"NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II" (1986) - Episode Six "March-April 1865" Commentary

"NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II" (1986) - EPISODE SIX "March-April 1865" Commentary

I hate to say this, but whenever I watch "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II", I usually heave a sigh of relief after the last episode fades away. I have never done this with the other two miniseries - "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK I" and "HEAVEN AND HELL: NORTH AND SOUTH BOOK III". But with the 1986 production, I usually do. There is something about watching this particular production usually ends up as hard work for me. 

Episode Six of "BOOK II" began at least a month after Episode Five ended. This episode began with Orry Main hiring a former Pinkerton detective to find his missing wife, Madeline Fabray LaMotte Main. The latter continues her efforts to feed Charleston's poor by appealing to Union general William Tecumseh Sherman. With nothing else to do, Orry has no choice but to help the Confederacy defend Richmond, Virginia; which is under siege from the Army of the Potomoc under Ulysses S. Grant. The episode eventually leads into the Battle of Fort Stedman, in which Orry, his cousin Charles, George and Billy Hazard all participate. The Union victory at Fort Stedman eventually lead to another military victory for the Army of Potomoc and ConfederateGeneral Robert E. Lee's surrender to Grant at Appomattox Court House. Once the episode puts these series of historical events behind, Episode Six refocuses on the main characters' personal lives. 

Episode Six closes more story arcs that began in Episode One than the previous episode did. The consequences of Charles Main and Augusta Barclay concludes in one stage and begins in another that will continue in 1994's "HEAVEN AND HELL: NORTH AND SOUTH BOOK III". The war's end leads to a final romantic reunion for Billy and Brett Hazard. In fact, the Charles/Augusta and Billy/Brett relationships were not the only ones that came to fruition in this episode. Episode Six also resolved the romance between Semiramis and Ezra, with the former finally acknowledging her love for the latter. And yes, Orry finally finds Madeline and their son with the help of George and Madeline's attorney, Miles Colbert. With war, there is always the chance for tragedy. While tragedy of one kind marked John Jakes' 1984 novel, another kind of tragedy ends Virgilia Hazard's relationship with Congressman Sam Greene and her character arc, which began in "BOOK I". Tragedy also occurred during the attack upon Mont Royal near the end of the episode. Irony also seemed to be hallmark of this attack, for it was led by an alliance between former Mont Royal slave Cuffey and former overseer Salem Jones. I found it ironic that a black man and a white man, former enemies due to their positions as slave and overseer, should form an alliance against the very family that had controlled their lives in one form or another. Non-elites of two different races uniting against the elite. Talk about a rich man's worst nightmare. 

There was a good deal about Episode Six for me to praise. One of the miniseries’ strengths has always been its battle scenes. And this particular episode featured an exciting interpretation of the Battle at Fort Stedman. As I had earlier noted, this episode also featured a poignant recreation of the Surrender at Appomattox. There were some dramatic scenes that I found very satisfying. One of them included George and Orry's emotional reunion following the Appomattox surrender and Charles' return to Barclay's Farm. A part of me realizes this might be wrong, but I felt a great sense of satisfaction in the way Virgilia dealt with her situation with Congressman Sam Greene. However, her act landed her in serious legal trouble and a very tearful reconciliation with her brother George. Last, but not least was Cuffey and Salem Jones' action-packed assault on Mont Royal.

I have to give credit to several people for the manner in which both the action and dramatic sequences in this episode. One of them is Kevin Connor, who I must admit did a pretty solid job in helming this six-part, 540-minutes juggernaut for television from a script filled with plot holes. I also have to comment upon the work of cinematographer Jacques R. Marquette, whose excellent photography of the miniseries added a great deal of pathos to a story about one of the United States' most traumatic periods in its history. I was especially impressed by how he handled the Fort Stedman sequence. Bill Conti's score contributed a great deal to the production's narrative. And I was also impressed by the work of the six men who served as the miniseries' film editing team, especially for the Fort Stedman and Mont Royal attack sequences. And as usual, Robert Fletcher knocked it out of the ballpark with his costume designs . . . especially for the outfits shown in the images below: 

 

Judging from Fletcher's filmography, I suspect that "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II" was his best work on screen - movies or television.

"NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II" also featured some fine performances. Aside from one particular scene that I found particularly hammy, I was satisfied with the performances featured in this episode. For me, the best performances came from Patrick Swayze, Lloyd Bridges, Parker Stevenson, Forest Whitaker, Tony Frank, David Ogden Stiers, Jean Simmons, Inga Swanson, John Nixon. I was especially impressed by James Read and Kirstie Alley's performances in the scene that featured George and Virgilia's emotional reconciliation and discovery of President Abraham Lincoln's assassination. And the poignancy in the Appomattox surrender sequence greatly benefited from Anthony Zerbe and William Schallert's portrayal of Generals Ulysses S. Grant and Robert E. Lee. On a minor note, if you look carefully during the miniseries' last half hour, you might spot future star Bryan Cranston as a Union officer whom George questions about Orry whereabouts, following the Fort Stedman battle.

