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Cowboys, Creatures and Classics: The Story of Republic Pictures

Herbert Yates, a tall, compact man in his mid-fifties, stood staring out the window of his magnificent office at Republic Pictures in Studio City, California, surveying the domain spread before him. A scene from a western film was being rehearsed in the middle distance. The usual, turbulent activity surrounded it: extras, makeup women, cameramen, grips, assistants, set designers, etc. Yates lit a cigar the size of a baby’s leg and held it tightly in his teeth. He took a long puff and blew the smoke out the corner of his mouth and checked the pockets of his charcoal gray, Brooks Brothers suit for the additional cigars he had tucked away. He patted them reassuringly, then rolled the fat stogie from one side of his mouth to the other.

Yates had acquired his taste for cigars while working as a salesman at the American Tobacco Company. Paired with a stiff bow tie, a receding hairline, and a dour expression, the cigar added a layer of seriousness to his persona. As head of a burgeoning, motion picture studio, he felt the look was necessary. He wanted to appear menacing. More often than not, his business approach was “never underestimate the power of good, old-fashioned intimidation.”

Herbert Yates founded Republic Pictures in 1935, but his history working in the movie industry began twenty years prior to the creation of the studio. Yates’ introduction to cinema came by way of a film-processing business called Hedwig Laboratories. He learned all about developing celluloid and relationships with some of the most profitable filmmaking executives in the field. He parlayed his knowledge into his own processing venture called Consolidated Film Industries. In a short time, Consolidated Film Industries became the leading laboratory in southern California. They processed negatives and made prints for the majority of movies produced by studios such as First National Pictures, Warner Bros., and Fox Film Corporation. Consolidated Film Industries proved to be extremely profitable for Yates, and he sought other areas of the industry of which to be a part. He acquired record companies and financed ventures for director Mack Sennett and comedic actor Fatty Arbuckle.

Within eight weeks of advancing funds to Sennett and Arbuckle, Yates received a 100 percent return on his investment. The speed in which his funds were replenished intrigued him. Yates saw the profit to be made in producing motion pictures, and it whetted his appetite for further opportunities.

To learn more about the many films Republic Pictures produced read

Cowboys, Creatures and Classics: The Story of Republic Pictures

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Cowboys, Creatures and Classics: The Story of Republic Pictures

Not so many generations ago boys and girls of all ages flocked to movie houses across the country to watch gallant heroes in white hats outwit sinister bankers or corrupt government officials. They shrieked as lovely damsels in distress dangled precariously on a branch high above a yawning chasm. They cheered when the good guy rescued the frightened female and applauded when the villain in the black hat was hauled off to the hoosegow. Only a handful of Hollywood movie companies in the post-depression era produced such films and among those only one dominated the business – Republic Pictures.

Some of Hollywood’s most notable stars and best known characters of the 30s, 40s, and 50s rose to prominence at Republic Pictures. For nearly twenty-five years the studio produced Saturday afternoon serials starring such characters as Rocket Man, Dick Tracy, The Lone Ranger, Zorro, Captain Marvel and countless “cowboy operas” or singing cowboy pictures starring such well known figures as Roy Rogers and Gene Autry. The studio helped launch the career of the legendary John Wayne, who made thirty-three films for the company, including such notable efforts as Sands of Iwo Jima, The Quiet Man, and the Fighting Seabees.

Under Republic Picture’s majestic banner of an eagle perched high atop a mountain peak, low budget, action films such as Spy Smasher and the Perils of Nyoka were made. Big budget motion pictures such as Macbeth and Man of Conquest were also produced by the company recognized as one of history’s most prolific studios. More than 1,100 movies were made by Republic Pictures during the twenty-four years the studio was in existence.

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Cowboys, Creatures and Classics: The Story of Republic Pictures

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Sam Sixkiller: Cherokee Frontier Lawman

It was a warm September evening in 1886 when the citizens of Muskogee gathered in the center of town to enjoy a concert given by the Muskogee Amateur Italienne Musical Society. Horses and wagons lined the streets. The performers tuned their instruments and greeted crowd members anxious to express their support. Excited children chased one another around, and families jockeyed for the best positions in front of a crude bandstand. Women huddled together discussing their day and comforting fussy infants who were unsettled by the flurry of activity.

Before the event officially began, the sound of rapid gunfire echoed off the buildings that framed the main thoroughfare. The gunshots grew louder, and suddenly a pair of horsemen appeared riding pell-mell toward the congregation. People scattered. Running for cover, families disappeared into businesses and homes. The cries of astonishment and fear from the unassuming townspeople had no effect on the two riders. Black Hoyt, a half-blood Cherokee with whom Captain Sixkiller had previous dealings, and a white man named Jess Nicholson gouged their boot spurs into the sides of their mounts and charged down the street, shooting their weapons at anything that moved.

The out-of-control men were drunk and enjoying the chaos their wild behavior caused among the startled townspeople. Captain Sixkiller and the police officers that worked with him, including Charles LeFlore, rushed onto the scene brandishing their own guns. The captain shouted at Black and Nicholson to stop, but the men were not inclined to do so. After a few moments of waiting for the two rowdies to do as they were told, the Muskogee police force managed to corner the riders. LeFlore ordered them to throw their pistols down, and Captain Sixkiller informed them they were under arrest. Neither of the men complied.

