7/21/2016

In Memory of Tom Mix


Tom Mix, cowboy star
Back in the 1920s and 1930s, we didn’t have John Wayne.  The Duke was getting his start in one or two big screen flicks, like “The Big Trail,” but for the most part his 30s decade was filled with making Saturday afternoon “oaters.” 

No, in the early days, we had Tom Mix!   He was a big, tall handsome man with some real cowboy-ing background, a favorite with the ladies of his time and he had a smart horse (“Tony”) who took every opportunity to upstage him. He was made even taller by that trademark-tall white Stetson hat. He made over 370 (mostly silent) westerns.  You can still see some of them on the streaming services - for example, "Just Tony" from 1922, which mostly stars the horse with Tom as pretty much the "sidekick." 

By the late 30s, though, the big star was approaching 60 years old and the parts were not many in coming.  By 1940, he hadn’t been very successful in any kind of a career revival, although he was still working on that.  He performed in “circuses,” even had his own.  But in the depression years, none of those did very well.  Even Barnum & Bailey and Ringling Bros shut down for a time.  The Tom Mix circus was no exception and closed in ’38.

Tom Mix, the great cowboy star who helped bury the REAL Wyatt Earp, counted him as a friend and wept at his funeral, was living in reduced circumstances by 1940.  He wasn’t forgotten and although his star was fading, he still drew big crowds at the local events he attended; America still loved him. He didn’t live in big mansions in the Hollywood Hills anymore – but he did have a couple of nice ranches with some acreage in Los Angeles and near Phoenix (his ranch house near Phoenix is now the home of a good Mexican restaurant – one of the locations of Los Dos Molinos).

Perhaps his favorite possession was his beautiful butter-yellow 1937 Cord 812 Phaeton (although he also owned a 1927 Rolls-Royce Phantom I Roadster at the time of his death).  Not all the 812s had the supercharged Lycoming V-8 engine – but his did.  Not many were ever built and by the time of Mix’s death the company was out of business. But Tom Mix kept his, and he liked to drive it fast on his frequent journeys around the west.  If you look closely at the photo, you can see the tooled leather rear-fender guards - indicating perhaps that many of the roads he drove were gravel in those days.
Tom Mix's 1937 supercharged Cord 812 Phaeton
On the morning of October 12, 1940, he started out from Tucson on the 2nd leg of a journey from Las Cruces back to California for meetings about starring in some more films; he was headed to Florence that day for a Grandson's christening. He knew lots of people in the area, was friendly to almost everyone he met.

His first stop that morning was north of town at Oracle Junction (there was no I-10 in 1940).  Mix took the “back road” route that today starts as Oracle Rd in Tucson, and then splits off to Florence, Arizona and into Phoenix from the southeast.

From Oracle Junction to Florence, that road wasn’t paved – it was a main route but was graded-gravel according to the 1940 Arizona Highway Department map.  But Florence is on that road, so he went that way instead of a more direct route.  He also met a man (his friend Bud White) at Oracle Junction when he stopped at a roadhouse there, drank some whiskey and played some cards with his friend.  A couple of Florence boys had been there overnight after a dance; one of them at least knew him, and they were all three excited to see the “big star.”  After talking with them for a few moments, Mix left and the boys decided to follow him down the road toward Florence in their "old Plymouth."  But they couldn’t keep up with the powerful Cord and until the wreck he stayed quite some distance ahead of them.

About 18 miles south of Florence, he came up on a work site where WPA workers were in the process of building a bridge over what is now (sadly) known as Tom Mix Wash.  News reports said those construction workers were first on the scene, but the boys who were there said that was not true, as it was Sunday and in 1940 on Sunday, road workers were at home with their families, not building bridges over dry Arizona washes. 

The boys came up on the crash right after it happened, before the dust even settled.  They said that the wheels of the Cord were still turning when they approached. Mix had swerved and gone off the road into the wash where the motorcar turned over.  He'd had two aluminum suitcases in the back of the open car, and one of those (which was heavily loaded) flew forward or perhaps fell on his head as the car rolled and broke his neck.  That suitcase is still in a museum, complete with the dent left by the actor’s head.

Mix was certainly speeding - but speeding on that road may not be the equivalent of what we think of as speeding today.  It was a graded road.  Some have reported that the Cord approached at 80 mph.  But no one was there; no one except those boys, who were way behind him, so there is no way to know for sure exactly what his speed really was at that moment.  I suspect it was much lower than 80 mph. When the car was recovered there was little visible damage; had he really been doing 80, the damage would have been much more visible.  Had the heavy case not broken his neck, that wreck might even have been survivable, since the reports indicated that he was still with the car, not thrown off a couple of hundred feet as you might expect had he really been going as fast as some said. I am certain it had no seat belts -- cars just didn't in those years.

The boys said he was already dead when they got there – one of them checked for his pulse and didn’t find one.  It was several hours before the authorities got out to the crash scene.  The witnesses stated the wreck happened in the morning, but it was midafternoon before anyone else got there.  Mix’s body was taken to Florence that afternoon and the Cord was also towed into town. Because of the delay, most reporters wrote that the wreck happened in the afternoon. The witnesses disputed that.

The coroner did an autopsy and discovered the broken neck and reported it as the cause of death and his body was then prepared for burial by a Florence funeral home. His fifth wife Mabel had been notified and she came in a friend's private plane from Los Angeles to take his body home.  He had a funeral in Los Angeles fit for a king, with thousands of mourners and was buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, California, wearing his platinum and diamond-encrusted cowboy belt buckle.

Where Tom died.
Tom Mix left behind a legion of movie fans and friends, a wife, four ex-wives (reportedly), two daughters and Tony the devilish horse. He had disowned the exes and one of his daughters and left his somewhat modest estate to his wife and his daughter Thomasina. Tony the wonder horse had already lived long – and he died of old age two years later to the day (from Mix's death). 

Tom's Rolls Royce was obtained by Warner Brothers after his death and it appeared in several movies as the years passed.  Robert Redford drove it in one of his films. The damaged Cord passed through several owners and was finally purchased by someone who restored it to mint-condition and as exactly as possible to how Mix had it set up, lamps and all (see photo).  It’s also still out there – it was auctioned a few years back and I haven’t been able to find out where it is now.  That might mean a private collector now owns it.   

You can still see some of the places where he lived over in Los Angeles, as well as that Mexican restaurant bungalow in South Phoenix and you can still see many of his movies. A monument was placed in a small roadside park on that "still a back-road" desert highway – SR79, just a couple of hundred feet from the spot where the movie cowboy went off the road into the wash.  It is paved now and a decent road. They dedicated that monument in 1947 and Gene Autry was there and sang a lonesome cowboy song. Vandals and thieves deface the memorial every once in a while, so it doesn't look now like it originally did.

I go by there every chance I get and I almost always stop.  The marker commemorates a man who added countless hours of excitement to the Saturday afternoons of American boys and girls all across the country.  I remember that silent-film cowboy in the tall white hat (even though his movies were really before "my time.")  I always will.  I might go watch one of them right now.