The Winning Team: It wins you over
By John J. Raspanti

Watching old films of legendary baseball players can be an exhilarating and moving experience. There’s something sweet and heartwarming about that time, when all sports seemed more innocent and less corporate. I can remember my grandfather telling me about the first time he saw Lou Gehrig and Babe Ruth. The year was 1933, and Grandpa had left his job early to go over to Comiskey Park, located on the south side of Chicago. Later I was to learn that my own father was there too, selling papers near the front entrance to the stadium. He was all of seven years old.

Baseball and the movies have had a long and successful love affair. In the 1940’s and 50’s a number of baseball films were produced. Some were instant classics like, The Pride of the Yankees and The Stratton Story, while others were stinkers like The Babe Ruth Story.  In 1952, Dan Daily was cast as Dizzy Dean in The Pride of St.Louis. The film was neither good nor bad, sitting comfortably in the middle of the pack.  That same year The Winning Team starring Ronald Reagan and Doris Day opened.

The Winning Team stars future-president Reagan as Hall of Fame pitcher Grover Cleveland Alexander. The film is a romantic and fictionalized account of Alexander’s life, telling the story of a kid and his love for baseball and, for that matter a woman. Ironically, Alexander was named after a former president, and two years after his death, a future president was cast as Alex the Great.

The real Alexander was a tremendous pitcher who won 28 games his first full season, and 30 for three consecutive seasons. His fastball was explosive while his slider was impossible to hit.  As great as he was on the mound, Alexander’s life was sad and depressing. He suffered a beaning (shown in the film) early in his baseball career, causing double vision and other problems.  A stint in the war compounded and complicated Alexander’s injuries eventually leading to epilepsy.

As always, there’s much more to the story. In fact, the focus of much of the drama, (though it contains plenty of baseball action, and some of those wonderful old films of the great Cardinal and Yankee teams), is on Alexander's problems, which inhibited his career and his relationship to his loyal wife, Aimee.

The title is a tribute to the couple, as they handle Alexander’s alcoholism and epilepsy. Strangely, the film never refers to Alexander’s epileptic seizures, preferring to show him passing out at bars and speak-easies. After the film was completed, Ronald Reagan was disappointed that the producers didn’t mention that Alexander suffered from epilepsy. The studio had made the decision to ban the use of the word due to a social stigma.

The baseball aspect of the movie is done pretty well. Reagan, though forty one-years old at the time of the filming, is able to project the youthfulness of the kid from Nebraska, his amazing success, and later the lost soul looking for some kind of retribution. As the film progresses, Alexander’s “problem” gets worse, affecting his ability to pitch and forcing the Cubs to trade him to the Cardinals half way through the 1926 season.  The consensus is that Alex the Great’s career is over.  As the film depicts, even Alexander himself has doubts about his ability to pitch. St. Louis Cardinal Manager Rogers Hornsby (played very well by Frank Lovejoy) believes Alexander can still hurl effectively. He has faith, and that faith rubs off on Alex.

On the mound and gaining inner strength from Aimee, Alexander and his teammates play well, eventually reaching the World Series to face the mighty and hugely favored Yankees.

In a moving scene, well played by Reagan, he explains to his wife what her presence at the ballpark means to him:

Grover Cleveland Alexander: You must be so tired, Dear!
Aimee Alexander: Why should I be tired?
Grover Cleveland Alexander: I've been stealing strength from you all season - every game, every pitch. Without you there, I couldn't have done any of it. God must think a lot of me. He's given me you.

It’s a touching moment, setting up the ending as Alexander is called in to pitch one more time. Aimee is shocked when she hears her husband is coming into the game(it’s only been one day since his last appearance) Can she make it back to the park to be her husbands strength again? Can Alexander fight off one of those “things” (as he calls them) and hold on until she arrives?  The Yankees have loaded the bases and future Hall of Famer Tony Lazzeri is at the plate, will Alexander find that magic one more time?

The film was shot at Wrigley Field, which in this case was located in south Los Angeles, not Chicago.  The LA stadium was home to a number of minor league baseball teams. Hollywood loved Wrigley and its Spanish style architecture. In some ways it resembled it’s more famous cousin in the Midwest, giving it the authentic feeling of a vintage major league baseball park. 

In 1942, the aforementioned The Pride of the Yankees starring Gary Cooper used LA’s Wrigley to recreate some of Lou Gehrig’s greatest moments. In 1949, Coop’s friend Jimmy Stewart shot some scenes of his own terrific turn as pitcher Monty Stratton. Other famous baseball movies filmed at Wrigley include The Pride of St.Louis and Damn Yankees. In 1965, The Munsters invaded Wrigley to shoot an episode.

Ronald Reagan and Doris Day are very good as the loving and loyal couple. Their acting is easy and uncomplicated. Three writers (Ted Sherdeman, Seeleg Lester and Merwin Gerad) penned the script, which never quite takes off. Still there’s enough baseball, Americana, and good old fashioned entertainment to make viewing the film enjoyable.  

September 2011

Clyde Bruckman: When the Laughter Stops

By John J. Raspanti

Feelings Within

An insatiable urge,
A craving needing more.
A hunger wanting to be filled,
An emptiness hollow within.
Confused by this loneliness.
Lingering in this emotion,
Longing for more, what's out of reach.
Trying so hard to escape

Jaque G.

Out of work and desperate, the thin man with the moustache made his way to the phone booth and climbed inside. He picked up the receiver with his right hand and looked at it. In his left hand was a gun that he had borrowed from close friend Buster Keaton. He had told Buster he was going hunting…and in a way he was. He paused…his gun hand slowly coming up…he just couldn’t hear the laughter anymore…

Clyde Bruckman was born in San Bernardino, California in 1894. He had started out as a sports reporter, but soon grew bored by the day to day routine and gravitated to Hollywood where all the excitement was. He got a job with Warner Brothers as a title writer and made some friends. One of them was Harry Brand who coxed Bruckman to come over and work for an up and coming comedian named Joseph Frank “Buster” Keaton as a gagman.  Keaton and Bruckman clicked right away. Keaton could see the craftsman in Bruckman and Clyde could see the genius in Buster. They would remain life long friends.

There first official film together was Three Ages in 1923, but Bruckman had played a significant role in helping with the gags for Cops, one of Keaton’s most popular shorts. He collaborated with Eddie Cline, Jean Havez, Joe Mitchell and Keaton to create a world where the poker faced comedian was at a loss, in control of nothing.

Bruckman loved working for Keaton. If comedy ideas were slow in coming the group would play some cards or head out to the back of the lot for a little game of baseball, knowing that eventually  something creative would be born.   

The relaxed atmosphere helped calm the nervous and insecure Bruckman

”In such a situation…gags are never a problem. You feel good…your minds at ease and working.”

Clyde penned the story for the Keaton masterpiece Sherlock Jr in 1924.

The fanfare was late in coming since the film was slightly a head of it’s time. It’s been considered a classic mixture of story and gags for years now…

He worked on Keaton’s next film The Navigator and a few months later showed him a novel about the Civil War. He told Keaton he could see some real comic possibilities. Keaton loved it and within months The General was in production.

In 1925 Bruckman did some freelance writing working on a film starring Harry Langdon, and a few months later helping out on a Harold Lloyd project.  But soon he was back with Keaton. Clyde liked nothing better then hoisting a few with Keaton, but he didn’t realize that his drinking was becoming a problem.

In 1928 he conceived a story he called The Cameraman, helping to create another instant classic. Bruckman never felt his contributions deserved much praise. He was in awe of Keaton’s talent…

“I could tell you that those wonderful stories were 90% Buster's... I was often ashamed to take the money, much less the credit”

Harold Lloyd again asked for Bruckman’s help. He needed to spice up his “timid character” and create some thrills for the audience. He asked Bruckman to direct his next film. The film Welcome Danger helped Lloyd’s career greatly. Ironically it would be the same Harold Lloyd who helped ruin Bruckman own career a number of years later. Next Bruckman moved over to Hal Roach studios and worked with a couple of comedians named…Laurel and Hardy ( though they hadn’t quite taken on the persona’s that would make them famous) He directed (with Stan Laurel) a film called The Battle of the Century, that is most noted for the final sequence - a wonderfully-choreographed pie fight. He directed the next three Laurel and Hardy films, helping to develop there teamwork…but directing wasn’t one of his strengths. He was too insecure and racked with doubts about his own ability. He much preferred working in the shadows of the vast soundstages, brainstorming with his writer friends or better yet alone, creating situations and building gags.

In the 1930’s Clyde continued to freelance. He missed working with best friend Keaton, who had been shipped to MGM and had lost his creative independence.  Bruckman gave directing another try working with W.C Fields in a couple of films…The Fatal Glass of Beer and Man on the Flying Trapeze. Sadly his deep rooted doubts and demons continued to fester, causing him to go on benders and disappear from the studio…

His feature film directing days were over.

By 1935 he was employed at Columbia Studios in the “short film” department.

Oh to be home at last. He was back in his element and Jules White let him write and create. He had discovered that he was more then just a gagman. For awhile even the alcoholic demons stayed away, White assigned Clyde to work with three zany comedians whose popularity was growing…

Clyde wrote a screenplay he called Three Little Beers, where The Stooges are inept deliverymen at a brewery. When they learn about a company golf tournament, they sneak onto a golf course to get some practice...

Moe: This is a golf course!
Curly: I don't see any golfs!
[Moe hits him]
Curly: Ooh, ooh, look at the golfs!

Curly: He's pointin' where you are!
Moe: Ya mean he's pointin' where I was! C'mon, let's get outta here!

Bruckman adapted to the Stooges easily. His strength’s as a writer and gagman were his ability to incorporate the comedian’s talents with his own.

In 1937 he worked on the Stooges short…Grips, Grunts and Groans…and other Stooge films. He talked Jules White into a hiring an out of work Buster Keaton    and then helped write what many consider to be Keaton’s best post silent film…Pest from the West. Keaton would repay Clyde’s loyalty many times in the future.

In 1939 he wrote another screenplay for the Stooges entitled Three Sappy People…some of the lines were extremely funny…

Moe: [to Curly]  Why don't you get a toupee with some brains in it!

And… Williams: [as stuffy butler, speaking into telephone] Is this tew, tew-tew-tew-tew?
Moe: [on doctors' switchboard] Too-too-too-too? What do ya think you're doin', bub, playing train?

