The Outlaw


2h 3m 1943
The Outlaw

Brief Synopsis

Billy the Kid and Doc Holliday fight over possession of a stallion and a sultry Mexican girl.

Film Details

Genre
Western
Release Date
Jan 1943
Premiere Information
World premiere in San Francisco: 5 Feb 1943
Production Company
Hughes Productions
Distribution Company
RKO Radio Pictures, Inc.; United Artists Corp.
Country
United States

Technical Specs

Duration
2h 3m
Sound
Mono
Color
Black and White
Theatrical Aspect Ratio
1.37 : 1

Synopsis

Shortly after he disembarks at the Lincoln, New Mexico train depot, gunslinging gambler Doc Holliday reunites with his old friend and former partner-in-crime, Pat Garrett. When Pat, who is now the town's sheriff, hears that the penniless Doc is searching for his horse Red, who has been stolen, he directs his friend to the local dentist's office. There Doc finds Red tied up outside and confronts the young man who comes to claim the horse. Although the youth, William Bonney, an infamous gunslinger known as Billy the Kid, maintains that he bought Red from a stranger, Doc insists that he stole him. Despite their disagreement, Doc takes Billy's side when Pat tries to arrest him for theft. Annoyed, Pat orders Doc and the smooth-talking, quick-fisted Billy to leave town by sundown. Doc and Billy, however, ignore Pat's command and play cards together in the cantina. Doc wins hand after hand from Billy and is unruffled when his rival accuses him of cheating. After Doc announces he is giving Red to Billy as a gift, however, he tries to sneak the horse out of the barn, but is caught in the act by a watchful Billy. Moments later, as Billy is about to settle down next to Red, he is shot at by an unseen assailant. In the darkness of the barn, Billy overpowers his attacker, who turns out to be a beautiful woman named Rio McDonald. While struggling to free herself, Rio condemns Billy for murdering her brother and vows to kill him. Billy admits to shooting Rio's brother in a fight over a woman, but insists that the match was fair and gives Rio a passionate kiss. The next morning, in the cantina, Billy is approached by a stranger who identifies himself only as an enemy of Pat. The stranger enlists Billy's help in confronting Pat and suggests they stage a mock fight as practice. Suddenly sensing a set-up, Billy draws his guns one second before the stranger does and kills him. After they learn that the stranger was actually a friend of Pat, Doc advises Billy to flee, but Billy insists on facing the sheriff. Maintaining that he was pushed into the gunfight, Billy refuses to give himself up to Pat and his deputies, and is shot by Pat. Before Pat can fire his rifle again, Doc shoots the gun out of his hand and downs two of his deputies. As Doc and a wounded Billy are about to leave the cantina, Pat angrily declares his friendship with Doc "finished." Doc takes Billy to recuperate at Rio's house, unaware that Rio, his girl friend, had previously tried to kill Billy. After Doc leaves, Rio contemplates stabbing the unconscious Billy, but is unable to do the deed. Instead, Rio and her aunt Guadalupe nurse Billy through fever and chills until, one month later, he is recovered. Rio admits to Billy that she is Doc's "girl," but gives in to his seductive charm and kisses him. Soon after, Doc returns and learns that Rio married Billy during one of his delirious periods but has not told him about their new relationship. Although Doc is angered by Rio's change of heart, he is more infuriated by Billy's continued insistence that Red is his horse. To resolve the matter, Billy offers Doc a choice between Red and Rio. Doc quickly picks Red over Rio, and the two men ride off toward the desert together. When they see Pat approaching in the distance, they deduce that Rio revealed their route and then discover that she filled their canteens with sand. After a thirsty night, Doc wakes to find Billy gone and Pat at his side. Pat arrests Doc, while Billy sneaks into Rio's house and takes her by surprise. Later, on the trail, Doc and Pat find Rio tied between two rocks, abandonded with no water. Confident that Billy will return to free Rio, Doc and Pat lie in wait for him. As predicted, Billy shows up the next morning and is apprehended. While Doc and Billy argue about whether Billy is in love with Rio, a hostile Indian group sends smoke signals announcing the white men's presence. Pat, Billy and Doc jump on their horses and head for nearby Fort Sumner, but are soon overtaken by the Indians. Reluctantly, Pat gives Billy and Doc guns, and the three men charge madly for the fort, chased closely by the Indians. By dragging cacti behind them, the men create a moving dust storm, which causes the Indians to give up their pursuit. While the men stop at a house to rest, Pat gives owner Pablo a note to deliver to the Fort Sumner marshal. Overhearing Pat and Pablo's conversation, Doc is about to flee on Red when he is stopped by Billy, who insists once more that the horse belongs to him. Billy challenges Doc to a duel over Red, and although Billy outdraws Doc, he is unable to shoot him. Annoyed by Billy's sudden passivity, Doc shoots the youth's hand and then his earlobes. Stating that Doc is the only partner he has ever had, Billy refuses to fight back, however, and the two men finally reconcile. Humiliated by Doc's obvious preference for Billy, Pat explodes with anger and shoots Doc. The next morning, after a remorseful Pat and Billy bury their friend, Pat allows Billy to leave. As he is about to ride off, Billy invites Rio to join him, and Rio happily accepts.

Film Details

Genre
Western
Release Date
Jan 1943
Premiere Information
World premiere in San Francisco: 5 Feb 1943
Production Company
Hughes Productions
Distribution Company
RKO Radio Pictures, Inc.; United Artists Corp.
Country
United States

Technical Specs

Duration
2h 3m
Sound
Mono
Color
Black and White
Theatrical Aspect Ratio
1.37 : 1

Articles

Christina Rice on Jane Russell


Christina Rice is a librarian, historian and archivist and the author of Ann Dvorak: Hollywood’s Forgotten Rebel. Her latest book Mean...Moody...Magnificent!: Jane Russell and the Marketing of a Hollywood Legend is the first-ever biography of Jane Russell to be published and is timed perfectly for the 100th anniversary of the screen legend’s birth. In this interview, Rice shares details about Russell’s film career, her legacy heading WAIF (World Adoption International Fund) and Rice’s process in writing her book. 

In 2013, you published a biography on Ann Dvorak which went on to garner much acclaim. How did you choose Jane Russell as your next subject? How do the two compare?

Christina Rice: The Ann Dvorak book had been a deeply personal passion project that took around 15 years to complete, so when it finally came out, I figured I was DONE writing Hollywood biographies! After I had some distance from that book, I unexpectedly found myself contemplating diving into a similar project. Many of my favorites already had books written about them, so I turned to my publisher, the University Press of Kentucky, for advice and they are the ones who recommended Jane Russell. I was surprised to discover that other than Jane’s own 1985 memoir, there had never been a book written about her. She was someone I was very much aware of but knew very little about. After mulling it over for a few months, I finally decided to take the plunge.

The experience was very different from Ann Dvorak in many ways. Whereas Ann was rather reclusive and didn’t leave much of herself for the world other than her films, Jane was hyper-documented from the age of 19 until she passed away a few months before her 90th birthday. Information on Ann was so hard to come by that pretty much everything I found was included in that book. There’s so much on Jane that I had the opposite problem and had to make a lot of choices on what to cut out. As I mentioned, Ann Dvorak was a very personal project and is probably the one time her story will be told with any depth, so I feel like I am the custodian of her legacy. Jane, on the other hand, was able to tell much of her own story, so instead of writing a definitive book, I felt like I was building off of and contextualizing what Jane had already put out there. The other day, someone commented that with Mean…Moody…Magnificent! I’ve gone from fangirl to author, which I think is a good summation!

