Tim McCoy stars. One of the biggest Western stars of the late-silent, early-talkie era, McCoy (1881-1978) was one of the very few leading actors of the genre to actually have been a cowboy. He worked on a Wyoming ranch and, according to various sources, became an expert rider and roper with an extraordinarily fast draw. He later served as a territorial Indian agent, and became proficient in several Indian languages (a talent, alas, not on display in Texas Cyclone). Despite an enduring popularity, McCoy steadily worked his way down, studio wise. He went from silent films at MGM to talkies at Universal and Columbia, and then ended up on Poverty Row at Monogram and PRC.

Despite his credentials, onscreen Tim McCoy's Western hero might generously be described as quaint. Wearing an impossibly huge white Stetson, flowing white neckerchief, and an all-black outfit highlighted with an elaborately appointed gunbelt, by today's standards McCoy was almost a parody, with a get-up Bob Hope might have worn on one of his TV specials. Co-star John Wayne, a former USC football player, had nothing like a real cowboy background, yet ironically enough seems far more authentic onscreen, for all his inexperience.

Texas Cyclone's story has "Texas" Grant (McCoy) riding into the town of Stampede, where everyone looks upon him with great shock. Bartender Hefty (Vernon Dent, frequent comic foil of The Three Stooges) explains Grant is the spitting image of Jim Rawlings, owner of the Diamond-R Ranch, who disappeared five years before and was long-assumed to be dead. A veritable doppelganger, Grant decides to let the townsfolk think he is Rawlings in order to help Rawlings' widow, Helena (Shirley Grey), down at the ranch where rustlers, led by Utah Becker (Wheeler Oakman), have been thinning the Diamond-R's herd. With the help of cowhand Steve Pickett (John Wayne), Grant/Rawlings sets out to expose Becker and his men.

Texas Cyclone is blessed with a decent budget, higher certainly than the super-cheap Westerns John Wayne would make for Lone Star Productions a few years later. Directed by D. Ross Lederman, soundstage footage has the staticness of most early talkies, but exteriors are handled well, and a final shootout shows some imagination. A big drawback is the obvious use of fast-motion: all fight scenes and much of the horseback riding is under-cranked, giving them an unintended comical effect.

Besides Vernon Dent, another surprise in the cast is Walter Brennan, then only 38 years old but already playing the cantankerous, toothless old-timer not too far removed from the one he'd play in Red River and Rio Bravo with Wayne years later. Mary Gordon, later a delight as Mrs. Hudson in the Basil Rathbone-Nigel Bruce Sherlock Holmes series, appears here as Helena's matronly chaperone.

As for Wayne, lean and young (he was barely 25 when this was made), for all his inexperience and still not-quite-formed screen persona, he can't help but dominate all the scenes he's in, though he is fidgety and awkward here and there. Amusingly, in one tense scene the brim of actor Wallace MacDonald's cowboy hat bonks Wayne right in the eye. Clearly caught off guard, Wayne staggers slightly, touches his eye and continues the scene. Minor actor that he was, a second take on such a cheaply-made Westerns would have been unthinkable. Within a few years, of course, all that would change.

Video & Audio

For those whose B-Western diet has been limited to public domain videotapes and DVD-Rs, Texas Cyclone is something of a revelation. The image is so clean, so sharp you can make out the border of Tim McCoy's toupee, and is virtually free of scratches and age-related wear. Apparently derived from a later reissue (by Gail Pictures), the film lacks the original opening and closing titles (the crude reissue titles, though spotless as well, are cheaply done, and misspell Walter Brennan's name), but otherwise it's a beauty. The mono sound is also better than average for a film of this vintage. Optional subtitles in English, Japanese, and Spanish are available. There are no Extra Features, not even a trailer.

Parting Thoughts

General audiences aren't likely to get much out of Texas Cyclone, but thanks to Columbia's gorgeous transfer, this is something anyone with an interest in B-Westerns, Tim McCoy or John Wayne will surely want to seek out. Keep 'em coming, Columbia. Recommended.

Stuart Galbraith IV is a Los Angeles and Kyoto-based film historian whose work includes The Emperor and the Wolf -- The Lives and Films of Akira Kurosawa and Toshiro Mifune. His new book, Cinema Nippon will be published by Taschen in 2005.