Although there seemed to be a good about Episode Six that strikes me as praiseworthy . . . and there is, I found a good deal that I found problematic. Which strikes me as a pity, for the emotional levity featured in this episode could have made Episode Six my favorite in the entire miniseries. Alas . . . I have too much to complain about. Three of my problems centered around the Charles Main character. First of all, two months after he last saw Augusta Barclay in Episode Five, Charles discovered that he was the father of an infant boy. Apparently Augusta had died while giving birth to their son. Unfortunately . . . Augusta DID NOT look pregnant during her last meeting with Charles. And considering that they had made love in the previous episode, her pregnancy should not have come as a surprise to him. To make matters worse, young Augustus Charles Main looked as if he had been conceived nearly two years ago. Honestly. The kid looked at least one year old. And Charles and Augusta had started their affair eleven months before the end of the war. Unlike Jakes' novel, Charles found his son being cared for by Augusta's South Carolina relatives in Charleston. Really? Was that necessary? I found it ridiculously convee-ee-ee-ient that Augusta had Charleston relatives, who managed to be in Virginia at the time she gave birth to her son. My second problem with Charles is the fact that it took him less than a week to travel from Spotsylvania County, Virginia to Charleston, South Carolina. Less than a week? On horseback? Charles' journey should have taken him longer. This seemed like an extreme reversal of Brett and Semiramis' ludicrous four-month journey from Washington D.C. to Mont Royal. 

Quite frankly, I felt a bit put out that the screenwriters (which include John Jakes) dumped a tragic ending to Virgilia Hazard's story arc. Unlike the miniseries, Virgilia survived her affair with Congressman Greene and ended up marrying another black man - the same man who had befriend George, Constance and Brett in the novel. Apparently, Wolper Productions felt that since Virgilia's five-year marriage had ended in tragedy, it seemed proper to give her a tragic ending, as well. Or perhaps many of the trilogy's fans had found Virgilia's radical politics and marriage to Grady so off-putting that David Wolper and the screenwriters had decided to appease them by giving her a tragic ending. Regardless their reason, I found Virgilia's tragic ending very annoying and clichéd. As much as Patrick Swayze's portrayal of Orry Main had impressed me in this episode, there is one scene in which his acting skills failed to impress. I hate to say this, but I cannot hold it back. I refer to the scene in which Orry finds the body of his mother Clarissa Main, following the attack upon Mont Royal and expresses his grief. Can I say . . . OVER-THE-TOP? Seriously. I found it to be one of the hammiest moments in the entire television trilogy.

But the episode's real problems were made obvious during the Fort Stedman battle sequence. Granted, I was impressed by the visual style of this segment. But I noticed the screenwriters went out of their way to ensure that the major four military characters - George, Billy, Orry and Charles - all participated in this battle. In ensuring this, the screenwriters committed a great deal of inconsistencies and bloopers. Orry led a group of infantry troops into battle for the first time, since the Battle of Churubusco, nearly eighteen years earlier. Personally, I never saw the need for him to be put into the field. The Army of Northern Virginia still had enough commanders to lead men into battle. One of the officers under his command proved to be Charles. Charles? Charles, who spent the entire war as a cavalry officer and scout under Wade Hampton III? I am aware that Charles had led infantry troops during the Battle Antietam, during Episode Three. And I had pointed that this was a major blooper. Yet, the screenwriters repeated this same blooper by allowing him to lead infantry troops again during the Battle at Fort Stedman . . . this time, under Orry's command. Also leading infantry troops for the Union was George Hazard. Now, I am baffled. George had command of Artillery troops during the Battle of Gettysburg in Episode Three and when he was captured during Episode Four. Could someone explain why the screenwriters had decided to have him lead Infantry troops in this episode? Among the troops under George's command proved to be his brother Billy, who continued to serve with the Sharpshooters. It was bad enough that the writers had Charles serving under Orry during this battle. But they had Billy serving under George, as well? There is more, folks. Not only did Billy continued to serve with the Sharpshooters, he also seemed to be in command of them. For, I saw no other officers during this scene. I am aware that Hiram Burdan was no longer in command of this regiment by the end of the war. But what happened to the other officers in the regiment? What happened to Rudy Bodford and Stephen Kent? They seemed to have disappeared. And how did Billy end up in this position, considering that he had spent nearly 10 months AWOL between the summer of 1863 and the spring of 1864? What the hell, guys? Come on!

Do not get me wrong. There is still plenty to admire about "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II". Like its predecessor, "NORTH AND SOUTH"; it has its share of good acting, exciting sequences, drama, superb production values, and probably the best costume design in the entire trilogy, thanks to Robert Fletcher’s work. Unfortunately, the 1986 miniseries has its share of major flaws that included clunky dialogue and probably some of the worst writing in the entire trilogy. And when I say the entire trilogy, I am including the much reviled "NORTH AND SOUTH III: HEAVEN AND HELL". "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II" might be my least favorite chapter in the television trilogy, thanks to a great deal of plot holes and historical inaccuracies . . . I still managed to enjoyed it anyway.

"NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II" (1986) - Episode Four "April 1864 - December 1864" Commentary

"NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II" (1986) - EPISODE FOUR "April-November 1864" Commentary

Episode Four of the 1986 miniseries, "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK 2" picked up at least seven to eight months after Episode Three left off. The miniseries arrived at a point in which the Civil War began to embark upon its last year. And yet, the miniseries itself had reached its mid point. I found it odd that producer David Wolper, director Kevin Reynolds and the production’s screenwriters would portray the war’s last year (in reality, eleven months) within three episodes. Oh well. 

The episode began with a strong sequence that featured George Hazard's capture by John Mosby’s Rangers, while he and his men were transporting artillery guns and units to the front. The episode would return to George’s travails as a prisoner of war at Libby Prison in two more sequences. This first half hour also featured the beginning of Charles Main’s affair with Augusta, Billy Hazard’s return to the Sharpshooters’ regiment and the Battle of the Wilderness. Episode Four also portrayed the marriage woes of Ashton and James Huntoon, along with Elkhannah Bent’s attempt to woo Huntoon into his conspiracy against Confederate President Jefferson Davis; Madeline Main’s first meeting with former army officer Rafe Beaudine and her efforts to raise food and money for war refugees in Charleston; and Virgilia Hazard’s feud with her nursing supervisor, Mrs. Neal.

