Television Review: HONDO: "Hondo and the Apache Kid" (1967)

"Your lives are meaningless compared to HONDO!"






HONDO: "Hondo and the Apache Kid"  (1967 ABC-TV/MGM/Batjac Productions) Episode 6; Original Air Date: October 13, 1967.  Starring Ralph Taeger as Hondo Lane, Noah Beery Jr. as Buffalo Baker, Kathie Browne as Angie Dow, Gary Clarke as Captain Richards, Michael Pate as Chief Vittoro, Buddy Foster as Johnny Dow, William Bryant as Colonel Crook.  Guest Stars Nick Adams as The Apache Kid, Farley Granger as Jack Graham, Danielle Rotar as Star Bird, Sofia Marie as Emmy Jo, Stan Barrett as Running Wolf, James Beck as Highton.  Written by Frank L. Moss.  Directed by William Witney.


Series Overview for HONDO: TV's Unlikeliest Cult Hit at this link  

Ace Civil War and Ohio Flood journalist Jack Graham is brought to Arizona territory by his latest cause celebre: the "persecution" of The Apache Kid, childhood friend of Hondo's turned renegade who is wanted for murder (among other crimes).  Graham's articles have already resulted in pressure on Richards to capture the Kid alive.  After Lane is instrumental in doing so, the famed reporter excoriates Hondo in print as a "Judas", putting the scout and all of Fort Lowell under intense scrutiny from coast to coast--and particularly from Washington D.C.

With Graham's unwitting (and unknowing) aid, the Apache Kid soon breaks out of the guardhouse to start a fresh crime spree.  After killing his sentry, the renegade Kid (who is even less welcome on his tribe's land) slays Star Bird's father, kidnapping the bride-to-be and sending her fiancé Running Wolf in pursuit.  With faithful Sam at his side, Hondo gamely tries to track down the escaped prisoner and his badly abused hostage.  Hot on the trail of both is Graham, brandishing a telegraph guaranteeing his "heroic" subject a top attorney.

Like the previous segment, Hondo and the Apache Kid gives us a clueless outsider to the Arizona territory with impressive credentials in his field, but a thoroughly wrongheaded superiority complex.  Jack Graham is hailed as the champion of Pennsylvania coal miners and New England mill workers, but he's out of his element in the southwestern desert--he first "saw an Indian" just three months earlier.

Witnessing the unjust execution of that falsely accused Native American in Texas inspired his current crusade, but unfortunately, Graham's chosen representative is as unworthy a poster boy as he could find: a kidnapper, thief, rapist and murderer.  Hondo gets a terse (ten seconds, tops) soapbox moment, telling the reporter that he's wasting his help on a sociopath hated by his own people that could be used by the numerous Natives who have been wronged and cheated: Delgado (Hondo and the Singing Wire) and especially Ponce Colorados (Hondo and the Savage) come to mind.

Moss avoids some of the pitfalls that befell Frank Chase in that latter teleplay.  Obnoxious Graham threatens to wear out his welcome, but fortunately Moss gives him to us in smaller doses: Graham disappears completely during the episode's middle third while the audience witnesses the treachery that the scribe is oblivious to.  The three Apaches who end up unjustly executed here are all murdered by The Kid, whose every action justifies the jailing (not solitary confinement as embellished by Graham).  An equal opportunity criminal, Moss' Apache Kid also slays a farmer (while raiding the man's home for food) in addition to the aforementioned trooper.

Tarantino favorite William Witney keeps this one moving, staging a badass reveal for Adams and an exciting apprehension of him in the teaser alone.  The director fades in on the collateral damage of the trackdown and doesn't disappoint during the cat and mouse game between Hondo and the Kid.  Lane's frustration at every near miss is palpable as time ticks away for the fugitive's captive--carnal desires after three weeks in the guardhouse are the least of her worries.

