Hidden in Plain Sight: Cinematic Legacies of the Western, Greaser Cinema, and Chicanx Literature By Robert López Reyes A dissertation submitted in partial satisfaction of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in English in the Graduate Division of the University of California, Berkeley Committee in charge: Professor Genaro Padilla, Chair Professor Hertha D. Sweet Wong Professor Ivonne Del Valle Summer 2020 Abstract Hidden in Plain Sight: Cinematic Legacies of the Western, Greaser Cinema, and Chicanx Literature by Robert López Reyes Doctor of Philosophy in English University of California, Berkeley Professor Genaro Padilla, Chair When D.W. Griffith began filming The Greaser's Gauntlet in 1908, no one could have predicted that he would create an enduring character. This dissertation explores the history of the greaser character and its influence in American and Chicanx Literature. Beginning with The Greaser's Gauntlet, this study traces the greaser character and illuminates the history of greaser cinema in several films, including: Broncho Billy and the Greaser (1914) and Licking the Greaser's (1914/1918). The dissertation then argues that the images produced in these films are essential to establishing racialized representations of Mexican and Latinx characters in the U.S. film industry and in the social sphere. Next, the dissertation investigates artistic responses to the greaser character. In particular, the dissertation examines four novels—Nathanael West's Day of the Locust (1939), José Antonio Villareal's Pocho (1959), Oscar Zeta Acosta's Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo (1972), and The Revolt of the Cockroach People (1973)—to show how creative writers have reimagined and critiqued the character in their fictions. 1 For Stephanie and Robert Aaron with love i Table of Contents Abstract 1 Preface iii Acknowledgements v Curriculum Vitae vii 1. Introduction Remembering Greaser Cinema 1 2. Chapter One Synonyms of “the Mexican”: 7 Greaser Cinema and the Visual Legacies of the Serial Western 3. Chapter Two Nathanael West’s The Day of the Locust and 35 the "Greaser” in the Age of the “Talkies” 4. Chapter Three Rethinking Paradigms of Seeing the 50 Greaser in José Antonio Villarreal’s Pocho 5. Chapter Four “Enjoying the Spectacle”: 66 Buffalo Zeta Brown’s Cinematic Masquerade 6. Conclusion Collocating Chicanx Literature, 89 American Cinema, and Other Conclusions 7. End Notes 94 8. Works Cited 108 ii Preface "Where's Mecca"? "It's out in the desert" —Bruce Dern to Peter Fonda in The Wild Angels (1966) I've tried to write a preface several times now, but it's taken me more than a few attempts to figure out what to say, or more importantly: how to begin. So, here it is. But first, a story (or two): In the mid-1980s, the city of Coachella named a street "Lorenza Lane," to honor the late Lorenza Villanueva Reyes. She was my great-grandmother: a proud El Pasoan (and Tejana), whose family had emigrated west, from Louisiana. To the people of Coachella and its surrounding communities, she was called Doña Lorenza. I am told that she was a great curandera (a healer), and a generous soul who was revered by many. She was only thirteen when she married my great-grandfather Felipe Reyes—a seasoned veteran of the Mexican Revolution. They packed up our family and moved west to California. In some ways, the street sign is ironic, given that my great-grandmother was also illiterate. She signed her name with an "X." Usually, my great-grandmother's "X" was accompanied by my grandmother's signature, Armida Tapía Reyes, followed by a statement to verify her identity to a bank teller: "I certify that this is the 'X' of Lorenza Villanueva Reyes—in my grandmother's most elegant cursive. Once, my father told me a story about great-grandmother, about how during the Great Depression, she would bring extra food for the hungry children she encountered starving in the fields. The Reyes-Villanueva clan (as my father calls our family) were farm workers, laboring in the fields and orchards of the Southwest. They were survivors, too, much like the children of the "Okie Exodus" that my great-grandmother fed. Those were hard times. I think about that story now. It's powerful; it nearly brings me to tears every time I think about it—about her. And it's fascinating to consider how one small detail can yield so much insight about a person. As I said, I heard this story from my father, who heard it from his Nana. I believe it's true. I mean, I want to believe it's true. Here's the thing: a few years ago, I was