BuiltWithNOF
Clayton Moore

CLAYTON MOORE
September 14th, 1914 -- December 28th, 1999

Above: Clayton Moore in THE ADVENTURES OF FRANK AND JESSE JAMES (Republic, 1948), his third starring serial.

As much as I like Buster Crabbe, Kane Richmond, and all the other contenders for the title of King of the Serials, I must say that for me, the true sovereign of cliffhangers is Clayton Moore. He possessed a perfectly measured and dramatic speaking voice, a very expressive face that could be used to convey intense determination or affable good humor, and unparalleled athletic abilities. In public life and private life Moore adhered to the code of the Hero, and never let down the fans that admired him. He’s famous to most of his fans as the Lone Ranger, but I enjoy his brilliant heroic (and occasionally villainous) performances in his cliffhanger outings even more.

Clayton was born Jack Carlton Moore in Chicago, and got an early start (at age 8, to be precise) in show biz as a circus acrobat. By the age of twenty, Clayton had worked for two different circuses and was accomplished enough as a trapeze artist to perform at the 1934 World’s Fair. Shortly afterwards he got out of the acrobat business and underwent a brief stint as a male model in New York before coming to Hollywood in 1938. Clay began as a stuntman, but he was a natural actor and soon began to get speaking roles in several of independent producer Edward Small’s RKO films. It was Small who suggested that Moore change his first name from Jack to Clayton, and among Moore’s films for the producer were KIT CARSON, where Moore played a dedicated pioneer who met a tragic but heroic death, and SON OF MONTE CRISTO, where he was an army officer who helped masked crusader Louis Hayward unseat despot George Sanders. During this period, Moore also made his first serial appearance as Francisco, one of the young Mexican nobles who made up ZORRO’S FIGHTING LEGION (Republic, 1939). Republic was to remember the talented young actor five years later when they cast him in PERILS OF NYOKA (Republic, 1942), an action-packed desert/jungle adventure serial. Though the serial was ostensibly a vehicle for Republic’s new “Serial Queen”, Kay Aldridge, Moore completely stole the cliffhanger in his role of Larry Grayson. His energy and talent kept him from being shoved into the background, although he took second billing to Aldridge. Grayson was a doctor who came to the Sahara looking for the Lost Tablets of Hippocrates, which contained a cure for cancer. Nyoka Gordon’s (Kay Aldridge) father had vanished several years ago looking for those very tablets, so Nyoka joined Larry and Professor Campbell (Forbes Murray) in their search. Also searching for the Tablets--and the treasure buried with them--was Arab ruler Vultura (Lorna Gray) and her band of desert cutthroats led by Cassib (Charles Middleton). The good guys had their hands full battling Vultura’s men, but thanks to Dr. Grayson and Nyoka the Tablets finally found their way into the right hands. Clay did a fair number of his own stunts (fistfights, horseback riding, etc.) in NYOKA, and was eminently convincing as a dedicated physician, although it was hard to believe just going to medical school could have taught him the arts of marksmanship, dueling, and wall-scaling.

Above: Clayton Moore is about to deliver a knockout blow to a Touareg, while Kay Aldridge appears to see more trouble headed her way in PERILS OF NYOKA (Republic, 1942).

Above: The good guys have finally discovered the long-sought treasures of Hippocrates in the final sequence of PERILS OF NYOKA (Republic, 19420. From left to right: Clayton Moore (holding the tablets of Hippocrates), Robert Strange, George Pembroke, Kay Aldridge, Forbes Murray, and Billy Benedict.