Six months later he collaborated with Felix Adler on what many Stooge fans consider their “masterpiece”…You Nazty Spy…Moe was “Moe Hailstone”…Larry “Larry Peeble” and Curly…”Curly Gallstone”…the results were 18 minutes of silly fun.

In between stooge shorts Clyde labored on scripts for Andy Clyde, Keaton, and other movie projects. He had his drinking under control, at least to a degree.

But time was running out…

In 1941 he composed a screenplay for the Stooges called In the Sweet Pie and Pie and Pie…

Curly: No! I'm too young to die. Too young and too handsome! [looks in the mirror]
Curly: Well, I'm too young.

Mrs. Gottrocks: I hear you have done much traveling. Are you familiar with the Great Wall of China?
Curly: No, but I know a big fence in Chicago!

Continuing his dizzying and productive writing schedule, Clyde wrote the story for the latest Blondie adventure…Blondie Goes to College. He even created a scenario for the Andrew Sisters that was wildly successful.  Jules White knew that Clyde could conjure up a tale pretty quickly so he went to his ace more and more. Problem was Clyde’s creative juices were drying up, and his drinking was becoming a problem again.  As his boozing and the pressure to create got worse, he started to borrow from some of his old routines from the silent days reckoning the gags were his.

Harold Lloyd didn’t see it that way. Lloyd had tried to help Clyde a number of years before. But this was different, since the gags were part of a Lloyd film, he figured he owned them. In 1945 he sued his old friend and Universal films, citing five examples of plagiarism. Clyde was named in all five.

Somehow during this period Bruckman found the focus to pen another stooge classic Three Little Pirates…

A few months after the release of Pirates, Harold Lloyd won the judgment of the court against Clyde and Universal.  Bruckman was devastated, Columbia told him to go home.

Unemployed…his drinking escaladed.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. His entire life had been spent at one studio or another, creating gags or writing scenarios. Now he could do neither. His drinking was running his life, but he couldn’t stop.  Clyde wandered the streets lost and despondent. That is until his old and loyal friend Buster Keaton called and asked him to help write some stories for his new live television series.

Buster’s old films had been re-discovered, and he wanted Clyde back with him. For a short time he felt the old spark return but his passion had dimmed. Keaton noticed the inherent sadness that seemed to engulf his friend. After Keaton’s show ended Bruckman worked with Abbott and Costello for a few years, but the bottle continued to beckon. He would drift away for days, lost in a fog of depression and drink. Columbia was now borrowing and renaming his old scripts for the Stooges, but Clyde barely noticed.

In early 1955 he was bored, depressed and diving deeper into the darkness. His old friends rarely called, except for Keaton of course who got together with Clyde every chance he could. There was talk of work, but the parade had left town and the gagman who had helped conceive so many funny situations was adrift in a sea of despair.

Clyde Bruckman ended his pain on January 4^th, 1955, alone and despondent in a Santa Monica, California phone booth. When informed of the news Keaton was devastated feeling he should have been able to save his friend, but in this case Clyde’s worst enemy was his own…reflection in the mirror.

Despite the tragedy of his death, the hilarity that he created will continue to give generation after generation great joy and laughter.

For that…Clyde Bruckman will always live.

2010 © John J. Raspanti

Alan Ladd: Escaping the Demons

By  John Raspanti

“If you can figure out my success on the screen, you're a better man than I.” —Alan Ladd      

“I have the face of an ageing choirboy and the build of an undernourished featherweight.”

— Alan Ladd  

"Alan is a big star to everyone in the world except Alan. He thinks he’s in the business on a rain check." — Sue Carol, his wife/manager

Alan Ladd was a walking contradiction. On screen he projected a cool confidence, a smooth poise and the ability to handle any problem. Off screen his nagging self doubts consumed him, he over reacted to imagined and real criticism and as he grew older he relied more and more on alcohol.

A struggling actor until his dynamic appearance in 1942’s This Gun for Hire, he became a Goliath onscreen who reached the heights of movie stardom. In reality though he was more a David, a man who couldn’t stand the shoe lifts the studio made him wear and the platforms he had to stand on. Even though he loved the fans, there were times he hated making personal appearances. He was convinced he could ‘hear’ the fans whispering about his lack of height. Always the actor, Ladd would glance over and smile.

Inside where nobody could see, Alan was dying.

Alan Ladd was born in Hot Springs, Arkansas on September 3^rd, 1913. His childhood was difficult, his father died when he was five. Alan witnessed his father’s death, even though all he could remember of his namesake was a faceless figure who was always tired.  His English-American mother Ina soon relocated the family to Oklahoma City. Always close, mother and son relied on each other to for survival. After a few months his mother remarried and Alan had a new daddy who he really never got to know.  In 1920 the family migrated to California hoping for a fresh start. Alan’s step daddy Jim Beavers promptly found work as a laborer. Living in a garage in 1920’s the family struggled. Alan watched as his mother slowly lost her spark for living. She began to drink more. Beavers found more work painting sets at a movie studio. Things were tough, money was scarce.

Alan’s nickname in school was ‘tiny’. Say it to his face and you were asking for trouble. Alan learned how to fight and he learned how to win. He was a bundle of nerves and haunted by anxiety. He enrolled at North Hollywood High School at the age of sixteen. The year was 1930 and Alan was thinking about getting into the movies. He kept these dreams to himself and joined the track team and promptly became the star. Alan joined the swim team and practiced his dives and strokes for four hours every day. Nobody called him ‘tiny’ when he was in the water, if anything the other kids  looked up to him. The girls always paid attention to the handsome guy with the blonde hair. He was now a local celebrity, covered by the sports pages. Alan even had dreams of making 1932 Olympic swimming team.  That dream died when he as he said ‘lost his nerve’ after hitting his head on the board.

Alan returned to his other dream, the movies in 1933. Universal was taking on young hopefuls and training them. Ladd applied and got in. He even made his film debut in Tom Brown of Culver and three other lesser films. The parts were small but Alan didn’t care. The studio wasn’t very impressed though and bounced him after four months. They kept telling him he was too short. Alan graduated from high school in 1934. He opened up a hamburger and malt shop near his old high school. He called it ‘Tiny’s patio’, the name he hated it so much. Sadly this venture only lasted a few months. Not sure what to do, he kept a close eye on his mother who was growing more and more morose. She was also drinking heavily. He moved over to Warner’s Brothers and worked as a grip eventually landing on the Captain Blood set and witnessing the star making performance of an unknown named Errol Flynn. Soon he was out of work again. He loved acting and was not going to give up. His mother in her sober moments kept telling him to strive for something better. Alan kept listening.

Alan got married in 1936 to Marjorie Harrold. His stepdad died of a heart attack soon after the marriage. He took the news hard; his stepdad was only fifty two years old. I have to get going he told himself, I have to work harder.  His distinctive baritone voice was his greatest asset. He was finding radio work and still doing bit parts in the movies. He wondered if anybody even noticed him. In 1937 Alan became a daddy but on November 29^th, 1937 his life was turned upside down. His mother, lonely and depressed about aging borrowed some money from Ladd to get something. He figured it would be booze, she said no…but still he was angry with her and walked away. A few hours later Alan and his wife heard some screaming. It was his mother, they brought her into there apartment and watched helplessly as her life left her. They were shocked, what had happened? They found out later that she had taken the money Alan had given her, gone to the store and bought arsenic. She then gulped it down. Alan mostly kept the pain to himself but still felt responsible for his mother’s death. If only he had taken her suicide threats seriously he thought.  Alan mourned and then desperately tried to find some more work. He kept getting the same comments,’ too short’ and ‘too blonde’ but he kept pushing. He worked harder on his voice, looking for whatever edge he could find.

I’m going to make it. Nothing is going to stop me. Nothing. I want it too much. —Alan Ladd

Then in 1938 he met Sue Carol. Sue had liked what she had heard of Alan on the radio. She called him and told him to stop by her office, when he did she found something else to like.

“He came into my office wearing a long white trench coat. His blonde hair was bleached by the sun. He looked like a young Greek god, and he was unforgettable” —Sue Carol

Alan signed with Sue after much thought and reflection. He wasn’t nearly as impressed by her as she was of him, but still she had one thing going for her that nobody else in the business had. She truly believed in him, and told him constantly that he would make it. Alan would laugh and shrug. As badly as he wanted ‘it’ he didn’t believe it would ever happen. Sue soon found more bit parts for Alan. By now he was even receiving an occasional credit. He was in a total of seventeen movies in 1940 alone and later auditioned for Citizen Kane. Orson Wells mocked Alan…

“Tell me about yourself pretty face. With that pretty face you think you’re something of a hot shot, don’t you?”

Alan tried to control himself, but gazing at Wells smirk he stormed away. He soon heard the famous booming voice. “Hell, come back! Where do you think you’re going?” “You got the part!”  Surrounded by darkness in the picture, indemnifying Alan was a challenge if not for his voice…again.  Citizen Kane didn’t help Alan’s career, so it was back to bit parts and whatever else he could get. In 1941 he had one line in the Laurel and Hardy feature Great Guns (A package of cigarettes honey!) and was seen briefly in nine other films.  Alan’s relationship with Sue grew more personal late in 1941. His wife seemed unaware or unsure what to do, Ladd himself was torn. But he loved Sue, so he walked out and filed for divorce. Sue who was also married followed Alan’s lead and filed for divorce from her husband. Within weeks of there divorces being finalized they were married. Sue was ten years older than Alan but that didn’t matter. He was happy and his break was lurking nearby. Paramount wanted a baby faced type to play a cold blooded killer named Raven. Sue pushed for Alan, the studio wanted to test him for the part and for once, for whatever reason he felt confident. The test went well, his height or lack there of actually helped Alan this time. The studio could care less.  He was now at his full height (either 5’5”or 5’6”)

The movie was in titled This Gun for Hire. Cast alongside Alan was the smallish Veronica Lake. There scenes together provided the sparks the studio was looking for. Alan spent hours in front of the mirror perfecting the look he wanted for Raven. He knew this was his chance and he wasn’t going to blow it. Alan’s hair was dyed black which gave him a more sleek and sinister look. The key to the Raven character was Ladd’s ability to make the cold blooded killer somewhat sympathetic. Alan achieved this with the help of a complex script that showed a killer that liked cats and had probably been abused. His performance was rich and compelling. The film opened to mostly good reviews but Alan was an overnight sensation. The critics couldn’t get enough of him, even comparing his performance to Cagney’s in Public Enemy.