What kind of research did you do for the book? Did you encounter any major surprises?

Rice: The first thing I did was to read Jane’s memoir to get a sense of where the gaps in her story might be or what topics needed to be fleshed out more. Obviously, the marketing campaign of The Outlaw (1943) and Howard Hughes’ ongoing handling of her publicity was a huge part of her story and something I wanted to explore in depth. Fortunately, the papers of Russell Birdwell, the publicist behind The Outlaw, are at UCLA so I was able to dive into their day-to-day discussions of how to market Jane, which was fascinating.

I was surprised to discover that Jane, with her husband, started their own production company in the mid-1950s which wasn’t super commonplace at that time. Jane’s long-time advocacy work to ease restrictions on international adoption was something I was fascinated by. The library that I work at (Central Library in Los Angeles) actually had a file folder all about Jane’s WAIF foundation, which has a goldmine of information and eventually led me to a gentleman who served as the executive director for a number of years.

Jane Russell was the subject of one of Hollywood’s most elaborate publicity campaigns. How did Russell starring in The Outlaw affect her life and career?

Rice: The publicity campaign for Howard Hughes’ The Outlaw launched Jane’s career and is what introduced her to audiences around the world in early 1941. However, the movie wasn’t even released until 1946, and even then, only on a limited basis. It wasn’t widely released until 1950. She received so much press in the early 1940s that she was often referred to as the “Motionless Picture Actress” because she wasn’t actually showing up in movies! Even though her film career was stalled for most of the decade, the strength of that early Outlaw publicity turned her into a popular pin-up with servicemen during World War II…[and] she still somehow managed to use it to springboard for a decent film career in the 1950s. The way Jane was marketed for that film was often a bitter pill for her to swallow, but she learned to live with it and make the best of it.

Russell’s career as an actress was intrinsically tied to Howard Hughes who kept her under contract for many years. What was their working relationship like?

Rice: Jane’s working relationship with Howard Hughes is absolutely fascinating and I get the impression it was one of the more positive associations in his life. Hughes seems to have seen something very special in Jane from day one, and he seemed determined to hang onto her contractually rather than selling her contract to another studio like he had done previously with Jean Harlow and Ann Dvorak. Jane’s agents at MCA had other plans and were constantly trying to get her to leave him, but she remained loyal and honored her contract with him. He so appreciated the loyalty that he continued to give her better contracts until eventually she signed a 20-year deal at $1,000 a week whether she was making movies for him or not. Lew Wasserman at MCA couldn’t even argue with that!

I get the impression that they had a tremendous amount of respect for each other, but also tested each other at times. Jane tolerated a lot from Hughes when it came to how she was presented onscreen, but there were times when she drew a line in the sand. I think there were many times Hughes didn’t know what to make of Jane and vice versa, but there was a genuine affection and she always remained loyal to him.

Can you tell us about how Russell came to work on The Paleface (1948) and what her working relationship with Bob Hope was like?

Rice: It’s kind of astounding to consider that The Paleface was only Jane’s third film, after The Outlaw and Young Widow, which was released in 1946, and didn’t really do much to advance Jane’s career. When Paramount was casting the film, they were looking for a marquee actress who wouldn’t cost too much because Hope’s salary was already taking a big chunk out of the budget. The Howard Hughes publicity machine had managed to keep Jane’s name in print for almost a decade, so she had the name recognition but had made so few films, Paramount figured they could get her for cheap. Hughes charged them more than they would have preferred to have paid for the loan out, but the film was a success and Jane was great in the role of Calamity Jane. She and Hope adored each other and would go on to perform live together on stage and via radio. She credited the film with saving her career which had been stalled for almost a decade.

Russell starred alongside my favorite actor Robert Mitchum in two films: His Kind of Woman (1951) and Macao (1952). Can you tell us a bit about how they worked together and their friendship after filming?

Rice: Jane and Mitch hit it off immediately and truly enjoyed working together. They were both no-nonsense in real life, so their personalities really gelled, but they also had great chemistry onscreen. Unfortunately, they only made those two films together but remained lifelong friends. When asked later on why they worked so well together onscreen, Jane replied, “We looked like we deserved each other,” which is such a great description of them.

In addition to Mitchum, Russell seemed to greatly value personal and professional connections and made lifelong friends in the industry. Which partnerships and friendships stand out to you and what do these relationships say about Russell as both a person and an actress?

Rice: Jane genuinely seemed to like people and enjoyed seeing other people succeed. She maintained meaningful friendships with students she went to high school with, but also got along smashingly with folks in the industry. One of her closest friendships was with her stand-in Carmen Nisbet Cabeen. They both had deep spiritual beliefs and remained friends long after they stopped making films. Another person Jane became instant friends with was Portia Nelson who was André De Toth’s secretary when the director briefly worked on Young Widow. When Jane realized that Nelson was a talented songwriter, she insisted that Portia pursue that and even got one of Nelson’s songs, “The Gilded Lili,” into Montana Belle (1952), which Jane sings onscreen and is a highlight of that film. I think Jane’s ability to forge such lasting friendships from different stages in her life says a lot about how secure she was with herself and how unpretentious she was despite being an internationally known movie star.   

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) seemed like the ideal movie for Jane Russell. How did she come to make the movie and what was her experience with director Howard Hawks and her co-star Marilyn Monroe?

Rice: Howard Hawks was originally slated to direct The Outlaw, but he and Howard Hughes didn’t see eye-to-eye on the direction of the film, so Hughes ended up directing instead. Hawks was essentially the person who discovered Jane and she was bitterly disappointed when he left The Outlaw and longed to work with him. When Hawks was slated for Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, he immediately thought of Jane who he thought would be perfect for the role and a good match for Marilyn. He was right on both counts! Jane was thrilled to at last be working with Hawks in what is arguably the best performance of her career. Jane was very kind to Marilyn, who was on the cusp of superstardom but struggling with insecurities. Jane was impressed with Marilyn’s work ethic and knew what a great opportunity this film was. Other actresses may have been worried about being upstaged by Marilyn as Lorelei, but not Jane. The genuine affection the pair had for each other really comes through onscreen.

Russell and her first husband, professional football player Robert Waterfield, started Russ-Field Productions together to produce their own movies. What came out of this venture?

Rice: Jane and Robert Waterfield formed Russ-Field Productions in 1954 when her contract with Howard Hughes was expiring and she had been pushed over the edge by Hughes’ handling of the production and publicity on The French Line (1953). Russ-Field signed a six-picture distribution deal with United Artists but only ended up producing four films. The two starring Jane—Gentlemen Marry Brunettes (1955) and The Fuzzy Pink Nightgown (1957) —ended up losing money, though The King and Four Queens (1956), starring Clark Gable and Run for the Sun (1956) with Richard Widmark, did turn a profit. Overall, it wasn’t a great experience for the couple, so they just kind of let the venture fizzle out, and she ended up signing that 20-year sweetheart deal with Howard Hughes.

After Russell was unable to have children of her own, she set her sights on adoption but faced many challenges. Can you tell us a bit about how she became a champion for international adoption?