Moore would undoubtedly have been awarded more cliffhanger leads after NYOKA, had he not been drafted into the army after the serial’s completion. He served well in World War 2, but when he got back home he found he had some catching up to do in Hollywood. His excellent turn in NYOKA, now four years old, was not enough to secure him a new serial lead, so he took on a villainous role in THE CRIMSON GHOST (Republic, 1946). It was startling at first to accept Clay as a bad guy, but he did a red-letter job as Ashe, the cold-blooded, ruthless lieutenant of the mysterious title villain. Ashe ultimately met his comeuppance from hero Charles Quigley, and wound up the clink along with his sinister leader. GHOST was directed by William Witney, who had also helmed PERILS OF NYOKA. Witney (who regarded Moore as one of the most talented, well-mannered performers he’d ever worked with) moved on to features after finishing CRIMSON GHOST, but it was far from being Clay’s last cliffhanger.

Above: Clayton Moore hands a bottle of valuable heavy water to the hideous CRIMSON GHOST (Republic, 1946).

Clayton was back to starring roles with JESSE JAMES RIDES AGAIN (Republic, 1947). Westerns had always been Moore’s favorite genre (his hobby was horseback riding), and JESSE JAMES was one of the best latter-day sagebrush serials released by Republic. The plot dealt with a reformed Jesse James, anxious to make amends for his past crimes but unable to live down his reputation, traveling to Tennessee to escape his past but being drawn into a land struggle between outlaw “Black Raiders” and peaceful farmers. Jesse came to the aid of the farmers, and the Black Raiders quickly began fighting a losing battle. Moore was perfect as Jesse; his burning intensity helped him to carry off the role of a “good” gunfighter and give the character a dangerous edge that nobody else could have managed convincingly.

Above: Clayton Moore with leading lady Linda Stirling in JESSE JAMES RIDES AGAIN (Republic, 1947). Incidentally, Stirling had been the heroine in Moore’s earlier THE CRIMSON GHOST.

Above: Roy Barcroft has the drop of Clayton Moore for the moment in JESSE JAMES RIDES AGAIN (Republic, 1947), but the look on Moore’s face says things may soon start going badly for Barcroft.

Clay reprised his Jesse James characterization the next year in ADVENTURES OF RANK AND JESSE JAMES (Republic, 1948), and was again completely on-target in the role of the outlaw-turned-hero. This time, Jesse and his brother Frank (Steve Darrell) were helping former James Gang member John Powell (Stanley Andrews) develop a silver mine--the boys hoped to use their share of the money to pay back victims of their robberies. However, villainous mining engineer Amos Ramsey (John Crawford) messed thing up by murdering Powell in a mine explosion when the blasting revealed the mine contained not silver but gold. Ramsey did his best to cover up the gold’s existence with the help of outlaw Rafe Henley (George Lewis), but the James boys and Powell’s daughter Judy (Noel Neill) got the mine developed in spite of them and unmasked the treacherous Ramsey.

Above, from left to right: John Crawford, Clayton Moore, Noel Neill, and Steve Darrell in ADVENTURES OF FRANK AND JESSE JAMES (Republic, 1948).

Clayton’s next serial was one of his favorites, along with NYOKA and JESSE JAMES, and it’s one of my favorites too: the underrated G-MEN NEVER FORGET (Republic, 1948). A strong gangbusting adventure with strong performances from Clayton, heroine Ramsay Ames, action heavy Drew Allen, and Roy Barcroft (in a dual role as good guy and bad guy), G-MEN was one of the most well-crafted, entertaining serials Republic ever made in any era. Directors Fred Brannon and Yakima Canutt gave it more than the usual quota of atmosphere, and the screenwriters gave all the characters above-average dialogue. Moore could well be proud of this one.

Above: G-man Clayton Moore, posing as a bedridden gangster, has a visit from his pretended wife (Ramsay Ames, really a police detective working with Moore) in G-MEN NEVER FORGET (Republic, 1948).

