"This Music Was Not of My Choosing": The Music of Rio Grande (1950)

Rio Grande has been my favorite Western movie for as long as I've had a favorite. There are plenty of reasons why, but I'm sure one of them is its music—not just the background score, but its wonderful use of vocal music within the story, in scenes that have stuck with me since the first time I saw the movie (colorized—the horror!) on TV as a kid. The soundtrack was one of the first CDs I bought for myself (probably from Barnes & Noble, back in those nostalgic days when I had just made the delighted discovery that they had music CDs on their website and you could actually listen to samples from each track!). I've always been a little amazed that a soundtrack album was actually produced, given that it seems to be both an underrated movie and score. According to the Soundtrack Collector website, it looks like the earliest release was an LP in 1981. I wonder who had the impulse to release an obscure soundtrack thirty years after the movie came out, and why? At any rate, I'm glad they did.

With all my fondness for this soundtrack, somehow I've never written anything specifically about it before—so for this year's Legends of Western Cinema Week, a blog event that I never miss, what better than to do some in-depth gushing about the music of Rio Grande?

First up, we have the best piece of music in the movie: the gorgeous, sweeping, heart-stirring main title by Victor Young. I seriously think this is the most underrated main theme in classic film. I've always wished that someone would take it into their heads to do a new recording of it—of course it's great that we have the original soundtrack version, mono sound and slightly blurry quality as it is, but can you imagine how it would sound in stereo and high-quality sound? Paging the City of Prague Philharmonic, or the Boston Pops or the Moscow Symphony...

Appropriately enough considering the distinct Irish-American influence all over Ford's cavalry trilogy, there is a strong enough similarity between the main theme of Rio Grande and the Irish song "Leaving of Liverpool" that makes me suspect Young may have based his theme on that tune. (I actually succeeded in making a homemade piano arrangement of the theme to Rio Grande by using some of the chords from "Leaving of Liverpool" from my piano songbook of Irish songs.) Oddly enough, and rather regrettably, we never hear this beautiful theme again in the movie after the moving opening scene "Return From Patrol," except for a tiny fragment of a quotation at 4:28 in the track "Indian Raid / Escape."

There's also an interesting example here of a composer re-using bits of his own themes in different scores. Pay attention to the musical phrase at 1:54 of the main title—and then listen to 0:07 of the track "Off to Town / Grafton's Store" from Young's score to Shane, three years later. Slightly different rhythm, but almost exactly the same phrase.

Next, Young introduces the one other significant original theme of the score: a sweet string theme with touches of wistfulness and humor which accompanies the scenes involving Colonel Kirby Yorke (John Wayne) and his estranged son Jeff (Claude Jarman Jr.). The father-son theme, as I call it, is first heard in a couple short cues that didn't make the soundtrack album, but finally appears on the album at the end of the track "Soldiers' Fight."

The one piece of incidental music that I don't understand being completely omitted from the soundtrack album is the lovely lyrical, bittersweet waltz theme underscoring the scene where Yorke's estranged wife Kathleen (Maureeen O'Hara) arrives at the fort. You can see a clip of the whole scene here; the string theme begins at 1:15. Whyever didn't it get included on the album?

And then we arrive at the musical centerpiece of the film. The regimental singers present themselves at Yorke's quarters to serenade the newly arrived colonel's lady, and their choice of song is appropriately "I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen." It is, in fact, too appropriate. The song is so painfully apt to the Yorkes' broken relationship that the Colonel feels it necessary to disclaim having had any part in arranging the programme: "This music was not of my choosing."

I'm not sure if there has ever been a scene in a non-musical film where a song has been used so effectively, telling us so much about the characters in the scene purely through their reactions to the music—and of course the strength lies in the beauty of the actual performance of the song by the Sons of the Pioneers. Nobody was better at putting such depth of feeling and expression into harmony singing. Watch the whole scene here:

If you date the story from Yorke's reference to how long it's been since Sheridan's Shenandoah Valley campaign in the autumn of 1864, that would put us in late 1879 or early 1880, and "I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen" was written in 1875, so the use of the song itself is not inaccurate. It's perhaps stretching a point to have Kathleen Yorke find a music box that plays the tune among her husband's belongings, and following the implication that the song had a special meaning for the Yorkes in the past takes us into definite anachronism territory, since they've been separated for fifteen years; but do we care? No, we don't, because the poignancy of these scenes and the way the song fits the story as if made for it is just too perfect.

The Yorkes' marriage, and the question of whether it can be restored, is the real heart of the story, and so "I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen" becomes the linchpin of Victor Young's score, woven throughout most of the tracks that follow, tense action scenes and quiet meditative ones alike. It's paired with the father-son theme in "Reunion," as Kathleen talks to Jeff about his father and makes the unwelcome discovery that her son has inherited both parents' quiet stubbornness; it's combined with another lilting waltz that echoes the Yorkes' first meeting in "Confederate Dollars and Yankee Gold," in a later scene where husband and wife demonstrate that they've each taken at least a small step toward understanding each other's perspective.

