 |
 |
|
||
|
|||
This Chapter is from Emeralds in Tinseltown: The Irish in Hollywood, written by Steve Brennan and Bernadette O'Neill, and published by Appletree Press
The Irish Cowboys - part 2Before Ford came on the scene, the so-called Hollywood posse – riders, real veterans of the cowboy life – had to remain silent as they watched the ‘rhinestone cowboys’ of the earlier Westerns play acting in huge hats and brandishing shiny six-guns. One of these early ‘dude’ cowboys was Dublin-born actor William Desmond (not to be confused with director William Desmond Taylor) who shifted from stage to screen in 1915 and made cowboy movies for nearly quarter of a century. ‘As long as there’s a man, woman or youngster of America, Westerns will be in demand. They are the cleanest, most exciting type of entertainment of all – even if we do frill up the cowboys a little,’ Desmond once said.To the audiences who paid their nickels to see William Desmond rout the bad guys, he was everything a cowboy should be in those days; brave, handsome and above all fast on the draw. Audiences saw Desmond dispatch the villains of such silent films as Perils of the Yukon, Riders of the Purple Sage, Heading for the Rio Grande and Ruggles of Red Gap. But Ford’s growing knowledge and respect for the real code of the West – and the genuine cowboys who were his friends – brought a new type of Western hero to the screen, a hero who didn’t need to be ‘frilled up’. Ford wanted to hear what his real cowboy compadres had to say about the movies he was making – and he listened. Diana Serra Cary in her splendid book The Hollywood Posse recounts the screen cowboy days of her Irish-American father Jack Montgomery. She tells of how one scene in Ford’s movie My Darling Clementine was totally changed on the advice of the cowboy extras. Four real cowboys were put to playing poker. The men were reluctant, explaining that a totally different card game called Jick, Jack Ginny and the Bean Gun was exclusively played in the time and place being depicted. Ford changed the scene dialogue on the instructions of the extras. The film, released in 1946, along with a clutch of other Ford films including She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949) and The Searchers (1956) are seen today by some critics as among the most important films ever made. Ford was ready to take counsel from the cowboys on all manner of things, from the way a man might have worn his hat in a particular part of the country to the style of his saddle or the way he wore his gun. Yet for all his films mastery, it was as much the legend of John Ford the man that captivated Hollywood. The industry revelled in ‘Fordisms’: a man arrived on one of his sets with a message from the studio brass complaining that he was running five days over the shoot-ing schedule. Ford asked the man how many pages of script he figured were filmed on an average day. “I’d say five,” came the response. Ford called for a script of the movie he was shooting, flicked through it, then ripped out twenty-five pages and threw them in the air and informed the man that they were now back on schedule. Bogdanovich recollects in his homage to Ford in Esquire that when filming Mr Roberts starring Henry Fonda things were not running smoothly between the director and the star. The studio called a conference to settle things. When Fonda rose to list his complaints Ford jumped up and started punching him. Fonda struck back and the conference became a knockdown brawl. While respected and admired in his public life, Ford’s private world was no picture of bliss. In 1920 he married Mary McBryde Smith, a woman of aristocratic Southern heritage. By all accounts their marriage met its challenges though they remained together, bringing up two children. Ford and his wife lived separate lives. He made a habit of retreating to his room to drink and brood alone. “When he wasn’t drinking, he would be drying out after a binge. Apart from his voracious consumption of written material and his deep love for his yacht, he had few interests and friends, shunning the Hollywood party circuit and even failing to pick up any of his Academy Awards in person,” according to Stephen Galloway, The Hollywood Reporter’s senior feature writer and former film editor. Ford continued to work into his late sixties, making his final masterpiece, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance in 1962. Even today the body of his work remains unrivalled in the history of American cinema. Before he died in 1973 at his home in Palm Desert one of his last visitors was his old friend the director Howard Hawks. According to Bogdanovich the final scene of Ford’s life was played out thus. Hawks had spent several hours talking with his old friend who was fading. He left the bedroom, spoke a few words with Mrs Ford, then returned to the bedroom for a moment: “That you, Howard? I thought you left,” said Ford. “Just came back to say ‘goodbye,’ Jack.” “Goodbye, Howard.” Hawks turned to leave. “Howard,” called Ford after him. “Yes, Jack?” “I mean ‘really goodbye’, Howard,” said Ford. “Really goodbye, Jack?” “Really goodbye.” The friends shook hands.
|
[ Back to top ]
All Material © 1999-2009 Irelandseye.com and contributors