Rice: Jane adopted her daughter Tracy in the United States without much difficulty, but when she tried to adopt a second time, the waiting list was a couple of years long. Around that same time, Jane was invited to England for a Command Performance and visited orphanages in Italy and Germany during the trip. Even though there were many children in need of a family, Jane as an American was not able to adopt any of these children. Her visits received some press, so an Irish woman surrendered her young son to Jane who brought the boy back to the States. This prompted a backlash from British Parliament and caused the FBI to open an investigation. Ultimately, Jane was able to adopt the boy, but the experience was so negative that she wanted to help unite children in need with families. She started WAIF, an organization that was the fundraising arm of International Social Service for a number of years and who also sought to change laws to ease restrictions on international adoption. WAIF was very active for over 40 years and was ultimately the life’s work of Jane Russell. It’s such an important part of her story.

What do you hope readers will take away from your book?

Rice: Jane is someone who still has a great deal of name recognition, but it tends to be in relation to Marilyn Monroe and Howard Hughes or maybe the commercials she did for Playtex Bras in the 1970s/80s. I hope readers will come to appreciate what a complex person she was and credit how much of herself she gave to WAIF and its mission. I also hope people will seek out some of Jane’s films as she is amazing onscreen and an utter delight to watch. When watching Jane on film, she truly is a larger than life movie star.

Christina Rice On Jane Russell

Christina Rice on Jane Russell

Christina Rice is a librarian, historian and archivist and the author of Ann Dvorak: Hollywood’s Forgotten Rebel. Her latest book Mean...Moody...Magnificent!: Jane Russell and the Marketing of a Hollywood Legend is the first-ever biography of Jane Russell to be published and is timed perfectly for the 100th anniversary of the screen legend’s birth. In this interview, Rice shares details about Russell’s film career, her legacy heading WAIF (World Adoption International Fund) and Rice’s process in writing her book. In 2013, you published a biography on Ann Dvorak which went on to garner much acclaim. How did you choose Jane Russell as your next subject? How do the two compare?Christina Rice: The Ann Dvorak book had been a deeply personal passion project that took around 15 years to complete, so when it finally came out, I figured I was DONE writing Hollywood biographies! After I had some distance from that book, I unexpectedly found myself contemplating diving into a similar project. Many of my favorites already had books written about them, so I turned to my publisher, the University Press of Kentucky, for advice and they are the ones who recommended Jane Russell. I was surprised to discover that other than Jane’s own 1985 memoir, there had never been a book written about her. She was someone I was very much aware of but knew very little about. After mulling it over for a few months, I finally decided to take the plunge.The experience was very different from Ann Dvorak in many ways. Whereas Ann was rather reclusive and didn’t leave much of herself for the world other than her films, Jane was hyper-documented from the age of 19 until she passed away a few months before her 90th birthday. Information on Ann was so hard to come by that pretty much everything I found was included in that book. There’s so much on Jane that I had the opposite problem and had to make a lot of choices on what to cut out. As I mentioned, Ann Dvorak was a very personal project and is probably the one time her story will be told with any depth, so I feel like I am the custodian of her legacy. Jane, on the other hand, was able to tell much of her own story, so instead of writing a definitive book, I felt like I was building off of and contextualizing what Jane had already put out there. The other day, someone commented that with Mean…Moody…Magnificent! I’ve gone from fangirl to author, which I think is a good summation!What kind of research did you do for the book? Did you encounter any major surprises?Rice: The first thing I did was to read Jane’s memoir to get a sense of where the gaps in her story might be or what topics needed to be fleshed out more. Obviously, the marketing campaign of The Outlaw (1943) and Howard Hughes’ ongoing handling of her publicity was a huge part of her story and something I wanted to explore in depth. Fortunately, the papers of Russell Birdwell, the publicist behind The Outlaw, are at UCLA so I was able to dive into their day-to-day discussions of how to market Jane, which was fascinating.I was surprised to discover that Jane, with her husband, started their own production company in the mid-1950s which wasn’t super commonplace at that time. Jane’s long-time advocacy work to ease restrictions on international adoption was something I was fascinated by. The library that I work at (Central Library in Los Angeles) actually had a file folder all about Jane’s WAIF foundation, which has a goldmine of information and eventually led me to a gentleman who served as the executive director for a number of years. Jane Russell was the subject of one of Hollywood’s most elaborate publicity campaigns. How did Russell starring in The Outlaw affect her life and career?Rice: The publicity campaign for Howard Hughes’ The Outlaw launched Jane’s career and is what introduced her to audiences around the world in early 1941. However, the movie wasn’t even released until 1946, and even then, only on a limited basis. It wasn’t widely released until 1950. She received so much press in the early 1940s that she was often referred to as the “Motionless Picture Actress” because she wasn’t actually showing up in movies! Even though her film career was stalled for most of the decade, the strength of that early Outlaw publicity turned her into a popular pin-up with servicemen during World War II…[and] she still somehow managed to use it to springboard for a decent film career in the 1950s. The way Jane was marketed for that film was often a bitter pill for her to swallow, but she learned to live with it and make the best of it. Russell’s career as an actress was intrinsically tied to Howard Hughes who kept her under contract for many years. What was their working relationship like?Rice: Jane’s working relationship with Howard Hughes is absolutely fascinating and I get the impression it was one of the more positive associations in his life. Hughes seems to have seen something very special in Jane from day one, and he seemed determined to hang onto her contractually rather than selling her contract to another studio like he had done previously with Jean Harlow and Ann Dvorak. Jane’s agents at MCA had other plans and were constantly trying to get her to leave him, but she remained loyal and honored her contract with him. He so appreciated the loyalty that he continued to give her better contracts until eventually she signed a 20-year deal at $1,000 a week whether she was making movies for him or not. Lew Wasserman at MCA couldn’t even argue with that!I get the impression that they had a tremendous amount of respect for each other, but also tested each other at times. Jane tolerated a lot from Hughes when it came to how she was presented onscreen, but there were times when she drew a line in the sand. I think there were many times Hughes didn’t know what to make of Jane and vice versa, but there was a genuine affection and she always remained loyal to him.Can you tell us about how Russell came to work on The Paleface (1948) and what her working relationship with Bob Hope was like?Rice: It’s kind of astounding to consider that The Paleface was only Jane’s third film, after The Outlaw and Young Widow, which was released in 1946, and didn’t really do much to advance Jane’s career. When Paramount was casting the film, they were looking for a marquee actress who wouldn’t cost too much because Hope’s salary was already taking a big chunk out of the budget. The Howard Hughes publicity machine had managed to keep Jane’s name in print for almost a decade, so she had the name recognition but had made so few films, Paramount figured they could get her for cheap. Hughes charged them more than they would have preferred to have paid for the loan out, but the film was a success and Jane was great in the role of Calamity Jane. She and Hope adored each other and would go on to perform live together on stage and via radio. She credited the film with saving her career which had been stalled for almost a decade.Russell starred alongside my favorite actor Robert Mitchum in two films: His Kind of Woman (1951) and Macao (1952). Can you tell us a bit about how they worked together and their friendship after filming?Rice: Jane and Mitch hit it off immediately and truly enjoyed working together. They were both no-nonsense in real life, so their personalities really gelled, but they also had great chemistry onscreen. Unfortunately, they only made those two films together but remained lifelong friends. When asked later on why they worked so well together onscreen, Jane replied, “We looked like we deserved each other,” which is such a great description of them. In addition to Mitchum, Russell seemed to greatly value personal and professional connections and made lifelong friends in the industry. Which partnerships and friendships stand out to you and what do these relationships say about Russell as both a person and an actress?Rice: Jane genuinely seemed to like people and enjoyed seeing other people succeed. She maintained meaningful friendships with students she went to high school with, but also got along smashingly with folks in the industry. One of her closest friendships was with her stand-in Carmen Nisbet Cabeen. They both had deep spiritual beliefs and remained friends long after they stopped making films. Another person Jane became instant friends with was Portia Nelson who was André De Toth’s secretary when the director briefly worked on Young Widow. When Jane realized that Nelson was a talented songwriter, she insisted that Portia pursue that and even got one of Nelson’s songs, “The Gilded Lili,” into Montana Belle (1952), which Jane sings onscreen and is a highlight of that film. I think Jane’s ability to forge such lasting friendships from different stages in her life says a lot about how secure she was with herself and how unpretentious she was despite being an internationally known movie star.   Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) seemed like the ideal movie for Jane Russell. How did she come to make the movie and what was her experience with director Howard Hawks and her co-star Marilyn Monroe?Rice: Howard Hawks was originally slated to direct The Outlaw, but he and Howard Hughes didn’t see eye-to-eye on the direction of the film, so Hughes ended up directing instead. Hawks was essentially the person who discovered Jane and she was bitterly disappointed when he left The Outlaw and longed to work with him. When Hawks was slated for Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, he immediately thought of Jane who he thought would be perfect for the role and a good match for Marilyn. He was right on both counts! Jane was thrilled to at last be working with Hawks in what is arguably the best performance of her career. Jane was very kind to Marilyn, who was on the cusp of superstardom but struggling with insecurities. Jane was impressed with Marilyn’s work ethic and knew what a great opportunity this film was. Other actresses may have been worried about being upstaged by Marilyn as Lorelei, but not Jane. The genuine affection the pair had for each other really comes through onscreen.Russell and her first husband, professional football player Robert Waterfield, started Russ-Field Productions together to produce their own movies. What came out of this venture?Rice: Jane and Robert Waterfield formed Russ-Field Productions in 1954 when her contract with Howard Hughes was expiring and she had been pushed over the edge by Hughes’ handling of the production and publicity on The French Line (1953). Russ-Field signed a six-picture distribution deal with United Artists but only ended up producing four films. The two starring Jane—Gentlemen Marry Brunettes (1955) and The Fuzzy Pink Nightgown (1957) —ended up losing money, though The King and Four Queens (1956), starring Clark Gable and Run for the Sun (1956) with Richard Widmark, did turn a profit. Overall, it wasn’t a great experience for the couple, so they just kind of let the venture fizzle out, and she ended up signing that 20-year sweetheart deal with Howard Hughes. After Russell was unable to have children of her own, she set her sights on adoption but faced many challenges. Can you tell us a bit about how she became a champion for international adoption?Rice: Jane adopted her daughter Tracy in the United States without much difficulty, but when she tried to adopt a second time, the waiting list was a couple of years long. Around that same time, Jane was invited to England for a Command Performance and visited orphanages in Italy and Germany during the trip. Even though there were many children in need of a family, Jane as an American was not able to adopt any of these children. Her visits received some press, so an Irish woman surrendered her young son to Jane who brought the boy back to the States. This prompted a backlash from British Parliament and caused the FBI to open an investigation. Ultimately, Jane was able to adopt the boy, but the experience was so negative that she wanted to help unite children in need with families. She started WAIF, an organization that was the fundraising arm of International Social Service for a number of years and who also sought to change laws to ease restrictions on international adoption. WAIF was very active for over 40 years and was ultimately the life’s work of Jane Russell. It’s such an important part of her story. What do you hope readers will take away from your book?Rice: Jane is someone who still has a great deal of name recognition, but it tends to be in relation to Marilyn Monroe and Howard Hughes or maybe the commercials she did for Playtex Bras in the 1970s/80s. I hope readers will come to appreciate what a complex person she was and credit how much of herself she gave to WAIF and its mission. I also hope people will seek out some of Jane’s films as she is amazing onscreen and an utter delight to watch. When watching Jane on film, she truly is a larger than life movie star.