Ladd couldn’t believe it. He was now a star.

He made a public appearance soon after This Gun for Hire opened and was shocked by the people that wanted to see him. He was jostled and pushed and forced away from the fans by some studio people. He loved his fans and never wanted to appear too’ big’ for them. “I think any movie star who refuses autographs has a hell of a nerve” he said.

Ladd made a promise to himself…he would never turn down a fan’s request no matter how small or unimportant it was. It was a promise he would keep.

Paramount rushed Ladd and Lake into another hardboiled thriller called The Glass Key.

Not as well made as Gun it still made the studio money and reinforced their thinking on Ladd. His onscreen character was mean, cruel and could kill someone as easily as crossing the street. His popularity continued to climb; he was featured in 16 articles and received tens of thousands of letters. In 1944 and 45 his four films continued to rake in the money even though most of the critics dismissed them as ‘lousy’.  Alan took some of the criticism hard…his doubts in himself reinforced by the sharp words of the critics.

 “I never fail to feel let down when I see myself on the screen…Maybe I can’t act, but I know the gimmicks. I studied acting all my life and I knew what’s good for me”

In 1946 Ladd was back in the dark and shadowy world of film noir. His co-star was again Veronica Lake and the film The Blue Dahlia is one of his best. Penned by the creator of Phillip Marlowe, the celebrated Raymond Chandler, Dahlia is a return to the production values of This Gun for Hire.  Ladd plays returning war veteran Johnny Morrison who finds that his wife has been cheating on him. He storms out of their house and within hours discovers that he is the number one suspect in her death. His friends William Bendix (at one time a real life close friend) and Hugh Beaumont (Ward Cleaver) are on hand as his close pals who want to help. Alan delivers Chandler’s gritty dialogue with an edge and the film also includes one of Ladd’s best and brutal fight scenes. Even the critics liked Dahlia, which of course was a box office smash.

Throughout the rest of the 40’s Alan’s string of box office successes continued. In 1948 he starred in his first color film and western Whispering Smith. A year later he was cast as Jay Gatsby in the big screen adaption of F Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. Some were critical of Alan’s casting, but most who have seen the film consider his portrayal of Gatsby as the definitive one. His lack of height still haunted him. Co-starring with Ladd for the fourth time was Howard Da Silva who towered over Alan. For some of there scenes together Paramount build a raised platform, which…humiliated Alan even more.  The film failed to generate the heat at the box office so within months Alan was back in the typical ‘Ladd film’ Chicago Deadline playing a tough as nails newspaper man.

At home he was now the father of three even though his oldest Alan Ladd Jr. was kept virtually hidden in the shadows. This was Sue’s idea …”Why talk about something that was so painful to Alan” she would say referring to his first marriage, and the media would oblige. Eventually ‘Laddie’ as he was called began to appear in more photos with his father and would over time grow up to be one of Hollywood’s most successful executives. Alan’s daughter Alana was born in 1943 followed by another son David in 1947. From all accounts Alan was a doting dad, who enjoyed spending as much time as possible with his children.  As the new decade kicked in Alan stayed close to the tough as nails format starring in Captain Carey, Appointment with Danger, Branded and The Road to Hope. His next five films were mostly considered average, and Alan himself was getting bored and even angry. He would dismiss the criticism with a wave (New York Times critic Bosley Crowther could be very vicious) but deep down Alan felt all the slashing comments.

“I’m the most insecure guy in Hollywood” he told a friend.

He desperately wanted to do an ‘important’ film.  As usual he didn’t say anything, but his friends had noticed that he had begun to drink more than usual. He needed something…his career momentum had slowed and even his popularity with the viewing public was ebbing.  Then in 1951 director George Stevens called. He wanted to make a western and he wanted Alan to star in it.  Stevens told him the name of the film…Shane.

Alan liked George Stevens immediately…

“I learned more about acting from that man in a few months than I had in my entire life up until then. Stevens is the best in the business”

Alan absorbed everything that Stevens told him and in turn delivered without doubt his greatest screen performance. Ladd never looked better, his golden looks and magnetism shinning through in his portrayal of Shane, the mysterious loner and gunfighter, a basically good man troubled by conflicting emotions. He comes out of nowhere to help a family, is idolized by a precocious little boy and gains the respect of the ranchers he’s trying to help.  Near the end of the movie…he knows his days are numbered…

Shane: (speaking to another bad guy named Ryker) Yeah, you've lived too long. Your kind of days are over.
Ryker: My days? What about yours, gunfighter?
Shane: The difference is I know it.

A few minutes later Shane is face to face with Wilson…His antithesis…an evil man…always dressed in black.

Shane: So you're Jack Wilson.
Wilson: What's that mean to you, Shane?
Shane: I've heard about you.
Wilson: What have you heard, Shane?
Shane (provokingly): I've heard that you're a low-down Yankee liar.

A great western and a great film, Shane is tremendously entertaining with rousing performances by all. Ladd and Brandon DeWilde’s (as Joey the boy who idolizes Shane) scenes together are touching, funny and beautifully played.

The film garnered outstanding reviews, with Alan stunning some of his harshest critics with his soulful acting. A few of them even admitted that maybe they were wrong to ‘kid’ Ladd, about his lack of depth. The movie was nominated for best picture and best director but Alan was somehow excluded in the best actor category. This omission is shocking, perhaps driven by politics (Ladd was leaving Paramount for Warner’s) or simply his peer’s inability to admit they were wrong. Whatever the reason Alan’s tremendous achievement carries the film. Though he joked that Shane was a ‘fluke’ his friends knew that with the right material Alan could soar. Everyone that is except Ladd himself, who rolled his eyes, his insecurity as always in place…haunting him.

In the mid 50’s Alan was making films for Warner Brothers and hating it. He was second guessing his decision to leave Paramount, a decision that Sue had pushed for. Paramount had given him his biggest break and he felt at home there. He was also constantly catching the flu or a virus and hurting himself either on the set at home or on the road. It was one mishap after another. Holidays were tough too. Each new year brought back memories of his mothers suicide, Alan withdrew into himself and at times deeper and deeper…into the bottle. He battled insomnia and soon grew reliant on sleeping pills.

In 1955 he made a pretty good film called The McConnell Story.

Rumors were flying that he was having an affair with his co-star June Allyson but according to June the rumors’ were just ‘that’…rumors. June did like Alan quite a bit...and enjoyed working with him.

“Alan was so totally professional. We never had any problems with our scenes together. When I would tell him what a good actor he was he wouldn’t believe me”

After The McConnell Story, Alan starred in Hell on Frisco Bay with Edward G. Robinson. The film was a minor hit but something wasn’t right. Alan was growing more restless by the minute. To friends he seemed to have it all. To the most important person, himself, he felt empty. His own film company was now producing most of his films. His next two Santiago and The Big Land, were mostly savaged by the critics and his loyal fans were beginning to stay home. He then agreed to partake in an adventure film called The Boy and the Dolphin which turned out to be a disaster. The film co-starred Sophia Loren and Alan felt ignored by director Jean Negulesco, He sleepwalks through the film barley registering anything. His appearance was changing too, as most moviegoers were shocked at his bloated face and body. It was as if he had aged ten years overnight.  Alan could see what was happening but continued to drink. He agreed to do ‘Dolphin’ for the money and regretted his decision immediately. He needed a hit and in late 1958 it came. The movie was titled The Proud Rebel and Alan decided that his eleven year old son, David, would be perfect as his son in the film. He was right. Rebel received some outstanding reviews with David getting the lion’s share. Ladd was a proud papa and for a few weeks his energy and zest for living retuned. But soon he was gone again, diving back into the depths of depression with family and friends like Van Heflin and reunited friend William Bendix trying to help him. He dabbled in television with Aaron Spelling but quickly grew frustrated. He was back on the big screen in The Badlanders (a pretty good film) and The Man in the Net with neither film posting the big box office of his earlier films. His marriage to Sue was suffering as Alan spent more and more time alone at his ranch in Hidden Valley or there new home in Palm Springs.

Alan’s deterioration as a movie star and person continued. He wanted another great script but nothing was coming. He couldn’t stand waiting so he took what was offered, and then almost immediately hated the film he was working on. A vicious cycle indeed, but he didn’t know what else to do. He told some reporters he was taking a break from making movies but the reality was that the offers were slowing down. In 1962 he made Thirteen West Street co-starring Rod Steiger.

Steiger, as almost everyone else who worked with Alan, liked him…

“Alan was a very sweet and a very kind and a rather sad man. He was exhausted, really. He was never unkind of had an unkind word. He never gave anyone any trouble. He was always there on time and always left on time, but one had a feeling he was waiting for it all to end”

In November 1962 it almost did.

Out at the ranch again, alone, and drinking Alan fell asleep. Hours later he awoke. He could hear his dogs howling. He felt something wet and realized there was blood…his blood. He probably made a call and passed out. It was reported that he had been cleaning one of his guns and it had accidently fired. That was story number one. The bullet had missed his heart by an eighth of an inch. He was in the hospital for over a month. When he came home he told a reporter, story number two. He had been awakened by a noise; he grabbed a gun and went to investigate. Somehow he tripped over one of his dogs and shot himself. The ‘stories’ raised a lot of questions. Alan’s friends didn’t know what to think. Sue refused to think the worse and stayed by Alan’s side. The Hollywood community could care less, Alan was yesterday’s news. He went home but the depression that was swallowing him up worsened. He wanted to work, but no offers came in. He tried to rest but couldn’t sleep. He went back to the site of the shooting and hid out. Alan was the same age as his mother had been when she died.

Then in early 1963 a surprise call came. It was his old studio, Paramount and they wanted Alan to come home. The movie they were making was called The Carpetbaggers. He wasn’t being offered the starring role…that was given to George Peppard. Alan pondered and then agreed. He knew the movie wouldn’t be very good but working again and going back to Paramount was an offer he couldn’t pass up. He quit the booze, lost some weight and showed up on the set on time and ready to go. The studio gave him the superstar treatment. Employees he hadn’t seen in years came up and shook his hand. Alan nodded and smiled; stunned by the love he was feeling. It was all so bittersweet. But no matter how good he felt for a time, the depression was always lurking nearby…ready to zap him. He couldn’t believe how exhausted he always was.

