The High and the Mighty and Skyjacked

John Wayne as "Whistling" Dan Roman.

The High and the Mighty (1954). When a passenger airliner en route from Honolulu to Los Angeles experiences engine problems, the pilot faces a critical decision: Does he attempt a dangerous landing in the ocean and hope the Coast Guard can rescue the passengers? Or does he try to make it to the closest airport in San Francisco—even as the plane starts leaking fuel? Directed by former fighter pilot William A. Wellman, The High and the Mighty is considered the granddaddy of the modern disaster film. The now familiar formula augments the tense scenes with a menagerie of characters with background stories of varying interest. Their tales range from a newlywed couple facing the realities of married life to an armed husband who thinks his wife is cheating on him with another passenger. The airplane's crew has its challenges, too, with the lead pilot (Robert Stack) coping with aviation fatigue. There's even the proverbial child on the plane--though, unlike future young passengers--he seems pretty healthy! Bolstered by Dimitri Tiomkin's Oscar-winning score and John Wayne's steady, low-key performance, The High and the Mighty overcomes its weaker characters and subplots (e.g., a gun fired in-flight is quickly forgotten). The result is an engaging film that overstays its welcome at a bloated running time of almost two-and-a-half hours. Here's some interesting trivia: Tiomkin also earned an Oscar nomination for Best Song, though the lyrics are only heard briefly at the end. The tune, with different words, became a pop hit.

Yvette Mimieux and Charlton Heston.

Skyjacked (1972). The first theatrical film inspired by the 1970 blockbuster Airport was not, surprisingly, one of the three Airport sequels. Instead, it was Skyjacked, an satisfactory all-star disaster film based on a David Harper novel. The "all-stars" aren't of the same caliber as Airport, with Charlton Heston on-hand as the only big name star. Still, the best part of Skyjacked is its mix of familiar faces (Yvette Mimeux, Claude Akins, Mariette Hartley), TV stars (Susan Dey, James Brolin), and classic film icons (Walter Pidgeon, Jeanne Crain). The plot concerns a potential bomb aboard a commercial jet flying to Minneapolis. The hijacker, whose identity remains a mystery for the film's first half, wants the flight diverted to Alaska--and then on to the Soviet Union. The film might have been more fun if the hijacker's identity was a surprise, but it's obvious from the beginning. John Guillermin, who would go on to direct the disaster movie megahit The Towering Inferno (1975), keeps the pacing tight for much of the film. However, it lags toward the end, with a flashback romantic subplot involving Heston's pilot and Mimieux's flight attendant adding nothing to the story. Still, Skyjacked makes an interesting pairing with Airport 1975Airport 1975, in which Heston plays a pilot-turned-instructor that gets involved in the rescue of a jet damaged in flight.

Seven Things to Know About Linda Cristal

1. Linda Cristal was born on February 23, 1931, in Rosario, Argentina, as Marta Victoria Moya Burges. In addition to her native language of Spanish, she became fluent in Italian, French, and English. She got her acting break in 1952 when she appeared as a school girl in the Mexican film When the Fog Lifts (Cuando Levanta la Niebla). It was then that she changed her name professionally to Linda Cristal.

2. She had made several Mexican films when she heard that United Artists wanted to cast a Latina female lead opposite Dana Andrews in Comanche (1956). She got the part and was billed in the opening credits as "And Miss Linda Cristal as Magarita."

3. Linda Cristal won a Golden Globe as Most Promising Newcomer in 1959 for her performance in the Tony Curtis-Janet Leigh comedy The Perfect Furlough. She plays a movie sex symbol--the Argentine Bombshell--who accompanies Tony's Army corporal on the "perfect furlough" to Paris.

4. Linda worked with John Ford in Two Rode Together and The Alamo (where he was the uncredited second unit director). She said in an interview: "It was such a wonderful thing to say that I worked under the direction of John Ford. If I never do anything else ever again, I'd die happy." In both films, she played the love interest of men much older than her: James Stewart (23 years her senior) in Two Rode Together and John Wayne (24 years older) in The Alamo.

Linda Cristal as Victoria Cannon.

5. Linda Cristal gained international recognition for her role as Victoria Cannon in the popular Western television series The High Chaparral, which aired on NBC from 1967 to 1971. In a 2015 interview, Cristal's High Chaparral co-star Henry Darrow told me: "The High Chaparral was the first time in a series that a Latino family was on an equal level with an Anglo family." For her performance as Victoria, Linda Cristal was nominated for two Prime Time Emmy Awards and won a Golden Globe in 1970 as Best Actress in a Drama Series.

6. After her 1966 divorce from actor-producer Yale Wexler, Linda Cristal dated celebrities such as Bobby Darin, Adam West, and Christopher George. One Hollywood gossip magazine even published an article about Linda coming between Bobby Darin and ex-wife Sandra Dee (whom fans hoped would reconcile).

Linda Cristal as Cleopatra.

7. Linda Cristal's autobiography A Life Unexpected: The Linda Cristal Story, co-written with her son Jordan Wexler, was published in 2019. Among her many acting credits in film and TV are two unusual ones: Legions of the Nile (1959) and Mr. Majestyk (1974). In the former, an Italian production also known as The Legions of Cleopatra, she plays the title role four years before Elizabeth Taylor. According to one source, 20th Century-Fox bought the rights to Cristal's film so as to limit its distribution in the U.S. prior to the release of Taylor's big-budgeted Cleopatra (1963). Mr. Majestyk, one of her last theatrical films, paired her with Charles Bronson as a migrant worker and union activist. It gave her an opportunity to show what she could do in an action picture. Today, Mr. Majestyk is recognized as one of Bronson's best-reviewed 1970s films.

John Wayne in 3D in Hondo!

John Wayne as Hondo.

With John Wayne's 1953 3D Western Hondo, you actually get two movies in one. The first is an interesting love story between an tough dispatch rider for the U.S. Cavalry and a lonely woman--with a worthless husband--who operates a ranch deep in Apache territory. The second "movie" is a more conventional tale about the Cavalry taking on the Apaches, who have rebelled against their poor treatment at the hands of "white men."

It's the first plot that elevates Hondo from dozens of other Western pictures. James Edward Grant's screenplay, based on a Louis L'Amour story, provides exceptional depth in regard to the two lead characters. Hondo Lane (John Wayne) spent five years with the Apaches and married one of them. He is sympathetic to their plight, but his loyalty still lies with the Cavalry. His only companion is a dog named Sam, whom Hondo expects to be self-proficient. Hondo is content to let people make their own decisions and live with the outcomes.