The Outlaw - The Outlaw


The Outlaw (1943), Howard Hughes' would-be epic about the adventures of Billy the Kid, was a triumph of motion-picture marketing. Originally intended as the Western to break all the conventions of Westerns, the film's controversial sex appeal and salacious ad campaign turned the picture into an outlaw itself.

Though a film about the notorious Billy the Kid was hardly groundbreaking at the time, The Outlaw could have taken an innovative approach to its portrayal of him. However, Hughes wasn't interested in pushing the envelope in regards to the basic storyline which opens with Billy the Kid, played by newcomer Jack Beutel, befriending Walter Huston's Doc Holliday. After Billy narrowly avoids capture by the law, he and Doc Holliday retreat to Holliday's ranch where Billy meets Doc's sexy mistress, Rio (Jane Russell). From this point on, the real stars of The Outlaw emerge - Russell's breasts and a peasant blouse that refuses to stay buttoned.

Directing the picture himself, Hughes attempted to coach winning performances from his two green-horn stars, though that wasn't really his main goal. Not concerned at all with talent, Hughes had cast Jane Russell from a stack of publicity photos knowing that he could put her two real assets to use - a strategy that ignited the subsequent fervor over the film.

From the very beginning, it was Hughes' goal to make a different, sexier kind of western that would break with the old genre clich¿s. It was that very goal which intrigued the publicist Russell Birdwell into taking the job. Both savvy businessmen, Hughes and Birdwell realized that the best publicity is controversy. And they didn't have to wait long. As soon as production began, The Hayes Office, charged with upholding the moral fiber of motion pictures, demanded a copy of the script for review. After reading it, The Hayes Office demanded several changes to what it considered "racy dialogue and situations," and cautioned Hughes to "avoid sexual suggestiveness." But Hughes had no intention of pouring water on his smoldering screenplay, and when the picture was finally released, Hughes got exactly what he expected. Censors objected not only to Russell's low-cut blouse, but also the treatment of her character as merely a sex object. Adding fuel to the fire was Birdwell's ad campaign, which employed seductive billboards of Russell on the famed haystack with the caption "What are the two reasons for Jane Russell's rise to stardom?" The dubious publicity not only peaked curiosity in The Outlaw, but made Russell into one of the favorite pin-up girls during WWII.

Due to its notoriety, The Outlaw had a very successful ten week run, before Hughes pulled the film and shelved it for three years. When he reissued the picture in 1946, it once again ran into controversy when The Hayes Office threatened to revoke its Seal of Approval. Not yet exhausted from his fight, Hughes sued the MPAA, sending shock waves through Hollywood which feared that if The Hayes Office could not enforce it's policy on films, then the government might step in. Unable to sway the judges, Hughes eventually backed down and agreed to make the demanded cuts.

To be fair, Hughes did achieve at least part of his goal to break the mold of conventional westerns. Regardless of Hughes' intentions, the controversy and lawsuit over The Outlaw, forced Hollywood to address its hypocritical attitude about sex. At a time when married couples on screen slept in separate twin beds, Hughes was able to show an alluring young woman climbing into bed with a man, bold steps that subsequent filmmakers have gladly followed off into the sunset.

