There can be no doubt that Southside 1-1000 is a minor film noir. But despite the fact that almost everything written about it labels it as a cheap knock-off of Anthony Mann’s T-Men, or merely mentions that is was directed by Boris Ingster, who helmed The Stranger on the Third Floor and gets some credit for developing the film noir, I found it to be to compelling, entertaining, and in its own way pretty important.
The general story here isn’t new: secret service agent from the treasury department goes undercover at great risk to life and limb to crack up a counterfeit ring. Along the way he meets a pretty girl, in the end it turns out she ain’t so nice. We’ve seen it all before. However, derivative stuff aside Southside 1-1000 has something to offer both as a film and as a commentary on its time. The movie opens with a bland montage of stock footage laid under a voiceover narration, which resurfaces from time to time throughout the film. Unlike a great many film noir enthusiasts out there, I really dig narration. I often hear complaints that it cheapens the product — a storytelling device intended to shave scenes and spare celluloid. So what? Voiceovers are so ingrained in our collective understanding of film noir that I get excited when I hear them — and my mind doesn’t automatically snap to noir-spoofs that infallibly put them to use. I consider them an asset to every noir film in which they occur. I always find it jarring to hear that there are others who dislike them. The narrator speaks of the perils befalling the United States throughout the twentieth century, from the Great War to Korea, as grainy combat footage plays across the screen. The set-up here is money, and the narrator quickly makes the jump: Uncle Sam needs money to keep the tanks rolling and the planes flying in the fight against the Reds. Paper money has no value of its own, it just represents a sacred promise by the government. Therefore, the sanctity of U.S. paper money must be vigilantly protected. Counterfeit rings diminish that promise and thus pose a serious threat not only to national security, but the American way of life itself.
Ostensibly the purpose of the opening narration is to stress the value of the monetary system and the mission of the treasury department. However, the text suggests a strange set of values. When describing what money pays for the narrator lists the following: food, taxes, amusement, health care, and vacations. By 1950 the post-war housing shortage was being rectified and home ownership was on everyone’s mind — yet the narrator doesn’t mention shelter. Instead, he gives us the material pursuits of amusement and vacations. Materialism, leisure time, and social status are major forces in post war films, apparent here because the filmmakers thought amusement and vacations would resonate more with audiences than shelter, transportation, clothing, retirement, or education. He closes with “the strength of a nation depends on the value of its currency.” Not on its people, land, or industrial might, but its currency. In the anti-Red era, it’s paper money and the freedom to blow it that matters most.
The first half of the picture is made up of a typical docu-style presentation of a treasury department investigation. Counterfeit bills make it onto the street, the secret service glom on to the new bills and identify the counterfeiter by his engraving style. They trail the hot bills from one shady character to the next and run innumerable stakeouts. Eventually they nab a courier red-handed, but the racket boys toss him out the window before the feds can put him under the hot lights. With little else to go on the boys in DC send agent John Riggs, amiably played by Don DeFore, to the L.A. hotel where the skydiver had a regular room. It turns out the crook had his laundry delivered there so in a huge leap of logic the feds guess (correctly) that the hotel must be the epicenter of all counterfeit activity! T-man Riggs takes up residence, pretending to be a numbers man out of Cleveland. He’s quickly noticed by the hoodlums and taken into their confidence. By day Riggs schemes to get evidence on the counterfeiters, while at night he romances the hotel’s sexy manager (Andrea King).
King’s Nora Craig is easily the most important character in the film, and her relevance extends far beyond the scope of the film itself. Southside 1-1000 is a great example of why feminist writers are so drawn to film noir. Here we have a woman, circa 1950, with an extraordinary amount of power: not only does she hold the important position of manager of the hotel — she’s the boss of an entire criminal mob. The men at her command are hardened felons — not the sort to take orders from a dame — yet like the hotel bellhops they jump when she says so. Prior to the revelation of her highly telegraphed role in the organization she has a night out with Riggs, and gives him the straight dope: she wants things, nice things, expensive things, and no man’s gonna pay for them. Phyllis Dietrichson manipulated one man to get out from under another, but was hopelessly trapped in a masculine world. Mildred Pierce’s business success alienated those around her and was ultimately responsible for her daughter’s psychosis. Nora Craig has something on both of them — she comes closer possibly than any other noir woman to “having it all.” In the end it takes no less than the United States government to destroy her, and even then she dies more a victim of cruel fate than Uncle Sam. Nora has achieved a lofty position in two distinct worlds, that of the legitimate businesswoman and of the underworld kingpin. Her achievement is extraordinary in both arenas — especially when one considers that she overcame that most daunting of mid-century film obstacles: scandal. Nora’s very own father is a jailbird, locked up since she was a young girl. Although the film doesn’t give her much of a background, she must have grown to adulthood a ward of the state. Her mother is never mentioned, and her pop is none other than the master craftsman who engraved the very plates that are causing all the problems.