Geraldine Page as Angie.

That changes, though, when he meets Angie Lowe (Geraldine Page) and her six-year-old son Johnny. Angie is self-proficient, too, although she has fallen behind in running the ranch. She claims that her husband is rounding up some lost calves, but his continued absence make Hondo (and the viewer) wonder if Angie is a widow. It's no surprise that these two hardworking, independent people should become attracted to one another.

Katharine Hepburn was originally slated to portray Angie, but she dropped out as the role grew smaller during script revisions. That opened the door for Geraldine Page, a then-promising stage actress. Page is perfect for the part, displaying Angie's grit but without the hard edge that Hepburn sometimes brought to her characters. Page earned an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor in Hondo. As for the teaming of Wayne and Hepburn, that would happen 22 years later with Rooster Cogburn.

Michael Pate as Vittorio.

Hondo also earned Louis L'Amour a nomination for Best Original Story. However, the nomination was withdrawn when L'Amour pointed out his story "The Gift of Cochise" was published a year before Hondo was released. Screenwriter James Edward Grant, who often worked with Wayne, expands the plot effectively. In one of his best scenes, the Apache chief Vittorio (Michael Pate) informs Angie that she must marry so that Johnny will have a worthy father. He then has selected braves "audition" to be her husband by showing off their riding and athletic skills as he provides background information (e.g., number of horses they own, current number of squaws). It's a sincere scene, not a silly one, but it's nonetheless unexpected in a Western of the 1950s.

Although Hondo was filmed was in 3D, it was also released in a "normal" print since the 3D novelty was fading by the time the movie was released. There are a handful of shots of characters throwing or jutting objects at the camera, but it's not Bwana Devil. It's also interesting that Hondo is less than 90 minutes long, but has an intermission at the mid-point (hey, more concession sales!).

Ralph Taeger as TV's Hondo.

John Wayne co-produced Hondo through his company Batjac. In 1967, Batjac developed a Hondo TV series starring Ralph Taeger as the title character. It only lasted 17 episodes, but became a cult show when it started appearing on TNT in the early 1990s. My blogging friend, Hal Horn, is a Hondo authority and has written extensively about the series. Check here to read his fascinating history of the show.

Sam was played by a Lassie relative.

Spoiler Alert. I do have two problems with Hondo and they involve the dog Sam. The first time I saw the scene-stealing rascal, I thought: Please, let's not kill Sam in this movie. When he narrowly escapes during an Apache attack, I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, a few minutes later, there's poor Sam laying dead on the doorstep with a spear sticking out. There was no reason to kill him! It's added nothing to the plot. Aargh! I've seen this happen in too many movies! (Fortunately, Sam was a regular later in the TV series.)

My second problem with Hondo and Sam may be unique to my family. When Angie fixes a nice plate of eggs and bacon for Sam, Hondo won't let her give them to his canine companion. It'll make him soft, he says! I'm glad my dogs can't talk, because they would have been screaming at the TV screen. In our pack, that's just not how we roll--it's tasty treats for all!

Revisiting John Ford's The Searchers

John Wayne as Ethan.

A few months ago, I hosted a Classic Western Films Tournament on Twitter, in which The Searchers (in a series of close contests) was crowned champion. The outpouring of passionate support for John Ford's 1956 classic inspired me to revisit a movie I hadn't seen in several decades. Not surprisingly, my overall assessment of The Searchers hasn't changed, but I have gained a greater appreciation for a Western that--for me--works better in parts than as a whole.

John Wayne stars as Ethan Edwards, a former Confederate soldier who has returned to his brother Aaron's Texas home three years after the end of the American Civil War. Ethan is vague about a lot of things, especially the newly minted dollars that he gives his brother for room and board. He is also racist toward Indians, as indicated by his wary attitude toward Martin, Aaron's adopted son, who is 1/8 Cherokee.

When a neighbor's bull is killed by a band of Comanches, Ethan and Martin (Jeffrey Hunter) join a Texas Ranger-led party to pursue the Indians. However, the killing of the bull turns out to be a ruse to lure most of the men away from Aaron's ranch. By the time Ethan and Martin return home, the Comanches have killed Aaron and his wife Martha and burned the ranch. Ethan's nieces, teenage Lucy and eight-year-old Debbie, are missing and assumed to have been taken by the Comanches.

Jeffrey Hunter as Martin.

After the funerals, Ethan and Martin join a posse organized to search for Lucy and Debbie. They find the Comanches' camp, but a poorly-planned attack results in the posse being ambushed. Although it fends off the attack, one of the men dies and most of the others return to their homes. However, Ethan, Martin, and Lucy's fiancé Brad press on with their search. Tragedy strikes again when Ethan discovers Lucy's corpse and a grief-stricken Brad rides into a Comanche camp, essentially committing suicide. Yet, even that cannot dissuade Ethan and Martin from their single-minded mission to find Debbie.

The Searchers is many things, but it works best as a character study of Ethan. At the start of the film, he is a man without purpose who has ignored his only family. Since the end of the Civil War, he has apparently wondered aimlessly, fighting in the Franco-Mexican War and perhaps even turning to robbery. He clearly harbors secret feelings for Martha, his brother's wife, stealing glances at her when he comes to visit. He envies Aaron's life despite knowing that he would not be good at it. Still, it's an idealized existence that he feels compelled to pursue and his niece Debbie represents all of that: a loving wife, a family, a home, a legacy. To be sure, Ethan wants to rescue Debbie and Lucy at the beginning. But he is too much of a realist to truly believe that--as the years pass--he and Martin stand a chance of finding Debbie.

The key relationship in The Searchers is the one between Ethan and Martin. The latter represents a mirror to Ethan, allowing the older man to see his darker side. Martin expresses shock when the pragmatic Ethan shoots bad men in cold blood. Martin leaves the woman he loves because he says he's concerned what the racist Ethan might do if he finds Debbie has become a Comanche. It's not just Debbie's safety that concerns him; Martin fears for Ethan's soul. It's a credit to screenwriter Frank S. Nugent that the Ethan-Martin relationship avoids a father-son angle. Rather, Martin slowly earns Ethan's respect--which is not something the older man gives freely--and the two come to rely on one another.

Ford shows Ethan's isolation by framing
him in several scenes.

John Wayne gives one of his best performances as Ethan, capturing the character's loneliness, singlemindedness, and lack of patience with those who disagree with him. Wayne also embraces Ethan's unsavory traits, such as his hatred of Indians and his disregard for human life.