Director: Howard Hughes, Howard Hawks (uncredited)
Producer: Howard Hughes
Screenplay: Jules Furthman, Howard Hawks (uncredited), Ben Hecht (uncredited)
Cinematography: Gregg Toland
Editor: Wallace Grissell
Music: Victor Young
Cast: Jack Buetel (Billy the Kid), Jane Russell (Rio), Thomas Mitchell (Pat Garrett), Walter Huston (Doc Holliday), Mimi Aguglia (Guadalupe), Joe Sawyer (Charley).
BW-116m. Closed captioning.

by Bill Goodman

The Outlaw - The Outlaw

The Outlaw (1943), Howard Hughes' would-be epic about the adventures of Billy the Kid, was a triumph of motion-picture marketing. Originally intended as the Western to break all the conventions of Westerns, the film's controversial sex appeal and salacious ad campaign turned the picture into an outlaw itself. Though a film about the notorious Billy the Kid was hardly groundbreaking at the time, The Outlaw could have taken an innovative approach to its portrayal of him. However, Hughes wasn't interested in pushing the envelope in regards to the basic storyline which opens with Billy the Kid, played by newcomer Jack Beutel, befriending Walter Huston's Doc Holliday. After Billy narrowly avoids capture by the law, he and Doc Holliday retreat to Holliday's ranch where Billy meets Doc's sexy mistress, Rio (Jane Russell). From this point on, the real stars of The Outlaw emerge - Russell's breasts and a peasant blouse that refuses to stay buttoned. Directing the picture himself, Hughes attempted to coach winning performances from his two green-horn stars, though that wasn't really his main goal. Not concerned at all with talent, Hughes had cast Jane Russell from a stack of publicity photos knowing that he could put her two real assets to use - a strategy that ignited the subsequent fervor over the film. From the very beginning, it was Hughes' goal to make a different, sexier kind of western that would break with the old genre clich¿s. It was that very goal which intrigued the publicist Russell Birdwell into taking the job. Both savvy businessmen, Hughes and Birdwell realized that the best publicity is controversy. And they didn't have to wait long. As soon as production began, The Hayes Office, charged with upholding the moral fiber of motion pictures, demanded a copy of the script for review. After reading it, The Hayes Office demanded several changes to what it considered "racy dialogue and situations," and cautioned Hughes to "avoid sexual suggestiveness." But Hughes had no intention of pouring water on his smoldering screenplay, and when the picture was finally released, Hughes got exactly what he expected. Censors objected not only to Russell's low-cut blouse, but also the treatment of her character as merely a sex object. Adding fuel to the fire was Birdwell's ad campaign, which employed seductive billboards of Russell on the famed haystack with the caption "What are the two reasons for Jane Russell's rise to stardom?" The dubious publicity not only peaked curiosity in The Outlaw, but made Russell into one of the favorite pin-up girls during WWII. Due to its notoriety, The Outlaw had a very successful ten week run, before Hughes pulled the film and shelved it for three years. When he reissued the picture in 1946, it once again ran into controversy when The Hayes Office threatened to revoke its Seal of Approval. Not yet exhausted from his fight, Hughes sued the MPAA, sending shock waves through Hollywood which feared that if The Hayes Office could not enforce it's policy on films, then the government might step in. Unable to sway the judges, Hughes eventually backed down and agreed to make the demanded cuts. To be fair, Hughes did achieve at least part of his goal to break the mold of conventional westerns. Regardless of Hughes' intentions, the controversy and lawsuit over The Outlaw, forced Hollywood to address its hypocritical attitude about sex. At a time when married couples on screen slept in separate twin beds, Hughes was able to show an alluring young woman climbing into bed with a man, bold steps that subsequent filmmakers have gladly followed off into the sunset. Director: Howard Hughes, Howard Hawks (uncredited) Producer: Howard Hughes Screenplay: Jules Furthman, Howard Hawks (uncredited), Ben Hecht (uncredited) Cinematography: Gregg Toland Editor: Wallace Grissell Music: Victor Young Cast: Jack Buetel (Billy the Kid), Jane Russell (Rio), Thomas Mitchell (Pat Garrett), Walter Huston (Doc Holliday), Mimi Aguglia (Guadalupe), Joe Sawyer (Charley). BW-116m. Closed captioning. by Bill Goodman

My Outlaw Brother


A secondary effort from the output of independent film impresario Benedict Bogeaus, the Mexico-shot sagebrusher My Outlaw Brother (1951) remains an interesting curio for its improbable star trio of Mickey Rooney, Robert Preston and Robert Stack, all of whom put forth efforts to try and lift the project beyond its budgetary constraints. Adapted from Max Brand's 1936 opus South of the Rio Grande by Gene Fowler, Jr., who would have a far more estimable career in the industry as an editor, the scenario opens on Denny O'Moore (Rooney), late of New York City and looking every bit of it as he clumsily maneuvers his nag and buckboard across the Texas prairie in search of the town of Border City. The object of his quest is to surprise his big brother Patrick (Stack), who headed west eight years prior to seek his fortune, and has since regularly sent cash home due to his stewardship of a silver mine. At least, that's Denny's understanding.

He reaches the town just in time to get caught in the crossfire when the local bank is robbed by a gang lead by the misshapen Native American bandit El Tigre. The Mexican government has implored the Texas Rangers for assistance in bringing El Tigre to heel, and the local captain gives the assignment to his best man, Joe Walter (Preston). Walter's gambit is to ride alone across the border to El Tigre's stronghold in San Clemente, and attempt to flip the bandit's trusted American lieutenant--who is, of course, the older O'Moore.

Procuring Patrick's Mexican location, Denny sets out to find him--and Walter, impressed with the green kid's tenacity and pugnacity--offers to ride alongside, while staying surreptitious about his own motives. The action shifts to San Clemente, where Patrick is introduced making a bid to court the petite and beautiful Carmel Alvarado (Wanda Hendrix). The senorita, however, is aware of his subservience to the heinous El Tigre, and wants nothing to do with him. When Denny reaches town, Patrick orders his capture and return to the States; Joe frees the kid and flees with him when Patrick refuses to turn on El Tigre. From there, Denny is forced to confront the truth about his sibling, and his flight for freedom with Walter makes for plenty of gunplay and the revelation of the true nature of El Tigre's hold on Patrick.

My Outlaw Brother would prove to be the penultimate directing assignment for Elliott Nugent, whose resume was marked by a string of memorable farces including Three-Cornered Moon (1933), The Cat and the Canary (1939), Nothing But the Truth (1941), Up in Arms (1944) and The Male Animal (1942), adapting the stage hit that he co-authored with good friend James Thurber. Born to a stage family, Nugent was a busy boy ingénue on Broadway and Hollywood from the mid-'20s through early '30s, and he gave himself a walk-on here as a Ranger. The working title of the project bounced from El Tigre to The Gringo to My Brother, The Bandit; the choice of My Brother, the Outlaw was foredoomed with the filing of litigation by RKO, who asserted infringement upon the Howard Hughes-Jane Russell opus The Outlaw.

In his 1980 memoir Straight Shooting, Stack didn't look back upon My Outlaw Brother with a lot of warmth, deeming it "a piece of Limburger that put a temporary damper on the careers of Robert Preston, Mickey Rooney and me". Of his outlaw disguise, the actor claimed that "the stuffing from a car seat" was responsible for his added bulk. "No matter how much I tried to be scary, I'm afraid I wasn't too impressive," Stack wrote. "The only one I scared was my horse, who bucked me off during my most evil scene...Happily, I fell on my back and the car seat stuffing took the worst of it. I wish I could have used the car seat stuffing on the reviewers."