Danielle Rotar

One drawback with Hondo and the Apache Kid is the limited depiction of its titular antagonist.  Captain Richards' early assessment of him as just a "bad Indian, that's all" gets some elaboration from Buffalo: the Apache Kid was "like a brother" to Hondo, and the two were trained as Indian scouts by Al Sieber before The Kid broke bad.  It takes a leap of faith to believe that this illiterate, almost mute (he has three words of dialogue, total) Apache Kid could have ever been all that.  There is some historical accuracy in The Kid's presentation here, though the real Apache Kid would have been about ten years old during HONDO's 1870 setting.  The Napoleon complex that Hondo broaches ("Runt of the litter" elicits one of those three words: "Lies!" from the Kid) fits the casting of Nick Adams.

If the Kid's feral manner requires one suspension of disbelief, Adams diminutive stature makes another necessary, particularly in fistfights with Taeger, who is eight inches taller and about 50 pounds heavier.  Fortunately, Adams' trademark intensity helps a great deal towards that end.  The star of Fenady's THE REBEL some six years earlier, Adams is consistently ferocious and elusive.  His Kid also shows a remarkable gift for infiltration time and time again, which helps make it plausible that he learned alongside Lane--"part panther, part Apache" himself--once upon a time.

Jack Graham may seem just as one-note on the surface, but on closer inspection he's broken bad himself.  It's clear from his reputation and past triumphs that he started out as a true champion of underdogs before losing his way.  He states he's there to see that the Kid is treated fairly, but his actions tell us that journalistic objectivity has long fallen by the wayside: Graham is addicted to the power his pen gives him.  Charles Foster Kane's belief that people will think "what I tell them to think" comes to mind.  Any information that contradicts the narrative he's constructing is dismissed as a lie--Graham simply cannot be dissuaded from making his latest "discovery" into a larger than life hero (the Kid appears as tall as the mountains on the newspaper's front page).

After Graham's close call (yes, his muse turns on him), does he seek out any of the numerous Native Americans that (as Lane stated) could "use his help"?  No, the writer only knows one way to apologize, and it's a self serving one--he attempts to make Lane into his next sensationalized hero (after trashing the scout's reputation for weeks).  Of course, the prospect of Graham "repaying his debt" by making Hondo the next protagonist of his "dime novel garbage" gets the reaction you'd expect.  After an hour with this blowhard, it is a satisfying thing to see.

Chief Vittoro adds gravitas as always, another improvement over the prior segment.  The Apache's leader is with Hondo in spirit but unable to assist him since the scout's task involves taking the Kid to "white man's justice".  The Chief would prefer to do away with the murderer the Apache way, and turned out to be right in this instance, since a sequel (Hondo and the Apache Trail) was needed.

HOW MANY CANS OF WHOOPASS?

That pictured punch in the tag aside, Emberato's temper has improved ever since the closure provided in Hondo and the Superstition Massacre.  The inevitable final confrontation with the Kid is Hondo's only other one on one scuffle (the Kid is swarmed in his initial capture) and the scout ends finally ends it with a right cross after the villain's rifle ammunition runs out. 

IS THE CANTINA STILL STANDING?

Proof of just how formidable an adversary we are dealing with: Hondo and Buffalo never get a chance to set foot in their favorite watering hole--a first for the series.

A DOG'S LIFE:

Sam helps with the tracking for two-thirds of Hondo and the Apache Kid, but he spends the final act as a therapy dog for the newly orphaned Emmy Jo.

GUEST CAST NOTES:

Striking Diane Rotar (credited as Danielle), nineteen at the time, was already known as Jennifer Somers on THE VIRGINIAN.  Long-time stunt coordinator Stan Barrett had his first acting credits on HONDO, appearing in three episodes in all.  He too gets to duke it out with The Kid--can't that guy get along with anyone?

THE BOTTOM LINE:

An interesting examination on misuse of the power of the press, Hondo and the Apache Kid also manages to be an exciting chase tale.  In what would end up being one of his final performances, an intense Nick Adams makes a lot out of very little dialogue.  The physical mismatch between the antagonists hurts some, and the script asks for more from Sofia Marie than she can give in a key scene.  More satisfying than not overall, though.  The Kid's return (Hondo and the Apache Trail) is free of the overbearing reporter and the child actors, and is a better overall effort as a result.  (**1/2 out of four)

HONDO airs every Saturday afternoon at 3:30 PM Central on GetTV. Effective July 3rd, 2016, HONDO changes time slots, to Sunday mornings at 6 A.M. Central on GetTV.