I have mixed feelings about Episode Four. I did not harbor a low opinion of it, as I did Episode Two and Episode Five. But I did not love it. I thought it began on a strong note with George’s capture and the Battle of the Wilderness. It also ended on a strong note with George’s experiences at Libby Prison and Virgilia’s troubles with Mrs. Neal. I must admit that I had a problem with the episode’s second act. Aside from the interesting scene that featured George’s arrival at Libby Prison and the revelation of the state of the Huntoon marriage, I had a bit of a struggle staying awake. One again, the 1986 miniseries managed to provide a battle sequence interesting enough to maintain my interest and impress me at the same time. Director Kevin Connor did an excellent job with this sequence by shooting it in a documentary style that gave it a stark and realistic look. And he was aptly supported by Jacques R. Marquette’s photography. For once, Marquette’s hazy photography served the narrative very well. The episode also benefited from Robert Fletcher’s lovely costumes, as shown in the images below:

 

I found General Ulysses Grant’s angry response to his staff’s fears over Robert E. Lee, following the Wilderness battle particularly enjoyable. What is interesting about this moment is that it actually happened. And I noticed that actor Anthony Zerbe not only used Grant’s actual words, but also improvised a few words into the speech. Actually, I felt it was the episode’s highlight, thanks to Zerbe’s performance. Another positive aspect of Episode Four turned out to be Ashton and James Huntoon’s marriage woes. Terri Garber and Jim Metzler did an excellent job of conveying how Ashton’s infidelity, Huntoon’s political failures and the war had put a toll on a marriage that had been loveless from the start. The venomous conflict between Virgilia Hazard and her supervisor, Mrs. Neal proved to be very interesting, thanks to Kirstie Alley and Olivia De Havilland’s excellent performances. I found both ladies unsympathetic, until Mrs. Neal decided to harass Virgilia, while the other was having trouble staying awake after long hours of work. I found the older woman's attitude simply bitchy. I also noticed that despite Mrs. Neal’s accusations of Virgilia’s poor ministrations to Confederate patients, the miniseries failed to substantiate her claims. And I found myself wondering if Mrs. Neal simply disliked Virgilia for the latter’s abolitionist leanings and marriage to a former slave. 

Kirstie Alley had another chance to shine in a sequence that involved Virgilia's reconciliation with none other than Orry Main, who had been injured and captured by Union troops. No only did Alley give an excellent performance in this poignant sequence, but so did Patrick Swayze. I also have to give kudos to both James Read and Wayne Newton for the crackling hostility they managed to produce between George Hazard and his Libby Prison tormentor, Captain Thomas Turner. In fact, I never thought I would say this, but Newton made a damn fine villain. He nearly put Philip Casnoff, David Carradine and Terri Garber to shame. His performance certainly gave the Libby Prison sequence a creep factor that I found very effective. And if you look carefully, you might find actor Billy Drago (of "THE UNTOUCHABLES" fame) as one of the Union prisoners.

I do have several problems about this episode. One, I wish that Charles and Augusta's affair had begun a lot sooner than three years after they first met. In other words, I wish the screenwriters had followed Jakes’ original portrayal of their relationship. I believe this could have given Charles and Augusta’s affair more depth and paced a lot better. The portrayal of their affair developed into a major problem in Episode Six. Their affair began in the aftermath of one of the battles during the Wilderness Campaign. And for the likes of me, I could never understand what Charles was doing there, while wearing a heavy overcoat in the middle of May. The screenplay never explained why he was there. 

Then we come to the problem of Billy’s return to his regiment after deserting for nearly ten months (he departed right after the Gettysburg battle in July 1863 and returned to his regiment either in late April 1864). The consequences he paid for deserting were ridiculous. Billy received a lecture from Colonel Hiram Burdan, passed over for a promotion to captain and threatened with court martial if he ever deserted again. What on earth were the writers thinking? Billy should have faced a court-martial or forced to resign his commission for being absent without leave for nearly ten months. Whoever had written this episode must have been completely ignorant of military protocol . . . or smoking something. And what was Berdan’s excuse for his leniency toward Billy? He needed all available men. Hogwash! This was the spring of 1864, when the Union Army's ranks were literally swollen for the remainder of the war, despite desertion. No other TV show, novel, play or etc., would have featured such a major writing gaffe. Then again, you never know. And why was Berdan still in command of the Sharpshooters in this episode? By keeping Berdan as Billy's commanding officer in this episode, the writers committed a historical gaffe. Berdan had decided to leave the Union Army by the late winter/early spring of 1864.

On the other hand, I found Madeline Main's efforts to help the poor – refugee slaves, free black and poor whites - in Charleston rather noble and dull as hell. Madeline’s first husband, Justin LaMotte, had contemptuously given her the nickname – "Madeline the Merciful" in the first miniseries. I hate to say this, but after viewing the beginning of this story line in Episode Four, I found myself sharing his contempt. Her actions were admirable, but I feel the writers went too far in portraying her in a noble light. Quite simply, one could easily accuse Madeline of harboring a savior complex – one that struck me as incredibly pretentious. This sequence also introduced a young former slave named Michael and his mother, who came from Tennessee. I really had a problem with this. Why on earth would Tennessee slave refugees head deep into Confederate territory, when they could have easily ended up in Union held cities like Nashville, Memphis and Vicksburg? However, this sequence featured a young Bumper Robinson as Michael, who managed to act circles around Lesley Anne Down (as if that were possible). And it also introduced the delicious Lee Horsley as a disgraced army officer-turned-wastrel named Rafe Beaudine, who came to Madeline’s aid against a band of scavengers. Horsley and Lesley Anne Down managed to create a sparkling screen chemistry that nearly put all of the other on-screen romantic pairings to shame.