watching John Ford's adaptation of Steinbeck's great novel of that era, The Grapes of Wrath, featuring the inimitable Henry Fonda. There's a scene in the movie that reminds me of my father's story. In the scene, Ma Joad feeds the hungry children who are starving at a labor camp. She does this though her family has little to spare. In this moment, the Joad's teach us about dignity. Though they're not starving like the children, they surely recall other times when they were. Another moment in the scene also seems familiar. As the children stand in line, Ma Joad rebuffs a man who cuts the line, and shoos him away. After I saw the film, I couldn't help but wonder about the story my father recalled. I couldn't help but wonder how much of the story he had heard, and how much he had possibly fabricated over the years? Stories can be tricky like memories. Maybe, one day I'll ask my father about this coincidence. I doubt I'll get a straight answer. Perhaps I shouldn't expect one. Coincidentally, my father has been asking me to find him a copy of Ford's Grapes of Wrath. iii * * * Movies have always been central to my family. In my family, movies were used to mark special occasions. Birthdays were not birthdays without a trip to the movies. I spent many evenings at the drive-in, dozing off at the end of a triple feature. Though I'd try to stay awake for all the programs, I'd usually fall asleep just as the final picture was rolling. I'd crawl into the back of my parent's Dodge station wagon, while Richard Pryor was beginning his set. We went to the movies as a family and we went often. Our uncles and aunts took us, too, as did our grandparents. It's not an overstatement to say that we were a movie- watching-family. In the 1980s, Video Cassette Recorders (VCRs) came into mass production, and this pastime became even more cemented. Soon, we began renting movies at video stores, which were opening across the nation. Each summer my sister and I would visit our grandparents in Coachella and watch many of the hundreds of movies they taped. In many ways, this dissertation was written as an ode to my family's love of movies. iv Acknowledgements When I arrived to Cal in the Fall of 2004, I never would have imagined that I'd be a UC graduate three-times-over. I had visited the campus the previous winter with my parents and sister. I remember that trip fondly, because I got lost during what was an especially frigid winter. I stayed at the Shattuck Hotel and no one could tell me how to get to campus. I found it, eventually. And then I got lost trying to find Amoeba Records. Over the years, I would walk the same path—between Valley Life Sciences Building and the Chancellor's House—and laugh. Looking back, I realize how fortunate I am. I have such fond memories of Berkeley and I've made many friends and acquaintances. No one completes a PhD without help. I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to all the people who helped me along the way. First and foremost, I'd like to thank the members of my dissertation committee who supported me through the dissertation process. Of course, any mistakes or oversights are mine, and mine alone. I'd like to thank my mentor and dissertation chair, Professor Genaro Padilla. Thank you for taking me on as your student. You helped get me on track when I was floundering in the department, and you saw me through to the end. Gracías Profe! A huge abrazo to Professor Hertha D. Sweet Wong, who I met in my first year of graduate school. Thank you for always being an example of how to be an intellectual, artist, and student advocate. I owe you dearly. I'd also like to thank Professor Ivonne Del Valle: for graciously taking me on as your student, first in Spanish, and then for the dissertation. I owe you more than words. To all the Profe's who've inspired me over the years: the late (but not forgotten) Alfred Arteaga, Marcial González, Fred Aldama, Ray Telles, José Saldívar, Laura Pérez, Donna Jones, Sue Schweik, Jeffery Knapp, David Landreth, Cecil Giscombe, Scott Saul, Robert Allen, Jennifer Miller, and the great Don McQuade. Thank you all! To all my campus mentors: Dr. Alberto Ledesma, Luisa Giulianetti, Lupe Gallegos-Díaz, Dr. Harold Campbell, Juan Esteva, Lily Castillo-Speed, Gonzalo Arrizón, Carolyn Swalina, Laura Jiménez-Olvera, Dewey St. Germaine, and the baristas of Cafe Milano, especially Martín. A big thanks to all the people and who held me up and gave me words of encouragement. There are too many to name, though I would like to thank my fellow musician and partner-in-crime: Dr.