TV Sidekick Blogathon: HONDO's Helpers

This is the second of two Horn Section contributions to the TV Sidekick Blogathon, hosted by Rick at the Classic Film and TV Cafe.  This three day blogathon covers Classic (pre-1990) television's greatest sidekicks; be sure to check out all of the entries to read about twenty-two of the memorable characters who never failed to make the top banana look good.

For today's entry, we stay on ABC and in a post-Civil War setting.  But we move from comedy to drama; from the midwest to the southwest; from Fort Courage to Fort Lowell; and from a uniformed Sergeant to a half-Apache army scout wearing buckskins.  Being buried in a killer time slot by ABC meant that Hondo Lane had the misfortune of a short prime time run in 1967, but he was rediscovered and appreciated in reruns.

Hondo Lane got very little help from his network, but he had plenty of assistance onscreen from his faithful dog Sam and an equally loyal fellow scout named Buffalo Baker.  
 

(L to R) Hondo, Buffalo and Sam

Since Lane's canine companion gets a lot of coverage in every installment of The Horn Section's HONDO episode guide, today's post will start with the formidable, funny yet often overlooked Buffalo. 

Now don't get riled up, Sam. You'll get your chance later!.


In the original 1953 HONDO film starring John Wayne, Buffalo Baker took a back seat to the titular character's canine pal, widow Angie Lowe and her son Johnny.  Sam was at his human's side at all times, and much of the film takes place at the Lowe's ranch.  Played by the burly and bearded Ward Bond (WAGON TRAIN), Buffalo came across like a physically imposing Gabby Hayes in his handful of scenes.

Ward Bond as Buffalo Baker

Producer Andrew J. Fenady moved the action to Fort Lowell for the TV series and sought to make Buffalo Baker more of a traditional sidekick, albeit one who would defy some of our expectations (starting with the loss of the whiskers).  He cast amiable character actor Noah Beery, Jr., who had been playing good-natured friends of the hero for over twenty years when HONDO premiered on September 8, 1967.

Beery's Baker

Baker ended up with a much larger role in the HONDO series.  Angie Dow (Kathie Browne) and Chief Vittoro (Michael Pate, reprising his film role), both appeared in six of the first eight installments, but Angie was missing from seven of the final nine and Vittoro from six.  In contrast, Buffalo was the only character besides Hondo Lane to appear in all 17 segments, gaining screen time as the show jelled.  While this was partly a mechanism of the action moving to the Fort, Beery's charismatic performance and his chemistry with Ralph Taeger were also factors in the expansion of his role after the pilot.

Hey, the man had to be doing something right to take screen time away from Kathie Browne!

In the two part series opener (Hondo and the Eagle Claw and Hondo and the War Cry), Beery's Baker is a fairly straightforward Pat Buttram type: beating sore loser Ed Dow at poker, struggling with his fight (a captured renegade Apache), fiercely loyal to his fellow scout, and persuading the hero to buy their beers--subsequently drinking about half of Hondo's while Lane is defending Sam from irate cowpokes.

To be fair, Buffalo is an equal opportunity mooch who also bums drinks off of Colonel Crook and a traveling medicine show salesman (in Hondo and the Hanging Town).  (Teetotaler Captain Richards is never much help for him in this department.)

Stereotypical comic relief at first look, but Buffalo defies some of the initial expectations.  He proves to be formidable assistance mentally and physically in subsequent episodes.  He's as keen an observer of humans as Hondo: correctly surmising that the telegraph owner they're assigned to protect (Hondo and the Singing Wire) is "lower than the belt buckle on a snake" and setting a crusading reporter straight about the history of Hondo and the Apache Kid. 

Fierce loyalty is arguably Baker's defining quality.  When Hondo chooses an insubordination charge rather than be the courier to Chief Vittoro for an ill-conceived order by wunderkind Colonel "Buckeye Jack" Smith (Hondo and the War Hawks), Buffalo is next in line--and promptly joins his fellow scout in the guardhouse.  Buffalo sells Colonel Crook on supporting Hondo's risky rescue plan in Hondo and the Comancheros despite facing a return trip.