In the end, Episode Four proved to be a mixed bag. It featured some excellent dramatic scenes and a well-shot battle sequence that helped me maintained my interest. On the other hand, it also featured some questionable writing that left me shaking my head with disappointment. It was not one of my favorite episodes, but was certainly not a disappointment either.

"NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II" (1986) - Episode Three "September 1862 - August 1863" Commentary

"NORTH AND SOUTH:  BOOK II" (1986) - EPISODE THREE "September 1862 - August 1863"


I have mixed feelings about Episode Three of "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II". Fortunately, most of my feelings are positive.   This episode featured the Battle of Antietam, the Battle of Gettysburg, and a major schism in the Main family, regarding Madeline Main and her two sisters-in-law - Brett Hazard and Ashton Huntoon.  But there was still certain aspects of this episode that I did not find particularly appealing.


I found the first half of this episode to be rather dull.  Those reading this article would find this statement surprising, since the Battle of Antietam was featured in this first third of the episode.  But I did.  Following President Abraham Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation, one of the Mains' slaves, Jim, decided to take matters into hands and run away.  Unfortunately, he was caught and killed by the Mains' former overseer, Salem Jones.  I will admit that the reaction to Jim's death proved to be slightly interesting, thanks to the excellent acting by Erica Gimbel, Beau Billingslea and especially Forest Whitaker; who portrayed Semiramis, Ezra and Cuffey.  I was especially impressed by Whitaker's performance as he conveyed Cuffey's bitterness over being owned by the Mains.  However, I found Brett and Madeline's presence at Jim's funeral to be a touch patronizing. But that is merely a private opinion.


Now, I had no problems with Kevin Connor's direction of the Battle of Antietam.  I believe he did the right thing by keeping the battle solely focused upon Billy Hazard and Charles Main.  This allowed their brief reunion to be not only surprising, but dramatic.  But I do have one major quibble about this particular sequence.  How did Charles and his fellow officer, Ambrose Pell go from being cavalry scouts to leading large bodies of infantry troops on the field?  If the miniseries had earlier included a small band of scouts under their command, I could see them leading these men into battle.  But large bodies of infantry troops?  Were the officers of these troops dead?  And what kind of troops were they leading?  Infantry or dismounted cavalry?  I found this kind of inconsistent vagueness very irritating.  The Battle of Gettysburg was better handled . . . somewhat.  Considering it was one of the major conflicts of the war and fought in the same region - Southern Pennsylvania - as the Hazards' hometown of Lehigh Station, I was surprised that the screenplay did not focus too highly on it.  The battle was simply used as a literary device for the reunion of George and Billy Hazard and an excuse for the latter to go AWOL and see Brett.  

The second half of Episode Three turned out to be a big improvement. Most of the slaves left Mont Royal and I did not blame them one bit. Orry's reaction to their departure was interesting, considering how "BOOK I" had established his slight aversion to slavery. More importantly, his character came off as increasingly conservative.  I found this surprising, considering that in the novel, "Love and War", his view on slavery and racial relations had become slightly more radical.  I found that little moment in which Orry bid his mother Clarissa Main good-bye, following his furlough, rather lovely and touching, thanks to the performances of Patrick Swayze and Jean Simmons.   But I have mixed feelings about Billy's decision to go AWOL in order to see Brett in South Carolina. Frankly, I found it disturbing. I do not blame him for missing Brett. But if the writers had not sent her to South Carolina in that ridiculous story line in Episode 2, she would have remained in the North and Billy would not have went AWOL.  And his decision to head for South Carolina will prove to be troublesome for Episode Four's plot.  I am also remain dumfounded by George's position in the Union Army.  During his reunion with Billy before the Gettysburg battle, he claimed that he had been transferred to field duty.  And he was seen commanding artillery units.  Yet, after the battle, he was seen attending another meeting with President Lincoln and his Cabinet.  What the hell?  The screenwriters really screwed up this time.

The episode's second half, Ashton Main Huntoon's appearance at Mont Royal really stirred things a bit. I found it to be the episode's most enjoyable segment.  Before I explain why I enjoyed it, I have to say a few words regarding Ashton's reason for visiting her home - namely to confront Madeline about her African ancestry and drive her from Mont Royal and Orry's radar.   If I must be frank, I found  Ashton and Bent's revenge against Orry by using Madeline's family secret, a bit . . . anti-climatic. Frankly, I thought they could have exposed Madeline's secret in a more dramatic and satisfying moment - like during a political party in Richmond (which happened in the novel) or expose the secret to the Mains' neighbors. However, their act of revenge did result in a marvelous scene well acted by Terri Garber and Lesley Anne Down. Semiramis' rant against Ashton, thanks to another great piece of acting from Gimpel, was nice touch, although a bit fruitless. But it was Brett's confrontation with Ashton that really did justice to this episode. Kudos to Garber and especially Genie Francis.  Francis also shared an excellent scene with Parker Stevenson, who as Billy Hazard expressed his growing discontent with the war.  


There is one major problem with this sequence.  When Ashton arrived at Mont Royal, she carried foodstuff for the plantation.  This makes no sense whatsoever.  Ashton was traveling from a state - namely Virginia - that had been ravaged by two years of war.  The amount of foodstuff she was carrying from Virginia should have been rare.  South Carolina, on the other hand, had been freed of any battles by 1863, aside from the Sea Islands and the forts off the coast of Charleston.  There should have been plenty of foodstuff at Mont Royal, thanks to Madeline, Brett, Semiramis and Ezra.