Producer: Benedict Bogeaus
Director: Elliott Nugent
Screenplay: Gene Fowler, Jr.; Al Levitt (additional dialogue); Max Brand (book "South of the Rio Grande")
Cinematography: Jose Ortiz Ramos
Art Direction: Edward Fitzgerald (uncredited)
Music: Manuel Esperon
Film Editing: George Crome
Cast: Mickey Rooney (J. Dennis 'Denny' O'Moore), Wanda Hendrix (Senorita Carmel Alvarado), Robert Preston (Joe Walter), Robert Stack (Patrick O'Moore), Jose Torvay (Enrique Ortiz), Carlos Muzquiz/El Capitan (Col. Sanchez), Fernando Wagner (Burger) Hilda Moreno (Senora Alvarado).
BW-82m.

by Jay S. Steinberg

My Outlaw Brother

A secondary effort from the output of independent film impresario Benedict Bogeaus, the Mexico-shot sagebrusher My Outlaw Brother (1951) remains an interesting curio for its improbable star trio of Mickey Rooney, Robert Preston and Robert Stack, all of whom put forth efforts to try and lift the project beyond its budgetary constraints. Adapted from Max Brand's 1936 opus South of the Rio Grande by Gene Fowler, Jr., who would have a far more estimable career in the industry as an editor, the scenario opens on Denny O'Moore (Rooney), late of New York City and looking every bit of it as he clumsily maneuvers his nag and buckboard across the Texas prairie in search of the town of Border City. The object of his quest is to surprise his big brother Patrick (Stack), who headed west eight years prior to seek his fortune, and has since regularly sent cash home due to his stewardship of a silver mine. At least, that's Denny's understanding. He reaches the town just in time to get caught in the crossfire when the local bank is robbed by a gang lead by the misshapen Native American bandit El Tigre. The Mexican government has implored the Texas Rangers for assistance in bringing El Tigre to heel, and the local captain gives the assignment to his best man, Joe Walter (Preston). Walter's gambit is to ride alone across the border to El Tigre's stronghold in San Clemente, and attempt to flip the bandit's trusted American lieutenant--who is, of course, the older O'Moore. Procuring Patrick's Mexican location, Denny sets out to find him--and Walter, impressed with the green kid's tenacity and pugnacity--offers to ride alongside, while staying surreptitious about his own motives. The action shifts to San Clemente, where Patrick is introduced making a bid to court the petite and beautiful Carmel Alvarado (Wanda Hendrix). The senorita, however, is aware of his subservience to the heinous El Tigre, and wants nothing to do with him. When Denny reaches town, Patrick orders his capture and return to the States; Joe frees the kid and flees with him when Patrick refuses to turn on El Tigre. From there, Denny is forced to confront the truth about his sibling, and his flight for freedom with Walter makes for plenty of gunplay and the revelation of the true nature of El Tigre's hold on Patrick. My Outlaw Brother would prove to be the penultimate directing assignment for Elliott Nugent, whose resume was marked by a string of memorable farces including Three-Cornered Moon (1933), The Cat and the Canary (1939), Nothing But the Truth (1941), Up in Arms (1944) and The Male Animal (1942), adapting the stage hit that he co-authored with good friend James Thurber. Born to a stage family, Nugent was a busy boy ingénue on Broadway and Hollywood from the mid-'20s through early '30s, and he gave himself a walk-on here as a Ranger. The working title of the project bounced from El Tigre to The Gringo to My Brother, The Bandit; the choice of My Brother, the Outlaw was foredoomed with the filing of litigation by RKO, who asserted infringement upon the Howard Hughes-Jane Russell opus The Outlaw. In his 1980 memoir Straight Shooting, Stack didn't look back upon My Outlaw Brother with a lot of warmth, deeming it "a piece of Limburger that put a temporary damper on the careers of Robert Preston, Mickey Rooney and me". Of his outlaw disguise, the actor claimed that "the stuffing from a car seat" was responsible for his added bulk. "No matter how much I tried to be scary, I'm afraid I wasn't too impressive," Stack wrote. "The only one I scared was my horse, who bucked me off during my most evil scene...Happily, I fell on my back and the car seat stuffing took the worst of it. I wish I could have used the car seat stuffing on the reviewers." Producer: Benedict Bogeaus Director: Elliott Nugent Screenplay: Gene Fowler, Jr.; Al Levitt (additional dialogue); Max Brand (book "South of the Rio Grande") Cinematography: Jose Ortiz Ramos Art Direction: Edward Fitzgerald (uncredited) Music: Manuel Esperon Film Editing: George Crome Cast: Mickey Rooney (J. Dennis 'Denny' O'Moore), Wanda Hendrix (Senorita Carmel Alvarado), Robert Preston (Joe Walter), Robert Stack (Patrick O'Moore), Jose Torvay (Enrique Ortiz), Carlos Muzquiz/El Capitan (Col. Sanchez), Fernando Wagner (Burger) Hilda Moreno (Senora Alvarado). BW-82m. by Jay S. Steinberg

Quotes

Trivia

Jane Russell got the role after a nationwide search by Howard Hughes for a busty actress.

Once they'd found her, Howard Hughes and his aircraft engineers designed a special cantilevered bra to enhance the appearance of Jane Russell's bust. She never wore it, but this movie was the reason the famous bra was designed.

The first American film that defied the 'Hayes Code' of morals in the big screen.

Notes

The film's title card reads: "Howard Hughes presents his production of The Outlaw." The film includes a written epilogue, which states that the truth about Billy the Kid "lies hidden forever among the secrets of the Old West." For more information about the real Billy the Kid, for Billy the Kid. Unlike the character in the film, the real Pat Garrett, a New Mexico sheriff, tracked down and shot Billy the Kid in 1881. Before becoming a lawman, Garrett had been a buffalo hunter, a cowboy and a Texas Ranger. In 1882, Garrett wrote a book called The Authentic Life of Billy the Kid. While working as a rancher in 1902, he was shot and killed by an unidentified gunman. Many films have featured Pat Garrett, including the 1930 M-G-M film Billy the Kid (see AFI Catalog of Feature Films, 1921-30; F2.0419), directed by King Vidor and starring Wallace Beery as Garrett; the 1950 film I Shot Billy the Kid ; and the 1973 film Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, in which James Coburn played Garrett. Although Doc Holliday was a gambler and gunman, as depicted in the film, he is not known to have tangled with Billy the Kid or Pat Garrett. Best known for his association with Wyatt Earp and Bat Masterson, Holliday died of tuberculosis and alcoholism in 1887. For more information about Holliday, please see entry above for the 1941 Universal film Badlands of Dakota. For more information about Masterson, please see entry for the 1943 United Artists release Woman of the Town (below).
       Contemporary news items add the following information about the film's production: Howard Hawks, who had worked with Hughes on the 1932 film Scarface (see AFI Catalog of Feature Films, 1931-40; F3.3916), was the film's initial director, and Twentieth Century-Fox was its initial distributor. When production began, Hughes and Fox were in competition with M-G-M, which was readying to shoot Billy the Kid, and a spring 1941 release date was set. In mid-November 1940, Hawks and his crew left for location shooting in Arizona and New Mexico. Some scenes were filmed in Moencopi, near Tuba City, AZ, and second unit shooting was done in Socorro, NM. On December 10, 1940, after two weeks of shooting, Hawks quit the project. According to a December 15, 1940 New York Times article, Hughes, who had the dailies flown back to Los Angeles every day, accused Hawks of economizing too much and not "taking enough time" with filming. Hawks reportedly argued that, as his salary consisted of a percentage of the film's profits, it was in his best interest to keep production costs down. In a modern interview, however, Hawks claimed that he left the production so that he could shoot Sergeant York (see below) with Gary Cooper and happily turned the reins over to Hughes.