Lest you think that Buffalo is blindly devoted--well, think again.  A rugged individualist himself, Baker sets Hondo straight when necessary, most memorably in a tense moment during Hondo and the Gladiators.

Most of the time, Buffalo Baker eschewed his fists to provide well-timed sidearm support in the frequent cantina fights  ("You watch--I'll referee" he advises a surly cattleman in War Cry).  But don't be fooled by his seeming reticence to throw punches: Baker is one sidekick more than capable of holding his own at fisticuffs despite seeming slight in stature (Beery was 5'11" compared to Taeger's 6'3").  Two examples: Buffalo capably handles his man in a donnybrook with villainous Tribolet's henchmen in Hondo and the War Hawks and dispatches the larger, younger L.Q. Jones one on one in Hondo and the Death Drive.

Savvy Baker is rarely helpless--it is just as likely that Buffalo will rescue Hondo as vice versa--maybe even moreso.  Baker does it twice in Hondo and the Superstition Massacre.  Baker is the only man who can stop Hondo from literally beating his wife's killer to death (Captain Richards and several troopers fail to stop Lane first) and, as Captain Richards points out, facing a murder charge.  Later Buffalo arrives in the nick of time after renegade Pimas capture Lane, saving the day a second time.  The tough old bird achieves all of this on a cane after suffering a "hollowed-out leg" from a Pima gunshot in the opening minute!

Baker also provides a timely assist in Hondo and the Death Drive when the hero faces a lynch mob led by a corrupt cattleman.  In one of Beery's finest and funniest scenes of the series, he shows Buffalo's aptitude at thinking fast by bamboozling the local authorities and engineering a jailbreak to keep the titular Drive going (and Hondo out of the hangman's noose).

Rest assured, though--while it's clear that Buffalo Baker is no bumbling sidekick, he isn't hypercompetent either.  He provides healthy comic relief on a weekly basis.  Hondo is perpetually put-upon at the cantina, since Baker always has "too much month left" after his pay runs out.  Buffalo is outwardly willing to pay Hondo back "later" for a drink today (or three), but "later" never arrives--at least, not during the seventeen adventures we see.

If Buffalo isn't drinking away his money, he's gambling with it.  He's sharp at poker, but Buffalo can't resist the temptation to make bad bets away from the cards (i.e. on himself at arm wrestling).

Yes, this bottle is on  Hondo, as usual.

Buffalo's literacy is a little shaky--he struggles to read a telegram in Hondo and the Judas but seems to have no problem with the newspaper in Hondo and the Apache Kid.  However, the grizzled scout's devotion to friends, insolvency and fondness for alcoholic beverages are all as reliable as the sunrise.

Occasionally there's a nugget about Buffalo's personal life.  Baker anxiously awaits a letter (which doesn't arrive) from the "little filly" he spent a month's wages on, prefers "carrot topped" ladies, and briefly considers a career change to bounty hunting.  That's about it for Buffalo's life away from the Fort.  For all we know, he spends every moment that he's off duty at one of the southwest's many cantinas.

And that's OK.  Noah Beery Jr.'s animated garrulity provided the perfect contrast to Ralph Taeger's ill tempered stoicism.  Beery gives the sober-faced reactor plenty to react to, providing just the right amount of levity to some rather tense stories.  Beery's signature role was yet to come (THE ROCKFORD FILES, of course, where he supported James Garner just as ably), but he was as responsible as anyone for the cult following that grew when HONDO was given its chance at rediscovery on TNT in the 1990's.

Buffalo Baker wasn't the only helping hand available to Hondo Lane.  Then again, technically he was, since our hero's other sidekick was lending a helping paw.

It's your turn, Sam!

Hondo's non-human sidekick isn't quite as mangy and feral as he looked in the Wayne film, but he's every bit as independent.  "Sam does what he wants to do" as Hondo constantly reminds us--and what he wants to do is go wherever Hondo Lane goes.