I think I might have liked The Searchers more if the film's structure embraced Ethan's focused pursuit. Unlike Ethan, The Searchers wanders away from its compelling character portrait and introduces a love story for Martin and peppers the plot with typically quirky John Ford characters: Lars Jorgensen, a Swedish immigrant; Samuel Clayton, a Texas Ranger and a traveling preacher; Mose Harper, an eccentric in search of a rocking chair by the fire, and the singing Charlie McCorry.

I'll diverge from the general critical and popular opinions that The Searchers is one of the greatest films ever made. It's an exceptionally well-made movie with some first-rate performances, but it could have benefitted from tighter story-telling and an ending that feels less rushed.

An Interview with Sunset Blvd's Nancy Olson Livingston

Actress Nancy Olson Livingston shot to fame at the age of 22 when she earned a Best Supporting Actress nomination for Sunset Blvd. (1950). She subsequently became one of the most in-demand actresses of the 1950s, starring alongside William Holden (Union Station, Force of Arms, etc.), John Wayne (Big Jim McLain), Jane Wyman (So Big), Bing Crosby (Mr. Music), and Van Heflin (Battle Cry). Nancy reduced her workload in the late 1950s to spend more time with her family. However, she made occasional guest appearances on TV series such as Alfred Hitchcock Presents and The Big Valley. She also starred on Broadway in The Tunnel of Love, Send Me No Flowers, and Mary, Mary. Starting in 1960, Nancy Olson Livingtson appeared in five Walt Disney films over a 12-year period, including Pollyanna, The Absent-Minded Professor, and Snowball Express. Her autobiography A Front Row Seat: An Intimate Look at Broadway, Hollywood, and the Age of Glamour will be published this November.

Café:  How would you describe your experience of working with director Billy Wilder on Sunset Blvd.?

Nancy Olson in Canadian Pacific.

Nancy Olson Livingston:  It was a profound experience because I had only done one picture before Sunset Blvd. That was Canadian Pacific (1949) with Randolph Scott, who was old enough to be my father. At least, I had the experience of being in front of the camera and knowing what the set-up was and how it operated. I was also going to UCLA and majoring in theater arts. I was under contract to Paramount, which lent me to 20th Century-Fox to do Canadian Pacific. I was fascinated that I could walk around the Paramount lot and go to the commissary to have lunch. I did that to get acquainted with what the studio was all about. I certainly knew who Billy Wilder was. I had seen his films and I was a great admirer of his work. He would stop me on the lot and engage me in long conversations: “What was it like to be born and raised in the Midwest? Your father is a doctor, what was that like? Tell me about your college life at UCLA.” It was bizarre. Why in the world would Billy Wilder want to know all these things? When I was cast in Sunset Blvd. and read the script, I realized that my character, Betty Schaefer, was an aspiring writer. She had to innately have a way of speaking that would make you believe she was a writer. She had to be able to speak well, to use language well, to be confident. I eventually came to understand that’s why I was cast. I would visit the set before I started my scenes and was always warmly welcomed. I worked with Edith Head, who did the wardrobes, and I was wearing what she wanted me to wear. And Billy said: “I don’t like that. I like what she wore yesterday when she came to visit.” So, I wore my own clothes in Sunset Blvd. I had not been in California long enough to know where to shop. I did not have a great wardrobe. What was absolutely clear was that Billy Wilder wanted me to be me. Betty Schaefer was me.

Café:  What was your biggest challenge in Sunset Blvd.?

Nancy Olson Livingston:  The first day of work. It’s my first scene in the movie where Betty comes into the office of this producer and asks about the script that Joe Gillis (William Holden), who was sitting there, wrote. Betty didn’t know who Joe Gillis was, so she was very honest about what she thought about the script. We rehearsed that scene several times. When I said that we were ready, Billy said “Shoot!” and we started the scene. There was a moment where I kind of stuttered a little, but I kept going. When the scene was finished, I said: “Please, Mr. Wilder (eventually I called him Billy), could we please do it again?” I didn’t feel totally comfortable at that moment. But he said: “Nope. It was fine.” Now, this is something that Shirley MacLaine and I talked about years later. He never wanted to shoot a scene more than once. You often had the feeling that you could do it a little better, that you didn’t bring something into it that you wanted to. I was upset about that. But I learned that you better know what you’re doing from the beginning.

Café:  Why do you think Sunset Blvd. continues to resonate with film fans over 70 years after it was made?

Nancy Olson Livingston:  Sunset Blvd. resonates not only with film fans, but with the general public. I had an experience about a year ago when I went into Saks Fifth Avenue and I walked into the cosmetics department. This man, who was the general manager, suddenly came over to me and said: “I know who you are. I saw Sunset Blvd. three weeks ago. You’re Nancy Olson.” I was 91 or 92. When you watch Sunset Blvd., it’s old-fashioned—the clothes, the cars, everything is of a different era. And yet, it has an up-to-date understanding. It feels today. And that is because it reveals the truth. I wrote about that in my book: “Sunset Blvd. tells the brutal truth about a part of the motion picture business and how it can ruin one’s life. To be exploited for other people’s profit can be both painful and humiliating. Even though one is paid sometimes a great deal and receives tremendous ego-fulfilling rewards, to be portrayed as larger than life is distorting and destroys the delicate balance between reality and fantasy.” Everything about Sunset Blvd. tells the truth. Joe Gillis is a desperate man who is at the end of his rope. He can’t pay his car loan. He can’t pay his rent. And when he gets into Norma Desmond’s house, he decides to sell his soul for his survival. And Betty Schaefer, my character, falls in love with this man who has sold his soul. It’s about human nature. It’s about who we all are and how we conduct our lives. Movie stars were a commodity back then. Marilyn Monroe is a perfect example. She was so exaggerated, but she was also vulnerable. She was created bigger and bigger than she really was. Ultimately, movie stars are thrown away, like Norma Desmond and, to a great extent, Marilyn Monroe. So, Sunset Blvd. survives because it tells the truth about an aspect of life which is kind of generally true.

Café:  I also think Sunset Blvd. has one of the great openings in movie history, with Joe’s body floating in the swimming pool as he provides the voice-over narration.

Nancy Olson Livingston:  You want to know what the real beginning was? It was filmed with bodies in a morgue. Joe is under the sheets with all the other bodies and he starts to talk with them. When the studio showed the movie at a test showing, the audience laughed. People thought it was funny and kind of ridiculous. So, Billy went back and re-edited and started at the point where Joe’s body is floating in the pool.

Café:  You made four films with William Holden, whom you have described as a good friend. What do you think was the secret to the onscreen chemistry between the two of you?

Nancy Olson and William Holden in Sunset Blvd.