       Hughes took over direction of the film on the Samuel Goldwyn lot in late December 1940. Hawks's director of photography, Lucien Ballard, was replaced by Gregg Toland at that time, and Hughes announced that the entire picture would be reshot. It has not been determined if any of Hawks and Ballard's material was used in the released film. (In her autobiography, Jane Russell noted that Hawks did not direct any of her scenes.) Pat West, Billy Newell and Nena Quartero were announced as cast members, but their appearance in the final film has not been confirmed. According to an internal memo contained in the MPAA/PCA files at the AMPAS Library, screenwriter Jules Furthman filled in for Hughes as director on December 31, 1940, after Hughes became "indisposed." Modern sources state that Furthman filled in as director for many days.

       Although the film was completed and copyrighted in February 1941, it was not shown theatrically until February 1943. The delay was due, in part, to censorship problems with the PCA. Materials in the film's file in the MPAA/PCA collection at the AMPAS Library provide the following information about the picture's censorship battle: In a late December 1940 letter to Hughes, PCA director Joseph I. Breen complained that the film's final script depicted Billy the Kid as a "major criminal who goes unpunished." He also objected to the suggestion of "illicit sex between Billy and Rio," the "trick marriage," and the "undue brutality and unnecessary killings." Furthman conferred with PCA official Geoffrey Shurlock and agreed to change the objectionable elements of the script, in part by showing that Billy was innocent of the crime for which he was being hunted. Modern sources add that, during filming, Furthman repeatedly alerted Shurlock and others at the PCA about possible problem scenes in the production. In March 1941, Hughes also notified Shurlock about a new scene he was adding-a "bed" scene in which Rio nurses Billy by warming him with her body-which Shurlock approved. The 1941 retakes and added scenes, including the bed scene, cost Hughes $127,000, according to a New York Times article.

       After the film itself was screened in late March 1941, however, Breen wrote to Hughes that the picture was in violation of the Code and would not be issued a certificate. In addition to objections regarding the "illicit relationship between Doc and Rio," which was epitomized by the bed scene, Breen condemned the "countless shots of Rio in which her breasts" were not "fully covered." In a March 1941 interoffice memo, Breen said about The Outlaw: "...in my more than ten years of critical examination of motion pictures, I have never seen anything quite so unacceptable as the shots of the breasts of the character of Rio....Throughout almost half the picture the girl's breasts, which are quite large and prominent, are shockingly emphasized..." Breen acknowledged in the same memo, however, that, because of the way in which the scenes were filmed, most of the "breast" shots could not be easily eliminated. After Breen refused to issue a certificate for The Outlaw, Hughes requested an appeal hearing from the MPPA in New York. The MPPA board of directors screened the picture in early April 1941 and ruled in mid-May to uphold the MPAA/PCA decision. Both Breen and MPPA representatives conferred with Hughes about eliminations, and a long list of specific cuts involving shots of Russell's breasts was drawn up. Hughes made the requested changes, and by late May 1941, Breen agreed to approve the film, with a "footnote" stating that "approval is based upon the understanding and agreement that all prints put into general release are to conform exactly to the changes agreed upon." In all, approximately forty feet of film was actually cut.

       In mid-August 1941, after Breen had left the PCA to be production chief at RKO, a PCA memo reported that Hughes had submitted an unedited version of the picture to various state censor boards, hoping to bypass the PCA in those areas. According to the memo, Hughes discovered that some state censors wanted many more cuts than the PCA had demanded. At the same time, Fox, which would have been subject to a $25,000 MPPA fine for releasing an unapproved picture, backed out of its distribution deal. Hughes continued to battle the state censors until the end of 1941, then shelved the picture for over a year. (Modern sources note that after America's entrance into World War II, Hughes focused all of his attention on his airplane manufacturing company and all but abandoned his filmmaking ventures.

       According to modern sources, by late 1942, his film company had spent months trying to find and acquire the best theater in which to open the picture. The picture, running at 115 minutes, finally opened in San Francisco's Geary Theater on February 5, 1943 and caused an immediate furor. MPAA/PCA files indicate that The Legion of Decency condemned the picture and questioned the PCA's wisdom in approving it. In addition, a new controversy erupted over the film's advertising, which had been engineered by Hughes's publicist, Russell Birdwell. Birdwell, who had spent much of 1942 promoting Russell as Hollywood's newest star, ordered billboards to be posted around the city, with a still of the actress in a provocative pose, captioned by phrases such as "How would you like to tussle with Russell?" The Motion Picture Council of San Francisco wrote to the PCA to object to the "very disgusting portrayal of the feminine star...on large billboards." After public protests by the Council, the police ordered the billboards removed. In its review of the San Francisco opening, Variety called Birdwell's ad campaign "bosom art" and speculated that the film would profit at the box office because of it. As predicted, The Outlaw did well in San Francisco, grossing $10,000 in its first week. Russell and co-star Jack Beutel performed a live twenty-minute scene that had been cut from the film's script following each screening of the six-week San Francisco run. Comedian Frank McHugh was added to the stage show on 15 February 1943.

       In March 1943, MPPA official Francis S. Harmon screened a print of The Outlaw in Hollywood in anticipation of the film's New York run and noted that it contained footage that had not been previously approved. Hughes maintained that he was merely re-editing the picture because of complaints by critics that it was too long, but in July 1943, Harmon revealed in an interoffice memo that seven prints of the film were in existence and only one print, Print 3, contained the PCA approved edits. Harmon advised Hughes to use Print 3 in New York to appease its censor board, which had already condemned the film. In the same memo, Harmon expressed fears that the picture might inspire juveniles to commit crimes and that Hughes and Hollywood would be blamed. Still preoccupied with the war, Hughes instead withdrew The Outlaw after its San Francisco run and put it back on the shelf until early 1945.

       At that time, Hollywood Reporter announced that United Artists, which was not a signatory with the MPPA, would release the film in early 1946 as part of its new distribution deal with Hughes and his then filmmaking partner, Preston Sturges. Although Harmon assured the president of United Artists in a January 1946 letter that the picture "Hughes intends to release is the same as the picture approved in 1941," problems regarding the film's advertising delayed the film's re-issue. In a April 9, 1946 letter to Hughes, the secretary of the MPAA in New York noted that the unapproved advertising and exploitation of the picture constituted "grounds for...suspension or expulsion from [MPAA] membership" as they violated Article XIV of the organization's by-laws. According to the secretary, the by-laws specified that "standards of fair representation and good taste in the advertising of motion pictures" must be honored and that all advertising must be submitted in advance to the Advertising Code Administration for approval.

       On April 24, 1946, the day after the film re-opened in San Francisco, Al Dunn, the manager of the United Artists theater, was arrested for exhibiting a film "offensive to decency," and prints of the film were seized. (Dunn was later cleared of all charges.) On April 26, 1946, Hughes, anticipating the revocation of the film's Production Code seal, announced his resignation from the MPAA and filed a $1,000,000 lawsuit against the organization in New York, with a request for triple damages. Hughes, under his corporate name, Hughes Tool Co., motioned for a stay of judgment empowering the MPAA to revoke its seal. A temporary injunction restraining the MPAA from interfering with the distribution of prints or advertising accessories was issued at that time by Judge Vincent L. Leibell, pending a later hearing. Through Russell Birdwell, Hughes argued that the Hays Office was "violating the First Amendment of the Constitution of the United States" and was in violation of anti-trust laws. In court, Hughes's lawyers argued that, through implied monetary penalties, which would result if the MPAA refused to issue a certificate to a given film, the MPAA used coersive tactics to force its members to comply with its demands. In an amended complaint, dated March 18, 1947, Hughes's lawyers added that Hughes's company had lost an estimated 7.5 million dollars in revenue as a result of the revocation.

