity (at
least, not once his life changed so dramatically), he had no hideout or regular
supporting cast, he had no superpowers that rendered him ridiculous. And, more importantly, he had freedom. The Lone Ranger and Tonto ride the West
without thought of the necessities of making money or advancing careers or of
the real needs of wives and children.
They were free men in a seemingly more free time.
They also
were equal partners. Most people
unfamiliar with the actual radio or television series believe Tonto was a
monosyllabic stooge; but actually listening or watching the series would dispel
this notion. Tonto was the Ranger’s
superior in woodcraft and outdoorsmanship, and was an excellent scout and
information resource. More often than not, it was Tonto who did the initial reconnaissance
and told the Ranger who and where the villains could be found. It was also a true friendship – both men
cared for and loved each other. (As is
often the case with these long-lasting sagas, there is some debate as to how
the two actually met. The adopted story
is that they were boyhood friends and it was chance that brought Tonto to
Bryant’s Gap after the ambush. Each man
calls the other Kemo Sabe, which
means “faithful friend.”)
Another
key, I think, was the duo’s famous mounts, Silver and Scout. Tonto rode Scout, an incredibly capable paint
horse, but the Ranger rode a magnificent white stallion, Silver. The Ranger rescued Silver when the horse was
beset by an enraged Buffalo, and then Silver would never leave his side. The Lone Ranger also used silver bullets, and
the overriding theme of silver helped underscore the character’s sense of
purity.
Most
famously, the Ranger had a very strict moral code. The Lone Ranger never took a life, never shot
to kill, never took unfair advantage.
Today, a concept like that would never fly, when even the most innocent
of family movies have a high body count.
But these were different times and a different America – a more
aspirational land when we wanted people to emulate rather than feel smugly
superior.
I had the
great good fortune to interview Clayton
Moore (1914-1999) who played the Lone Ranger on television and in two
feature films, around the time he wrote his autobiography, I Was That Masked Man. Aside
from being an amusing and intelligent man, the thing that stuck most with me
was how he felt the Ranger had changed his life. While no saint, Moore spoke candidly of how
he tried to “live up to” the Ranger and his ideals. The stories of Moore taking his role very
seriously are legendary – a particularly amusing one can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFabfnfhIaY.
When
closing the interview, Moore, in complete sincerity, asked if I would like for
him to recite the Lone Ranger’s Code.
How could I refuse! Taking a
pause, Clayton Moore/The Lone Ranger said:
I believe...
That to have a friend, a man must be
one.
That all men are created equal and
that everyone has within himself the power to make this a better world.
That God put the firewood there, but
that every man must gather and light it himself.
In being prepared physically,
mentally, and morally to fight when necessary for that which is right.
That a man should make the most of
what equipment he has.
That 'this government of the people,
by the people, and for the people' shall live always.
That men should live by the rule of
what is best for the greatest number.
That sooner or
later...somewhere...somehow...we must settle with the world and make payment
for what we have taken.
That all things change but truth,
and that truth alone, lives on forever.
In my Creator, my country, my fellow
man.
I will be
the first to admit that there was as much corn as gold in our Golden Age of Pop
Culture. However… there is something
about the Lone Ranger that still resonates, still has the capacity to touch
some more innocent and hopeful self. And
I say without shame and certainly without irony that I miss him.
Who was
that Masked Man? He was the best part of
ourselves.