Nancy Olson Livingston:  We were very alike. He was from Pasadena. I was from Milwaukee. There was a common ground. We really began to love each other. I was married. He was married. He did make a slight pass at me during the shooting of Sunset Blvd., which I’ve written about. It became so clear to him that nothing was going to ever happen. That was the end of it and we became friends. We loved hugging and kissing (laughs). I don’t know why, but it felt wonderful and comforting to be held by him. We enjoyed each other and we liked each other. Years after Bill and I had stopped working together, I was at an airport with my husband Alan Livingston and, as we were walking to board a plane, I heard a voice from behind me: “Nancy!” I turned around and it was Bill. I cried out: “Bill!” And we spontaneously ran as fast as we could and went into an embrace. He gave me a kiss and said: “My God, how are you? I haven’t seen you for two years. I understand you’re remarried now. Are you happy?” It was one of those things. A man was walking by as we were talking and laughing and he taps us on the shoulder: “Excuse me, but this is better than watching an old movie.” 

Café:  You starred in five Walt Disney films over 12 years, starting with Pollyanna in 1960. What led to your Disney connection?

Nancy Olson in The Absent-Minded Professor.

Nancy Olson Livingston:  I had not done a movie for a long time and figured I wasn’t going to do another movie. I did not want to be a movie star. That was a lesson I learned in Sunset Blvd. Being a movie star was isolating and lonely and unreal. I was 32 and I thought it was over. So, I am in Majorca, picking up my children who were visiting their father and stepmother. And I got a phone call and it was Mr. Disney. He said: “Nancy, this is Walt Disney. We are working on a movie here and are spending a lot more money than we usually do. It’s an all-star cast. Every part has been cast with a star. We have John Mills’ daughter, Hayley, who is fantastic, to play Pollyanna. We have Jane Wyman, Richard Egan, Karl Malden, Adolphe Menjou, Agnes Moorehead…and we want you.” I thought that was interesting. He said they were shooting at the end of August. I was planning on going to California to visit my parents anyway. I was living in New York at the time. But I had to bring the children back to school. Walt said I’d be finished by the middle of September. I said I had a governess who could take the kids back to school. I told him: “You know something…I’ll do it.” And that began my work with Walt Disney. I enjoyed it. My children had fun coming and visiting me on the set. I finished Pollyanna and thought that was the end of it. I never even asked what he was going to pay me. That wasn’t an issue. About a year later, I get a call from my agent saying that Disney is doing The Absent-Minded Professor with Fred MacMurray and wanted me for Fred’s love interest. Fred was twenty years older than me. Casting at that time was really out of whack. I loved Fred MacMurray’s work. He was a brilliant actor. He just had a natural sense for it. I read The Absent-Minded Professor script and decided I'd do it. I made it and then went back to New York. The next year, they decided to do a sequel because The Absent-Minded Professor was a huge success. So, I did Son of Flubber. By the way, sequels are never as good as the original. At least, that’s my opinion. I felt very comfortable on the Disney lot. Walt Disney made everyone call him Walt—including the grips. There was a unique friendliness that pervaded the lot. It was interesting and different from any place I’d ever worked before. I think Walt Disney was from the Midwest, too, and a homespun, middle-class kind of background. He was a Republican. I’m a big Democrat. Fred MacMurray was a big Republican, so the two of them got along wonderfully. Fred grew up in Wisconsin so the two of us had a kind of bond and told stories to each other about our experiences growing up. Because I wanted to work every once in a while, the Disney folks would call me. I did Smith! (1969) with Glenn Ford and Snowball Express (1972) with Dean Jones, which was not a very good film. But if you ever see Snowball Express, that was the absolute best that I ever looked when I was photographed. I saw it the other day and I was amazed. 

Café:  I think the first half of Snowball Express was pretty good, but the second half just turns silly.

Nancy Olson Livingston:  But don’t you agree that I look very well photographed?

Café:  Well, you always looked good in your films. Now, you appeared with many of the biggest stars of the 1950s and 1960s: William Holden, Jane Wyman, Fred MacMurray, John Wayne, Bing Crosby, and Glenn Ford. Who were some of your favorite co-stars and why?

John Wayne and Nancy Olson in Big Jim McLain.

Nancy Olson Livingston: Making Big Jim McLain with John Wayne was an interesting experience. It was a terrible script. When I read it, I thought that nobody was going to see this film. It’ll come out, get terrible reviews, and get shown on Saturday nights with another big film. But I thought I should have the experience of working with a true icon like John Wayne and it was made in Honolulu, which I loved. I found John Wayne to be an amazing person and very mysterious as to who he really was. Everybody called him Duke; I called him John. He never corrected me. We became really wonderful friends. For years, whenever we saw each other, we embraced and were happy to see each other. He was not the least flirtatious. Now, Bing Crosby had cold blue eyes. He put himself at a distance from almost everyone. He had a group of cronies around all the time, buttering him up. However, he and I became friends. The whole cast, crew, and director (of Mr. Music) treated me like I was a kind of charming child and that was odd. I was beginning to date Alan Lerner, my first husband, so it didn’t much matter. But I realized I was much too young to play opposite Bing as his love interest. When I was in Battle Cry, my marriage to Alan Lerner was beginning to have terrible problems. He ultimately married eight times, so he was a man with problems. I was too young and naïve to understand them, because he was fascinating and brilliant and would be with the most interesting people. He knew the best writers and producers in New York and the theatre was extremely interesting at that time. I was very happy to marry him, but it eventually became obvious it was not going to end well. There was a point where Warner Bros. called and asked if I would do Battle Cry. I said yes. There were so many stars in Battle Cry that I had a limited story with Aldo Ray. Aldo, bless him, kind of fell in love with me. I needed that. Please understand that we never had an affair. But when we had a long scene, he would prolong it--and it felt good. 

Café:  Excluding Sunset Blvd., what was your favorite of your films and why?

Nancy Olson Livingston:  The first thing that pops in my head is The Absent-Minded Professor, because it was so much fun and such a wonderful script. Fred MacMurray was marvelous. But there were very few films that lived up to Sunset Blvd. That was just an amazing experience.

Café:  You played Lloyd Bridges’ wife in the 1984 TV series Paper Dolls, which revolved around the fashion industry. How would you describe that experience?

Nancy Olson Livingston:  I only worked one or two days a week and maybe not at all the next week. It was a great cast and we all became friends. It was a nice interruption and just fun to be on a set and act a little.

Café:  Were there any roles you turned down or wish you had pursued during your career?

