When a stranger shows up here, he declares himself.
In 1937 alone, director Sam Newfield cranked out 16 B westerns for Republic, only one of which -- the Bob Steele vehicle Doomed at Sundown -- is of any interest to me. This is because the film opens with Steele's character, rambunctious sheriff's son Dave Austin, being forcibly inducted into the Ancient Order of Mavericks, a secret society that wears black-hooded cloaks when they hold their initiation rites. Alas, right after he's been given the ceremonial paddling, and before the Order can think of anything else to do with their newest member, Dave is called away to his father's side just as the sheriff succumbs to a knife wound. Armed with his badge and the knowledge that the killer is a lefty who hangs out at an infamous outlaw bar, Dave plants himself there in the hopes of overhearing something that will tip him off to the guilty party's identity.
It's at this point that the story becomes a lot more rote, especially as the various suspects -- boss man Hatfield (Warner Richmond), cattle rustler Butch (Earle Dwire), surly tavern owner's son Dante (Harold Daniels) -- are paraded before Dave. He also gets himself mixed up in the problems of siblings Jean and Don Williams (Lorraine Hayes and David Sharpe), who picked the wrong cantina to stop at with $12,000 in traveler's checks on them. Over and above that, there's a heck of a lot of padding -- mostly riding shots, but also two solid minutes of people chasing a pig -- for a film that only runs 53 minutes. Saddest of all, when the Order comes riding to the rescue at the end, they leave their hoods at home. Boo.
