John Wayne

by C McGivern

  They made only one more film together, Donovan’s Reef, which was completed in 1963. Both were determined to make the picture despite all the usual pre-production problems, and when financing was pulled out at the last minute Ford decided to go ahead and make it himself. Duke guessed he would not get many more chances to work with Coach, and after Liberty Valance he wasn’t sure he wanted to anymore. Now he planned one last fling, an epitaph, to make up for the misery of their last experience and he anticipated a nostalgic trip back in time to the good old days. Instead the project ran into serious trouble before they even left for location and it turned into yet another difficult assignment. Jimmy Grant was fired, and Frank Nugent, who wrote The Searchers, was asked to come up with something quickly. The resulting script was weak. Duke also believed the film was badly cast, “I should never have been used in that one. I was too old.” Once they arrived in Hawaii Duke found Ford more irritable than ever. He had become fiercely protective of the old man and he watched over him constantly, ensuring he was alright. He took over much of the direction himself and rarely left Ford’s side. The film was not hailed as a classic and Duke later accepted it was a less than fitting end to the Ford-Wayne collaboration.

  In September 1962 the whole Wayne family went to Arizona to make McLintock! Duke had not enjoyed his last couple of pictures but now had a great time working on a film that teamed him once more with his favorite lady, Maureen O’Hara. It was a family affair and combined many of the old Ford regulars. Michael got his first solo production credits, Patrick and Aissa both had roles, Andy McLaglen, son of Duke’s old friend Victor, directed, and even Ford turned up to help out when McLaglen fell ill. There was a sentimental feel to the location and Duke said, “Some films are tough to make and you can work harder but not get such a good result. I think that the fun people had making McLintock! came over well on screen. It’s not that it’s a great film, it is entertaining.” He worried how his fans would take to the light-hearted comedy; he feared they would go in expecting a typical shoot-em up and come out disappointed. He didn’t need to worry and the picture was well received.

  McLintock! was one of Duke’s earliest attempts to set down his personal view of life on film. He went to extraordinary lengths with it and spent a lot of time, trouble and money getting things just right. He even had one of the last surviving herds of long horn cattle in the country brought in, had an authentic railroad station built in the desolate area north of Tombstone to add authenticity, and arranged to borrow a nineteenth century train, complete with engine, passenger coaches and box-car from Paramount Pictures. He hired 287 Indians from all over Arizona including Sioux, Crow, Apaches and some of his Navajo friends from Monument Valley. When the 14 Navajo chiefs arrived Duke quipped, “Hey, didn’t I kill you 12 pictures back?” They all laughed, but in fact McLintock! was a statement from Duke marking the sadness he felt at the passing of a noble civilization.

  Audiences had first noticed the special chemistry that existed between Wayne and O’Hara during the filming of Rio Grande in 1950, and of course, later in The Quiet Man. She was Duke’s ideal woman; she laughed, drank and cursed with him, and he found her irresistible. She was one of the only women he ever felt truly comfortable with, the only one he ever went out of his way to keep company with. Duke always fell in love with passive, demure, Hispanic women, and his problems started when they began to express themselves more. But Maureen O’Hara was like no other woman he ever met, able to stand toe to toe with him, and as powerful as he was himself. He called her Big Red, or Herself, and often spoke about how things might have been if they had married. Fortunately for them both, it was an honest friendship that never turned into anything more.

  Mary remarked, “They are the strongest two people I have ever known. They would have been like oil and water as man and wife. They were better off as friends.” O’Hara said, “People assumed there was a great romance between Duke and me. There wasn’t. We loved and respected one another and we knew we were good for each other on screen.” All the films they shared were special, the magic that existed between them clearly visible.

  In McLintock! they had a fine time, both especially loving the scene where the whole town brawls on the edge of a fifty foot hill with a mud hole at the bottom, into which they all inevitably slide. The first stuntman to try sliding down into the mud fell and cut his head, and the others then demanded extra danger money to perform the stunt. Duke was disgusted; it was already costing Batjac $50,000 to shoot the scene. He stood at the top of the hill and bellowed, “Well then, I guess that means I have to do it, you white-livered chicken shits! It’s about as dangerous as diving into a swimming pool, and Maureen and I will prove it.” Miss O’Hara shouted back, “That old bastard wants me to slide down the hill with him, but I won’t do it.” She did it, as Duke beaming, took her by the arm and dragged her down with him laughing, “That’s my girl.”

  Temperatures suddenly dropped to 42 degrees and a cold wind blew up as they worked, but neither of them was about to quit.

  The film also featured Yvonne De Carlo in her first picture for four years. She was married to Bob Morgan, a stuntman who had lost a leg in an accident whilst working on How The West Was Won. As soon as Duke learned of the hardship they were suffering he insisted on rescuing De Carlo from the nightclub circuit by finding her a well payed role in his film. Chuck Roberson, who played the marshal said, “If Bob had been able, right then, I’m damn sure Duke would have written in a part for a one-legged man… Somehow he managed to lend a hand without damaging anyone’s sense of dignity.”