Nancy Olson Livingston:  No. My acting career was only a third of my life and eventually an eighth of my life. It was interesting, but it was not my life. As I write about in my book, my experiences outside of films were just as interesting or more so. Life is a fascinating, extraordinary experience. I’ve lived a long time and I’ve been extremely lucky. I was lucky having the parents I did, growing up where I did, how I grew up. Even my first marriage, which ended so painfully, had its moments. My Fair Lady was dedicated to me. I sat there and watched it being created. I had the most amazing experiences with my second husband, Alan Livingston, the president of Capitol Records. He started at Capitol after he got out of the Army and college. He went to Paramount, where they wanted him to write children’s albums, which he had never even thought of doing. But he created Bozo the Clown and other albums that became bestsellers. Then, he put Frank Sinatra with the right conductor and changed his whole career. He made Nat Cole a soloist instead of a pianist. Then, he left Capitol and went to NBC television and created Bonanza. After several years, he went back to Capitol and signed The Beach Boys. I gave parties for The Beatles and The Band. Alan Livingston ended up with the first American company in China. So, my life was varied and anybody who lives this long will have success and failure, happiness and heartbreak, sadness and joy. You can’t live this long without having all of it.

Café:  Thank you so much for much for taking the time to talk with us today.

Nancy Olson Livingston:  I enjoyed it.

A Front Row Seat: An Intimate Look at Broadway, Hollywood, and the Age of Glamour by Nancy Olson Livingston will be published by the University of Kentucky Press on November 15, 2022. It's 408 pages and features 44 black & white photos.

John Wayne and Kim Darby Show Their True Grit

John Wayne as Rooster Cogburn.

The year 1969 was a remarkable one for the Western genre. The biggest hit of the year was the revisionist Western Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Sam Peckinpah's violent The Wild Bunch earned critical raves in the U.S., while Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West thrilled European audiences. Thus, it's not surprising that True Grit--a conventional Western compared to the other three--slipped under the radar. However, it gradually became the eighth biggest moneymaker of the year and earned John Wayne his only Oscar.

Kim Darby as Mattie Ross.

Kim Darby stars as determined teenager Mattie Ross, who arrives in Fort Smith, Arkansas, to bury her father. She also wants to know why the sheriff isn't pursuing her father's murderer. When he confides that his jurisdiction doesn't extend into the Indian Nation, Mattie seeks out a federal marshal. She sets her sights on Rooster Cogburn (Wayne) because she hears he has "grit." Cogburn isn't interested until Mattie agrees to a $100 reward--that plus the fact the grizzled lawman also admires the girl's spunk. Mattie and Rooster are joined by a Texas Ranger named Le Boeuf (Glen Campbell), who is seeking the same man for the murder of a Texas senator.

Based on Charles Portis' 1968 novel, True Grit benefits from an exceptional screenplay by Marguerite Roberts (Ziegfeld Girl, Ivanhoe). She imbues the dialogue with natural humor and captures the well-drawn characters from the Portis novel. I especially like how she introduces the outlaw Ned Peppers (Robert Duvall) through other characters' descriptions of him. It's not until late in the film that Peppers finally makes an appearance.

Wayne on stunt horse Twinkle Toes.

Marguerite Roberts was blacklisted in Hollywood for nine years, starting in 1951, for refusing to testify before the House Committee on Un-American Activities. John Wayne thought her True Grit script was the best he'd read in years. He was also a fan of the novel and told Roger Ebert in 1969: "I loved that book. Charles Portis has a real Mark Twain feeling, the cynicism and the humor. I tried to buy the book myself. I went up to $300,000, and that's pretty good going for an unpublished galley of a Western story. But (producer) Hal Wallis knew about this other book by Portis, Norwood, and he made an offer for both and outbid me. Then he came back to me to play Rooster."

The strength of True Grit, of course, is the relationship between Mattie and Rooster. He affectionately calls her "little sister" and, in a rare moment of insight, Rooster tells the teenager about his failed attempts at marriage and fatherhood. Wayne thought that scene was the best acting he had ever done, though he was surprised when he won the Oscar for Best Actor (he thought Richard Burton would win for Anne of the Thousand Days). Wayne is highly entertaining in True Grit, but some of the credit belongs to his co-star Kim Darby. Her gritty performance as Mattie provides the perfect counterpoint to the larger-than-life Rooster.

Kim Darby was not the first choice to play Mattie Ross. John Wayne promised the part to his daughter Aissa, who had a small role in McLintock, but Hal Wallis nixed her casting.  Mia Farrow turned down the role of Mattie when Robert Mitchum told her that Henry Hathaway was a difficult director. Wallis cast Darby after seeing her play an unwed mother in the Ben Gazzara TV series Run for Your Life. Darby's post-True Grit career was undistinguished, though she appeared in a pair of interesting telefilms: The People (1972) and Don't Be Afraid of the Dark (1973).

Glem Campbell as La Boeuf.

Interestingly, Elvis Presley was among the choices to play La Boeuf before negotiations broke down.  Campbell, who had already scored several hit songs, was signed despite lacking any significant acting experience (he did a guest spot on The F.B.I.). His thespian skills are clearly lacking, though he appears to try hard. He also sings the pretty title song composed by Elmer Bernstein and Don Black, which peaked at #77 on the Billboard Hot 100.

Screenwriter Roberts, Darby, and Campbell teamed up again in 1970 in an adaptation of the Portis novel Norwood. It was about a Vietnam veteran who aspires to be a country singer and co-starred New York Jets quarterback Joe Namath.

Meanwhile, John Wayne followed up True Grit with the 1975 semi-sequel Rooster Cogburn (aka Rooster Cogburn and The Lady). It paired him with Katherine Hepburn in what has often been described as an unsuccessful mash-up of True Grit and The African Queen. Its screenplay was written by actress Martha Hyer under a pseudonym; she was married to producer Hal Wallis.

Warren Oates as Rooster.

In 1978, Warren Oates played Rooster Cogburn in the made-for-TV movie True Grit: A Further Adventure, with Lisa Pelikan as Mattie. And in 2010, Jeff Bridges played Rooster in True Grit, a memorable adaptation of the Portis novel by Joel and Ethan Cohen. It featured an ending closer to the book.

Rio Lobo--Howard Hawks' Sad Farewell

Howard Hawks' last film gets off to a rip-roaring start with a small band of Confederate soldiers hijacking a Union train carrying a gold shipment. Cord McNally (John Wayne), a Yankee colonel, takes off in pursuit of the Rebels, but is quickly captured. Surprisingly, he bonds with two of his captors, Captain Pierre Cordona (Jorge Rivera) and Sergeant Tuscarora Phillips (Christopher Mitchum). McNally escapes easily enough, but the trio meet up again at the end of the Civil War.