Anthony Zerbe made his first appearance as General Ulysses S. Grant, whom George had traveled all the way to Tennessee to meet, on behalf of President Lincoln.  Veteran stars James Stewart and Olivia De Havilland appeared near the end of this episode. Did anyone know that those two had once dated in the late 1930s?  Anyway, Stewart gave a charming performance as  Madeline’s Charleston attorney, despite his Midwestern accent.  However, De Havilland's portrayal as Virgilia Hazard's field hospital supervisor, Mrs. Neal, proved to be more interesting and complex.  I could not decide which character was more irritating - Virgilia's arrogant disregard for Mrs. Neal's advice, or the latter's patronizing concern for Southern patients at the expense of the other patients and her unfounded suspicions that Virgilia was ignoring them.  Both De Havilland and Kirstie Alley gave superb performances in their scenes together. 


Although Episode Three had its flaws, I cannot deny that Kevin Connor did an excellent job as the director.   But I believe he was ably supported by the miniseries' crew.  Once again, Jacques R. Marquette's photography provided a good deal of color and style to this episode - especially in the Battle of Antietam sequences.  Jospeh R. Jennings continued his excellent production designs, ably transforming viewers back to the United States of the early 1860s.  I could say the say about Robert Fletcher's costume designs.  I was especially impressed by his wardrobe for Maude and Isobel Hazard, along with Ashton Huntoon, who ended up being the best-dressed character of the episode.  Below are examples of Fletcher's work:

Despite a some quibbles and a dull first half hour, Episode Three was an improvement over Episode Two.  I was surprised by the number of excellent dramatic moments and first-rate acting in this episode.  Also Kevin Connor's direction of the Battle of Antietam and Gettysburg struck me as pretty damn good.  I could say that Episode Three was the highlight of the 1986 miniseries.  But I do not believe I would go that far.

"WESTWARD HO!": Part Four - "THE CHISHOLMS" (1979)

Below is Part Four to my article about Hollywood's depiction about the westward migration via wagon trains in 19th century United States. It focuses upon the 1979 CBS miniseries, "THE CHISHOLMS": 


"WESTWARD HO!": Part Four - "THE CHISHOLMS" (1979)

I. Introduction

The 1979 television miniseries, "THE CHISHOLMS" began as an adaptation of Evan Hunter's 1976 novel of the same title. It told the story of a Western Virginia family's trek to California in the mid-1840s. 

It began in 1843 with the wedding of Hadley and Minerva Hadley's oldest child, Will. Life for the Chisholm family at their Appalachian farm seemed charmed, until the members suffer a series of misfortunes by the early spring of 1844. Will's new wife died after giving birth to a stillborn child. Hadley managed to alienate the local plantation owner, known as "the Squire", after he terrorized the local preacher for using the wrong Bible passage at his daughter-in-law's funeral. And the family lost a valuable piece of land to an antagonistic neighbor, thanks to Hadley's late older brother. Years earlier, the latter had abandoned the neighbor's sister before a wedding could take place, and willed the land to her as compensation. Stuck with land unfit for farming, Hadley decides to move his family to California.

The Chisholms suffer a few more misfortunes during their trek to California. They discover from a Louisville merchant that they had began their westward trek at least a month too late. They made a second mistake by hiring an Illinois man named Lester Hackett to guide them west. The latter fell in love with Hadley and Minerva's older daughter, Bonnie Sue and ended up getting her pregnant before abandoning the family near St. Louis. Will and middle son Gideon left the family to track Lester to Iowa and ended up serving on a prison work gang for a month, for "trespassing" on the farm of Lester's mother. By the time the family reached the western plains, it suffered a major tragedy, which convinced them to end their journey at Fort Laramie, in present-day Wyoming.


II. History vs. Hollywood

Like "CENTENNIAL", "THE CHISHOLMS" managed to be that rare period drama that managed to be historically accurate . . . or at least 95% accurate. In fact, I was only able to find one topic that struck me as historically inaccurate. And it proved to be minor.

When the Chisholms began their journey from western Virginia to California in 1844, they had left their old cabin in mid-spring. After all, they reached Louisville, Kentucky by May 16 or 17. Most wagon parties usually left Independence, Missouri, the jump-off spot for the western trails by that period. Even the infamous Donner Party left western Missouri sometime between May 16 and May 20 (in 1846). At least two people remarked on their late departure - a Louisville merchant and a saloon keeper in Independence. Aside from Minerva and youngest daughter Annabel, the rest of the Chisholms decided to continue the trek west in the hope of encountering more wagons.

Aside from "CENTENNIAL", "THE CHISHOLMS" is the only production I know that covered a wagon journey east of Missouri. Most movies or television productions usually have wagon parties begin their journey in St. Louis or Independence. The Chisholms' journey included a river journey down the Ohio River aboard a craft similar to the flatboat; the crossing of the Big Blue River; and passing famous landmarks such as Scott's Bluff, Courthouse Rock and Chimney Rock.

Just prior to the Chisholms' westward journey, they acquired a larger wagon through barely fair means (which is another story). Surprisingly, the new wagon proved to be a decent-sized farm wagon, suitable for overland trails and not the lumbering Hollywood favorite - the Conestoga. However, the family not only loaded their wagon with essential goods, but also with furnishings that may have proven to become a burden on the animals pulling it - including a grandfather clock. The Chisholms never dumped any of their non-essentials along the trail. However, Will, Gideon and an Objibwe woman named Kewedinok they had met in Missouri did find several furnishings that had been abandoned by previous emigrants along the trail. The Chisholms used mules to pull their wagon across the continent. However, a lively debate on mules vs. oxen sprung up between Will and Lester Hackett. The family's mules also attracted the attention of a small group of young Pawnee braves, when the family traveled alone.