It’s also important to recognize that Andrea King isn’t a traditional femme fatale in Southside 1-1000. The term implies that the male lead will somehow meet his doom via his interaction with her — and Nora Craig is no black widow — she has no need to be. She has the same power of any man in her position, and thus doesn’t need to use sex in the same way as the typical noir woman. Her tryst with the undercover Riggs is on her terms; she asks nothing of him and makes no attempt to manipulate or take advantage of him. For story purposes their meeting simply offers us a chance to learn her secret desires, which we need to understand. The fact that both are engaged in deception doesn’t compromise her honesty. They play the same cat and mouse game that movie feds and movie gangsters always play with one another, just on slightly more romantic terms than usual.
The film has a crackerjack ending that makes the whole thing worthwhile. Beginning with a fire in the crook’s hideout and wrapping on a bridge trestle spanning the rail yard, everything is done with verve and style. My copy of the film is quite poor, but even through scratches and haze the beauty of the final sequence came through loud and clear. All of the details from the costumes to the lighting to the camera positions vividly depict a running gun battle that is not for a moment lacking in clear visual symbolism. It’s a tasty dessert at the end of a routine Wednesday night dinner.
The first half of the picture is made up of a typical docu-style presentation of a treasury department investigation. Counterfeit bills make it onto the street, the secret service glom on to the new bills and identify the counterfeiter by his engraving style. They trail the hot bills from one shady character to the next and run innumerable stakeouts. Eventually they nab a courier red-handed, but the racket boys toss him out the window before the feds can put him under the hot lights. With little else to go on the boys in DC send agent John Riggs, amiably played by Don DeFore, to the L.A. hotel where the skydiver had a regular room. It turns out the crook had his laundry delivered there so in a huge leap of logic the feds guess (correctly) that the hotel must be the epicenter of all counterfeit activity! T-man Riggs takes up residence, pretending to be a numbers man out of Cleveland. He’s quickly noticed by the hoodlums and taken into their confidence. By day Riggs schemes to get evidence on the counterfeiters, while at night he romances the hotel’s sexy manager (Andrea King).
King’s Nora Craig is easily the most important character in the film, and her relevance extends far beyond the scope of the film itself. Southside 1-1000 is a great example of why feminist writers are so drawn to film noir. Here we have a woman, circa 1950, with an extraordinary amount of power: not only does she hold the important position of manager of the hotel — she’s the boss of an entire criminal mob. The men at her command are hardened felons — not the sort to take orders from a dame — yet like the hotel bellhops they jump when she says so. Prior to the revelation of her highly telegraphed role in the organization she has a night out with Riggs, and gives him the straight dope: she wants things, nice things, expensive things, and no man’s gonna pay for them. Phyllis Dietrichson manipulated one man to get out from under another, but was hopelessly trapped in a masculine world. Mildred Pierce’s business success alienated those around her and was ultimately responsible for her daughter’s psychosis. Nora Craig has something on both of them — she comes closer possibly than any other noir woman to “having it all.” In the end it takes no less than the United States government to destroy her, and even then she dies more a victim of cruel fate than Uncle Sam. Nora has achieved a lofty position in two distinct worlds, that of the legitimate businesswoman and of the underworld kingpin. Her achievement is extraordinary in both arenas — especially when one considers that she overcame that most daunting of mid-century film obstacles: scandal. Nora’s very own father is a jailbird, locked up since she was a young girl. Although the film doesn’t give her much of a background, she must have grown to adulthood a ward of the state. Her mother is never mentioned, and her pop is none other than the master craftsman who engraved the very plates that are causing all the problems.
It’s also important to recognize that Andrea King isn’t a traditional femme fatale in Southside 1-1000. The term implies that the male lead will somehow meet his doom via his interaction with her — and Nora Craig is no black widow — she has no need to be. She has the same power of any man in her position, and thus doesn’t need to use sex in the same way as the typical noir woman. Her tryst with the undercover Riggs is on her terms; she asks nothing of him and makes no attempt to manipulate or take advantage of him. For story purposes their meeting simply offers us a chance to learn her secret desires, which we need to understand. The fact that both are engaged in deception doesn’t compromise her honesty. They play the same cat and mouse game that movie feds and movie gangsters always play with one another, just on slightly more romantic terms than usual.
The film has a crackerjack ending that makes the whole thing worthwhile. Beginning with a fire in the crook’s hideout and wrapping on a bridge trestle spanning the rail yard, everything is done with verve and style. My copy of the film is quite poor, but even through scratches and haze the beauty of the final sequence came through loud and clear. All of the details from the costumes to the lighting to the camera positions vividly depict a running gun battle that is not for a moment lacking in clear visual symbolism. It’s a tasty dessert at the end of a routine Wednesday night dinner.
Southside 1-1000 (1950)
Director: Boris Ingster
Cinematographer: Walter Castle
Story: Raison and Brown
Cinematographer: Walter Castle
Story: Raison and Brown
Screenplay: Ingster and Townsend
Starring: Don DeFore and Andrea King
Distributed by: Allied Artists
Running time: 73 minutes
Starring: Don DeFore and Andrea King
Distributed by: Allied Artists
Running time: 73 minutes
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