  After completing McLintock! and playing a cameo role in The Greatest Story Ever Told Duke and his family set off on their traditional trip to Acapulco where he spent some peaceful months away from his hectic routine. Though the town was full of the rich and famous, he steadfastly refused to get involved in the social life of the resort and rarely went to parties. He was, however, friendly with Merle Oberon and accepted an invitation to her villa. The Wayne family lazed around the pool whilst Duke talked or played cards with other guests. His children enjoyed playing with Oberon’s adopted family. On one occasion three year old Ethan dived into the pool. After a lifetime at sea with his father, he already swam like a fish, but President Johnson’s daughter, Lynda Bird, worried for his safety, dived after him and began dragging him to the side. An angry Ethan shouted for help, “Daddy, why is this crazy lady jumping on me?”

  As it turned out Daddy had to rescue them both as her paper dress started to dissolve in the water. Sometime later Duke was shocked to receive a warm invitation to a reception at The White House for the king and queen of Thailand. Ethan, who was included in the invitation, was assured no crazy ladies would throw themselves at him. Duke muttered, “I can’t go, I’m a Republican.” Pilar smiled and said, “I’m sure they know that dear,” but she added with determination, “and I don’t care what you are, I want to go.”… they went.

  On the way to The White House a nervous Duke told his wife, “They probably just asked us because of Lynda. Hell, everyone knows what I think of the Democrats. We’ll probably be seated behind a pot palm.” When they arrived Pilar was thankful to find her staunch Republican gracious, assured and polite as he shook hands with those Democrats. They were both surprised to find they were not seated behind a pot palm but at the main table, treated as guests of honor.

  Whatever he was doing, and wherever he was he always longed to get back to sea and soon after acquiring the Wild Goose he began dreaming about sailing her across the Atlantic. His next scheduled film, Circus World was due to be shot in Spain and provided him with the perfect excuse for his voyage. September 1963 saw him sailing down the coast of Mexico where he fished and relaxed for a couple of weeks before continuing on to Panama. He sailed the Goose through the Canal and across the Caribbean to Bermuda and then straight across the Atlantic.

  The boat became home for the duration of his stay in Spain, and he enjoyed many unexpected and uninvited visitors whilst he was t
here. He stood on no ceremony and everyone was welcome aboard the Wild Goose. Friends dropped by all the time during what turned into one long, happy party. Grace Kelly arrived one night long after the Waynes had retired for the evening. Duke started running round the bedroom shouting, “Jesus” at the top of his voice, as he tried to throw some clothes on.

  As soon as filming got under way the parties ended abruptly. Hathaway, though a friend of Duke’s, was as tough in his own way as Ford, and equally brutal. He delighted in challenging actors with the hardest physical effort and when Duke worked with him he had little energy left for socializing, “We worked nights for months. I generally fell into bed at about five in the morning.” Duke found little pleasure making Circus World. It was the first time he had acted with Rita Hayworth, he said it would also be the last! He found her difficult to work with, she was temperamental, unprofessional and rude; she played a drunken has-been in the film and Duke commented that she was much the same in real life, she was always late, had difficulty remembering her lines and was exactly the type of star he detested. On the only occasion they went to dinner together in Spain she was so nasty to the waiter and other diners that he was acutely embarrassed and tried to make up for her behavior by spending his entire evening signing autographs, leaving an over-generous tip, and sternly warning every member of his family, “Never think anyone is better than you, but never assume you’re superior to anyone else. Try to be decent to everyone, until they give you reason not to.”

  Working with her was the least of his problems, and he was lucky to escape with his life as the climax of the film was shot. The scene involved the big top catching fire, panicking animals, and Duke, as Matt Masters the circus owner, trying to save everything single-handedly. When he first heard what Hathaway had planned he tried, for once, to get a stuntman to do it. Chuck Roberson, his double, was away working on another film and the director said he had no choice; he had to do it himself. It took Hathaway five days to shoot something he was happy with, and in that time artificial and real fires were lit and re-lit. Duke, in the thick of the action all the time, spent those days breathing in thick black smoke and fumes.

  When Pilar complained about the risk he was taking he flared up, saying he was only doing what he got paid for. Still the work exhausted him and when he got back in the evenings he didn’t even bother eating before collapsing into a restless sleep. The smoke he had inhaled prevented him getting much rest and he lay coughing violently all night. Pilar ordered him to see a doctor but he refused and reassured her, “It’ll be better once I’ve finished this.”

  In fact things took a dramatic turn for the worse when the fire he was working close to suddenly whipped out of control and Duke, who had his back to the camera, didn’t notice what had happened. The director and crew fled from the tent, but although Duke was aware of the increasing heat and smelt the burning seats, he carried on working until he could no longer breathe. When he finally turned it was to find he had been abandoned to the raging inferno. Even though he’d been uncomfortable he’d carried on, waiting to hear the word “Cut” before giving up, John Wayne didn’t run unless he was directed to run, “Hell, I can’t even sleep unless I’m told to by the director!”

  Once he realized what had happened he furiously threw the axe he had been using across the set and stormed off, his singed hair and eyebrows still smoldering. He went back to his hotel and didn’t reappear for some days. He sulked and refused to talk to anyone, angry; not because of the danger he’d been in, but because no one had even caught his brush with death on film and he was going to have to go through it all over again.

