by C McGivern
In 1954 Wayne-Fellows came to an abrupt end when Duke bought his partner out, saying, “Bob Fellows hadn’t quite done the job.” He called his new company Batjac, after the Dutch trading company Batjak in the film Wake of the Red Witch, “I didn’t like the idea of my name being used for the company” - the typist who prepared the legal documents spelt the name wrong, but Duke never corrected the error.
Soon after forming Batjac he and Pilar went off on location to film The Conqueror for Howard Hughes, a film that later had devastating consequences, and which he knew he should never have become entangled in. It was written originally for Marlon Brando in stylized, ancient English; Duke made many elementary errors of judgement on the picture, not least of which was failing to check the script before going on location. The day before filming started he glanced at it and was horrified. He knew he couldn’t do anything with the language and tried desperately, and unsuccessfully to get his scenes rewritten.
The script turned out to be the least of his problems and he found Susan Hayward, his co-star, like a line from the film, “consumed with want of him.” It was the first time he’d openly taken Pilar on location with him and he spent most of his time fighting off the amorous advances of a drunken Miss Hayward. As ever, he maintained his politeness and Miss Hayward remained completely infatuated with him, “He was tough and he was strong, just like his screen image, but there was a tremendous gentleness about him. Of all my leading men, he was my favorite.”
And she too proved to be only a minor irritant. Working on the film left many of the 220 people who joined him on location in Utah in 1954 suffering from serious and specific illnesses. Ninety one of them were later affected by or died of cancer and a radiologist said, deaths in the numbers that occurred in this group qualified as an epidemic. Pedro Armendariz suffered from cancer of the kidney in 1959 and finally committed suicide in 1963 after being diagnosed with cancer of the larynx. Hayward developed cancer of the skin, breast, uterus and brain.
The Conqueror was filmed in the Escalante Valley, where the Atomic Energy Commission had detonated eleven atomic bombs just a year earlier. The fireballs, two of which were described as especially “dirty” had covered the surrounding desert with a fine ash which had been absorbed into the red sands of the area and strong winds carried large amounts of radioactive waste throughout each of the valleys where filming took place. Levels of strontium 90 and cesium 137 remained high enough to set Geiger counters wildly ticking long after 1954. Crew and cast members were regularly covered with the thick dust which even caked their eyes and mouths. They were frequently blown clean with compressed air after a hard day on set.
A further sixty tons of the red sand was carried back by truck for interior shooting, so colors matched outdoor scenes, and for another two months after they had finished on location they continued to wallow in the radioactive mix. In later years Duke’s health may have suffered the consequences, at the time the critics berated his performance, “Wayne portrays the Mongolian conqueror as a moronic idiot!” Even he said, “It was probably the worst film I ever made, though it ranks alongside at least fifty others! Despite everything, I felt it could have been so much better if the producers had allowed me to have the dialogue altered.” Rubbish or not, idiotic or not, audiences flocked to see it, and as ever a Duke film was a sure fire banker.
He was waiting, impatient as ever, for his final divorce papers to come through and he hoped to be free to marry Pilar in November 1954. He was under contract to star in The Sea Chase which was due to be shot in Hawaii that autumn. He asked Pilar to go on location with him again. He planned to marry her there the day his divorce became final. He didn’t tell her his plans for the big surprise.
