The Covered Wagon -a 1923 Movie Review

Nature seems to smile a welcome

by Bill Miller for the Mail Tribune

Monday, July 8th 2019

Last week, I wrote about the excitement brought to Southern Oregon in 1924 by the silent motion picture “The Covered Wagon.”

The Mail Tribune gave surviving pioneers free tickets to a

performance, inspiring those aging folks to write dozens of stories about their wearisome treks across the Plains.

Oregon editorial writers, reporters and other folk who were much too young to have ever experienced a four-month walk across the continent, enthusiastically proclaimed the movie “the greatest America has ever produced. This is a good thing for Oregon. Nine out of 10 people east of the Appalachians don’t know whether Oregon is a national park or an outdoor sport.”

 

William Mason Colvig

William Colvig, one of Southern Oregon’s earliest pioneers strongly disagreed.

“I cannot entirely agree with you in regard to the advertising value to Oregon of the motion picture,” he said.

Nearly a year earlier, Colvig had attended the West Coast premiere of the movie at the Egyptian Theater in Hollywood (April 10, 1923).

“As I am one of the Argonauts that came to this state, I am presumptuous enough to believe that I am a better critic of that picture than those to whom it was submitted,” he said.

Colvig offered a long list of perceived inaccuracies in the production, starting with the gathering of the wagons in 1845 in Westport, what the film said was the name of Kansas City at the time.

William Mason Colvig

“Humbug,” Colvig said. “I don’t know what it was called in 1845, but we lived within six miles of that place continuously from 1847 until we left in 1851. It was always known as Kaw Landing, it being at the mouth of the Kaw River.”

He noted that the 200 movie covered wagons were all covered in “snow white sheets” in the beginning, and, at the end of the movie, they were still just as gleaming white.

Yet, even worse than that, “Each wagon had a brake. Mankind had not yet devised such a useful contrivance.”

Most upsetting to Colvig was the differing portrayals of the pioneer arrivals in California and Oregon.

“There are some fine pictures shown of the California end of the journey, beautiful valleys and rich gold mines,” even though it was supposedly 1845 and the California Gold Rush wouldn’t start for three more years.

“Contrast that,” he said, “to the miserable ending on our Oregon Trail.”

 

"Oregon at Last"

The picture ended with wagons huddled together in a small mountain valley covered in a foot of snow. Mothers held babies and pleaded to the heavens, “Oh, my God. Will this journey never end?”

“Just then,” Colvig said, “a mountaineer appears, and to answer the women’s wails, he tells these travel-worn people, ‘Why, you’re already in Oregon.’

“Now really? No one ever knew the ground to be covered with snow in Oregon in early October.”

Colvig preferred that the movie show one of Oregon’s “fair valleys that border the sundown seas; a land of fertile soil, warmed by genial sun, and where nature seems to smile a welcome.”

What would the millions of people who would see the movie see instead?

“They will wonder why anyone would undergo the hardships, struggles and privations that were endured by these pioneers to reach such a miserable Godforsaken-looking place as that shown in the final picture.”

Even though Judge Colvig didn’t like the movie, like other pioneers, he penned an essay for the Mail Tribune about his crossing the prairie in 1851.

But, that, my friends, is a column for another day. See you then.

Writer Bill Miller is the author of “History Snoopin’,” a collection of his previous history columns and stories. Reach him at newsmiller@live.com or WilliamMMiller.com.

https://mailtribune.com/lifestyle/nature-seems-to-smile-a-welcome

"The Covered Wagon" - Part One

The Covered Wagon

---

by Bill Miller for the Mail Tribune

Monday, July 1st 2019

Return with us now to 1924, those thrilling days of yesteryear when the arrival of a silent movie revived excitement and memories in the minds of Southern Oregon pioneers.

With organ and orchestra accompaniment, the “epic” film “The Covered Wagon” arrived for a two-day visit Feb. 29, at Medford’s Rialto Theater (closed in 1953). Adjusting for inflation, the motion picture had cost $12 million to produce and would gross $114 million.

Based on a novel by Emerson Hough, “The Covered Wagon,” promised the “most human and tender story of the hardships and sufferings of the heroic pioneers that has yet been put in pictorial form.” Viewers would see a “two-mile wagon train” crossing the plains from Kansas to Oregon Country. There would be “spectacular scenery, Indian attacks, prairie fires, a desperate and dangerous river crossing, and the story of a man’s love and sacrifice for a beautiful girl.”

Wow! A mere two days and four performances were obviously not enough to satisfy the local population’s curiosity, so, the motion picture returned for Fair Week in September; four days with five performances each day.

Medford impresario George Hunt, owner of the Rialto and Craterian movie theaters, joined with the Mail Tribune to offer an exciting promotion. Pioneers who had trekked across the country to Oregon in a covered wagon could have a free ticket to a performance.

All that was required was that the pioneers register their name, age, address, their arrival date in Oregon, and a few facts about their trip. The Mail Tribune also encouraged the pioneers to write a short story about crossing the plains.

One of the biggest surprises during the ticket giveaway was the reunion of two pioneers who hadn’t seen each other since they lived in Missouri, 56 years earlier.

Trail resident Perry Foster, 83, came into the Mail Tribune office one afternoon, closely followed by Jim Griffin of Boise, Idaho. Griffin, 78, was visiting his sister near Griffin Creek. Their father, an early pioneer, had named the creek.

The two men were registering with two separate clerks when Perry Foster gave his name.

Griffin spun around and shouted, “Perry Foster? Do you remember Jim Griffin?”

“Do I remember Jim Griffin?” Perry said. “Well, I’ll be damned!”

With a shake of their hands, nearly 60 years melted away. The two old pals were soon slapping backs and swapping stories, oblivious to everything and everyone. They left the office arm in arm, laughing, still talking, and wasting no time in claiming good seats together at “The Covered Wagon.”

Pioneers, eager to tell about their dusty and arduous 2,000-mile walk across the country, flooded the Mail Tribune office with essays. There were stories of cholera epidemics, Indian attacks, runaway horses, and the deaths and burials of loved ones.

Tom Collins was 12 years old when he left Iowa. He remembered losing a half day while watching and waiting as thousands of

buffalo crossed over the Platte River. Finally, the settlers themselves began to cross. That crossing took 100 wagons three more days to complete.

The longest essay came from Judge William Colvig, who arrived in Oregon in 1851 when he was 7 years old. Colvig was one of the most respected men in Southern Oregon, and he definitely wasn’t a fan of “The Covered Wagon.”

“The writer took great liberties with the historical phase of the subject,” he said.

Next week, Colvig speaks for himself.

Writer Bill Miller is the author of “History Snoopin’,” a collection of his previous history columns and stories. Reach him at newsmiller@live.com or WilliamMMiller.com.