The regimental singers, of course, are the famed Western singing group the Sons of the Pioneers. The early 1950s iteration of the group seen here was made up of veteran members Hugh and Karl Farr, Lloyd Perryman (now the group's de facto leader), recent additions Ken Curtis and Tommy Doss (who had replaced founding members Tim Spencer and Bob Nolan on their retirement from the group in the late '40s), and Shug Fisher (who had filled in for Pat Brady as bass player and comedian during Brady's WWII service and came back to replace him again when Brady left to become Roy Rogers' movie sidekick). Ken Curtis, the lead singer on all of their numbers in Rio Grande, had a solo career as an actor and singer before and after his stint with the Pioneers, of course most famously as Festus on Gunsmoke; and Shug Fisher too was a frequent supporting actor in movie and TV westerns (including a great little bit-part line at the end of Disney's The Apple Dumpling Gang Rides Again). Fisher has a solo bit in Rio Grande doing his signature stuttering act as the frightened bugler during the night attack (which means Colonel Yorke's command has two buglers, since stuntman Frank McGrath plays the regular bugler as he did in all three Ford/Wayne cavalry films).

Sharp-eyed fans will notice that the "regimental singers" are made to look like a larger group by a couple of non-singing extras hovering behind the Pioneers. And the sergeant who greets Mrs. Yorke is actually Stan Jones, singer-songwriter, occasional actor, and composer of the original songs for Rio Grande. Prior to his musical career, Jones had been a park ranger in Death Valley, who sometimes entertained visiting tourists and movie crews around the campfire with his own songs, and was ultimately encouraged by some of them to try and get his music published. According to Harry Carey Jr., it was during his ranger days in Death Valley that Jones first encountered John Ford, shooting on location for Three Godfathers (1948)—and annoyed him by pointing out that he was using the wrong type of cactus in a scene! Later, after Jones had had his first big hit with his most famous song "Riders in the Sky," actor George O'Brien and Carey Jr. reintroduced him to Ford, which led to the first three-way collaboration between Ford, Jones, and the Sons of the Pioneers in Wagon Master (1950). They reunited for Rio Grande, with Jones contributing the original songs "Yellow Stripes," "Footsore Cavalry," and "My Gal is Purple," and later again for the theme song to The Searchers. Jones has a nice small part as a tobacco-chewing sergeant in Rio Grande, usually on hand as a sort of sidekick to Victor McLaglen's Sergeant-Major Quincannon (watch him choking back laughter in the classic scene where the outraged Quincannon learns the reason for the troopers' fistfight).

According to Lloyd Perryman, Jones was a self-taught musician, who never learned to read music and needed a transcriber to put his songs on paper, and composed with a cheerful disregard for meter. "He didn’t mind if he had five beats in a bar or fifteen. It didn’t make much difference to him."

In a 1974 interview, Perryman recalled:

He had an extremely active mind and you had to know Stan awhile to realize how very, very brilliant he was...there’s no subject that you could find that Stan Jones wouldn’t have a great knowledge about. Oh, he read, read, read books. He was a speed reader but he still retained what he read. A lot of people, in my opinion, that read too fast, don’t retain much. Stan Jones retained it. In fact—this is just a little anecdote—my wife and I thought there was a possibility that maybe Stan professed to know more than he actually did because, as I said, you couldn’t mention anything—Biblical, historical, dates, anything that Stan didn’t have a great deal of knowledge about. Well, with our lack of knowledge as to whether he was right or not, we decided that we would get the encyclopedias out and some extra books and read up about the conquistadors when they came into Mexico...we got all the knowledge we could get about the conquistadors. Stan came over. We directed the conversation around to this time. Well, he knew all they had in the encyclopedias and all the books we’d got plus a great deal more information and it was just amazing, the man’s memory. He had the most active mind that I’ve ever come in contact with.

There is always splendid use of music in a John Ford film. Even when the actual original score is not particularly memorable and takes a back seat to the action, there is always dance music and singing, and it's used in such a way that those moments are often the ones that leave the most impression. How Green Was My Valley, They Were Expendable, My Darling Clementine, Fort Apache...But Rio Grande surpasses them all, I think, in both the integration of music into the plot and the sheer amount of music in the movie. Some of it is genuine music from the period, some of it scraps of 20th-century cowboy songs probably chosen on the fly from the Sons of the Pioneers' extensive repertoire. During the night scene where Sergeant Quincannon secretly escorts Mrs. Yorke to see her son, we hear a verse of "Cattle Call" being sung in the background—a 1934 composition by Tex Owens, another songwriter with an intriguing background. (The soundtrack album includes a few bars not heard in the film as the scene fades out.)

The following scene where Jeff and fellow troopers Sandy (Harry Carey Jr.) and Tyree (Ben Johnson) sing "Aha, San Antone" with Ken Curtis in their tent was one of Ford's spur-of-the-moment additions in the middle of filming—according to Carey, Ken Curtis and Shug Fisher taught it to the three actors on the spot, and they sang it live with no pre-recording or lip-synching. You can see and hear a few little slips and stumbles, but to me that only adds an engaging touch of realism to the scene, making it look as if Jeff is indeed learning a new song from his Texan friends as they go along.