After completing the film he retuned home and began drinking again. His insomnia was worse than ever, he called Van Heflin and William Bendix nightly. They tried to help. But nothing was helping. In January 1964 Alan drove to his other home in Palm Springs to…rest. But that was impossible. Everything seemed so hopeless. Within a few days of arriving Alan Ladd was dead. He was only 50 years old. Rumors swirled about, had Ladd got it right this time? His family felt otherwise. It was an accident, pure and simple. Alan had reached the “magic number’…the one with too much alcohol and too many sleeping pills. After an autopsy was performed the doctor agreed with his family. His death was an accident, not a suicide, a tragic accident.

A few months after his death The Carpetbaggers opened. The reviews weren’t very good, but ironically Alan received some of his best notices in years.

Alan Ladd made it all the way to the top of his profession. He did it the hard way, through grit and determination. Though he was considered a star, he never acted like one. He always had time for everybody. This included the regular people who worked at the studio, and most of all the fans whom he never let down. His self doubts ate him up, he never believed he was good enough…but given the right role Alan could deliver the kind of performance that would live forever in movie history.

Just take the time to watch Shane…and you’ll know what I mean.

© John Raspanti 2009

In The Dead of the Night

A True story     

By John Raspanti

I couldn’t sleep.

I wasn’t surprised.

We had been in Chicago for a little over six hours. Mom and I had been tired when we got to our hotel but that quickly changed for me. The hotel we were staying in was located around 10 miles from downtown Chicago. From the outside it resembled an adequate hotel. Upon entering we noted the huge and spacious lobby that seemed to go on forever. There were tables and chairs and ashtrays haphazardly placed around the big room. I noticed the adequate pool when we arrived, earlier there were some kids playing in it. Our room was yes…adequate.

I was awake and staring at the ceiling. Mom was asleep. I glanced over my shoulder at the clock.

1:30AM. I had been asleep for two hours. Whoopee…I was now wide awake. Mister graveyard strikes again. Sleep was no longer an option. I was feeling antsy to explore the big city. I dressed as quietly as I could, grabbed the car keys and room key and exited. The hallway was quiet and dim; there were no sounds except my sweats and my shoes. They squeaked and rubbed in unison as if conspiring to reveal my escape. I turned into the lobby and eyed all the chairs and tables looking lonely now after all the earlier action.

Lonely yes…it was now nearing 1:45 in the morning.

I walked outside and was hit by a wall of heat. The neon sign near the entrance of the hotel said eighty degrees. I grumbled to myself…this wasn’t California humidity. Trust me…It was closer to one hundred. I could feel a trickle of sweat on my forehead by the time I located my rental car, a 2002 white mustang. The silence was stunning, the clouds above me looked lower than usual, they floated in near suspension as if waiting for something to happen.

I had no plan, no idea of where I was going. That is…until I heard a rumble. The stomach and spoken and the stomach knows what it wants.

Food.

I fired up the mustang and made a right on 95th Street. Food…eat…I figured I would be able to find an all night restaurant somewhere. I looked to my left and then right, seeing only stores and half lit gas stations. Then I spotted a bright light and there it was…a restaurant. I turned into the parking lot, glancing over to make sure there were people eating inside. I couldn’t see anybody but hell it was after two in the morning. I did see a waitress sitting at one of the tables smoking a cigarette. Oh well, I entered the restaurant not sure what to expect. Tables lined up on both sides, a dirty tile floor below me and a long cloud of smoke to greet me. A man of about fifty five (give or take ten years) stood behind the counter counting some money. A cigarette dangled from his bottom lip. This same bottom lip drooped like a fish with a hook in it. His upper lip was moving ever so slightly. His glasses were perched at the end of his long nose. He was leaning over either in pain or in disbelief at what he was seeing. I was thinking the same thing. Describing his appearance as rumpled would be very kind. I found myself staring at his cigarette. The ash had taken on a life of its own, growing and growing until now, it was longer than the smoke. I kept waiting for it fall…plop…on the counter.

He still hadn’t noticed me.

I cleared my throat; Fish Mouth looked up scowling at me.

He said “What can I help you with?” his voice was deep and scratchy; he probably didn’t sing much in his spare time. The ash had still not fallen…

I said “Do you serve food?”

More scowling “Of course…Sue!!”

The waitress who had been smoking when I arrived asked me where I wanted to sit. I chose a place by the window, she handed me a menu and went away. I already knew what I wanted. I looked over at Fish Mouth, he had finished counting the money and was now staring at a newspaper a fresh smoke blazing away. He would occasionally eyeball me. The waitress retuned with a smile…

“You ready?” she said.

I ordered sausage and eggs, she smiled and walked away. Her hair was pink and stuck straight up as if she had just been electrocuted. When she smiled…an earring…or something appeared. I was positive she had four more earrings around her eyes. There were rings on all ten of her fingers. She gave my order to the cook and then found a booth about twenty feet from me and sat down. Another waitress appeared from somewhere and joined her. This one had orange hair. I caught Fish Mouth looking at me again.

Great…I had wandered into some freak show of a restaurant.

Part Two

The freak show soon turned into something else.

Slapstick.

I was gazing outside watching an occasional car pass by when a sound reverberated through the restaurant. I looked around; the waitress with the orange hair was craning her neck in the direction of the kitchen. I followed her lead; I couldn’t see the cook…all that was visible was the counter. Fish Mouth was staring at his newspaper.

A thought then popped into my mind and…stomach.

Where was my food?

And where was the punky waitress?

Both of my questions were soon answered.

The punky waitress was limping towards my table, a sheepish look on her face. She reached my table eventually and said “Ummm…I’m sorry sir…I dropped your food…I think I sprained my ankle.” Her voice sounded like a squeak.

I blinked twice and nodded “Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure” she squeaked “Your food will be up in a few minutes”

With that she limped away, the other waitress…the hard working one with the orange hair got up. They conversed for a minute, the injured one sat down. The orange haired one stood and went into the kitchen. Team work.

The sausage and eggs were good. Happily they had arrived at my table without any more mishaps. I resisted the urge to check for dirt on and around my eggs. No class. I eat as quickly as I could. The sausage tasted like sausage. As I was enjoying my breakfast a voice cut through the air. I looked over my shoulder and saw a young guy, dressed in black strut into the restaurant. He strolled over to where the punky injured waitress sat, she stood with a grimace, they hugged. The other waitress came out of the kitchen and came charging over. Fish Mouth gave them all the evil eye. 

The kid was good looking and he knew it. He had on tight jeans, a tight shirt and even tighter hair. He was about my size and whatever he was saying was fascinating to the waitresses. I heard a chirping sound and saw him reach into his back pocket. He pulled out a minuscule cell phone and began talking in a language that sounded vaguely familiar. He then stood up and waved at the waitresses, who as if accepting their orders got up and left. They stood near the kitchen watching him.

He clicked off his cell phone and smiled. His phone chirped again, he yakked and yakked loudly totally oblivious to his surroundings. The punky injured waitress brought my bill over. The stud was still on his cell phone. I was ready to go but mister stud beat me to it. He stood and waited, on cue the waitresses came over to hug him. He walked out with his cell phone ringing again. I pegged him as some minor drug dealer but…I could be wrong.

I handed my bill to Fish Mouth. He said nothing. I wanted to ask him if he ever went fishing but somehow resisted. I walked over to where the injured waitress was sitting and gave her a nice tip, I figured she earned it.

I walked outside and watched the stud pull out in a black Corvette. What a shocker. Maybe he wasn’t a drug dealer, maybe he was some spoiled rich kid…but all those calls?

It didn’t matter really; I was ready to take a drive…a drive into the underbelly of history.

Part Three

As I fired up the mustang to leave I turned up the volume of the radio. I made a right on West 95^th Street, fiddling with the radio and then found a station that was playing less talk and more rock. People are Strange by the Doors was on…I nodded remembering the restaurant with the two punky waitresses, the fish mouth manager and the prince of darkness.

West 95^th was quiet. I didn’t spot another car for over five minutes. On both sides of the street were various businesses, all closed at this ungodly hour. I didn’t see anybody walking.

The time was closing in on 2:30AM.

I cruised down the street staying below the speed limit. Hours before when Mom and I had made our way along this same street I had felt like a glorified sardine. There were cars everywhere, behind me, in front of me, on the side of me, pushing, impatient, all trying to get somewhere.

I had no idea where I was going. I passed a place called Hickory Hills, hadn’t my Uncle Nick once lived there? Actually I think he still lives there. Memories, I had been here in the 1960’s a number of times. My Aunt Teresa used to live near here, my uncles too. My grandmother’s last apartment was literally around the corner.

I could still hear my grandmother’s voice. She had been gone for almost thirty years and her image was fading, but her voice was still clear.

Most of my family was born in Chicago. My dad lived on the south side, my mom on the west. I had seen where they had lived and where they had laughed and played. It was bittersweet.

Most of their places were all gone now. Like the people. There were new people there now, with new memories and new hopes. 

A light flickered behind me…WOW I said…another car. I was going about thirty five miles per hour and had all the windows down. The temperature had not changed; the air still felt as though a heater was releasing it. I flicked some sweat off my brow. The Doors had finished singing about strange people, I pressed the scan button on the radio. The sky seemed darker than it was earlier. Was it going to rain? I passed a gas station with lights on but didn’t see any people. The car I had noticed earlier was still behind me. The radio was still scanning and then suddenly it stopped on a crackling sound. The quality was pretty bad, but I could make out the sound of a piano. The music sounded familiar. I smiled as I remembered what it was…Rhapsody in Blue by George Gershwin. 

In front of me I saw a sign…Chicago University; I looked across the street but couldn’t see much, only a long road leading to darkness. I was about to press another button on the radio when a deep voice said “If you…were wondering…what that was you were listening to” he paused…then said “Rhapsody in Blue recorded and played for the first time in…1924.

I felt a chill run through me.

What was it about 1924?

Then I remembered...1924 was the year of the “The Crime of the Century”. My lights flickered across another sign…Chicago University parking. That’s it. They…had gone to Chicago University.

They were Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb two rich and intelligent students who had attempted to pull of the perfect crime. “A thrill kill’ they called it. They abducted a neighbor of theirs; thirteen year old Bobby Franks and killed him. They buried him at a place called Wolf Lake, located on the south side of Chicago around 120^th street.

