When confronting mummies and evil Oriental masterminds and assorted spooks and murders, sometimes a wisecrack or at least a sense of humor and a snappy manner can work as well as wolfsbane.  For one busy actor in the Thirties and Forties, that was the way to deal with the various boogiemen of the classic horror films, and we loved him for it.  We refer to, of course, Wallace Ford, whom we appreciate as...

By JOE WINTERS

British-born in 1898, Samuel Jones Grundy was separated from his parents and spent a part of his young life in English orphanages, and later across the sea to Toronto and over a dozen foster homes. Sam ran away and joined a vaudeville troupe at age 11. In 1914, he and a friend hoboed their way to the United States. The friend was crushed to death by a railroad car. The friend’s name was Wallace Ford, in whose honor Sam adopted the name for himself.

From small theatrical troupes and repertory companies, he made it to Broadway in 1919 where he continued to perform through the 1920’s and with little or no trace of British accent. It was on to motion pictures in the early 1930’s where his likeable wise guy delivery and timing would serve him well. His mystery genre film appearances in the 1930’s and 1940’s would usually be either as the romantic comedy lead or as the comic sidekick, depending on the studio, the cast and corresponding budget.

The stocky, still young actor portrayed Phroso, one of the "normals" in Tod Browning’s Freaks (MGM, 1932), and though top-billed, was upstaged by the title characters and by Olga Baclanova’s bellowing, larger-than-life presence. Ford’s contribution to the film was as our surrogate, a character most of us so-called normals could at least identify with. The average guy in the middle of Browning’s mix of misfits and murderers.

When girlfriend Venus says, "You’re a pretty good kid," Phroso replies "You’re darn right I am, and you should have caught me before my operation." What that means exactly, is one of the movie’s unanswered mysteries. Another fun, less cryptic, but almost controversial bit is where Ford appears to be taking a bath in the presence of a woman, but when he stands up it turns out he’s wearing the bathtub (and pants) as part of his act. Phroso was the good-natured, friendly sort of role that Ford would emulate in his other genre appearances.

In the underrated thriller Night Of Terror (Columbia, 1933), Ford was wisecracking reporter Tom Hartley looking for a maniac on the loose at a creepy old house. Amid an ever-increasing body count, the suspects included a turban-headed Bela Lugosi as the reddest of herrings. Aside from a then-stereotypical black chauffeur, Ford was in charge of getting laughs, often at the expense of the dimwitted detective. When the cop boasts, "As long as I’m here, nothing can happen," Ford can only reply, "Took the words right outta my mouth." In an attempt to get to second base with the leading lady, Ford sweet-talks her with, "Oh them eyes, them nose, them lips."

As with many of his roles, the actual cleverness of his remarks was debatable, but we weren’t looking for Groucho Marx here. The object was simply to provide us with some degree of comedic comfort, and in that, Wally Ford almost always came through.

There was precious little comfort where tensions ran high with 130 degree Arizona heat on the set of John Ford’s The Lost Patrol (1934). Though the cast and crew were basically good-natured, arguments and fights occurred on the set, including Wallace Ford’s clobbering of a cook who refused to serve a black laborer. The film itself turned out to be another John Ford classic. The squad leader (Victor MacGlaglen) of a British military group surrounded by enemy Arabs loses his men, one by one. Among the doomed assemblage are a religious fanatic played by Boris Karloff and an ex-vaudeville comic played by Wallace Ford.

The Man Who Reclaimed His Head (Universal, 1934) starred Claude Rains, Joan Bennett, and Lionel Atwill. Ford was in the supporting cast as Curly, one of the merrymakers who crash Claude’s quiet dinner with wife Joan and spirit her off to some local festivities. Most of the movie is well-acted melodrama with a touch of the macabre involving Claude toting Lionel’s head around in a valise. Ford provides one of the films few light moments when he recognizes Joan some time later and brags to a buddy to watch him sweep the woman off her feet. She scarcely notices him.

Next year, bigger billing (under Bela Lugosi), smaller studio (Monogram), with Ford as yet another of those wise guy reporters on the trail of the Mysterious Mr. Wong (Monogram, 1935). See here for more details, and see the movie for Lugosi’s mad Manchurian and Ford’s snappy patter as he unravels the murder plot, foils Wong’s plans for power, and gets the girl (Arline Judge).

That same year saw Ford in a fun little dark house chiller, One Frightened Night, produced by low budget Mascot Pictures. Many of the movie’s best laughs were delivered by Charley Grapewin as Jasper Whyte, a wealthy old fart who’d rather give his money away to his greedy relatives than pay the new inheritance tax. A woman (Evalyn Knapp) claiming to be Jasper’s missing granddaughter Doris arrives, and he makes her his sole heir. Ford shows up as vaudeville magician Joe Luvalle, or, as he’s quick to correct anyone who addresses him, "The Great Luvalle." With him is a woman (Mary Carlisle) who also claims to be Doris. The first Doris winds up dead, and someone’s plans are afoot to bump off the second Doris.

Showman Ford lightens the situation with such lines as "That dart was meant for you, Doris, but somebody muffed their cue, and we’re not waitin’ for another rehearsal!" While trying to solve the crime, escape artist Luvalle winds up in a set of handcuffs, and even after the murderer is captured, the not-so-great Luvalle still can’t get out of them. "Doris, we’re gonna have to break in a new act." By now, Doris has her arms around new boyfriend Tom (Regis Toomey) and declares, "That’s what I’m doing!"