In the 1979 miniseries, the Chisholms' westbound journey only took them as far as Fort Laramie. A brief, yet brutal encounter with the four Pawnee braves and a family tragedy convinced them to remain and settle on land near the fort. The miniseries' depiction of the emigrants' encounters with Native American seemed pretty realistic and balanced - except in regard to one matter. "THE CHISHOLMS" featured at least three violent encounters between family members and Native Americans. Family patriarch Hadley Chisholm brawled with a middle-aged Chickasaw man inside an Illinois tavern, which ended with the latter being nearly choked to death. And there were the four Pawnee braves who attacked the family (traveling alone) in order to take their mules and the women. A scene before the attack featured a rather funny conference between the four braves, in which they argued on whether or not to attack the family. The surviving brave of the attack discovered the Chisholms' presence at Fort Laramie in the last episode, and convinced a few other braves to help him rob the family's cabin.

But not all of the Chisholms' encounters with Native Americans were violent. The miniseries revealed Kewedinok's back story of how she became a widow, her violent encounter with white trappers in Western Missouri and her eventual meeting with Will and Gideon. The rest of the family became acquainted with former Army scout Timothy Oates and his Pawnee wife during the early leg of their journey, west of Independence. They also met two Kansa couples traveling eastward by foot in an encounter that led to some friendly trading. The same Kansa couples were later killed by whites, aside from one survivor who was found by Will, Gideon and Kewedinok.

I have only one major complaint about the miniseries' depiction of Native Americans. Many white characters such as Hadley Chisholm, Timothy Oates, and the Fort Laramie trader Andrew Blake never hesitate to express concern about Native Americans consuming alcohol. Hadley was the first to claim that "Indians had no business drinking whiskey". One could have easily dismissed Hadley's words as prejudice on his part. But other white characters also expressed the necessity of denying Native Americans any alcohol. I will not deny that alcoholism has been a problem for many Native Americans. However, it has also been a problem for other ethnic groups, including white Americans of Anglo-Saxon, Scottish or Irish ancestry. This was certainly the case in 19th century America. For example, at least two-thirds of the U.S. Army's officer corps were believed to be heavy drinkers. However, many white Americans (and perhaps other groups) tend to view certain certain groups - which included German and Irish immigrants, African-Americans and especially Native Americans - as naturally heavy drinkers, due to their own prejudices. The screenwriters could have been easily expressing the prejudices of these 19th century white men. But the gravity of Timothy Oates and Andrew Blake's words seemed to hint that this particular prejudice still existed by the late 1970s, when this miniseries was made.

Like "CENTENNIAL", "THE CHISHOLMS" managed to adhere a lot closer to historical accuracy than the first two productions featured in this series. And like the 1978-79 miniseries, only one topic seemed to be the result of Hollywood fiction, instead of fact. In the case of "THE CHISHOLMS", it failed to overcome the myth of Native Americans' susceptibility to alcoholism. Otherwise, the mixture of historical fact and literary fiction proved to be well-balanced.

"CENTENNIAL" (1978-79) - Episode Eleven "The Winds of Death" Commentary

"CENTENNIAL" (1978-79) - Episode Eleven "The Winds of Death" Commentary

A recent critic of "CENTENNIAL" once complained that the miniseries had failed to breach the topic of land environmental issues in an effective manner. Author James Michener allowed this subject to dominate his 1973 novel. But this critic seemed to hint that producer John Wilder had more or less dropped the ball on this topic in the television adaptation. 

Looking back at the previous ten episodes, I do not know if I agree with that critic. I did notice that the subject of who was qualified to be the true inheritors of the land - at least in regard to Northern Colorado - appeared throughout the miniseries. "CENTENNIAL" also focused on how the story's many characters used the land. One could argue that the subplot regarding the Wendells' origins as stage performers and scam artists had nothing to do with land environmental issues. And I would disagree. The Wendells' murder of the businessman Mr. Sorenson in "The Crime" and Sheriff Axel Dumire's death in "The Winds of Change" allowed the family to become the biggest landowners in Centennial. They used their ill-gotten money - acquired from Mr. Sorenson's satchel - to not only acquire land, but also become successful owners of a real estate company. The Wendells' new profession allowed them to play a major role in the major subplot featured in "The Winds of Death".

This eleventh episode began in 1914, with the arrival of Iowa farmers who had recently purchased land from Mervin Wendell. Among the new arrivals is a young couple named Alice and Earl Grebe. These new farmers are warned by Hans Brumbaugh and Jim Lloyd that they would be wise not to farm the land sold to them by the Wendells - namely the neighborhood's drylands near Rattlesnake Buttes. That particular location had already witnessed previous tragedies such as Elly Zendt's death, the Skimmerhorn Massacre and the range war that led to sheep herders Nate Pearson and Bufe Coker's deaths. Alice and Earl Grebe attempted to create a farm there and were successful for several years. But obstacles such as the land's dry state, the deadly winds that plagued the Great Plains during the 1920s and 1930s finally took their toll, and a free fall in wheat prices after World War I. Earl and his fellow Iowans received good advice from an agricultural consultant hired by the Wendells named Walter Bellamy on how to till their land during potentially bad times. But they ignore Bellamy's advice and pay the price by the end of the episode. Especially the Grebes.