McNally harbors no ill feeling toward Cordona and Tuscarora, even though his protege, a young Yankee officer, died during the train robbery. Instead, McNally wants revenge on the Union traitor that tipped off the Rebels about the gold. Cordona and Tuscarora can't provide a name, but agree to contact McNally should they encounter the traitor again.

Scene-stealer Jack Elam shows up late.

It's not long before McNally, Cordona, and Tuscarora meet up for a third time...this time to fight some bad men in the town of Rio Lobo. And you can bet there's going to be some shootin' and some fisticuffs.

Ten of John Wayne's final twelve films were Westerns. These dozen pictures include a couple of gems (True Grit, The Shootist), some moderately entertaining oaters (Big Jake, The Cowboys), and a couple of genuine duds. Unfortunately, Rio Lobo is one of the duds, which is a shame considering it was director Howard Hawks' last film.

Jennifer O'Neill and Jorge Rivera.

The opening train robbery is the film's highlight and it's all downhill from there. The plot lacks interest, the dialogue teeters on risible, and there are two dreadful supporting performances. One of those belongs to Wayne's co-star Jorge Rivera. A major star in Mexico, Rivera never seems comfortable as the kind of young sidekick played effortlessly by James Caan in the earlier Hawks-Wayne Western El Dorado (1967).

It doesn't help that Rivera shares several of his scenes with Jennifer O'Neill. It was the former model's first major film role and she struggles just to speak a line of dialogue naturally. O'Neill's acting challenges led to Hawks' decision to cut her character from the film's ending. She just disappears with about 15 minutes left in the movie. In the book Howard Hawks: Interviews, the director said of Jennifer O'Neill: "She just couldn't take direction of any kind and didn't want to. But she thought she was good, she wanted to do things her way."

Future studio executive Sherry Lansing.

Yet, if Rio Lobo is a depressing final film for its famous director, there are a couple of bright spots. Jerry Goldsmith's rousing music underscores the action nicely. Sherry Lansing, who would later gain fame as a powerful studio executive, exudes charm and sex appeal as a Mexican girl. And, best of all, journalist George Plimpton pops up as a minor bad guy.

Plimpton documented the experience in one of his TV specials. I recommend watching it instead of Rio Lobo--it's a lot more entertaining.

The Five Biggest Stars of the 1940s

After previously listing our picks for the Five Biggest Stars of the 1950s and the Five Biggest Stars of the 1960s, we turn our attention to the 1940s. The major Hollywood studios were still at their peak, though Olivia de Havilland's 1944 legal victory against Warner Bros. planted the seeds of change. World War II made a major impact, too, as some of cinema's biggest stars joined the Armed Forces.  As with our other Biggest Stars posts, our criteria focused on boxoffice power, critical acclaim, and enduring popularity.

1. Humphrey Bogart - High Sierra cemented Bogart's stardom in 1941 and he followed it with one of the most successful decades of any actor. His filmography for the 1940s includes: The Maltese Falcon (1941), Casablanca (1942), To Have and Have Not (1944), The Big Sleep (1946), Dark Passage (1947), and Key Largo (1949). Note that this list includes Bogie's two most iconic roles, as Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon and Rick Blaine in Casablanca.

2. Olivia de Havilland - Ms. de Havilland started the decade with her final two pairings with Errol Flynn (Santa Fe Trail and They Died With Their Boots) and ended it with Best Actress Oscars in 1947 (To Each His Own) and 1949 (The Heiress--likely her most popular role among classic film fans). In between, she earned critical acclaim for films like Devotion (1946) and The Snake Pit (1948).

3. Cary Grant - Cary was an established star at the start of the decade and maintained that status with a string of popular films: The Philadelphia Story (1940), My Favorite Wife (1940), Suspicion (1941), Notorious (1946), and The Bishop's Wife (1947). His career would continue to thrive in the 1950s as well.

4. John Wayne - The Duke's most significant contribution to the decade may have been his Cavalry Trilogy with director John Ford: She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, Fort Apache, and Rio Grande. But he also scored other critical successes (Red River) and boxoffice hits (Sands of Iwo Jima). It's interesting to note that neither Wayne nor Grant served in the Armed Forces during World War II. (Bogart had a stint in the Navy at the end of World War I.)

5. Bette Davis - Although she was perhaps a bigger star during the previous decade, Bette Davis still forged a glittering career in the 1940s with films such as The Letter (1940), The Little Foxes (1941), Now, Voyager (1942), and The Corn Is Green (1945).

Honorable Mentions:  Barbara Stanwyck, Gary Cooper, Bing Crosby, and Bob Hope.

A War Wagon Loaded With Gold!

John Wayne as ex-con Taw Jackson.

After being "shot, framed, and sent to prison" for three years, Taw Jackson (John Wayne) intends to gain revenge on the goldmine baron responsible. Taw's plan is to rob the Pierce Mining Company when it transports $500,000 of gold ore across 43 miles of treacherous terrain.

It won't be easy. Twenty-eight men, armed with repeating rifles and pistols with 200 rounds of ammo, guard the outside of the gold-carrying wagon. Five more men guard the safe inside the wagon. As if that's not bad enough, the wagon is plated in iron and was recently retrofitted with a turret housing a gatling gun. Folks call it the "war wagon" for a good reason.

Kirk Douglas as Lomax.

Taw assembles a motley crew to assist him with this heist. Wes Fletcher (Keenan Wynn) is a disgruntled Pierce employee tasked with transporting the stolen gold in flour barrels. The shady Levi Walking Bear (Howard Keel) has the responsibility to negotiate with a Kiowa Indian tribe to stage an attack as a diversion. Young Billy Hyatt (Robert Walker, Jr.) is a drunk with a talent for using nitroglycerin. Finally, there's a hired gun named Lomax (Kirk Douglas), who has also been offered $12,000 to kill Taw. Quite the band of merry men!

Made in 1967, The War Wagon is a breezy Western with plenty of action and humor. Among John Wayne's later Westerns, it doesn't rank with the best (True Grit, The Shootist), but I'll take it any day over run-of-the-mill oaters like Rio Lobo and Cahill U.S. Marshal. Plus, it's interesting to see the Duke as--technically--a criminal.

Valora Nolan not playing Animal!