As I passed another intersection I read the sign and shook my head.

120^th street.

The deep voice on the radio started talking again “1924 was the year of the perfect crime…that wasn’t so perfect…Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb” Yeah…yeah…yeah I know.

A glanced in my rear view mirror, the car I had spotted earlier was still back there, only now it was getting closer. It looked like an Intrepid but jeez so many cars look the same these days. I couldn’t see who or what was driving it. The radio guy was still droning on about Leopold and Loeb, I pulled off the road and parked near a well lit up, but closed gas station. I smiled waiting for the Intrepid to pass me.

Only…it didn’t.

It had pulled into a similar parking lot behind me and parked. His lights went off quickly.

The radio guy said “Now some jazz from the notorious year…1924 …the murder year”

My eyes locked on the digital clock in the mustang.

2:40am.

Part Four

I sat there thinking.

I glanced in the rear view mirror; the Intrepid was still back there the darkness encapsulating it. All I could see was the front of the car and nothing else. A dark form sat behind the wheel. I could see the tip of an elbow resting on the driver’s door. I considered this a positive sign because I was doing the exact same thing. I noted some stranger odor coming from somewhere. I scanned the inside of the car and outside but nothing jumped out at me.

Ok…I glanced back at the Intrepid, still there, and began to ponder WHO it was.

A off duty cop was the most obvious. A cop would naturally be suspicious if he spotted a brand new car cruising alone in the middle of the night. He didn’t know I was some transplanted Californian driving around the streets of Chicago because I couldn’t sleep. I wondered if he had run my plates. Had he even gotten close enough to see my plates? I doubted it, anyway this car was a rental so maybe just maybe, he was like me suffering from insomnia, who went out for a relaxing drive, or a guy on his way to work, or better yet…The disembodied voice from the radio interrupted my train of thought…

“Of the two murderers the evidence seems to indicate that Richard A. Loeb…a boyish…intelligent practical joker was the more vicious…Loeb had began his career in crime as a petty thief…he soon graduated to contemplating a more hideous act…he had known Nathan Leopold since they were both fifteen”

I turned the volume down on the radio and rested my head on the back of the seat and rubbed my eyes. I was finally getting tired. A breeze had picked up outside, I watched a lone tree in the middle of the parking lot sway with the wind. I yawned and glanced in the rear view mirror.

The Intrepid was gone.

I felt a stab of fear in my chest. Where was he? I looked in the side mirror and saw nothing and then fired up the mustang. I was thinking fast…ok…he had left but WHY hadn’t I seen his lights? He was almost directly behind me. It just didn’t make any sense.

It was as if he had been swallowed up by the night.

Part Five

The time was 2:55AM…

The mysterious Intrepid was gone; I figured that I better do the same thing. I revved up the Mustangs motor for a second and took another look around my surroundings.

It was so quiet…only the cascading shadows from the buildings were present. The breeze had died again as if it was like me, getting tired. I put the mustang in drive and pulled back onto West 95th street. I kept and eye out for the Intrepid thinking that perhaps he was hiding nearby. But no…nobody was behind me, only some memories of a long ago crime and the participants who conceived it. I drove down 95th slowly, my tired eyes scanning for movements of any kind.

I had traveled about six blocks when finally a light was red. I slowed down and stopped. My eyelids felt heavy, the silence was getting to be too much. I needed something to wake me up; music would do the trick I said to myself. I reached over to push the button on one of the rock and roll stations but saw myself turn the volume up on the radio. That same voice from before greeted me…

He was still talking about Leopold and Loeb…”Richard Loeb was murdered in prison in 1936…quite ironic don’t you think that a murderer would end up getting murdered himself…a pause…then…Leopold was released from prison in 1958.

The time was 3:06AM. 1958 was the year I was born. The light was still red. Something on the other side of the street caught my eye. A car…but not just any car…THE car. The Intrepid was back.

He was going in the opposite direction, back to where I had just come from. The driver was looking at me. I could see his face, young in his early twenties, light complexion, his hair was a dirty blonde and slicked back like they used to wear in the…he looked a lot like…NO.

It couldn’t be. I’m seeing things, the light was green I hit the pedal hard and moved down 95^th, destination the hotel where things would make sense. The hotel was only a few blocks away  now.  I kept glancing behind me, looking for the intrepid but only seeing darkness and finally some other cars. I kept shaking my head…ok if I must I’ll say it.

The guy driving the Intrepid looked like a dead ringer for…Richard Loeb. I’d seen lots of pictures of Loeb so I know what he looked like, and the resemblance was more than just uncanny.  

I know…I know…the creep had died in 1936 but still.

I pulled into the parking lot feeling exhausted.

I entered the hotel lobby. Nothing had changed. This pleased me. I heard a sound behind me and looked back. I could see someone sitting on the bench just outside the hotel, funny I hadn’t seen anyone when I walked in. This person was a young male in his twenties, with dark hair slicked back like they used to wear in the old days. He was dressed in a suit and was looking directly at me. I turned away shaking my head, there’s no way that was Nathan Leopold.

After a few seconds I forced myself to turn around and look. All I saw was an empty bench sitting all alone in the dark.

I muttered and shook my head; nobody was going to believe this. But…I KNOW what I saw…in the dead of the night.

© John J. Raspanti, October 2008

Robert Ryan

From Villain to Hero

By John Raspanti

Robert Ryan was never really impressed by himself.

After being told he was one of the screens all-time heavies, He said “I guess they never saw me in most of my pictures. Still, I've never stopped working so I can't complain.”

Ryan also mocked his own looks…”I had a long seamy face.”

Handsome or not his ruggedness added to the realism he attempted to bring to each of his roles. People who met him including his co-stars said he was one of the nicest people they ever worked with. Heavily involved in liberal politics his entire life Ryan, was the total opposite of the bad guys he portrayed.

How was he able to tap into his dark side?

Artistic by nature, Robert Bushnell Ryan was born November 11, 1909 in Chicago, Illinois. Ryan’s father was a builder, who owned his own company. Robert had no interest in following in his fathers footsteps. As a young boy he read Shakespeare which really annoyed his father. His father nudged him towards the boxing ring hoping to knock some of the ‘drama’ out of him. He wanted to write and dreamed of being a journalist or better a playwright. Problem was this was the depression so Robert took on some odd jobs… ship’s stoker, sand-hog, ranch-hand, cemetery-plot pitchman and later salesmen. It was all about a paycheck.

He enrolled in Dartmouth University in 1932 still dreaming of being a writer. He ended up on the boxing team and surprised everyone (except himself) by winning the university’s heavyweight championship. He went undefeated in his four years at Dartmouth.

He graduated and came back to Chicago. His parents were still advising him to give up his dream and get to work. He did so by modeling and acting in some amateur plays. He then decided to risk it all. He took all the money he had…300 dollars…and invested it in an oil well. The Irish eyes were smiling as the well turned into a gusher.

Robert took his oil money and came to Hollywood. He debated enrolling at the Pasadena Playhouse where he might have bumped into a guy named George Bessolo, but instead he ended up at Max Reinhardt’s acting school where he met his future wife Jessica. After a month a scout from Paramount came out to see the rangy kid from Chicago but came away unimpressed…“He (Ryan) is not the type for movies”

His own mother heartily agreed. After he informed her of his desire be an actor she said…“But…you can’t act!”

Ryan ignored criticism of his ability and continued to work at it, even singing and dancing a number of times. This time stingy old Paramount was impressed. They signed him to a contract that paid 75 bucks a week. He had a number of bit parts but continued to study other actors, watching and learning. Paramount dropped him after a year. Ryan continued to work freelance. He acted along side such names as Pat O’Brien, Randolph Scott, and Fred Astaire. Some of the critics had begun to comment on the 6’4 Ryan. He needed a breakthrough role. Even his mother was looking at him differently.

 “My mother” replied Robert…Bless her, is offended by my tough roles…but she doesn’t object to the money I make.”

The ‘tough roles’ are what most people remember about Ryan, but there was so much more to his talent. He could easily change from the bad guy at black rock to a heroic boxer in THE SET-UP. Let’s go explore three of his movies that show off his ability to transform himself from sinister to kind and back again.

Ryan got his big break with the 1947 film noir classic CROSSFIRE. Extremely controversial for its time, CROSSFIRE is an exciting thriller\drama that deals head on with bigotry and hate. A kindly Jewish man is found dead in his apartment and the evidence points to a soldier. Ryan plays Montgomery who comes upon the scene and immediately begins to help police captain Finlay played by Robert Young. He seems kind and very helpful pointing the captain in the direction of…an innocent man.  “Anyway I can help, yes sir” he says as tight as the devil. He even smiles. But still there’s something not right about Montgomery.

Police Captain Finlay: What kind of guys?
Montgomery: You know the kind. Played it safe during the war, keepin' themselves in civvies, nice apartments, swell dames... you know the kind.

Before long Robert Mitchum cast as Sgt. Peter Keely saunters into the police station to talk things over with Captain Finlay.

Working next to some talented actors, Ryan makes the most of his screen time. His secret in CROSSFIRE is that he gives his character equal shadings of sharp awareness and dim bulb stupidity. The man believes everything he says, his racist brush reducing most people to anything he says they are. He truly hates most everyone (especially Jewish people) whom he feels have things way too easy. In the barracks with some of the other soldiers he mocks one of them, a southerner for being a stupid hillbilly. He glowers and stares and continues to badger. He uses his towering height and physique to intimidate. In all of his scenes Ryan underplays it, never allowing his performance to veer over the top.

Talking about the ‘others’ (Jews) he’s as intense as a bomb that’s ready to explode. It’s quite a chilling and believable performance. The other two Roberts, Young and Mitchum, are both quite good in their roles. But it’s Ryan who steals the movie.

In 1948 Robert Ryan was rewarded for his powerful performance. He was nominated for an academy award for best supporting actor.

After garnering so much acclaim, an academy award nomination and endless respect from his peers, Robert changed course and decided to play the hero. He was cast as Bill ‘Stoker’ Thompson in director Robert Wise’s lean, mean masterpiece…THE SET-UP.