Clayton’s next serial helped to shape his future career in a way no one could have foreseen. GHOST OF ZORRO (Republic, 1949), the final entry in Republic’s successful series of Zorro cliffhangers, starred Moore as Ken Mason, grandson of the original Zorro, who donned his ancestor’s mask to make sure the first Western telegraph line was completed despite sabotage by outlaw mastermind Gene Roth and his henchman Roy Barcroft. The serial was a good one, and it caught the eye of TV producer Jack Wrather and his wife Bonita Granville, who were preparing to launch a Lone Ranger TV show. Moore’s turn as the masked hero in GHOST OF ZORRO convinced them that here was the Ranger they had been looking for. Clay did the Lone Ranger pilot in 1949, and continued as the Masked Man till 1952. During this period, Moore did make one technical serial appearance in FLYING DISC MAN FROM MARS (Republic, 1950), but all his footage actually came from THE CRIMSON GHOST.

Above: The title card for GHOST OF ZORRO (Republic, 1949). Clayton Moore (red shirt) and sidekick George Lewis (blue shirt) are shown below the title, while heroine Pamela Blake’s head is positioned above the cast block. Moore as the masked Zorro dominates the rest of the card, except for the bottom right hand corner, where the unmasked Moore battles Alex Montoya.

Clay ran into difficulties with the owner of the Lone Ranger character, George Trendle, in 1952, and, according to Moore’s own story (which I would definitely credit) Trendle dropped him from the Lone Ranger role with no explanation given. The most likely explanation is that Trendle disliked the idea of one actor becoming indelibly identified with “their” character. John Hart took Moore’s place as the Ranger, and Clayton went back to serials, appearing as a bad guy for the final time in RADAR MEN FROM THE MOON (Republic, 1952). As a gangster named Graber, Moore joined with longtime onscreen adversary (and off-screen friend) Roy Barcroft, who played a lunar warlord bent on conquering Earth. Scientist Commando Cody (George Wallace) opposed Barcroft and thwarted his plans of conquest with the help of his incredible rocket suit and other handy gadgets. Moore was suitably nasty as Graber, but I personally think he would have been better cast in the Cody role--the Graber role could then have been handed to Wallace, who proved a good villain in subsequent TV westerns.

Above: Clayton Moore gets the drop on William Bakewell in RADAR MEN FROM THE MOON (Republic, 1952).

Clay’s final Republic outing enabled him to play the hero once again. JUNGLE DRUMS OF AFRICA (Republic, 1953) cast Moore as an American mining engineer vying with Communist spies (led by Henry Rowland) for a valuable uranium deposit in the African jungles. Moore was assisted by lady doctor Phyllis Coates and fellow engineer Johnny Sands, and ran into lots of opposition from sneaky witch doctor Roy Glenn and treacherous hunter John Cason. JUNGLE DRUMS represented a solid attempt by Republic to revive Clayton as a serial king, but the death of director Fred Brannon, (incidentally a close friend of Moore’s offscreen) after the cliffhanger’s completion signaled the final decline of serials, and Republic pretty much abandoned all future plans to revive the chapterplay market. They only managed to get a half-dozen releases out in the next two years, and finally hung it up in 1955.

Above: Clayton Moore and Phyllis Coates are set upon by hostile natives in JUNGLE DRUMS OF AFRICA (Republic, 1953).

Clay finished out his serial career at Columbia, in two Western releases filmed almost simultaneously. The first, SON OF GERONIMO (Columbia, 1953), starred Moore as cavalry officer Jim Scott, who went undercover to track down a gang of outlaws inciting the Indians to attack. The Indians were led by Rodd Redwing, as the titular son of Geronimo, and it took Moore 15 chapters to convince Redwing to come to term and to corner Marshall Reed, the villain behind all the trouble. Thanks to Moore, Redwing, Reed, and veterans Tommy Farrell and Bud Osborne as Moore’s sidekicks, GERONIMO is one of the most popular latter-day Columbia serials. The same is true of GUNFIGHTERS OF THE NORTHWEST (Columbia, 1954), in which Moore played second lead to Jock Mahoney in a Canadian Mounties adventure. Mahoney and Moore found themselves battling the White Horse rebels, a gang of outlaws whose mysterious Leader was bent on setting up a “White Horse Republic” in Canada. GUNFIGHTERS would be Clay’s final serial. As it hit the theaters, Jack Wrather again approached Moore and asked him to return as the Lone Ranger. The TV audiences just hadn’t been able to accept a substitute Ranger after three years of Moore, and so Clayton remained the “daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains” for the rest of his screen career.