"The Winds of Death" focused upon other subplots. It marked the deaths of three major characters - Hans Brumbaugh, Mervin Wendell and Jim Lloyd. Wendell died as a happy real estate tycoon, oblivious of the damage he has caused. His only disappointments seemed to be his continuing lack of knowledge of Mr. Sorenson's final resting place and the contempt his son Philip still harbors. Brumbaugh's labor problems were finally resolved in the last episode with the arrival of Tranquilino Marquez and other Mexican immigrants. In "The Winds of Death", he spent most of his time helping Tranquilino's family settle in Centennial, while the latter endure six years in a Colorado prison on trumped up charges and years of fighting a revolution in Mexico. Unfortunately for the beet farmer, he died minutes before a possible reunion with Tranquilino. 

Jim Lloyd faced a few crisis during this episode before his untimely death. The cattleman insured that his son-in-law, Beeley Garrett (son of sheep rancher, Messamore Garrett) would continue to manage Venneford Ranch. Jim and his wife, Charlotte, also helped Truinfador Marquez maintain his cantina for Centennial's Latino population in the face of bigotry from the local sheriff and the courts. But Jim's biggest conflict turned out to be his resistance to Charlotte's plans to breed the ranch's cattle to an unnaturally small size for stock shows and fairs. This last conflict led to his fatal heart attack.

For me, "The Winds of Death" proved to be the last well-made episode from "CENTENNIAL". Mind you, it did not strike me as perfect. I feel that the episode's running time could have stretched to at least two hours and fifteen minutes, instead of the usual 90 minutes or so. "The Winds of Death" was set during a twenty-year period from 1914 to 1934 or 1935. And there seemed to be a great deal going on in the episode's narrative for a mere 90 to 97 minutes. 

I also have issue with the story's suggestion that Hans Brumbaugh's labor problems ended with the influx of Latino immigrants. What exactly was Michener trying to say? That Latinos was the only group that lacked the ambition to be something other than agricultural field workers? I also had a problem with the Lloyds' efforts to help Truinfador keep his cantina. The subplot struck me as a bit contrive and politically correct. Perhaps Jim seemed capable of tolerant understanding of Truinfador's problems, considering his past relationships with the likes of "Nacho" Gomez, Nate Pearson and especially Clemma Zendt. However, the miniseries had never hinted any signs of such ethnic tolerance from Charlotte in past episodes. 

My last problem with the episode proved to be a minor quibble. I noticed that the generation that featured Philip Wendell and Beeley Garrett seemed to conceive their offspring, while in their late 30s to 40s. Why? I can understand one of them having children so late in life, but all of the characters from this particular generation? Philip Wendell's son (Morgan) will not be introduced until the next episode. But he will prove to be around the same age as Beeley's son, Paul Garrett.

Despite my problems with "The Winds of Death", I cannot deny that screenwriter Jerry Ziegman wrote a first-rate script. The episode did an excellent job in re-creating the West of the early 20th century. Not only did it explored the problems that Western farmers faced during that period, it also provided viewers with a more in-depth look into the travails of Latino farm laborers - a subject barely touched upon in American cinema or television. One of the episodes highlights proved to be the two major dust storms that plagued Centennial during the 1930s. Duke Callaghan's photography, along with Ralph Schoenfeld's editing and the Sound Department's effects did an excellent job in creating the nightmarish effects that left parts of the Great Plains covering in dust. The storms sequences left me feeling a bit spooked and sympathetic toward Alice Grebe's reaction.

I suspect that many viewers were disappointed to learn that the Wendells failed to suffer the consequences of their crimes. Honestly, I was not that surprised. One cannot deny that they were the kind who usually flourished in the end. After all,"Centennial" was not the first or last work of fiction that mingled reality with drama. However, the episode's pièce de résistance centered on the experiences of the Grebe family's twenty years in Centennial. It was fascinating, yet heartbreaking to watch Alice and Earl Grebe enjoy their brief success during the 1910s, before the post-World War I years slowly reduced them to a near-poverty state. And considering the tragic event that marked the end of Alice and Earl's stay in Centennial, viewing their experiences seemed like watching a train wreck in slow motion . . . or the unfolding of a Greek tragedy.

"The Winds of Death" featured some superb performances by the cast. Truinfador Marquez's efforts to save his cantina led to a conflict between him and his more conservative father, Tranquilino; which also resulted in a superbly acted scene between A Martinez and Byron Gilbert. William Atherton was brilliantly convincing as the aging Jim Lloyd. I found it difficult to remember that he was barely out of his 30s when he shot this episode. Lynn Redgrave was equally superb as the caustic Charlotte Lloyd, who seemed ruthlessly determined to get her own way, whether it meant creating a new breed of cattle for Venneford or helping Truinfador. Anthony Zerbe continued his excellent performance as the charming, yet venal Mervin Wendell. Although Lois Nettleton did not get much of a chance to shine as in this episode as the scheming Maud Wendell, the actress still managed to give a first-rate performance in her brief scenes. Morgan Paul did an excellent job in conveying the many facets of the adult Philip Wendell, who not only remained haunted by Axel Dumire's death, but also proved to be just as ruthless in business as his parents.

Claude Jarman was excellent as farmer Earl Grebe, who struggled to keep his farm and family together. The episode also featured solid work from Alex Karras, Silvana Gallardo, William Bogert, Geoffrey Lewis and Alan Vint. But for me, the stand out performance came from actress Julie Sommars. She gave a superb performance as the fragile Alice Grebe, whose doubts about farming in the drylands of Colorado would come to fruition some twenty years later. She never seemed more sympathetic, yet frightening in those last scenes in which the high winds and dust proved to be the last straw for the fractured Alice.

I almost regretted finishing "The Winds of Death". Not only did it convey an excellent portrait of the West during the early 20th century, the episode featured some excellent performances from the cast. More importantly, it proved to be the last one I would find engrossing. The next and last episode is "The Scream of Eagles" and I have to be brutally honest . . . I am not looking forward to it.