THE SET-UP is arguably the greatest boxing movie ever filmed. Its raw bone style mixed with a dose of noir and drama combine to make it at seventy two real time minutes, an emotional experience in dreams, heartbreak and reality. The scenes of the screaming mob during the fights are incredible in their symbolism. The film begins with a ‘meet’ between Stokers corrupt manager Tiny, played by George Tobias and the manager of the other fighter Tiger Nelson in a small town somewhere in Americana called Paradise City. Loitering in the background and supplying an occasional wisecrack is actor Percy Helton cast here as ‘Red’, Stoker’s trainer. A few years later, as Hamlet, he will appear in THE ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN attempting to teach a hood by the name of “Boulder” how to speak like Superman.

The setup is made and Stoker’s manager and trainer are happy. They split the money (sort of) and then proceed not to tell Stoker of the arrangement. Except Red is not so sure…

Red: I tell you, Tiny, you gotta let him in on it.
Tiny: How many times I gotta say it? There's no percentage in smartenin' up a chump.

Stoker has other ideas. He believes he can win.  He might be thirty five years old and past his prime but he can still punch and for that matter dream. There’s the crux of the film. Winning is more then just defeating Tiger Nelson to Stoker, its winning the dream and the battle with himself. Tough and tender, ethical and compassionate Ryan injects Stoker with a tragic yet heroic power. His scenes with Audrey Totter who play his wife in the film, are touching and effective. She’s tired of her life as a fighter’s wife. Ryan uses his eyes very effectively in a number of scenes. When he talks about being only ‘one punch away’ from the big money they light up and sparkle. But then later as he gazes at the hotel where his wife is or the empty seat he bought for her in the arena, despair and a quiet despondence creep in. It’s impossible not to cheer for him…

Cary Grant told Robert…“I want you to know that I just saw The Set-Up and I thought your performance was one of the best I’ve ever seen”

The praise was unanimous.  Three years later Robert starred for the second time with Ida Lupino in ON DANGEROUS GROUND…

Cast as embittered detective Jim Wilson, Ryan once again dives into the dark side. In the first half of the film we watch as Wilson, a basically honest man becomes more and more caustic and violent. He’s sick and tired of all the filth and decay that he deals with on a daily basis. His interrogations are turning more and more violent…

 “Why do you make me do it? You know you're gonna talk! I'm gonna make you talk! I always make you punks talk! Why do you do it? Why?

Ryan shouts these words, as if he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He’s one punch away from losing his job, so his boss sends him up north to solve the murder of a local girl. He hooks up with vengeful Walter Brent played by Ward Bond whose daughter was murdered. Later in the film he meets Mary, a blind girl who senses something ‘else’ in Jim other than just violence.  Ida Lupino plays Mary with grace, understanding and vulnerability. Her scenes with Ryan are beautifully played as these two lonely souls connect. 

As good as everybody is in the film, Ryan outshines them all. He shows us Wilson’s loneliness and bitterness, and than later we see a man who finally may have found somebody to believe in. He again uses his eyes, his face a road map of subtleness. It’s an amazing, powerful and nuanced transition and Ryan makes us believe it.

In ON DANGEROUS GROUND Ryan had combined the ‘bad’ from CROSSFIRE and the ‘good’ from THE SET-UP to create a complicated man named Jim Wilson.

A year later he would again impress as scheming charmer Ben Vandergroat opposite James Stewart in THE NAKED SPUR. This time his villain is a laughing manipulator, a hyena of a man who takes great joy in using anyone and everyone. It’s quite a performance.

Over the next twenty years he would star opposite Spencer Tracy in another classic called BAD DAY AT BLACK ROCK and that same year as a near blind  Marshall in Robert Webb’s THE PROUD ONES. He did some TV in the mid fifties and early sixties and then returned to the movies in THE DIRTY DOZEN in 1967, LAWMAN with Burt Lancaster and THE WILD BUNCH in 1969. 

Ryan achieved some more acclaim in 1973 for his performance in THE ICEMAN COMETH. Sadly this would be his last performance.

Today most people remember him mostly for his villainous roles, but as he proved over and over again his range as actor was as impressive as his presence on screen.

When he died in 1973, Newsweek wrote…“Ryan died this year, leaving behind a lifetime of roles too small for his talent.”

Sadly there’s some truth to this last statement, but when Ryan got the chance he showed what the term “actor” really meant.

THE END

© John Raspanti, August 2008

The Lost Boys

Success at a young age can be an intoxicating and overwhelming experience. My only brush with this phenomenon happened in the spring of 1971. Our school had gone on its yearly spring field trip to a place called Loma Mar. The trip on the old ‘rickety rack’ bus was long and monotonous. To a twelve year old who was bored easily, the trip was close to torture. Honestly I didn’t even feel like going. I would have much preferred staying home and working on my ‘hoop’ skills. But my mom…the veto artist thought it would be fun. So as always Mom won…and so I went. 

Did somebody say fun…huh!

After arriving I can remember yawning and staring up at the redwood trees…ok…I had to admit that the trees were pretty awesome, the air was different too…cleaner. It was probably close to eighty degrees. Off to the side of the bus was a huge red facility…and near it was a fenced in pool. I could see a bunch of people milling around. Hum…this was interesting. Who were they?

The answer to my question came within seconds. One of our teachers informed us that a small faction of the Disney film company was here also…filming a movie. We all looked at each other. Then the teacher said…

 “The director also said that he needs some kids for his movie…so tonight after dinner…he’s going to be there…and pick four of you.”

Believe it or not...I was one of the kids picked for the movie.

We spent five extra days up at Loma Mar filming. I had all of two lines but that didn’t matter. I loved everything about it. Between takes there was a lot of sitting around, but not me. I bugged the cameraman to show me what he was doing. I watched the director set up some scenes. I was his shadow, his little assistant.  The animal trainer took me to the shower room where the seals were. They yawned at me and some growled.

“That’s Smokey “he said…the star of the film.”

Smokey “played” Salty in the movie. He was a nice seal.

On our way home we heard there might be some people meeting us at the school. The word had gotten out that some of us had been picked to be in a movie. Actually the WHOLE school was there along with our parents. I can remember looking out the window of the bus as we pulled into the driveway…I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There were people everywhere. I got off the bus and heard screaming and applause, some kids touched me, others wanted my autograph. I was staggering…I was something of a celebrity. The other kids wanted to hang out with me. This lasted for awhile. Most everything was returning to normal until a Sunday night in December when the movie…Salty the Harbor Seal premiered on NBC. Some of the worshipers were back for a few days and then they were all gone. A few months later I was back to being just John…the kid who loved sports especially basketball. It really didn’t feel too bad…  

I was lucky because my small encounter with fame was nothing like what The Lost Boys had to face. They were on Broadway in a hit play and then just a few years later bonafide movie stars, one at the ripe old age of fourteen. They were heroes to some of the ‘real’ street kids who watched their movies whenever they were lucky enough to find five cents. To the street kids the boys were one of them…they expected to bump into them, in an alley or down the street. Or maybe even better...meet them for a rumble. Funny thing was…the boys in some ways…really were…what they portrayed.

The oldest was born June 3^rd, 1917 in New York City.  His middle name was Bernard  after his father. His first name was Leo. His last name was Gorcey. His father stood 4’10 inches…and his mother 4’11. They both worked in vaudeville.  Leo was raised in a broken home. His father had left the family upon discovering that his wife, Leo’s mother was having an affair with an opera singer. Leo was twelve when his parents divorced. He was angry with both parents. He was angry…period.  Leo was booted out of more than half a dozen schools for fighting. In high school the other kids giggled at Leo’s sarcastic remarks at anyone who annoyed him. They were all poor and he was fighting for them. He was voted president of his drama club even though he complained that he hated acting. Whenever he was late or his desk was empty the other kids figured he'd been expelled again. 

He worked as a plumber for his Uncle Rob. He didn’t like the job much but he had to work. His mouth was still getting him trouble. His uncle had already fired him a half a dozen times. The job was boring, and Leo wanted to be the boss. One day, after being fired again he went to the Belasco theater to see his little brother. David Gorcey had a small role in a play called…Dead End.  

David was thrilled when his older brother came around backstage. He was about to go on…that is until a fellow actor got sick and collapsed. David persuaded Leo to go on the stage...Leo grumbled “I ain't seen a script”…but still he agreed to go on.

He decided to ad-lib the scene...which mortified the director and his cast. But one man liked what he saw. Sidney Kingsley the writer of the play asked Leo to understudy the part of…Spit…Leo agreed and was paid thirty five dollars a week. Soon it was fifty and by opening night Leo was no longer the understudy. Maybe this acting thing wasn’t so bad after all… 

Two other…lost boys…were acting alongside Leo in Dead End.  

One was actually playing the lead, and Leo didn’t like him very much. The feeling was mutual. His birth name was William Halop but everybody called him Billy. He was three years younger than Leo. He had also been born in New York City but unlike Leo’s family his wasn’t considered theatrical. That is until his mother, who had been a dancer heard that a small local radio station was looking for children. Billy was hired immediately and made his professional debut when he was six years old. His father, a lawyer by trade wasn’t thrilled by his young son’s profession, but he figured it wouldn’t last long. Actually the opposite occurred.

Billy continued to work in radio and was joined by his sister Florence. From 1926 to 1933 he appeared on two children’s shows. He liked the work, it was easy…a snap.  Around New York some people knew him by name. Later in 1933 Billy was asked to replace another actor on a show called…The H-Bar-O Rangers…within months the show was renamed The Bobby Benson Hour and the star one Billy Halop was now a household name. During the summer Billy went on a tour playing Bobby Benson.  

When Billy was thirteen he played Romeo in a radio version of Romeo and Juliet. A few months later he was Puck in A Midsummer Nights Dream. He was now earning 750 bucks a week. In 1935 he was the first actor cast in Dead End…a play revolving around survival, dreams and regrets in the slums of New York. . With all his experience and plus the fact he was already a radio star Billy received the most money and his own dressing room. Leo and the others sneered.

Dead End opened on October 28, 1935 to rave reviews and enthusiastic audiences. Singled out were Billy as Tommy, Leo as Spit and the youngest member of the cast a precocious twelve year old who played Angel.

Bobby Jordan who played Angel was born April 1, 1923. Born with more talent than most, by four years old he could sing, dance and play the saxophone. His mother took him to talent shows in New York City and by the age of seven he debuted in the play Street Scene. Bobby was ten when he appeared in a Universal short subject. He also modeled for newspaper and magazine advertisements. Bobby was attending a Professional Children’s school when playwright Sidney Kingsley selected him to play Angel in Dead End.  