       On June 14, 1946, Judge John Bright vacated Judge Leibell's restraining order and ruled against Hughes, maintaining that the MPAA had not breached their contract and that Hughes Tool Co. "cannot have its cake and eat it too." Hughes immediately appealed Bright's ruling, and the MPAA agreed that it would take no action against the film pending the appeal. On September 6, 1946, however, Breen announced that The Outlaw's certificate was being revoked because of Hughes's continued refusal to submit for approval "all advertising and publicity material" connected to the film. The MPAA then filed a counter-claim against Hughes, asking the court to order Hughes to remove the Production Code seal from all prints of The Outlaw. Hughes eventually lost his appeal.

       Despite the various legal battles, United Artists continued to roadshow The Outlaw in 1946 and 1947. An elaborate countrywide promotional tour, complete with skywriting and a blimp, set off in June 1946. The film, however, generated protests and bans throughout the country. Archbishop John J. Cantwell, writing in the Catholic publication The Tidings, stated that no Catholic could see The Outlaw "with a free conscience." In Minneapolis, The Outlaw was pulled in May 1946 and replaced by The Postman Always Rings Twice (see below), a picture that also encountered censorship difficulties. The Interstate Circuit in Texas refused to show the film because of complaints from clergymen. In September 1946, municipal Judge E. Paul Mason upheld an exhibition ban in Maryland, commenting that Russell's "breasts hung like a thunderstorm over a summer landscape." A Kansas censor complained to the PCA that Hughes's office had hired lawyers to try to force the Kansas censor board into passing the picture without eliminations. After Hughes refused to make some requested cuts, the Ohio censors banned the film in mid-December 1946. In Indianapolis, however, the mayor refused to ban the picture, calling it "just a western." Hollywood Reporter reported that many projectionists had practiced "inadvertent" censorship of the film, clipping out the "hot" scenes for their own private collections. A version dubbed in Spanish was completed in mid-November 1946 at the Eastern Service Studios in Astoria, New York.

       An uncensored version of the film opened in London on November 29, 1946. Although the film itself received poor reviews, the British press praised Hughes for battling the MPAA. London journalist Sunderland Echo was quoted as saying, "This long-delayed attack on American censorship is welcome, for if Hughes wins his case it will open the way to more wholehearted sincerity in American films and will provide a better market for British films." A huge advertising banner of Russell generated a "nudity complaint" from the London County Council, however.

       New York's censor board banned the picture in November 1946, an action that was publicly denounced by the National Board of Review of Motion Pictures. In mid-December 1946, after an appellate division upheld the board's decision, United Artists asked the New York Supreme Court to rule on the state's decision. In late December 1946, New York City's licensing commissioner tried to have the film's license revoked, but when the State Board of Regents discovered that it did not have the authority to revoke the picture's license, it asked the state legislature in late January 1947 to give the Department of Education the authority to revoke film licenses on grounds of suggestive advertising. Hughes's lawyers then filed an appeal with the New York Supreme Court, requesting that the License Commission's claims be dismissed. In early April 1947, Hughes's appeal was dismissed, and after some consideration, Hughes chose not to pursue the matter any further. In mid-September 1947, the New York licensing commissioner finally lifted the ban on the film, saying that the objectionable material had been adequately altered. The Outlaw opened in New York on September 11, 1947 and was screened on a twenty-four-hour-a-day schedule, with "cleaned-up" advertising. In November 1947, General Bennett Meyers stated at a Congressional hearing investigating Howard Hughes's wartime business dealings that Hughes had authorized him to offer $150,000 to the Legion of Decency in exchange for the lifting of the New York ban. Hughes reportedly denied the charge, saying that it would not have been worth it for him to buy off the Legion.

       In August 1948, Hughes forced Howard Hawks to recut a "gun-draw" scene from his 1948 United Artist release Red River because, he claimed, it was plagiarized from The Outlaw. Hughes argued that he had paid Hawks $150,000 for the story rights to The Outlaw, as well as for his services as director. Borden Chase, the credited writer on Red River, stated in affidavits that he resigned from the project in protest when Hawks asked him to write the disputed scene. In mid-August 1948, Hughes filed a motion for an injuction against Red River before its opening in Texas, and a hearing to consider the motion was scheduled for August 19, 1948 in Dallas. Anxious to avoid a lawsuit, United Artists executive Edward Small agreed to allow Hughes to cut the scene himself, and Hughes subsequently removed the entire scene from the film. However, in the end, only 30 seconds were cut from Red River. (For more information on the dispute, for Red River.)

       Despite the complaints and the bans, The Outlaw broke box office records everywhere it was shown. A late February 1947 Hollywood Reporter news item speculated that, in cities where it had played, the film had been seen by about sixty-five percent of the total population. In late August 1948, after Hughes had become production head at RKO, the film was acquired for distribution by RKO, but because it lacked a PCA certificate, the studio did not immediately release it. In late October 1949, however, the PCA reinstated the film's certificate and the Legion of Decency, in reaction to certain changes made by Hughes, removed the picture from its "C" classification. By that time, the picture, which was made for approximately $1,200,000, had already made $4,500,000. Hughes sued United Artists in November 1950, claiming that the company had short-changed him $133,000 in receipts. The disposition of that suit is not known. By April 1952, the picture had grossed $2,600,000 for RKO. In June 1968, Hollywood Reporter reported that The Outlaw had made over $20 million at the box office.

       As noted above, Russell made her screen debut in The Outlaw. Beutel also made his official screen debut in the picture. According to modern sources, Beutel was compelled by Hughes to change the spelling of his name to "Buetel," and although he is listed as "Beutel" in the onscreen credits, advertisements and some reviews list it as "Buetel." Hollywood Reporter reported that Russell was tested by Twentieth Century-Fox in mid-1940, but was subsequently dropped by the studio. According to an unidentified contemporary source, Hughes picked the nineteen-year-old Russell, a doctor's receptionist, during a search for new talent. The same source noted that for the scene in which Rio writhes while tied between two stakes, Hughes designed a special brassiere for the actress to wear. In her autobiography, Russell stated that Hughes wanted a seamless look for the shot, but as his bra was extremely uncomfortable, she created the desired effect with her own bra by covering the seams with tissue and pulling the straps off her shoulders. The New York Times review said of Russell's performance in the picture: "This was the first picture in which the beauteous Jane Russell appeared and, while she is undeniably decorative in low-cut blouses, she is hopelessly inept as an actress." In her autobiography, Russell herself described her performance as "terrible."

       In addition to Russell's performance, the film itself was soundly criticized. The Time reviewer described the picture as a "strong candidate for the flopperoo of all time." The New York Times reviewer pronounced The Outlaw "strictly second-rate," noting that it was "long and tedious and crudely acted for the most part." In May 1948, the Library of Congress, however, publicly acclaimed the film as a "picture that truly reflected the modes and morals of the times in which the action takes place." For their compliment, Hughes gave the Library two prints of the film. Modern sources add the following actors to the cast: Frank Darien, Carl Stockdale, Dickie Jones, Ed Brady, William Steele, Wallace Reid, Jr., Ed Peil, Sr., Lee "Lasses" White, Ted Mapes, Lee Shumway, Dick Elliott, John Sheehan, Frank Ward and Cecil Kellogg. Some of these actors were not identifiable in the viewed print, but May have appeared in scenes cut from the film.

Miscellaneous Notes

Released in United States Winter February 13, 1943

Made in 1941.

Released in United States Winter February 13, 1943