The supporting cast alone makes it required viewing for fans of 1960s cinema and television. It includes Wagon Train TV series regulars Terry Wilson (Bill Hawks) and Frank McGrath (Charlie Wooster). Keenan Wynn's "wife" is played by Valora Nolan, best known for her roles in Beach Party (as "Animal") and Muscle Beach Party. One of the bad guys is future High Chaparral regular Don Collier (whom we interviewed in 2016) and another is stuntman and future director Hal Needham (Smokey and the Bandit).

Although John Wayne receives top billing, Kirk Douglas dominates The War Wagon as the fun-loving gunfighter Lomax. In addition to delivering most of the best lines, the athletic Douglas even steals scenes with his acrobatic approaches to mounting his horse. I do question his character's wardrobe choice, however, as that leather shirt looks like it'd be mighty hot for the Western Plains.

The scene I always remember best about The War Wagon is where a log suspended by ropes swings down and knocks off the top of the wagon. For some reason, it's one of those iconic scenes that seems to stick in one's memory long after plot details are forgotten.

The swinging log heads toward a collision with the war wagon!

By the way, one would expect that co-star Howard Keel would sing the opening "Ballad of the War Wagon," written by Dimitri Tiomkin and Ned Washington. Instead, that's Ed Ames warbling it on the soundtrack.

George Plimpton: Acting with The Duke, Swinging on a Trapeze, and Playing Quarterback!

Plimpton and Joe Schmidt.

It’s embarrassing now to admit that I didn’t know much about George Plimpton when I started watching his TV specials at age 14. I knew he had written the nonfiction book Paper Lion, in which he went “undercover” as a rookie quarterback on the Detroit Lions football team. And I knew a 1968 movie had been made from Paper Lion starring Alan Alda as Plimpton. That was pretty much the extent of my knowledge about him when I watched the first of his six TV specials.

The premise of the Plimpton! TV specials was the same one the writer had explored in Paper Lion (and even earlier in his career): How would an average person fare in a “glamorous” profession? His first special premiered on ABC in 1970 and was subtitled “Shoot-out at Rio Lobo.” It traces Plimpton’s experience as an extra (billed as the “4th Gunman”) in the Howard Hawks Western Rio Lobo, which starred John Wayne.

Plimpton with John Wayne.

There’s a lot of humor in this behind-the-scenes documentary of life on a movie set as George spends much of the episode rehearsing his only line of dialogue. As he stands behind Wayne, he points his rifle at a lawman and utters: “This here’s your warrant, mister.” However, when it’s time to shoot the scene, director Howard Hawks walks over to Plimpton and tells him to change the line to: “I got a warrant right here, Sheriff.” The befuddled actor jokes that he spent a week rehearsing his line--but he still manages to speak the new one with appropriate menace. He then reacts convincingly when John Wayne “pops” him in the head with a rifle.

His big scene, though, is supposed to be when John Wayne shoots him. In preparation, Plimpton seeks advice from the stunt men on the set (one of them recommends that he die with his eyes open). However, when the time comes for his death scene, Plimpton is rigged to a harness that will pull him back into the saloon wall. He also learns that Jorge Rivero’s character will kill him instead of Wayne. When Henry fires, Plimpton is jerked back against the wall. It's a great effect—but, alas, leaves George no time for any acting during his “big death scene.”

In the other Plimpton! specials produced by David L. Wolper, George photographs elephants in Africa, tries his hand as a stand-up comic, and drives a race car. My two favorites, though, have George return as a quarterback (this time with the Colts) and train as a trapeze artist. The latter special is a fascinating examination of the strength and agility required to work on the trapeze. Plimpton prepares for weeks to perform what most of us would consider a simple trapeze move--“simple” only in comparison to the amazing feats we see high-wire artists routinely perform with ease.

In “The Great Quarterback Sneak,” Plimpton goes back to the football field. The difference this time is that everyone knows who he is. In Paper Lion, only the coaches knew that Plimpton was a journalist. Plimpton’s one regret from that experience was that the National Football League did not allow him to play in a pre-season game. In his TV special, Plimpton gets the opportunity to get on the field—even if it is during halftime—and run a few plays against his “former” team: the Detroit Lions. I don’t remember how Plimpton fared, but I suspect his success, if any, was modest.

George Plimpton--everyman.

In his obituary on George Plimpton, Bill Curry, who was the Colts center when Plimpton played, recalls some details not in the TV special: “(On) day one, he shocked us by requesting to get into the ‘nutcracker’ drill as a ball carrier. Now, the ‘nutcracker’ is one blocker, one tackler, and one runner. It is the most primitive, violent one-on-one drill in football. Well, when (linebacker) Ray May planted George head first in the dirt on his first carry, the ball went one way and George's right thumb went the other. "Dear Gawd, look at this!" he exclaimed as the injured digit dangled uselessly. We all assumed our little television experiment was over. We did not know George Plimpton. That afternoon, he was back in pads, taking snaps with the other quarterbacks.”

The Plimpton! TV specials are entertaining, insightful, and funny. Yes, it’s amusing to watch an “ordinary guy” try to do the things that only extraordinary people can do. But these shows also serve as a testament to a tough-minded journalist that was willing to take some risks to satisfy his own curiosity—and who was modest enough to share his experiences with the world. George Plimpton didn’t mind if we chuckled at his experiences even if he took them seriously.

Interview with Don Collier: "The High Chaparral" Star Talks About John Wayne and His Classic TV Westerns

One of the most recognizable TV cowboys of the 1960s, Don Collier carved out a highly-successful career playing ranch foremen, lawmen, and bad guys. In addition to starring in his own TV series Outlaws (1960-62), he guest starred on Bonanza, Gunsmoke, The Virginian, Branded, Wagon Train, Death Valley Days, and Hondo. He achieved his greatest fame as Sam Butler, the foreman on The High Chaparral (1967-71). In addition to his many TV appearances, he also starred in big-screen Westerns such as The War Wagon (1967), 5 Card Stud (1968), and The Undefeated (1969). We talked with this fine storyteller recently at the Williamsburg Film Festival.

Café:  You've appeared in Westerns directed by two of the genre's most famous directors: John Ford and Howard Hawks.

Don Collier:  I was just an extra in Fort Apache and had no dialogue. I met John Ford, but didn't get a chance to know him. I did get to work with Victor McLaglen and what a treat that was. Victor was dear to my heart. I watched him as a kid in the 1930s and I still remember him in that movie where he grabs the machine gun (The Lost Patrol). I loved him in The Quiet Man, too.

Don Collier at the 2016
Williamsburg Film Festival.

Café:  How about working with Howard Hawks?