"CENTENNIAL" (1978-79) - Episode Ten "The Winds of Fortune" Commentary

"CENTENNIAL" (1978-79) - Episode Ten "The Winds of Fortune" Commentary

This tenth episode of "CENTENNIAL" called "The Winds of Fortune" marked the last one set in the 19th century. The episode also featured the end of several story lines - the troubles with the Pettis gang, Axel Dumire's suspicions of the Wendell family, Hans Brumbaugh's labor problems and Jim Lloyd's romantic problems with Charlotte Seccombe and Clemma Zendt. 

The range war that the ranchers began in "The Shepherds" finally gasped its last breath in this episode. The last remnants of the Pettis gang (the killers hired by the ranchers to get rid of the farmers and shepherds) make one last attempt to exact revenge against Amos Callendar, Jim Lloyd and Hans Brumbaugh - the three men who had killed Frank and Orvid Pettis in revenge for the deaths of two friends. Naturally, it failed during a gunfight against, Jim, Amos and the latter's son.

The Pettis gang's revenge attempt also led to the closure of the story line that featured Sheriff Axel Dumire and the Wendell family. The gunfight at Amos' homestead allowed one Pettis killer to escape back to Centennial . . . but not for long. Dumire led a manhunt for the escaped killer. And in a dark alleyway, he and the Pettis outlaw mortally shot each other. While the outlaw died right away, Dumire suffered a slow death. Before expiring, he summoned young Philip Wendell for a last attempt to learn the truth about the now dead Mr. Sorenson. Although he failed, Philip expressed grief and remorse over his dead body.

Jim Lloyd and Charlotte Seccombe's courtship finally led to a marriage proposal from the former. But their engagement encountered troubled waters when Clemma Seccombe returned to Centennial. Unable to get over his infatuation with the seemingly repentant Clemma, Jim breaks his engagement with Charlotte. The latter tries to bribe Clemma to leave town. But in the end, it took a lecture from Lucinda Zendt to convince the latter to leave. And Charlotte finally married her cowboy. Hans Brumbaugh's labor problems finally ended when political turmoil in Mexico finally drove Tranquilino Marquez to accompany his uncle, "Nacho" Gomez to Colorado. "Nacho" never made it, dying from a gunshot wound on the Skimmerhorn Trail. But Tranquilino and a few fellow Mexicans made it to the Brumbaugh farm and became permanent employees. Unfortunately for Tranquilino, good luck became bad during a trip to Denver, where he found himself imprisoned on a trumped up charge by a local bigot with a dislike for Latinos.

As you can see, a great deal happened in "The Winds of Change". Normally, I would have insisted upon a longer running time than 97 to 100 minutes. But screenwriter Charles Larson and director Harry Falk managed to keep the episode's pace flowing perfectly without any rush or dragging, whatsoever. Following James Michner's novel, they also managed to do an excellent job of connecting the final acts of the two story lines featuring the Pettis gang and the Wendells. At the same time, Jim Lloyd's romantic travails continued during this traumatic time for Centennial.

"The Winds of Fortune" featured at least three outstanding scenes that I need to point out. At least two of those scenes featured deaths of primary characters. Once again, Brian Keith and Doug McKeon knocked it out of the ballpark with their portrayals of Sheriff Axel Dumire and Philip Wendell in a poignant, yet ironic scene that featured the former's death. What I found particularly ironic about this particular scene is that the characters' deep affection for each other could not overcome Dumire's desire to know the truth about Mr. Sorenson's death or Philip's determination to protect his parents to the bitter end.

Another death scene featured "Nacho" Gomez's death on the Skimmerhorn Trail, while he and Tranquilino journey to Colorado. Although A Martinez was pretty solid as Tranquilino, Rafael Campos gave one last superb performance as the dying "Nacho" recalled the best period of his life - those months along the Skimmerhorn Trail. In fact, his character died near the very spot where he first met John Skimmerhorn in "The Longhorns". The last scene was the final confrontation between Clemma and Lucinda Zendt and Charlotte Seccombe. Between Charlotte's determination to pay off Clemma to get her out of Jim's life, and the latter's acidic crowing over her hold of said cowboy, the scene crackled with hostility, thanks to the superb acting of Lynn Redgrave and Adrienne La Russa. Christina Raines gave solid support as Clemma's disapproving mother, Lucinda.

The episode also boasted first-rate performances from William Atherton, who continued his superb portrayal of the solid, yet love sick cowboy Jim Lloyd. Another excellent performance came from Cliff De Young, who shined as ranch manager John Skimmerhorn, in one of his final scenes in which he expressed the blunt truth about the fickle Clemma. The episode also featured fine work from Alex Karras (Hans Brumbaugh), Jesse Vint (Amos Calendar) and delicious performances from both Lois Nettleton and Anthony Zerbe as the conniving Maude and Mervin Wendell.

"The Winds of Change" featured one major problem with me. Ever since "The Storm", the miniseries usually featured flashbacks that hinted a major character's upcoming death. Prolonged flashbacks from "The Longhorns" nearly grounded the episode to a halt, as a dying "Nacho" recalled the events of the Skimmerhorn drive. I could have tolerated one or two scenes. But the flashbacks nearly seemed to go on forever.

Despite the never-ending flashbacks, "The Winds of Change" proved to be another outstanding episode of "CENTENNIAL". Since it became the last episode to be set during the 19th century, it featured the conclusions of several story lines that have been going on since the saga shifted into the 1880s. It was a near perfect finale to what proved to be a rather interesting period of four to five episodes.