Viewers and critics seem to be divided over how well the handful of modern cowboy songs fit into Rio Grande. Perhaps I don't really have a disinterested opinion, since I first watched it when I was too young to know the difference and liked all the music equally; but to me "Aha, San Antone" could pass all right as a 19th-century popular tune, at least in the simple way it's sung here. It sounds quite different from the jazzier original recording by its composer Dale Evans (yes, that Dale Evans, a native-born Texan herself). Harry Carey Jr. remarked upon the irony of Victor Young picking up one of the modern tunes for Tyree's theme (heard later in "Tyree Meets the Wagon Train / Indian Attack"), which is true; but really, with a Texan character to score scenes for and a Texas-themed song served up on a platter, how could he not? It just falls into place.

There really is music in almost every other scene of Rio Grande. Early on we hear some soldiers—not sure if it's the Sons of the Pioneers' voices or just some more impromptu cast vocalizing—taunting the new recruits with "You're in the Army Now" (whoops, another anachronism—dates from 1917!). Out on patrol, the regimental singers give us "Erie Canal" (bother, we did it again—1912). Meanwhile, back at the fort, Victor Young, cheerfully on-point with his themes again, gives us a dash of "The Irish Washerwoman" (okay, we can relax: traditional folk tune) as Kathleen joins the other army wives in doing their laundry by the river.

Only a part of the song "My Gal is Purple," sung softly around the campfire by the regimental singers while Yorke wanders the riverbank thinking of his wife, is featured both in the movie and on the soundtrack album. You can hear the complete version, introduced by Stan Jones with an explanation of what inspired the title and lyrics, as it was performed on the Sons of the Pioneers' radio show at 15:54 in this video.

Incidentally, reviewing the onscreen musical numbers this time around, it looks to me like the Pioneers didn't actually to go on location in Utah with the rest of the cast. All of their numbers are clearly soundstage/backlot scenes—only Ken Curtis appears very briefly in some genuine outdoor shots during the nighttime Apache raid.

Then Colonel Yorke entertains General Sheridan (J. Carroll Naish) at dinner, and once again the regimental singers demonstrate a knack for stirring unexpected feelings in their auditors. "Down by the Glenside" is another bare-faced anachronism, written by Irish songwriter Peadar Kearney in about 1916 to stir Irish republican feeling around the time of the Easter Rising—the lyrics refer back to the earlier Fenian Rising in 1867. (Only three of the five verses are sung in Rio Grande.) I've never been quite sure what significance this scene is meant to have. One has to assume that the song was also the Irish-born Ford's choice. Is the reference to failed Irish revolts subtly linked to the thread of several characters' connection with the fallen Confederacy? Could Sheridan's thoughtful expression while listening imply that the song has stirred him to a new respect for his erstwhile foes—or perhaps to a consideration of his own legacy?  Or does the scene have no particular meaning besides evoking a mood?

The entire handling of Sheridan's character has always been a puzzle to me. He's never directly called by name in the movie, and so for many years I didn't even realize who he was supposed to be, until I saw the IMDB cast list. It seems odd that Kathleen Yorke, who holds such a bitter grudge against her husband for only following orders in the Shenandoah Valley campaign, is willing to dine and make small talk so pleasantly with the man who actually gave the orders—surely there ought to be at least a hint of strain or coolness there even under a social politeness. Sheridan is portrayed generally as a genial, sympathetic character, but is given just the briefest single moment that hints at something else—a troubled gaze into the distance, a musing remark: "I wonder what history will say about Shenandoah."

There's some more period-appropriate music as the fort's women and children are sent away, to the tune of the old cavalry classic "The Girl I Left Behind Me," which is heard in all three films of the Ford/Wayne trilogy. It's a neat reversal of the earlier scene in Fort Apache where the women of the titular fort watch their men ride away to the same tune.

As the final mission against the Apache begins, the themes and conflicts of Rio Grande converge. The conflict between love and duty has circled back to find Yorke in a new way, as his resolve to support Jeff's commitment to the army has now placed his son in the line of fire ("Call Your Volunteers"). But more importantly, I don't think it's mere coincidence that the climax of the story requires Yorke's entire command to disregard the standing orders against crossing the Rio Grande in order to achieve a happy ending. Once Yorke destroyed his own family by rigidly following orders; now the only way to save a dozen other families from tragedy is to disobey them. In a subtle way, it brings everything full circle. And artistically, the film comes full circle too, with a reprise of the opening scene, the return to the fort, and a reprise of "I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen," returning to its full original form in the track "Coming Home" after so many variations throughout the score.

And then for the finale—once more Colonel Yorke and his wife exchange a startled look as music begins to play. Once more, the music was not of the Colonel's choosing. The final seal is set on a reconciliation and the forgiveness of old wrongs, and how appropriate that it's done almost without a word being spoken—through music.

This post is an entry for Legends of Western Cinema Week, hosted by Hamlette's Soliloquy, Meanwhile, In Rivendell, and Along the Brandywine.