Some months before the trip he had willingly agreed to have her dog, Blackie, shipped up from Peru. When the dog emerged from its crate he said wryly that the tiny Dachshund was, “funny looking.” He added that although he didn’t mind him being around, he would not tolerate him eating off his plates or sleeping in their bed. When Pilar reminded him that he used to share his Airedale’s basket, he laughed, “Yeah, but he was special.” At first Blackie didn’t seem special. He was tiny and, even Pilar had to admit, funny looking, but he wormed his way into Duke’s heart like no woman ever did. Everywhere the man went the dog was always at his heels. They were rarely apart from then on and Blackie became almost as important in his life as Pilar was. Before the little dog’s arrival Duke had hated eating alone in the early hours of the morning. Now he and the dog shared breakfast and Blackie eagerly sat up at the table to drink coffee from a cup placed in front of him by rough, tough John Wayne, that same John Wayne who had said the dog couldn’t share his plates! When he drove anywhere the dog went along draped around his neck. If Blackie didn’t wake early enough to go on location with him, Duke sent his driver back to collect him later. At night they sat together companionably watching TV, dog perched on the master’s lap where he fell asleep, securely held in huge hands. So much for Duke being unwilling to let a dog sleep in his bed. Blackie ruled John Wayne’s home, his heart, ate off what he wanted and slept where he wanted, usually on top of Duke. It was a true, deep, long lasting and mutual love affair. Blackie, however didn’t go with Duke and Pilar to Hawaii.
When they arrived on location Duke found that Warners had put them up in a hotel and he was hounded from sunrise to sunset by tourists and fans. Ever conscious of his image he didn’t fail in his politeness, and it was entirely typical of him that he responded to every demand made of him. On the first night in the hotel he willingly signed hundreds of autographs, had countless photographs taken and talked to a never ending stream of people. He believed his fans deserved something of him. They had unfailingly stood by him when others let him down or turned against him, they never criticized him, and they continued to pay to see his movies, ensuring his continued success. He explained, “No one but the people like my films.” Although he never forgot the debt he owed and politeness came naturally to him, he found the effort required of him in Hawaii tiring all the same, “Perhaps other actors can walk away from people and not be friendly and gracious. I cannot.” But he had his plans for Pilar and they moved out of the hotel after a few days. Duke rented a private house close to the set. He made his surprise proposal and Pilar happily agreed to marry him as soon as filming was completed.
But Chata had not finished with him yet. She wasn’t prepared to fade into the background and was determined to make his life hell. The trial was over, but things hadn’t gone her way in court and she was mad. When she left the Encino estate she took Duke’s prized fifteen volume set of American Indian photographs with her. She knew exactly where to attack him, how easy it was to hurt him, and she knew the loss of his books would leave him heartbroken. He offered her $1000 per volume in cash to return them. She ignored the request even though she badly needed the money, the chance to hurt him one last time was even more precious to her. She did eventually return them, one by one, throughout the next year, each one cut into thousands of pieces in fifteen brown envelopes. As she had expected he was devastated. He called her “One sick human being.”
In late 1954 she contacted him one last time to beg for money. In the past he had told his lawyers to give her whatever she wanted, but this time he stubbornly refused. Somewhere deep inside he still felt guilty about Chata, he accepted some responsibility for the way things had turned out. Previously that had always ensured he gave into her demands, but he now believed the debt had been paid in full.
Throughout the trial Ward Bond had done his best to talk Duke into staying single, “He was sick about Chata, well, now he’s had two marriages fall apart, and he’s even more sensitive about women than ever before. He should leave things well alone.” It didn’t matter what anyone said, Duke ran as fast as he could straight into his next effort at finding happiness, repeating a now familiar pattern of behavior. As soon as he was free of one wife his first action was to marry again.
Toward the end of filming Sea C
hase Duke’s lawyer rang to say he was holding the final divorce papers in his hand. He turned to Pilar casually, “How do you fancy getting married today?” Very little daunted him and the prospect of arranging a wedding for the same day that his divorce came through didn’t trouble him at all. “Just leave everything to me. You and Mary go and chose a wedding dress. By the time you get back everything will be sorted out.”
They exchanged vows on the manicured lawns of the home of William Hill, territorial senator, at sunset. Local Hawaiians lit torches, sang traditional songs and danced fertility dances in the grounds that overlooked Keakoa Bay. At Pilar’s request the word “obey” was dropped from the ceremony. “The others never obeyed me anyway,” Duke laughed. It was a truly romantic wedding, and as he might have said himself, every image had perfect composition. After the ceremony they flew on to Honolulu where reporters asked where they were going to honeymoon. “Well fellas, Pilar and I have been traveling since the day we met. So we’re going to honeymoon in our favorite place in the entire world. My bride and I are going home.”
