All of my life, I have loved John Wayne. I recently bought a couple of books about him – memoirs written by his wife and by his daughter, Aissa. I had never thought before to read about him or his life, although I don’t know why as he has always fascinated me.
When I was a teen, Duke had a couple of ranches in Arizona, and bred and raised championship Hereford cattle. About every year, he would show up at the Arizona State Fair to “inspect” his entries – but knowing the Hollywood mindset to some degree, I figure it was more to enhance his image and publicity than for any other reason. That may sound cynical but I do not mean it that way – he was, after all, a business man and his business was promoting John Wayne. There’s nothing more John Wayne-like than a champion Hereford bull. So when I had a chance, I'd hang around that stock barn at the fair, hoping he'd come by. He never did though, while I was there.
Later on, as a young working man, I met a man who claimed to be a personal friend of Duke – who was an employee at the same factory where I worked and who said he worked for Wayne on his ranch – I assume at Stanfield, Arizona. I have no clue whether this was true (I have no reason to believe it wasn't, but you never really know), but I always used to tease Norm Stewart about getting me an introduction to my idol; that never happened either.
The books written by Pilar and Aissa Wayne, written from the viewpoint of family who saw him as he was, husband and father, warts and all, have not diminished my respect for the man despite their not-unkind portrait of him as a somewhat flawed man. Anyone who has been alive past their youth or even middle age knows this to be true of all human beings – we are all a combination of human traits. Duke Wayne was no exception; why would anyone think otherwise?
So the thought has occurred to me, why do I hold John Wayne in such high regard? I think that is worth exploring. Of course, this goes straight to the myth – that John Wayne the actor was the man, not the less-than-perfect person who created and then “lived” the image. I think that in every way, Marion Michael Morrison created the persona he wanted to be. This was the character he valued, and America agreed. We love John Wayne because he represented what we like most about ourselves – he represented what we want to be and what we value. I think Duke knew full well he couldn’t live up to the image any more than any of the rest of us could. He was too honest to think otherwise.
John Wayne said “Conflict is made to be won; heroes are created to be the uncommon man sans imperfection… I stay away from nuances…" I suspect that is the place from which some of his personal conflict stemmed. Duke Wayne portrayed simple characters, in films writ in black and white. But he was not a simple man. In most of the rooms of his life's "house" he couldn’t be himself, but for his fans, felt he had to live that idealized, simplified image. That must have preyed on his soul. It is his own fault for requiring it of himself, but perhaps we can understand it.
It occurs to me that maybe that’s how we think of our country as well – when we talk about what America is, what we are doing is confusing reality with ideal. What we think America is, is instead what we wish it to be, want it to be – our own highest ideal of fair play, honesty, opportunity, integrity and strength. The reality falls short, but we see beyond that to the promise. America, too, can appear simple at first glance but underneath you find complexity and twisting currents. This has never been more true than today. Perhaps "John Wayne" and America have a connection and a sameness and maybe it was natural that men and boys of my generation still think of them together – John Wayne, American man.
Recent years have seen a swelling tide of inclusivity in American culture – not that we have accepted that as inevitability. Much of the hatred and fear that dwell in and sometimes inhabit the thoughts and words of angry men and women in this country have had their birth and generation in the recognition that nothing is as we want it to be – and, for some, nothing is as we think it once was. John Wayne became an image of what we think once was, something we now think we’ve lost. But that thing never existed in this imperfect nation of ours – nor anywhere else. Still, we long for the simple picture of life that he created for us, where right and wrong were clearly separate - and discernible.
The gender lines that defined human culture and civilization have become blurred beyond recognition. Men do not know what they should be – and neither do women. I think in many ways we have gone too far in the destruction of roles that developed over eons of time. Those masculine and feminine characteristics that are so disdained today may be a foundation of what permits us to survive at some future time – just as they did in the past. Equality is one thing, and a very good, righteous and necessary thing, but ignoring what makes us unique and generally complementary is quite another and underscores our ignorance of larger issues. Gender is more than skin deep; it is part of who we are. Our survival may depend on our coming to terms with and acceptance of the realities that at present we deny. Do not misunderstand, nothing in my thoughts on this indicates any belief on my part that any girl or woman shouldn't be able to do or to achieve anything her heart and soul lead her to. I believe in total, unequivocal equality.