  The night of the fire he started coughing up blood, his eyes were red rimmed, he could scarcely talk, and Pilar, shocked at his condition, pleaded with him again to get checked over. His health was deteriorating rapidly, but he still refused, saying he was too busy. He promised to go for a check-up if the cough didn’t clear by the time they got home. He went back to work and no one ever heard him complain about the incident again. The fire footage Hathaway eventually got was acknowledged as some of his most spectacular work, but it was Duke who paid the price.

  No one in Spain had any idea of the terrifying truth nor of the damage that had been done during those five days; John Wayne was invincible, too big and strong to be ill. Those who heard him coughing then were certain he’d only sustained temporary and minor injuries. That was also what he hoped and his wife prayed. In fact he had inhaled so much smoke that his lungs were severely and permanently affected and he never fully recovered. His chain smoking habit had done untold harm, but the fire speeded up the inevitable. His condition worsened daily and even he began to worry at the sight of the blood he brought up.

  Meanwhile as the world shook the day President Kennedy was assassinated, John Wayne trembled at the news, “It seemed so much worse because we were away from the United States. I just wanted to go home.” He was deeply disturbed, hit by the enormity of the event despite the fact that he had never liked Kennedy as a man and deplored his politics. The dream trip that had started with such exhilaration and high hopes had turned into a nightmare. And it was going to get worse.

  He and Pilar were having frequent and heated arguments on location. She had always ignored his impatient blustering, knowing her silence infuriated him. Now, for the first time, she shouted back at him. He was shaken, suddenly reminded of terrifying fights with Chata, and he rounded on her in a fearful temper. His reaction and his language surprised him more than it did her, and he became withdrawn, shy and hesitant, not knowing what to do to make things better. He didn’t understand why she had attacked him so unexpectedly; never guessing it was because she was so worried about him. He shouted and made her the direct target of his venom because he felt ill and was too scared to confess just how bad he felt. He saw no point in frightening her and he edged away as he tried to protect her with empty reassurances. He planned a relaxing trip back to California and was confident the sea air would clear his chest; certain things would soon get back to normal.

  On March 21st 1964 further tragedy struck as his boat was anchored off the tip of Baja, California. Four young crew members wanted to go ashore and they set off in the skiff through choppy waters toward the nearest town. Still drunk the next morning, they headed back out for The Goose. One of them fell overboard and as the others tried to save him the skiff capsized. Three drowned and only the boy who couldn’t swim and clung to the upturned boat survived. Duke, filled with a dark sense of gloom and bitter self-reproach, took each death personally as he spent the last days of the dream trip arranging funerals. He’d spent his life shielding and protecting others, ensuring the safety of everyone in his care, the fact that three of his staff were dead just had to be his fault. He hid himself away in the wheel house, he wanted to be on his own and avoided everyone, only joining his family briefly at mealtimes. Finally, when he could stand it no longer, he cut short his stay and flew home to Encino.

  He could find no rest there either and he was relieved when the time came to set off for Hawaii, where he was under contract to make In Harm’s Way with Patricia Neal and Kirk Douglas.

  For some years he hadn’t had the luxury of being able to turn down bad roles as he felt the compulsion to make good his financial losses; as a result, by the mid-sixties, he felt trapped in a professional rut. He was tired out by the continual need to push himself making films he felt personally dissatisfied with, and he agreed with the critics who pointed out that after thirty years of film making he had become stale. Even he felt bored with the old John Wayne image and knew he needed to find something fresh. As it turned out he had to do very little; the image was altered for him, not in any way he could have anticipated, or wished for, not in any way he could have wilfully created.

  Though he continued to ignore Pilar’s nagging and promised to go to the doctor after finishing Otto Preminger’s picture his hand was eventually forced when Paramount needed him to attend a routine medical check for insurance purposes. He u
nderwent routine tests at Scripps Institute and, surprisingly, received a clean bill of health. He was given cover for the film despite the one centimeter shadow of death already clearly visible on his left lung. He carried on coughing, happy it was nothing serious, and went off to make a film requiring little physical effort but, for the first time, his persistent cough caused delays. He was furious at his increasing weakness.

  In most of his last films he had been displeased to find himself playing a middle-aged man chasing younger women. He particularly disliked the kissing and bedroom scenes in Hatari and said he felt more foolish than virile, and he had decided not to play such scenes again. In Harm’s Way was his first attempt at a different type of role, playing opposite Patricia Neal, an older woman.

  Neal hadn’t seen Duke since they worked together on Operation Pacific, “He’d been through a lot since then. He was a better man for it.” And Duke discovered some rare chemistry, “God, I thought the love scenes with her were just great. Otto had a fine picture going for him, I thought the story played beautifully, right up to the end of the battle, when he insisted on using miniatures, after that you can’t believe in one thing. I look like I’ve gone through the towering inferno, wrapped up in bed. It doesn’t mean anything, because no one could believe those battle shots. The finish was just so poor, and I know Otto is going to hate me for saying that.”