Ford got name-over-the-title billing in another fun bargain thriller, The Rogues’ Tavern (Puritan Pictures, 1936). As off-duty detective Jimmy Flavin, he arrives at a shadowy, out-of-the way inn to marry his gal Marjorie (Barbara Pepper). But first he has to solve some murders among a larcenous bunch of suspects. Ford presides over the proceedings and makes us feel at ease from the outset, responding to his amorous bride-to-be’s remark of "I feel so poetic, I could make love to a snowman." Ford’s reply: "If that Justice of the Peace doesn’t show up, the chances are you’ll have to."

At the end after he solves the case and foils the killer, only then does the J.O.P. arrive in time to say, "Do you take this woman to be your lawful wife?" "I do," says Jimmy (Ford).

(Justice) "Do you take this man to be your lawful…" (Jimmy) "She does." (Justice) "I then declare you…" (Jimmy) "That done…" and he kisses his bride, ending the picture on a rhythmically timed comic note.

One of Ford’s more frequently seen roles in a monster movie was as Babe Jenson, the gabby sidekick of Steve Banning (Dick Foran) in The Mummy’s Hand (Universal, 1940). As usual, it was Ford’s job to keep us amused in between being menaced by fanatical Professor Andoheb (George Zucco) and living mummy Kharis (Tom Tyler). Sure, Babe’s humor was cornball, but you had to like somebody who could refer to Andoheb as "Professor Andy" or "You Egyptian Mickey-Finn." Whether referring to jackals as jackasses or passing out after helping rescue the girl, Babe was one of the good guys we could identify with. Co-star Peggy Moran liked Ford and recalled that he was always making jokes.

Next, another stop at Monogram and top billing in 1941’s Murder By Invitation, an entertaining old house comedy/mystery. As New York columnist Bob White, Ford happily rolls out of bed at the news of foul play with "Hooray, a murder!" Murder By Invitation is similar in tone to One Frightened Night, with Ford again matched in the comedy department, this time by Sarah Padden as an eccentric who invites her rotten relatives to her home where murder inevitably ensues. But who’s killing whom?

Once Ford’s character kicks in, he fires off some in-joke humor such as, "There comes a time in every murder mystery when all of the corpus delicti are missing…it generally happens just past the middle of the picture" (which in fact, it did). Bob’s photographer buddy has the last word as Bob is kissing the girl. "The Hayes Office ain’t gonna like that long kiss," referring to the motion picture industry’s watchdog/censor.

Scattergood Survives A Murder, also known as The Cat’s Paw Murder Mystery (Pyramid/RKO, 1942) was the fifth of the independently made "Scattergood Baines" series of films about a loveable New England village storekeeper (played by Guy Kibbee) who solves crimes. This time a killer after an inheritance uses a poison-dipped lynx paw to dispatch a pair of old ladies. Could the killer be likeable Wally Collins (Wallace Ford)? And wouldn’t we be surprised if it was? Well, it was!

1942 also saw good old Babe Jenson (a grayed-up and more serious Ford) and others connected with the Kharis excavation executed by the vengeful monster in Universal’s The Mummy’s Tomb. Set years after the events in The Mummy’s Hand, this sequel provided some rather unkind ends for some nice old folks (including Ford), the not-so-nice high priest (Turhan Bey), and, for the time being, Kharis himself (Lon Chaney Jr.).

1943, and back to Monogram and Bela Lugosi as The Ape Man with third-billed Ford playing (are you ready?) a wisecracking reporter. In this one, Ford’s comedic attempts compete with the film’s laughably bad drama and Lugosi floundering to retain his own dignity in the title role. As the oft-used Monogram action music cranks over and over, Lugosi’s character meets his end in the fatal embrace of an equally absurd simian (echoing Lugosi’s death scene as Dr. Mirakle in 1932’s Murders In The Rue Morgue at Universal).

With the case solved, Ford and photographer girlfriend Billie Mason (Louise Currie) encounter the goofy mystery character (played by Ralph Littlefield) who appeared throughout the picture. He introduces himself as the author of the story (which he actually wasn’t), a lame device in a ludicrously enjoyable clinker of a film. Co-star Currie remembered Wallace Ford as a very nice man, a good actor, easy to work with. She added, "He was breezy and casual and made everything fun."

Wallace Ford went on to numerous memorable supporting roles in major and minor films for the last 23 years of his busy life. In well over a hundred films he proved a reliable character actor in dramas of the 40s, westerns of the 50s, various TV shows, and on through his final film, A Patch Of Blue (1966). He died that same year.

What lives on in so many of his films is Wallace Ford’s ability to invest his character roles with a fun-loving attitude to bring smiles to the faces of an appreciative audience. When movie monsters and madmen are closing in, a sense of humor can be invaluable. A well-timed laugh can truly save the day.

Thanks, Joe.  As you said, Wallace Ford was a pleasant and welcome presence in a number of classic horrors and thrillers, an actor who could provide comic relief while avoiding looking clownish or foolish.  In the few instances in which he was cast as a hero, he handled the chore with snappy patter and cleverness, a welcome change to the often colorless "romantic leads" we often encountered in fright films.  A little mirth mixed with the macabre is always a good thing, and that's what Wallace Ford could always be counted on to provide.  It's a shame we never saw him team up with Mantan Moreland in a fright flick.

Article copyright © Joe Winters

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