What you cannot deny is that Duke portrayed men and their gender role very clearly; he was not at all confused about what a man is supposed to be. Whether you agree with him or not, at least you could respect his blunt honesty about his opinions. When I look back at John Wayne, while the image I see is simplified, I also see what I want a man to look like; I see the tool-kit of the ideal American man. Duke was, as I came to “know” him, the ultimate father-figure (remember, we are discussing the celluloid-engendered image, not the man). In "Rio Bravo," you see him looking out for Dude, fathering him (even though Dude is no youngster), as he tries to overcome a debilitating bout of debauchery -- brought on by his failed dealings with a woman, of course. These father-traits are even more clearly apparent in “The Cowboys,” in “The Shootist,” or as he grows to care for Mattie in “True Grit.” His father image isn’t brought forth in words, as much as in actions; he doesn’t sit around and talk about it for hours on end. But in film after film, he teaches, he scolds, he upholds and he shows his “children” how to learn and grow up.
These are not simply American characteristics, even though we like to think honesty and straightforwardness are an American domain, even an American invention. That’s just more myth. But with Duke, the good guys and the bad guys always knew where they stood when things were at a critical juncture. If he was about to drop some bricks on your head, you knew from where and how many. “Rio Bravo” is one of my favorite movies – and in one scene Duke tells the heavy, Nathan Burdette, just what he thinks of him; and then, he backs off and waits for the man’s next action. That’s classic John Wayne, isn’t it? You let ‘em know where you stand (if not what you’re going to do), and then you leave the next move up to them. If there’s going to be a fight, they start it, you finish it, but you let them know without a million words that you will be there at the finish. I don’t think much of a man who is all loud talk; but quiet, straightforward strength and competence - I eat that up.
In life, and in the movies, Duke was always at his best in the company of other men. Women played a huge part, but like some of us, he was often a bit awkward around them and maybe a bit uncertain of what they are all about. Women confounded John Wayne, just as they do many of us. Oh, we figure it out eventually, perhaps, if we’re lucky. I cannot identify much with a suave Richard Gere romantic lead, but I sure as hell can identify with Duke’s confusion about what to do with Maureen O’Hara when she unloads on him with all barrels, or when Feathers constantly goads him over at Carlos’ hotel in Rio Bravo.
But when you see friendship, even if restrained by class-lines, demonstrated by Duke and Ward Bond, or Victor McLaglen, Robert Mitchum or Pompey in “Liberty Valance,” well, that is something we all wanted to be a part of and all is well with the world. Heck, we’d even let Chen Lee beat us at cards – when you could see the tangible warmth between Rooster and his landlord. The good-natured hazing and practical jokes, even the drinking and the fighting, all made us want to be there. Duke had these kinds of friendships in real life too, in abundance – it is perhaps the realm in which he was most comfortable and I think when he portrayed those male friendships and camaraderie onscreen, his personal relationships with the real friends in his life informed his acting. It was natural and warm and good and in our deepest heart, we long for that. Duke Wayne’s friendship wasn’t acting – you could see it was genuine.
Along with his intrinsic honesty, if Duke made you a promise, you could take it to the bank. Isn’t that the basis of the American character myth? That we are always honest and we keep our word? Heck, we don’t need a contract; let’s just shake hands on it. I don’t believe that is as much a myth as people might think today; that is the way business was done in communities where you were born, grew up, lived, worked and died among the same people. It isn’t as common perhaps where anonymity is easily maintained, or where people move around as much as they do today. But 150 years ago, community was all-important and necessary for survival. A man had to care about what the people around him thought of him. The same went for the women.
No one has ever portrayed that kind of integrity like John Wayne. It is who he was and who he intended to be. John Wayne’s brand of loyalty wasn’t unseeing; he’d jerk you up short, friend or not, if you got out of line. He’d make you stand responsible for your sins, while showing you forgiveness at the same moment. But no matter what, you knew that if you needed him, he’d be there for you. You knew that he was on your side. At the end of “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon,” Duke’s Captain Brittles finds a way to get back out to his troops, now left alone in the field after his retirement, to show them how to get through the predicament they are in. Captain Brittles’ loyalty to them, even against “orders,” helps them get back home again. There’s nothing we value more.
Similarly, in the first of the John Ford "cavalry" films (Fort Apache), Henry Fonda's "Colonel Thursday" leads many good men to a tragic and violent end, through his own ignorant arrogance. But Duke's character, having later taken command of the same unit after that disastrous defeat, refuses to dishonor the man's memory and shares nothing but respect and loyalty, having recognized Thursday's bravery and integrity (even if misguided and flawed). In doing so, he reaffirms his own integrity. We see that same brand of loyalty again and again, as Duke rides to Robert Mitchum's aid in El Dorado, for Dude in Rio Bravo and again in Rio Lobo for his old comrade. It was a consistent theme in Duke's world.