Sam doesn't depend on Hondo; his human won't allow it.  While there's talk of Sam getting fat on table scraps, we never see those leftovers coming from Lane.  Sam is consistently told to "get his own" dinner.  That usually means catching a jackrabbit, but Sam sometimes finds other delicacies.  Angie Dow's homemade apple pies, for example:

Finders keepers, right Hondo?

It's apparent from the beginning there's nothing sappy about this relationship between a man and his dog.   When Hondo is captured by renegade Silva in Hondo and the Eagle Claw he simply tells Sam to "beat it"--an order that the faithful canine obeys.   Sam's rare display of affection (he licks his human's hand) during the subsequent Hondo and the War Cry has Lane wondering if the dog has stumbled into some "loco weed".

While Sam is an appealing scene-stealer, he isn't an impossibly Heroic Dog. Sam still contributes whenever possible during a scuffle.  Whether Hondo is battling no good thieves.....

......or renegade Apaches....

.....Sam has a knack for finding that one adversary who is terrified of dogs, and exploiting the weakness.  Sam takes his man out of the action as thoroughly as Deion Sanders ever did.

The scratches on Sam's nose tell you he's taken a licking and kept on ticking, and we see it firsthand when the courageous canine takes the battle to Hondo's fiercest foe, the vicious and psychopathic Apache Kid (Nick Adams):

Sam also rivals Buffalo's ability to come through in the clutch.  Hondo's furrier sidekick has a knack for distracting gunmen who get the drop on Lane (most notably in Hondo and the Mad Dog), and makes the rescue in Hondo and the Superstition Massacre possible by showing up at Fort Lowell with Hondo's eagle claw.

Sam the therapy dog.  Where's his vest?

Sam has a lot more to offer than just faithful companionship and courage in battle; he's no Lassie, but he is versatile in his own right.  In Hondo and the Death Drive he offers adept assistance to herding dog Maria during a sheep drive, and might well have himself a girlfriend by episode's end.  Sam also proves to be a great therapy dog for Johnny Dow after his mother Angie is kidnapped by banditos in Hondo and the Comancheros.

And like most dogs, he likes to play fetch.  Difference is, Sam is always fetching Hondo's horse.

A lovable dog is always going to steal scenes from even the funniest humans.  Storylines too.  Buffalo was never the focal point of a plot during HONDO's brief run, while Sam was twice.  Hondo and the Mad Dog saw him as the only witness to a murder, which led the killer to use a hydrophobia scare in an attempt to eliminate the canine before he can lead Lane to the body.  Hondo and Sam end up getting each other out of jams by segment's end, but forget about our rough hero getting maudlin after the close call--Sam is still hunting his own dinner as we fade out.  Unlike Buffalo, Sam never asks for anything, except to share in his owner's adventures.

Did I say his owner?  I almost forgot--Hondo consistently disavows ownership of Sam.  Not because he doesn't want the responsibility.  No, Lane explains that he treasures Sam's independence.   Hondo and the Gladiators gives us clarity before the series wrapped up (only two episodes remained).  After Hondo's statement that Sam "belongs to no one but himself" is taken at face value outside the comfortable confines of Fort Lowell, the canine is drugged and dognapped by a sadistic showman intent on turning Sam into a pit fighter.  For once, the tough exterior cracks just a bit and we see how Hondo really feels about his four legged friend.  I haven't reviewed this one yet in my episode guide, so--no spoilers.  I'll just say that for a show about a gruff loner, HONDO could sure produce emotionally resonant moments.

Sam had a lot to do with HONDO developing its TNT following.  A show with a smart, brave dog had to be appealing to the Saturday morning audience.  Particularly older kids, since Fenady was careful not to exaggerate either quality.

With a mere seventeen episodes, HONDO is one show that leaves you wanting more.  Buffalo and Sam both helped make those segments that we do have highly rewatchable.

If you'd like to catch HONDO, you're in luck if you have Dish Network or a Roku:  HONDO: THE COMPLETE SERIES is currently streaming at Warner Archive Instant and also airs every Saturday afternoon at 3:30 PM Central on GetTV.