Everybody liked Bobby. He was kind, funny and enormously talented. Even grouchy Leo warmed up to the ‘runt’ as he called him. Billy respected Bobby’s all around ability, as did the other cast members. He kept things light during rehearsals. Acting came naturally. But still there was an edge to Bobby. You didn’t push him too much. He was tougher than he looked.

Dead End was a smash and would eventually end its run on Broadway in 1938. By this time the ‘boys’ were in Hollywood. Bobby had arrived there first. Samuel Goldwyn had acquired the rights to Dead End. Goldwyn didn’t like the play very much but he liked money and he knew Dead End was a potential moneymaker.

Goldwyn was right.   Filming started May 3, 1937.  Director William Wyler tried to keep the boys in line. They called him Willie and Goldwyn ‘Pops’. They laughed at some of the other actors.  Leo had the attention span of a gnat, waiting around the set bored him to tears. He bought a car and racked up four tickets in eighteen days. Even Bobby who was fourteen couldn’t resist going for a ride. Within minutes he was back…with a ticket in his pocket. Billy tried to keep his hi jinks to a minimum. He couldn’t resist engaging in some on set pranks…but still he dreamed of being another Paul Muni. He spent most of his time in his dressing room.

Humphrey Bogart was cast as killer Baby Face Martin in Dead End. He gives one of his best performances, glowing with menace and projecting a real evil. There’s a scene where he teaches Billy to throw a knife that jumps off the screen. Bogie and the boys got along well. That is until…bored again…they tossed some live firecrackers in his dressing room. Bogie woke up to the crackling and smoke, and let out a stream of obscenities. He didn’t speak to the boys for awhile. Leo and the others felt bad. They liked Bogie and called him ‘the prince’.

Dead End opened to universal raves and impressive box office returns. The film was nominated for four academy awards. Again...Leo, Billy and Bobby were singled out for their realism and naturalistic acting.  Regardless of the reviews and the box-office Samuel Goldwyn wanted some payback. He took the advice of one of his producers and sold the boys contracts to Jack Warner. Let Warner have a few migraines, he thought.   

At Warner’s Leo’s antic’s continued to make the newspapers. Warner’s didn’t mind, they loved the free publicity. In 1939 Leo was talking about getting married, this time a few of the Warner’s suits stepped in “ Slow down Leo, if you reform too soon it will be bad for business” Leo’s response?

He chartered a plane and eloped with his sweetheart.

The boys were stars and eating it up. Billy was the heartthrob of the group. He enjoyed the attention, but still he was already thinking ahead. He was concerned about being typecast. He continued to study acting and stay out of trouble. Bobby was now the sole breadwinner for his mother and father…two brothers a sister and a niece. He was fifteen years old.                                                                        

Crime School was the first film that the boys did for Warner’s.

The film was made fast and cheap. Humphrey Bogart was back with the boys but this time instead of a playing a killer he was portraying Deputy Commissioner Mark Braden. Crime School is a well made and tight little crime thriller. Like in Dead End Billy is pitted against Leo. Art was imitating life. Leo felt he should be the leader of the group while Billy felt his acting was superior to Leo’s. The Warner’s writers won the battle.

Jack Warner was not impressed with some of the boys. After Crime School was in the can, Warner’s dropped the contracts of Billy and Huntz Hall, Gabriel Dell and Bernard Punsly. They retained the services of Bobby and Leo. Billy and the others went to Universal and made Little Tough Guy.  Leo was grinning as Billy left the lot. He was now the leader. That is until Crime School opened and was an immediate box office smash. Jack Warner fired the idiot who had convinced him to drop Halop and the others (actually it was Warner’s decision) and swallowed his pride and asked them to come back to the lot. He sweetened the deal by giving them all new contracts. They were back in a flash.

Bobby had been busy. He acted alongside Edward G. Robinson in A Slight Case of Murder and Pat O’Brien in My Bill. The roles were on the small side but still Bobby was noticed. He was branching out and showing off his versatility. He was now living with his large family in Beverly Hills.

Warner’s had the boy’s next feature lined up and ready to go. They had coaxed James Cagney to star, and had Bogie lined up to play a corrupt attorney. A classic was in the making.

Originally titled Battle of City Hall…Angels With Dirty Faces…is a classic Warner Brothers gangster film. Tough and tender…lean and mean with a lot of heart and soul,

The film also benefits from a fabulous performance by James Cagney as career criminal Rocky Sullivan. Rocky comes home to visit his old haunts and hookup with his best friend Jerry.

As kids Jerry and Rocky ran the streets and robbed a train. Rocky was caught, Jerry escaped. Rocky is now a big time gangster…while Jerry is the local priest who runs a home intended to keep boys from crime. So here we have our morale center, with Jerry and Rocky and the boys…the Angels of the title…slipping and sliding along the edges and fighting their impulses.

Billy plays Soapy, again the leader who’s occasionally challenged by Bim played by Leo. Bobby tags along as Swing. During the making of the film Cagney showed the boys who…the real boss was. Off the set Cagney was nothing like Rocky Sullivan but he realized…rather quickly that he would have to continue being Rocky to keep the boys in line. If Leo mumbled his lines…Cagney tagged him. When Billy was feeling a little big for his britches and…blowing his lines, Cagney pressed the script against his face and said…“Read it.”

Leo and the boys backed off and left Cagney alone. This was no guy to push.  

The film opened November 26, 1938. The response was immediate and almost all positive. The film was eventually nominated for three academy awards. The box-office returns thrilled Warner’s.

The boys were now…in more ways than one…bigger than ever. Bobby and his family were living like movie stars and spending his money as soon as Bobby cashed his checks. In a span of nine months Bobby had purchased nine automobiles for his family.

Leo was chasing women…ALL women. He was also chasing whiskey…

Billy was still pestering whoever would listen. He was getting tired of being a Dead End Kid. The suits at Warner's liked the kid, be patient they told him. Behind the scenes there were plans to star the boys with another bad boy from New York. His name was John Garfield… 

They Made Me a Criminal began filming in August of 1938. The boys liked Garfield but couldn’t resist playing him for a fool… they told him director Busby Berkely wanted to speak with him privately…about a mile from the main set. John walked the mile. Berkley wasn’t there. No one was. There were more jokes until John glared at the boys and snarled…

“Ya keep this up and I’ll drown ya…all of ya’

Garfield had heard what Cagney had done on the Angels set and decided it was time to stand up to the boys. There were no more practical jokes.

The film opened in January of 1939 to mostly positive reviews. Garfield garnered the most praise with Billy getting noticed for his dramatic ability. Within a week of its completion Billy was informed that he was going to get his chance to star in a film WITHOUT the other boys. Billy was thrilled. Bogie was back to co-star. 

The filming of You Can’t Get Away With Murder went smoothly and like Garfield before him, Bogart was impressed by Billy’s acting. The box-office was not as impressive causing the suits to ponder if Billy could survive without the other boys.

Next up was another hard hitting melodrama…Hell’s Kitchen.  

Future president Ronald Reagan co-stars. Billy and Leo are again quite good in their roles but Bobby as sickly Joey steals the film. His death scene is easily the most powerful scene in the movie. The film opened in the summer of 1939…Bobby received some of his best notices since Dead End. The former runt was now taller than Leo and almost eye to eye with Billy.

Angels Wash Their Faces followed soon after Hell’s Kitchen. 

Again co-starring Reagan, the film is the weakest of the Warner Brother programmers. Was Warner’s caving in to all the controversy? The boys are much ‘lighter’ here then in previous efforts. There acting seems off balance, and in a way it was. Warner’s was so tired of there antics that they hired a guardian to keep an eye on them. Of course the boys had to test this bozo…and as Leo recalls…

 “Anyone who has ever been hit point blank with a full-size, high pressure fire hose can understand that we were very good kids while working on the rest of that picture."

Angels Wash Their Faces opened and closed pretty quickly.

Next up was a change of pace…and a nice chance for Leo to shine. He is quite good in the film, but sadly On Dress Parade is NOT a very good movie. Written and filmed in an overly sentimental and mawkish way it feels like a precursor for the some of the later…East Side Kids films.  

Bobby and Billy had reunited with John Garfield in Dust Be My Destiny. Their roles…as hobo brothers were small, but still it was fun hanging out with Garfield again. Billy picked Garfield’s brain about the art of acting while Bobby listened, and then sneaked off to read. A tragedy almost occurred on the set one day. Garfield, Billy and Bobby were filming a scene that called for them to run next to a moving train in a real rail yard. At one point Billy slipped and found himself on the other side of the track, facing an oncoming train. Bobby instinctively reached out and pulled Billy to safety.

As the year 1939 ended so did the boys' contract at Warner’s. Billy jumped over to Universal. Bobby and Leo were still at Warner’s. But how could that be? Weren’t they fired? Yes and no…they were still at the lot but…they probably weren’t going to be in any future Warner Brother’s films.

Billy was waiting on Universal who was prepping a new series for him, a…kids series. The advice he received was confusing. He would be the leader ‘again’…of the Dead End Kids…and the Little Tough Guy’s. A gang again…but bigger…he sighed…he was now twenty years old.

Leo was still at Warner’s…wasting away as a former somebody. They did cast him in a couple of films, but the parts were small and not important. Leo didn’t like it…for the first time in years he had some down time. Not good. Down time meant more drinking…and more women. Marriage hadn’t stopped him. One day Bobby called him…and suggested he come over to Monogram studios...

“There ain't much money"…replied Bobby “and no Cagney and Bogie…but it beats starving!” 

Leo joined Bobby on the set of Boys of the City...which was actually the second East Side Kids film. The tone was much different then the hard hitting Warner melodramas that had made them famous. The East Side Kids films were lighter and focused a lot more on comedy. Boys was a typical Monogram production, if you could call it that. The sets were cheap, and the motivation was…make it quick and move on…but still Leo was happy, Billy was long gone. Leo was finally the leader even though it was Bobby who received top billing.  Onscreen their chemistry was easy and carefree, though off-screen Leo had no time for Bobby.

Call the Messenger was Billy’s first Universal film. Combining the Dead End Kids and Little Tough Guy’s the film tried to recreate moments from Dead End and Angels…but the critics didn’t see it. The Motion Picture Herald wrote “The film is neither tremendous or trivial, mighty nor meager, but a sanely, sensibly constructed item of product.” 

