You’ll Never Guess About Gus Meins: A Little Known Hal Roach Scandal

This is a mind blower of a story; I’m astounded that it’s not more widely known. I wasn’t aware of it myself until I sat down to write this post. And for once I won’t bury the lede: Gus Meins (Gustave Peter Ludwig Luley, 1893-1940), director of nearly 150 comedy classics including many in the Our Gang series and the holiday classic Babes in Toyland a.k.a. March of the Wooden Soldiers (1934) was nabbed on multiple child molestation charges and ended it all rather than face the music.

It’s unusual for either leg of this man’s life — the good or the bad — to be so obscure. The end of the story certainly cancelled celebration of the terrific career that preceded it (much as happened with Roscoe Arbuckle, some of whose achievements are only now beginning to come into the sunshine). That’s less surprising. But it’s fairly unusual for the scandal not to be known. It’s possible that to date writers have considered Meins too small fry to spotlight from the standpoint of even sensationalism. But as you’ll see, he had a significant career as a comedy director, and likely would have continued to do so if circumstances hadn’t cut his life short.

Meins was born in Hamburg, Germany and came to the U.S. with his family when he was seven. He grew up in Sam Pedro, California, where he first comes to notice for his performances (dancing, magic) at social events as a teenager. If things had gone differently, he might have gone into vaudeville. But as it happens he was also gifted as a visual artist. When still a young man he found success as an illustrator and comic strip artist at newspapers and magazines such as the Los Angeles Herald and Cartoon Magazine. (This terrific article on the Homestead Museum’s Blog features many samples of Meins’ artwork, as well as many details about his early life not found elsewhere).

In 1919 Meins began working as a gagwriter for William Fox Studios, and within three years he had worked his way up to director, helming Ben Turpin comedies for Mack Sennett. From 1925 to 1930 he was employed by the Stern Brothers, directing scores of comedies in the Buster Brown, Newlyweds, and Let George Do It series, which were released by Universal. He even directed Sunny Jim McKeen pictures!

1932 to 1936 were the magic years at Hal Roach, where he directed his best known pictures, including dozens of Thelma Todd’s comedies with Zasu Pitts and Patsy Kelly, and numerous Our Gang shorts, as well as Babes in Toyland a.k.a. March of the Wooden Soldiers (1934), co-directed with Charley Rogers. His last film for Roach was the feature Nobody’s Baby (1937) with Patsy Kelly and Lyda Roberti.

From here, Meins went to Republic where he directed numerous Higgins Family comedies starring James Gleason and family, as well as such things as Scatterbrain (1940) with Judy Canova, and a few westerns. These were B movies but there is no reason to suspect that Meins wouldn’t have either kept climbing the ladder to more prestigious comedy features at major studios, or perhaps become a prolific tv director later. He had that kind of career.

It all came crashing down in the summer of 1940. Meins was eating dinner at a restaurant with his family when police came in to arrest him on several counts of child molestation. (Some sources say six counts, some say three). The victims were young boys. After Meins made bail he opined that he was innocent but even if he beat the charges his career was ruined. Telling his son “You’ll probably never see me again”, he drove his car to a remote spot and ran a hose from the exhaust pipe to the window next to the drivers seat, where the carbon monoxide did its work. Interestingly, Thelma Todd had died of car exhaust asphyxiation five years before.

Meins’ assertion of his innocence seems doubtful. As this excellent article relates, Meins had also been busted on a similar charge when he was sixteen and had been let off. He also left behind a self-serving suicide note which said in part “I had no chance to combat this thing because I am a German.” But Meins had achieved his first success as a cartoonist during the World War One era, when anti-German feeling in America was far worse than it was in 1940, when Americans were divided about whom to even support in World War Two. It would be well over a year before the U.S. would enter the war, and over two years before American armies first engaged the Germans in battle in North Africa. If anything, one detects veiled Anti-Semitism in Meins’ claim, a paranoid conviction that his case would not be treated fairly in an industry largely dominated by Jews. It’s the sort of thing a guilty mind cooks up.

Anyway, this is the kind of thing one wishes one didn’t know, right? So why tell it? Because you and I are people, not ostriches.

Addendum: Author Thomas Reeder wishes you to know that he discusses the case of Gus Meins in his bookTime is Money: The Century, Rainbow and Stern Brothers Comedies of Julius and Abe Stern. 

And for more on classic comedy films please check out my own: Chain of Fools: Silent Comedy and Its Legacies from Nickelodeons to Youtube — now also available on audiobook. Gus Meins directed some great ones!