A tense hush filled the air as Hoyt and Nicholson considered their options. The captain studied the belligerent looks on their darkly flushed features. “Give us your guns now,” he demanded, “before someone gets hurt.” Hoyt shifted in his saddle and rubbed off the sweat standing on his chin with his right shoulder. His arm was missing from the elbow down, and his shirtsleeve was pinned over the remaining portion of the limb. Hoyt had lost his arm in June 1886 after he was shot by an unknown assailant while at Fort Gibson, Oklahoma Territory. The bullet fractured the lower third of the appendage, and amputation was his only chance of recovery. Black and his father, Milo, objected at first, but after conferring with a second doctor, realized there was no other option. The younger Hoyt recovered quickly from the chloroform and, as soon as he could, left the post doctor’s office to avoid any further attempts on his life. With Milo’s help he learned how to ride and shoot holding the reins of his horse and pistol in the same hand.

Black smiled a nervous smile and shifted his glance back and forth from Charles LeFlore to Captain Sixkiller. The captain wore a serious, determined expression. Hoyt screwed up all his drunken courage and nodded. “Go to hell!” he barked at the lawmen.It wasn’t the first time Stubbs had been accused of stealing the pistol from Rushing. Although Stubbs denied taking the gun, the men continued to come around and harass him for the item. They refused to accept the storeowner’s claim that he knew nothing of it. Rushing finally told him he intended to get seventeen dollars for the weapon before he left or there would be “hell to pay.”

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Sam Sixkiller: Cherokee Frontier Lawman

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Sam Sixkiller: Cherokee Frontier Lawman

Captain Sam Sixkiller crossed the timber-lined banks of the Arkansas River atop a big, brown roan. The well-traveled trail that lay out in front of him looked like an ecru ribbon thrown down across the prairie grass. Riding a few paces behind the lawman was Deputy Bill Drew. Neither man spoke as they traveled. A herd of cattle in the near distance plodded along slowly toward a small stream. A couple of calves held back, bawling for their mothers, who had left them a safe distance behind. Upon reaching the stream the cows buried their noses in the water. They paid no attention to the approaching riders as they enjoyed a refreshing drink.

Captain Sixkiller pulled back on the reins of his horse, slowing the animal’s pace. He stared thoughtfully, considering the proximity of the cattle to the crude camp behind the field of prairie grass reaching to the horizon. Deputy Drew watched the captain, waiting for the officer to proceed. Both men knew the danger inherent in the job they’d set out to do that day in early January 1886. They were tracking a murderer named Alfred “Alf” Rushing, also known as Ed Brown.

Nine years prior to Captain Sixkiller leaving Muskogee on a cold winter’s day to apprehend Rushing, the elusive rowdy had shot and killed the marshal of Wortham, Texas. The Houston and Texas Central Railway ran through this busy cotton farm community, attracting nefarious characters like Rushing, a cattle rustler and bootlegger who hoped to make a fortune selling liquor and robbing business owners in the farming town. On December 8, 1879, Rushing and two accomplices had ridden into Wortham and made their way to J. J. Stubb’s general store. All three were armed with shotguns and hell-bent on retrieving a pistol they claimed Stubbs had stolen from them.

It wasn’t the first time Stubbs had been accused of stealing the pistol from Rushing. Although Stubbs denied taking the gun, the men continued to come around and harass him for the item. They refused to accept the storeowner’s claim that he knew nothing of it. Rushing finally told him he intended to get seventeen dollars for the weapon before he left or there would be “hell to pay.”

To learn more about the courageous lawman Sam Sixkiller read

Sam Sixkiller: Cherokee Frontier Lawman

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Sam Sixkiller: Cherokee Frontier Lawman

Sheriff John Culp and Constable Rush Meadows of Chick County, Texas, raced their foam-flecked horses into a dense stand of trees leading to the Arbuckle Mountains, several miles north of Muskogee. The seasoned riders guided their mounts around centuries-old pines and oaks, twisted with age, and massive boulders keeping company with the crowded forest.

The lawmen were in pursuit of the outlaw Dick Glass. Glass rode hard, maneuvering his horse in and out of downed timbers. An insane rage possessed him—he could not allow himself to be caught. He dug his heels into his ride and steered the animal toward an embankment. A wind that seemed to blow from the outer spaces of eternity swept his hat off. He didn’t even glance after it.

The one thousand dollar reward for Glass’s capture, offered by the US Western District Federal Court, spurred the officers on. Glass was a Creek Freedman—half Indian, half black—and a one-time farmer in the Creek Nation. When the Civil War ended in 1865, all the slaves belonging to Indians became free and equal. Generations of Creek Freedmen had been raised on the land they worked, and they wanted part of it for their own once the battle between the states had concluded. Not only was their request denied, but also they were dispossessed because they weren’t Indian. Men like Dick Glass were bitter over the unjust treatment and many turned to a life of crime and retaliation.

In late March 1885 Glass and the gang of miscreants that usually rode with him were run out of the Creek Nation for rustling cattle, stealing horses, and murdering. He reluctantly obliged, taking with him other Creek Freedmen who had partnered with him in his lawless activities.

Glass roamed through the Seminole, Pottawatomie, and Chickasaw Nations to the Texas line before settling a spot seven miles from Muskogee known as the Point. Glass and his gang made their way back to the Point after every criminal act. It was their rendezvous location, and lawmen who came looking and found him there never lived long enough to report it. There were no cabins, lean-tos, or barns on the property. Glass and the other desperados slept outdoors, exposed to the elements.

To learn more about the courageous lawman Sam Sixkiller read

Sam Sixkiller: Cherokee Frontier Lawman