They returned to California for an extended honeymoon, and for many years after the sound of their laughter reverberated around Encino and the Hollywood hills. The quest was over; Duke had found his happiness at long last. Laughing with Pilar helped him forget the pain of earlier years, every element of his life was finally in place, he had arrived where he was supposed to be and was with the person he was meant to be with. The long search finally over, he relaxed and knew contentment. Peace replaced turmoil and the old rages, that had burned inside him for so long, subsided. For long periods he even managed to control his temper. Pilar told everyone her quiet man was, “The most tender man I have ever known. Sometimes he goes to extremes in being considerate with me. He telephones all the time, even when he’s working on a picture.”
Duke was as happy as it was possible to be, “This is what it’s all about, what I’ve always wanted; a successful career, a wife I love and who loves me back, my family around me.” He was forty seven years old and felt a complete man for the first time. He was deeply in love; one friend said it was possible to see how much when he looked at Pilar, “There was some heavy weather sometimes but it seemed they would survive everything to grow old and ever more content together. Watching Duke you felt you knew how strong was his love. When he talked about her you have to imagine that with the words my wife there was a melodic line below.”
No matter how happy he might be Duke could not sit still, he had to carry on doing what he loved best. An inner energy drove him and left him unable to accept his new contentment, “Life can’t stand still for anyone.” He began spending more and more time scouring scripts, little caring how awful they were. He considered making any film he thought decent simply because he couldn’t stand being idle. He said he loved being at home with his wife, that it was his favorite place in the world, but even now, he could never actually stay in it for any length of time.
He was too conditioned by the rigors of the film world where he had spent a lifetime getting up at four am, into makeup by six and on set by seven ready and eager to start work. He was making anything that came his way, using the films as practice sessions and to keep himself occupied. He also made them to finance his dream. Most of the films he made then were considered dismal failures by the critics who took great delight in panning each one. They all agreed, he was washed up. He didn’t care. They served his purpose and he hoarded the capital they returned against the day he would start work on The Alamo.
Pilar understood that the movie industry lay at the core of his being. She put up no resistance against it and didn’t harass him or make futile demands for things she knew he couldn’t give. He talked about needing and wanting privacy, but in truth he was happy in his goldfish bowl existence. He hated being alone, even when he was alone with Pilar, and was always happier with others around them, either in public surrounded by fans, or in private when he invariably invited guests to stay over. Pilar took care not to let him know how much she minded never being alone with him. She wanted to be a true partner and accepted that a man who dreaded being on his own couldn’t run the risk of putting all his eggs in one basket. He always had other people in his life. If one let him down there was someone else there for him. But he had learned from past mistakes and he did put more effort into his new relationship; he never allowed himself to become too dependent, but he did give more of himself to her.
She hated the heavy Spanish furnishings left at the Encino estate by Chata. He now gave her a free hand with alterations. She ordered specially made reproduction early American furniture for every room, believing that if she could make him comfortable in his own home he might be happier staying in it with her. She had a vast bed designed and built from the foundation of a massive Old English bench on which Yorkshire farmers had smoked two hundred hams at a time in its past life. It was customized with arm rests, cigarette compartments, book racks, TV and radio control panels, several telephone lines, light switches for the whole house, remote control to open the front gates, and a backgammon tray built into the headboard. Although they were rarely alone in the house to enjoy the fruits of her work they did spend long happy hours snuggled up in silk pyjamas in the Old English bed, eating snacks as they watched TV on the screen built into the ceiling, or reading to each other. Pilar soon discovered the bed wasn’t enough and that his home still served as a club for his friends. People called at all hours and the doors of the Wayne Estate were usually open to a constant stream of visitors.