DC:  It was quick. I did one little scene with John Wayne in El Dorado. My part was shot in the Paramount studios, while John Wayne was in Tucson. Jimmy Caan climbed up on a ladder in the studio and delivered the Duke's lines to me. Duke filmed his lines down in Arizona. We were 500 miles apart. That was my experience with Howard Hawks.

Café:  What was it like working with John Wayne on The Undefeated, and The War Wagon?

Collier in The War Wagon.

DC:  It was great working with him. In The War Wagon, I worked the whole 13 weeks. In one scene, I get out of the war wagon with two of the stunt guys. Duke's character has an argument with us and he decks the two stunt guys. He slams the coach door in my face. Before we shot the scene, he says: "Don, do you want us to get a stunt guy to do your part?" I said: "Oh, hell no, go ahead and slam the door and I'll catch it with one arm." He said: "Are you sure about that? I don't want to hit you in the face." I was still calling him "Mr. Wayne" then and he tells me to call him Duke. I said: "Duke, you slam the door and I'll make it look like you knocked me out." So, we did the scene and he slams the door on me and I catch it with my arm. No big deal...but he remembered that. About two-and-a-half years later, we're filming The High Chaparral at Paramount studios and he was working on the sound stage next door. So, I went over to see him. He says: "Collier, good to see you. Are you going with us to Mexico on The Undefeated?" I said I hadn't even heard about it. He said: "Get your butt over to Fox and talk to Andy McLaglen. I'll call him and tell him you're coming over." I talked with Andy and he hired me for the job. See, Duke liked the fact I took that stagecoach door in the face. I'd like to think that the John Wayne "school of acting" consists of three things: (1) Be on time for your call. (2) Know your dialogue; and (3) Don't leave the camera, even if you're not in the shot. So many times, especially if you're working with younger actors, the director says "cut" and, boom, they scatter like quail. They've got to go make a phone call or leave for a date. Duke usually ends up directing a picture about halfway into it and he wants his actors on the set. He doesn't want to have to look around for them at the honey wagon or in their trailer. He wants them there around the camera. If you remember those three things, you could work with John Wayne. He'd like you. Working with him was almost like going to school and learning the finer points working in the film business.

Café:  What was the premise of your 1960-62 Western TV series Outlaws?

DC:  The stories were supposed to be from the outlaws' point of view. It was a good show. The second season, the producers brought in Slim Pickens and he made it a lot better. The first year has Barton MacLane. I remember when he was a lead heavy at Warner Bros. in the 1930s and 1940s. It was a pleasure just to meet the guy. He played the marshal and there were two deputies. Jock Gaynor was one of them. He couldn't do the job and they fired him. He wore his hat rolled up on one side, like Australians sometimes do. They hired another guy and he never worked out. So, the second year, they brought in Slim Pickens and Bruce Yarnell, who was about 6' 7". He was a singer NBC had hired, hoping to put him on a variety show. They had no place for him, so they gave him to us because we needed a deputy. I tell some stories about Bruce in my one-man show. We did Outlaws for two years. NBC "owed" producer Ralph Edwards (This Is Your Life) an hour of prime time. So, in 1963, he wanted NBC to show his TV series The Wide Country (about rodeo competitors). NBC only owned two series: Bonanza and Outlaws. Bonanza was pretty well rated, so NBC decided to cancel our show for the Ralph Edwards one. The Wide Country was bad. I think it lasted one year. After Outlaws, I did several other TV Westerns like Wagon Train, The Virginian, and Gunsmoke. I did The War Wagon and then I joined The High Chaparral in 1967.

Leif Erickson, Collier, and Cameron
Mitchell in The High Chaparral.

Café:  Speaking of The High Chaparral, when I interviewed Henry Darrow last year, he noted it was a challenge acting with Cameron Mitchell because he rarely knew his lines.

DC:  That is absolutely true. I never cared for Cam too much. He was good at what he did and he could improvise, but he was always trying to steal scenes from you. I never thought that was right. You don't tread on somebody else's feet. He was kind of a loud mouth and a slob. Of course, a lot of us were slobs. He accused me of wanting his part (Buck Cannon). Physically, I would have made a better brother to Leif Erickson than Cam did. But I was tickled to death with the part I had (ranch foreman Sam Butler). I didn't have too much dialogue and could spend more time in the bar. We had good times on that show.

Café:  I've read where it was a pretty hard shoot because of the Arizona temperatures.

DC:  There's a remedy for that heat. It happens every Friday and it's called payday. If the heat wasn't tolerable, you could quit. So, even if it was 120 degrees, we smiled and kept going.

Café:  The High Chaparral was a different Western in that it featured a multi-ethnic family.

Pernell Roberts and Collier on Bonanza.

DC:  It was one of the first shows that explored that thoroughly. We had a lot of fine Hispanic actors. The show did well dealing with the problems within the family and with the Indians. It was a good show and I can't think of another like it on TV at that time. Gunsmoke had its good points and bad points. Bonanza was ridiculous sometimes. I might be a little prejudiced, but I thought ours was the best ranch show.

Café:  How did you come to join the cast of The High Chaparral?

DC:  I had done Outlaws and several Bonanza episodes on NBC. I knew all the guys there. A lot of the crew from Outlaws went with Bonanza after we folded, including our production manager Kent McCray. So, when they got around to casting The High Chaparral, Kent suggested me for Sam Butler. They asked me if I wanted to do the part and I said: "You bet."

Café:  Other than The High Chaparral, what were some of your favorite roles?

DC:  The ones I did with John Wayne on The Undefeated and The War Wagon. That was the top of the heap right there. Once you climbed that mountain, you knew you were as high as you could go. He was a real icon in the business.

Café:  You starred with Robert Mitchum in a couple of movies like Five Card Stud. What was he like?

DC:  Robert Mitchum was a great actor. I have a lot of respect for that man. He was one of those guys who had a photographic memory. He could look at the script and then throw it away. He knew it. He seldom had to do two takes. He was kind of a loner. He'd socialize with his driver--they'd go out and drink. But he wouldn't join the groups.

Café:  Can you tell us about your one-man show?

DC:  The one-man show that Penny McQueen convinced me to do is a lot of these stories about all these shows and how I got into the picture business. I'm not going to tell you much about it--because you've got to come and see the show. It's a pretty good hour-and-a-half and audiences get a lot of laughs out of it. There's some serious stuff, too. It's a lot of fun doing it.

Café:  What are some of your upcoming appearances?

DC:  The High Chaparral reunion is March 17-20. I've got several more shows this years, which are listed on my website (doncollier.com).

Café:  Thanks so much for doing this interview.

DC:  It was a pleasure, Rick.