I don’t agree with every single piece of John Wayne’s opinion politic. I am much more openly critical of my nation's people and government than he ever was, publicly. But his honest and genuine patriotism were a product of his times and many of us were brought up to feel and believe that way. My present rather critical opinions do not mean that I do not love my country, in case you were wondering, but I believe we should be talking about our national mistakes, acknowledging them and working to better ourselves and our country -- not kicking them under the rug.
As for Duke, I don’t think he was the far-right-winger most people think he was, although many of his singular positions placed him in that corner. Rather, Duke’s politics were those of honesty, of right-doing, of real conservative values, while understanding that conservatism isn’t necessarily just a GOP prerogative and that its meaning has been twisted into something almost obscene by some folks in more recent years.
John Wayne was unabashedly pro-American. He believed that no matter your personal feelings on, for example, a war, that you didn’t do or say anything that endangered the morale or well-being of the men and women you sent to fight it. I think he was absolutely right about that. He felt that if the nation believed in a cause strongly enough that we would send our troops to die for it, then we should fight to win and not squander their sacrifice with nothing to show for it. He thought that it was essential that we support our government, since we elected it to represent us, and that support was an expression of our integrity. He was absolutely right about all of these things. The words duty, honor and country mean something – they are our right, our privilege and our responsibility. Duke understood that, I think both publicly and personally. In this age of self-above-all-else, too few of us understand these responsibilities.
I have read the writings of others who say that Wayne's portrayal of the Vietnam war was all lies and deceit (in The Green Berets). That's garbage from people who don't know their ass from fat meat; the truth about Vietnam was much more complicated than that. Wayne's view of that conflict and its realities was his honest point of view -- and it was a point of view shared by the majority of Americans at that time. We both feared and loathed communism. America lost its way in that war because we lost our stomach for it and we lost sight of our objective. There were realities in that conflict that we did not understand at the time -- but our national "heart" was in the right place.
We embraced John Wayne's character traits because it is our feeling that this is who we are, that these traits and characteristics embody how we became who we are and they are rooted in the frontier era (and the roles) that Duke built a career on. Our thoughts of self-reliance, that we will do what we say, that we will solve our own problems, came straight down to us from the 19th century American west. They came down to us through stories of pioneers, of cowboys, of plainsmen, of soldiers (and sailors), of miners and farmers. They came to us through stories of hardships, of fights between good and evil. They came to us through the laughter and friendship of people that we could see were just like us (or that we wanted to be like). They came to us through the stories and characters that John Wayne and his films brought to us.
One author said that “[John Wayne] has become the essential American soul that D. H. Lawrence once characterized as ‘harsh, isolate, stoic and a killer.’” I don’t know that I would state it quite that bluntly. There are more nuances in the typical Wayne character than that stark assessment permits, more than even Duke himself perhaps realized. Stoic and isolate, perhaps (like Ethan Edwards). Harsh and a killer, I wouldn't judge that strongly without qualification. A John Wayne character could be harsh because that is what was demanded of him in order to prevail and protect the lives of those around him. He had to be meaner and harder than his adversary if he was to win -- and his character knew that without reservation. He knew that when the critical moment came, you could not hesitate; you had to have the immediate will to win.
A killer? Duke killed when it was deserved and necessary. More than once, I heard a John Wayne character say "I never killed nobody that didn't need killing." In Duke’s movie world, if you blinked you didn’t always get a second chance. All of these traits that were mentioned by Lawrence lived as the offspring of necessity and their immediate goal was simple, biblical justice. Still, in almost every case, there was an offer of clemency, a chance to avoid retribution before the violence was unleashed. There was an alternative that could be chosen; the bad guys just never chose it. In softer moments, Duke's love and compassion, his tolerance and forbearance often shone through; it was always understated and subtle, but clearly evident if you had eyes to see. Duke also occasionally showed that he was capable of recognizing when he was wrong; that he could learn and change.
That harsher world does exist and it will likely always be there. We fool ourselves if we think that somehow the fundamental nature of the universe has changed; it has not. If we intend to survive, we cannot forget that good and evil both exist, whether a person believes they are the creation of a higher power, or simply part of our very human nature. Life’s choices are sometimes hard, sometimes unforgiving and sometimes they must be dealt with straightforwardly and without a blink. At some point, you must decide what is important and where you stand. Sometimes, you have to fight. Perhaps with no initial plan to do so, John Wayne showed us how and when to do that. His approach to a problem, and to life, was righteous and came from his heart. I think at gut level we still know that Duke got it right, even if it was an act. If Duke Morrison and John Ford hadn't invented John Wayne, someone else would have had to do it.
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