John Ford, that monumental influence in his life, was a frequent visitor as he planned his next picture, The Searchers, with Duke. Pilar resented his frequent intrusion into her life, she also believed he limited her husband as an actor and ignored his abundant talent when he told her, “Duke cannot escape playing himself, he has to accept playing big rough men, simply because of his physical size. He isn’t a good enough actor to do anything else and he should play to his strengths. I’ve never doubted him, but to this day, I wouldn’t call him an actor. He is a reactor. Put him in a dramatic situation and he reacts to it as he would in real life. That kind of performance makes for fine, believable motion pictures. What he does isn’t easy, it’s hard work, but I know you can push him to the brink and he’ll still come back for more.”
For the psychological, brutal and realistic movie that Ford now planned, only Duke would do, no matter how good an actor he was or wasn’t. He wanted to make a landmark film in Hollywood history, again in the magnificent setting of Monument Valley. He was determined Duke would play the role of the obsessed Ethan Edwards. And it didn’t take much persuading to get Wayne to go back to his spiritual home; he didn’t have to be pushed into accepting a part that seemed to fit him like a glove.
When he and Pilar arrived in the Valley in June 1955 setting up location was business as usual for the Ford Stock Members and whilst it was the first time she had seen the three men work together, Pilar immediately felt the closeness that existed between Ford, Bond and her husband as they swung into their well-rehearsed preparations, “They seemed to work in the searing heat of the Navajo reservation without the use of words, each knowing instinctively what the other required. They might be abrasive toward each other but it was obvious they remained affectionate at the same time. They seemed to share a mystical attachment to the place and for some reason Duke expected me to love it too. He was ever the optimist. Even the Navajo didn’t enjoy summer in The Valley!”
Ford had been anxious to film another western for some time, “Westerns are good for my health, spirit and morale.” He had chosen the unusual story about Confederate veteran, Ethan Edwards, a man who returns home long after the end of the war, presumably after a successful career as a bank robber, with care and with Duke already in mind. When Ethan’s family are slaughtered and his nieces kidnapped in a Comanche uprising, he sets out to avenge the murders and to rescue the girls. From the outset he is shown as having an obsessive hatred of Indians. Everything about
him is designed to distance the audience from his attitudes. Throughout the film Ethan’s rage deepens until he finds the mutilated body of the elder girl and it develops into burning hatred as he sets out to find his younger niece, Debbie. He allows nothing to turn him from his path and his stubborn commitment to the search pushes his war-damaged personality to the brink of insanity.
The film possibly reflected Ford’s increasingly depressed state but Duke never saw the role in that light, “I loved Ethan and I loved playing him. A great deal of the work was instinctive, and I loved the fact that I wasn’t just a good guy. I was kind of an antihero. In every picture that I’ve done I’ve tried to have some human weaknesses and admit those weaknesses. They kept making westerns with me because my character was not too straight. A lot of the stuff I did, I did because I was under contract, and there we are. That’s the way it goes. But Ethan was different. I loved him. People said he was lost at the end, that he could never become part of society, and perhaps that was how Jack saw him, but my way of feeling is that you could do a sequel, Ethan Rides Again. He has spent years of his life chasing down the people who murdered the woman he loved and her relatives, but you could start him off again. Naturally the chase has been the highlight of his life, he would take six months or so to regain his composure. He had been dedicated to a wrong cause, dedicated to vengeance, but I’m optimistic about the character. I don’t see any reason why Ethan couldn’t have snapped out of it, he loved the warm little human being, his niece, and he took her back to her own people. Right at that moment, because of the life he has led, no one is going to invite him in, but I’m sure that if he rode off into town and had a few belts, he would have thought about things, about his dead brother’s homestead, about buying cattle. Somehow a man as strong as Ethan is going to get back into the swing. He isn’t going to just quit. I think he is strong enough to carry on. That little girl was going to love him, and it would be a good life. He wasn’t completely alienated like people said, or he would have killed her. Simply, I am an optimist. The ending of The Searchers is just a downbeat moment in a man’s life, but I can always think what would happen to change things. I believe in the old thing where a guy looks in his stocking at Christmas and says, “Goddammit, I got nothin’ but horseshit,” but the other guy says, “Oh Boy, they got me a horse, but it got away! Yeah… I’m an optimist.”