Volume I: Narrative History

Chapter 7 (1914): How Carroll Fleming Did It

Beating Back, the Al J. Jennings outlaw film, was produced by Direct-From-Broadway Features and released on a states rights basis around June 9, 1914. The number of reels is believed to have been six for the initial prints, later edited to five. The Mutual Film Corporation desired to make the film a classic that would have commercial value for more than just a few months, and to this end they succeeded for prints were in circulation well into 1915. From all accounts Beating Back was a commercial success, although reviewers scarcely noticed it. Perhaps this was compensated for by the large amount of pre-release publicity given the picture.

Carroll Fleming, who for a long period managed the "spectacles" staged at the Hippodrome in New York City and who was hired by Thanhouser to direct multiple-reel Thanhouser Big Productions, related how he produced Beating Back: Note

AN OUTLAW FOR A STAR: When I learned from Mr. Charles J. Hite Note that Beating Back was to be the first Big Production which I was to direct for him, my feelings were a mixture of pleasure and apprehension; pleasure, at the thought of handling so big and interesting a subject as the life story of a real bandit, and apprehension at the thought of the difficulties ahead of me in securing a satisfactory impersonation of Jennings from even the best screen actor.

On expressing my doubts on the subject to Mr. Hite he promptly dissipated my fears by assuring me that Al Jennings himself would play. On his arrival at the Thanhouser studio Mr. Jennings, now a leading candidate for the gubernatorial nomination in Oklahoma, announced that he had just three weeks to devote to the work of transferring to the screen his tempestuous career. A longer absence would seriously injure his chances for success in the election.

Enter worry! With 100 horses, scores of bandits and marshals, a real railroad train filled with passengers to be robbed, extras innumerable, three yoke of oxen, and all the requirements of a cattle camp to be assembled and shipped to the mountains 80 miles away, there was left little time to indulge in eating, much less sleeping and recreation.

Then it rained, and RAINED. In the words of the oldest inhabitant of the Ogden range, the weather was "plumb juicy." I can still see Jennings booted and spurred, seated humped up in a chair on the porch of the little tavern where we stayed, gazing at the sodden skies with an expression on his face, which some of his victims of the old bandit days would doubtless consider fearfully familiar. At such times yours truly made it a point not to venture within talking distance of the little human dynamo in the gray suit, for the very obvious reason I, and I only, as director, was responsible for such outrageous weather conditions. Who else could be? Jennings knew this, the actors were certain of it, and the very horses saddled and ready at the improvised racks in the muddy road, which literally ran by the little tavern, gazed at me with accusing eyes.

Then suddenly from my observation tower on an upper porch I would note the breaking of the clouds on the far horizon, uncertain precursor of coming sunshine. But, with a sigh of relief I would leave my post, stalk confidently up to my star, and delightedly announce that we would begin taking pictures in exactly so many minutes by the town clock. Luck, or the fact that it was April, or some other indefinable influence almost invariably seemed to favor my proposition, and to this fact I attribute my being able to hold in leash the most high strung, temperamental man I have ever known. Now, strangely enough, it was these very characteristics in him that, as his director, I valued most, for he had no previous experience as an actor. Note Without these characteristics my task must have been almost hopeless for as the central figure in the story was concerned.

In the earlier scenes the work was hard for Mr. Jennings. Here was a man who, living over the most vital period of his career, dressed, armed, and accoutered identically as he had been at the very moment of his unlawful experiences, was called upon instantly to reproduce the emotions which controlled him at such times and then to give the outward expression which would make them absolutely clear to the moving picture audience. And the marvel of it is that Jennings did this. In a somewhat wide and varied experience as a director of actors I have never known a man possessing a technique more natural, more certain, or more effective in securing the required effects than that with which nature has endowed Al Jennings.

Never self-conscious, direct in method, and absolutely earnest in purpose, he played scenes, seemingly without effort, that would have taxed to the limit the resources of the most experienced and talented actor. Fortunately for me, Jennings liked my method of directing, which was calculated to secure rapidity to the limit of safety. And it is gratifying to recall that our relations throughout were of the pleasantest character.

Except when it rained!