Silver Lode: A Western Parable About McCarthyism (Web Exclusive)
by Larry Ceplair

This western is an apt Cold War companion piece for High Noon (1952) and Johnny Guitar (1954). All three depict an individual standing up against evil in the form of vengeful mobs or gangs, and, in two of the films, false accusations. Silver Lode was produced by Benedict Bogeaus (1904–68), an independent producer who had begun making movies in 1944, and would amass twenty-eight producing credits between 1944 and 1961. (As most independent producers in that period, he had hired at least one blacklisted writer, Dalton Trumbo, at below-market prices, but the project aborted.)

Karen DeWolf (1904–89) wrote the story and screenplay. (She also wrote two others scripts for Bogeaus—Appointment in Honduras and Count the Hours.) Wikipedia and Wikiwand state that she had been blacklisted but not when. The only evidence cited by both pieces, however, is an article in the Sydney Morning Herald (April 27, 2016), which does not cite its source. Her name is not on any of the usual lists I have seen, nor was she subpoenaed by or named by any witnesses who testified before the House Committee on Un-American Activities, nor was she listed in Red Channels. Further, she was able to write under her own name for all three Bogeaus films as well as dozens of television shows later in the 1950s. And yet, it is interesting to note that the three scripts she wrote for Bogeaus involved social issues, unlike the fifty-two (nine of which were Blondie stories) she wrote for Columbia and other studios. And Silver Lode is politically apt.

The director, Allan Dwan (1885–1981), was one of the oldest working directors in Hollywood. He began his career in 1911, and received 407 director, fifty-three writer, and forty producer credits. Neither he nor any of the leads (John Payne, Lizbeth Scott, Dan Duryea, or Dolores Moran [wife of Bogeaus]) had any run-ins with congressional investigating committees or private investigating firms.

It is curious, however, that the movie was distributed by RKO, which was headed by the virulently anticommunist Howard Hughes. Perhaps he thought the movie was not about the Cold War, but simply a clone of mob-violence movies such as The Oxbow Incident or Fury. Tony Shaw, in Hollywood’s Cold War, states that neither DeWolf nor Dwan had “overt political objectives,” but to accept that conclusion requires that one harbor a very narrow definition of “political objectives.” A few lines later, Shaw contradicts himself when he states that the film seems “to be criticizing the very process of political investigations.”

In some ways, Silver Lode is reminiscent of High Noon. It begins with a wedding between the hero, Dan Ballard (Payne) and Rose (Scott). In this case, however, a revenge-seeking gang posing as U. S. Marshals interrupts the wedding, whereas in High Noon the avenging gang arrives after the wedding. Ballard is not, like Gary Cooper, a sheriff. He came to town two years ago, with $20,000 in his pocket and invested it very wisely. He is now one of the town’s leading citizens, liked and admired by all.

There is one obvious and one subtle reference to the domestic Cold War. The villain’s name is Fred McCarty (Duryea). More subtly, it appears simply to be a contest between an upstanding citizen, with a past open to question, and a thug. Ballard is a smooth, soft-spoken, considerate man. McCarty is abrasive, aggressive, and disreputable. I believe DeWolf intended this contest as a reproduction of the Alger Hiss/Whittaker Chambers confrontation of 1948–50. The suave, upper-class Hiss, supported, at first, by his cohorts (Secretary of State Dean Acheson famously said, “I do not intend to turn my back on Alger Hiss”) versus the questionable, declassé Chambers.

As in High Noon, the hero (Sheriff Kane/Ballard) has to kill to survive, but since Ballard is not a sheriff, the writers have him killing only the bad guys (Stuart Whitman and Alan Hale Jr.), while simply wounding the good guys. Also, there is the conventional contrast between the virgin (Grace Kelly/Lizbeth Scott) and the prostitute or bar girl with a heart of gold (Katy Jurado/Dolores Moran). In this movie, the judge is a just man, trying to do the right thing, whereas in High Noon, the judge flees at the first sign of trouble. Finally, the townspeople in High Noon refuse, from the outset, to support Kane, whereas in Silver Lode, the townspeople are fully supportive at the beginning, and then they turn.

There is one more political motif. Though the townspeople have known Ballard for two years, they do not know anything about his past. When McCarty and his “deputies” ride into town, to arrest Ballard, accusing him of cheating McCarty’s brother in a card game and then shooting him in the back, Ballard refuses to tell his side of the story. In effect, he is utilizing the Fifth Amendment.

At first the town’s citizens stand behind Ballard, with only an occasional voice of dissent, even when the judge declares that the arrest warrant and McCarty’s credentials seem to be authentic. At that point, Ballard believes his only chance to avoid being killed by McCarty (on the trail back to California) is to telegraph authorities in California, to ascertain McCarty’s bona fides. However, the telegraph lines are discovered to have been cut (by McCarty we later learn), and the telegraph operator (Frank Sully) goes to mend them.           

Meanwhile, Ballard, hoping to handle the situation peacefully and legally, refuses the offer of a gun from his brother-in-law to be, telling him, “When you kill one man, it’s not so hard to kill the second. The third one’s easy.” He tells Rose that he did not attempt to explain to the townspeople what had actually happened in that card game, because he did shoot McCarty’s brother, albeit in self-defense after winning $20,000 from him in a card game. (As in the domestic Cold War, there is a grain of truth in the accusation, but it has been twisted.) When Ballard asks for a stay of execution of the warrant, to telegraph his request, the judge refuses: “It has taken a long time to build law and order in this town. We can’t overthrow it now.” Ballard then asks for a two-hour delay. The sheriff supports him and McCarty agrees, “It looks like law and order is back in control.” But the audience knows that law and order is crumbling, Ballard is manipulating it, the judge is being naive, and McCarty is being cynical.

With the help of his old flame, Dolly (Moran), Ballard bribes Johnson (Harry Carey Jr.), one of the “deputies,” to reveal the truth about McCarty—his warrant and credentials are forged. When the sheriff overhears this conversation, McCarty shoots him and Johnson and accuses Ballard of the killings. When the townspeople enter the scene of the shooting and see Ballard holding the guns of Johnson and the sheriff, they turn on Ballard. Only Rose remains loyal. Ballard escapes, and a house-to-house search for him begins. Rose and Dolly join forces to bully the telegraph operator, who has repaired the lines, into sending Ballard’s telegrams. Impatient, they also bully him to write a phony telegram exposing McCarty.

Meanwhile, Ballard has sought refuge in the church. (In High Noon, Kane had gone to a church to ask the parishioners to support him, to no avail.) When the mob breaks in, Ballard retreats to the top of the belfry, where McCarty confronts him. When the false telegram arrives, and is read out loud by the judge, McCarty begins shooting at Ballard. Ballard swings the church bell toward McCarty, and one of the bullets ricochets and kills McCarty. When Ballard descends, the townspeople apologize, but Ballard scorns them, telling them that a minute ago they were ready to kill him. As he says, bitterly, “A man’s life can hang on a piece of paper.”

Silver Lode is, then, an ironic look at “law and order” and “legality.” It demonstrates that under these rubrics much harm can be created by unscrupulous people, ideologues, and public gullibility. Ballard, unlike Kane, is an impure hero—innocent of the charges—but ready to use any means to avoid being arrested (and killed by McCarty).

Larry Ceplair is author of numerous books, including The Inquisition in Hollywood: Politics in the Film Community, 1930–1960 and, most recently, Revolutionary Pairs: Marx and Engels, Lenin and Trotsky, Gandhi and Nehru, Mao and Zhou, Castro and Guevara. 

Copyright © 2020 by Cineaste Magazine

Cineaste, Vol. XLVI, No. 1