n 45 minutes, Dan Farrow (Leslie Fenton) will be executed in Nebraska. Though he was convicted on circumstantial evidence, he’s guilty – and he’s willing to admit to his crimes at the last minute. Farrow calls upon Father Edward Flanagan (Spencer Tracy) to be by his side, during which he blames the state for his condition, having grown up a lonely, starving kid who cried himself to sleep in a flophouse every night. If he had had but a single friend when he was twelve years old, he wouldn’t have joined a gang and led a life of crime.

This confession affects Flanagan deeply, who immediately sets about leaving his adult refuge behind to set up a home for abandoned, homeless children. With his bishop’s blessing for the project, the humble preacher seeks a loan from unusually generous, longtime friend and shop-owner Dave Morris (Henry Hull), allowing him to rent a place and furnish modest furniture for his “Home for Boys.” But it’s just a start; he soon looks for a larger site so that he can house 500 boys – a whole town for them. “I’ll guarantee their good conduct.”

Though Flanagan has virtuous intentions, the public isn’t too enthusiastic about supporting his cause – something endlessly topical, even though this picture was released in the late ’30s. The value of discarded youth will always be a debatable notion. Is everyone redeemable? Can someone be saved from future transgressions with a better upbringing? Revealingly, those in power view the father’s endeavors as a criticism of things as they are, suggesting that the systems they have in place have room for improvement – as if that’s a considerable insult. It’s quite the commentary on the establishment, made more obvious when the boys’ first Christmas arrives without funding for gifts and food, making them ponder how the reform school might have treated them – or how they might have had real turkey in their own homes, even if it comes with a drunken walloping by abusive wards.

“We have a boy in trouble.” Unfortunately, rather than sticking primarily to the inner workings of an innovative organization (its self-governance is of particular amusement) for needy, neglected kids, the film chooses to focus on one – Mickey Rooney as Whitey Marsh – as an example of how a little love and attention can save a soul from going down a dark path. Not only is his persona exaggerated and unconvincing (used copiously for pratfalls and comic relief sequences), but also complicated by being related to a gangster on the lam – a conspicuously theatrical additive (complete with shootout and conflicting details on police procedures for questioning a child) that merely distracts from the significance and purpose of the institution.

As the picture proceeds, financial quandaries plague the school, which brings up another potent, ceaselessly timely concern when it comes to raising orphaned children: can their inclusion be monetized? It’s never really about the pitiable kids or the noble cause; when too many adults get involved, it always becomes about profitability. Nevertheless, Flanagan’s character is admirable (based on a real man with real accomplishments), though Tracy imparts a rather standard performance, while the sub-theme about unintentional role models is poignant. But the concept of an independent, unbiased newspaper is laughable even in this era, just as the bulk of the story plays out in a generic, predictable manner, with a climax that is about as implausible and idealistic as they come.

– Mike Massie