Above: Bud Osborne and Clayton Moore in SON OF GERONIMO (Columbia, 1953).

Above: Clayton Moore revives Jock Mahoney after saving him from going over a waterfall in GUNFIGHTERS OF THE NORTHWEST (Columbia, 1954).

The Lone Ranger TV series ended in 1956, after which Moore did two Ranger big-screen movies and then retired from acting. Not from the public view, however, as he continued to make personal appearances round the country in his signature Ranger mask and costume. In 1975, when the Wrather Corporation decided to make a new Ranger movie, they unforgivably demanded that Moore give up his mask in an attempt to kill his association with the character. The last laugh was with Moore, though, as the new movie--the hideous travesty called THE LEGEND OF THE LONE RANGER--failed miserably, and the company subsequently let him resume his beloved mask. Moore continued to steadfastly uphold the cause of heroism, kindness, and justice until he passed on in 1999.

I want to finish out this article with an anecdote related by William C. Cline, in an article that appeared in THOSE ENDURING MATINEE IDOLS back in the 1970s. I am giving it at full length, for it truly shows us the essence of the man Clayton Moore: charity. Strong, active, and enduring charity towards the weak and helpless:

  • “In conclusion, I want to describe a vignette I witnessed during the afternoon that illustrated why Clayton Moore has been so successful and well-loved during his 24-year stint as ‘The Lone Ranger’, and why those of us who cherish serials detected the quality of the man even before then.
    As Moore stood talking--with occasional interruption to shake hands with fans, sign autographs, and even speak to a small boy about the dangers of handling real firearms--a young woman timidly approached him holding the hands of a little lad of about seven and a girl perhaps nine years old. The boy gathered up his courage and thrust out his hand boldly. ‘Hello, Lone Ranger,’ he blurted. ‘My daddy says you’re the best. How come you’re not on TV anymore?’
    The little girl just stood there.
    ‘Thank you, son,” Moore replied. ‘I’m sure your dad is a great fellow, too. Maybe some time later the TV stations will show the programs again. Then you and your sister can see Tonto and me in action like your dad and mother did.’
    The little girl continued to just stand there.
    Turning to her, Moore noticed the expression on her face--that unique, particular expression that indicates only one thing, blindness. Looking up at the mother, he spoke one word, softly: ‘Total?’ he asked.
    ‘Not quite, but legally,’ she replied.
    ‘Here, take my two hands, honey,’ he said, turning his full attention to the girl. Gently drawing her closer to himself, he placed her hesitating fingers on his face and mask, the famous red bandana, the drawcords on his blue shirt, and then the huge silver buckle and belt at his waist. Then he touched her fingers ever-so-lightly to the silver handles of his holstered pistols and looking straight into her eyes--eyes that obviously could see him back only as an indistinct blur--quietly whispered, ‘God bless you, sweetheart.’
    He placed the little girl’s hands back into her mother’s and smiled. The mother smiled back, not attempting to speak. Without another word, the trio turned and walked away.
    It was sudden, unexpected, and only lasted a few minutes. Yet from a man who has played heroes and villains, traded shots with the worst bad guys the movies and TV could dish up, and fought rough-and-tumble with the likes of Tom Steele, Dale Van Sickel, Roy Barcroft, Ken Terrell, Eddie Parker, and Fred Graham, there had come a small gesture to a little girl, so tender, so compassionate, so loving, that it summed up eloquently what Clayton Moore has made ‘The Lone Ranger’ mean to two generations of American youth. Trusted Friend.”
  • Now there is a hero.
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