Before starting work at universal, Billy co-starred in Tom Brown’s School Days which starred another former child actor…Freddie Bartholomew. This was an important picture and Billy enjoyed playing the part of the bully who pushed around Jimmy Lydon. The critics noticed too…singling out his performance.  

Bobby wasn’t surprised at the success of the East Side Kids films. His agent told him that if he wanted to…he could go over to Universal and reunite with Billy, Gabe and Huntz.in the next Dead End Kid’s picture. Even Leo’s little brother David had a recurring but small role in the series. Bobby pondered…the next East Side Kids film was being prepped…there was the constant problem of bills and demands from his family. Anyway he loved the work…

Bobby was on the set when You’re Not So Tough started production. Billy was happy to see him as where the other boys. Tough’s reviews were good, and the box-returns made Universal happy. The film is definitely an improvement over Call the Messenger and is arguably the best of the universal produced Dead End Kids pictures.  

Back at Monogram, Leo was happy to see he was receiving top billing on the next East Side Kids film…That Gang of Mine. Shot in less the six days the film returned it’s investment within weeks. Monogram had a hit series on its hands. 

Twenty more East Side Kid features were filmed…they all made money. The cheap budgets didn’t matter, or the below average scripts. There breezy banter…often ad-libbed by Leo, was funny. Leo loved to ad-lib and his trademark malapropisms ("This calls for drastic measurements") only made him more endearing to the movie going public.  

Universal cast Billy and the boys in a couple of serials…the first one Junior G-Men.

The boys had come a long way…their roles were more heroic but the product that Universal was putting out was still mediocre. The studio didn’t care because like the East Side Kids…their films always made money. All in all eight films were produced along with three serials.  

Billy made Mug Town which turned out to be his last film as a Dead End Kid; he enlisted in the military soon after production was completed. He joined the Signal Corps and became Sergeant Halop. Universal considered their revamped…Dead End Kids series…cancelled. 

Bobby had joined Billy at Universal for a couple of more Dead End Kids films. In his last appearance in 1943 he actually played Billy’s role…the film… Keep ‘Em Slugging was forgettable. But Bobby, playing the leader…shined.

A few months later Bobby also joined the military as a foot soldier in the 97^th Infantry Division. Neither Bobby nor Billy was concerned about putting their careers on hold. 

Leo’s number had also come up. A few days before his induction, he was flying down Ventura Boulevard on his motorcycle.  The speed limit didn’t matter, but a blown rear tire did. Leo’s body flew through the air and landed on the pavement. He broke both arms, fractured his skull and broke some ribs. Leo was in a coma for a week but somehow survived. Finally released almost a year later, he failed the military’s physical. Refusing drugs to ease the chronic pain, he drank even more. 

Fully recovered from his accident, Leo was looking for something more. The ‘more’ was money. He didn’t like working for peanuts, so he got together with Bobby’s manager who hammered out a percentage deal for Leo. Huntz Hall also received a new contract. For the next two years until 1945, Monogram and the East Side Kids made eight more movies. Leo was the established star, with Huntz as his number one sidekick. Within a year Leo would come up with another…bold idea.

Bobby’s parents were missing their meal ticket, so they begged him for help. He took a leave from his division and made an appearance in Bowery Champs.  

Bobby had trusted his parents to handle his money while he was away. They handled it by going to the racetrack and investing it in empty buildings. Bobby served two years and eleven months sustaining a serious injury before he was discharged. He got married on March 12^th, 1946 and returned to Hollywood ready to resume his career.

Billy was also discharged in early 1946 and wasted no time contacting the studio…only…now things were different…“When I came back to California in 1946, no one remembered who I was” he said.

He got married for the first time. Later in 1946 an offer came to work in a East Side Kids knockoff called…Gas House Kids…also staring Carl ‘Alfalfa’ Switzer. Needing money Billy took the job. He felt like Hollywood was laughing at him.  

Leo wasn’t worrying about much except maybe how much his latest divorce settlement would cost. He had decided that since he was the star...and the leader…the East Side Kids should have a new name…The Bowery Boys…or from now on…Leo Gorcey and The Bowery Boys. The percentage deal he had worked out with the studio was paying off handsomely. He was also being paid to co-write some of the scripts and produce. The critics were pretty kind to Leo and divided about The Bowery Boys but it really didn’t matter. The films were critic proof. Leo was also dabbling in real estate, and laughing all the way to the bank.   

Bobby had returned to the set to a find a new name for the boys and more focus and Huntz and Leo and less on his character. Not one to complain he kept to himself, but he was frustrated and debated quitting. Ultimately he decided to hang around for awhile.

After the Gas House Kids opened Billy’s phone didn’t ring. He brooded at home. But out of the blue his agent called and told he was being cast in a film entitled Dangerous Years. He felt he was finally free of the Dead End Kid’s label. He changed his professional name to William Halop. The film also starred former little rascal Scotty Beckett, who was about to embark on a long downward spiral that would end tragically in Oakland, California twenty years later.  

Billy waited anxiously for the release of Dangerous Years. He felt good about his performance. Sadly when the film opened, the critics barely noticed him. He was devastated and began to drink more. He was offered another dead end kind of film and turned it down flat. He joined the stage company of Golden Boy and got out of town.

Bobby was also ready to go. He was sick and tired of blending deeper and deeper into the background. His line’s had been cut. He couldn’t help remembering when HE was the star of the East Side Kids films. As the year 1947 ended…so did Bobby’s role in The Bowery Boys series. He had had enough… 

Leo was divorced for the second time in February, 1948. During the divorce proceedings his estranged wife Evalene stated “Leo drinks to excess and carries a gun, my thirty one year old husband can never forget the role he played in Dead End as a teenager. He’s never stopped playing that role” Leo said nothing.  The Bowery Boys movie assembly line continued, if they missed Bobby, nobody said anything.

Billy’s first marriage ended after only eleven months. He tried again on February 14, 1948. He was looking for stability in his life. His career was anything but stable; he co-starred in a forgettable programmer called Challenge of the Range in early 1949.  He also had a bit part as a boat attendant in Too Late for Tears.  The name of the movie said it all…he bitterly replied…

“I hate the word dead end…I was typecast…I couldn’t get work.”

There were no movie offers for Bobby either. His family had informed him, that his money…was gone. Apparently his mother liked to gamble. Bobby had developed a nightclub act and figured now was the time to try it out. He was thinking comeback…at twenty five years old. In his act he sang and did impersonations of Bogart and Cagney. Most of the critic’s liked what they saw. So did the people, but it was still hard to get steady work and Bobby missed making movies. Like Billy, he began to drink heavily.

By 1955 Leo and The Bowery Boys had made forty one films. The content of the films were now ALL comedies. It was the Leo and Huntz slapstick show. Leo was tired of the grind. His drinking was out of control. Confronted on the set of Crashing Las Vegas he grew angry and belligerent. He was seeing ghosts…

“I just saw Papa in the chair over there.” 

Huntz Hall ran over and motioned for everyone else to stay away…

His voice was hushed…“Leo…Leo…you didn’t see Bernard on the set…Bernard’s not here”

“Not here! I just saw him!!” Leo was crying…he picked up a chair and started to destroy the set…” Papa…Papa…please come back!!!”

Bernard Gorcey had been a regular in The Bowery Boys films since 1947. Leo and Huntz had created a character by the name of Louie…just for him. Bernard had died seven months earlier. His death had shattered Leo, who had worshipped him all his life. Now he was being haunted, everywhere he looked he saw his father. Leo couldn’t concentrate; he was drunk throughout the making of Crashing Las Vegas. The movie still made money. 

Bobby worked on the film Treasure of Monte Cristo.

Was his comeback beginning?  Sadly…No…there were no film offers. In the 1950’s Bobby drifted to television and did find some occasional work on such shows as A Watch for Joe and The Steel Trap. He had smaller parts in Bonanza, Cisco kid, 77 Sunset Strip and Maverick. Bobby was also working as a bartender, not so smart when you consider that he was an alcoholic. Billy had found work in radio and like Bobby…television. In January, 1953 Billy made his television debut on the series Rocket Squad. He could also been seen in episodes of Footlight Parade, Favorite Year, Cisco Kid, Telephone Time and Richard Diamond-Private Detective. Working off and on, his internal demons were getting the best of him. He was drinking more and talking suicide. His wife had left him…he felt lost.

“ My rejection in Hollywood made me feel unwanted…I started drinking to escape…one morning in 1953 I woke and didn’t know who or where I was…the next thing I knew I was in a state hospital and had a series of shock treatments…that brought my memory back…he never drank again.”

Monogram now renamed Allied Artists wanted more Bowery Boys films. Leo wanted more money. Showing up drunk at the lot to discuss the future, Leo told them he wanted a bigger percentage deal. The studio said no…

Leo said fine and slurred “get yourself another sucker” and walked off the lot, never to return.  

Bobby’s marriage ended in 1957. His wife couldn’t handle his drinking.  He had had a few run-ins with the law. Shortly after his divorce he attempted to kill himself at a cheap motel in Hollywood. He was saved by one of the motel staff who had found him in the morning.  Bobby eventually recovered. He tried calling some of his old Hollywood friends. They were nice and said they would call him back, but of course they never did…Bobby took whatever job he could fine…as he said in 1960… “When I left the Dead End Kids I was all right for awhile…but then I came to a dead end…I sold photograph’s as a door to door salesman…but it isn’t very pleasant when people recognize you…nothing came easy anymore.”

Billy could relate. He got married for the third time in 1960. He was working as an electric dryer salesman and actually received an award as the most creative salesman in the United Sates. He was also acting occasionally and appeared in three Perry Mason episodes, and surprised himself and went back to school. His wife Suzanne suffered from multiple-sclerosis and Billy wanted to take care of her. He worked as a nurse at St. Johns Hospital in Santa Monica. He appeared in two episodes of The Andy Griffith Show when word filtered through the grapevine that someone he had once worked with…had died.

Leo had retired and bought a ranch in Los Molinos, California. His fourth marriage had just ended. His drinking consisted of one shot of whiskey an hour , a habit he had maintained for years  He appeared on The Dick Powell  Show and had a bit part in It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World in 1963. He didn’t really miss show business very much. His wives had given him two children, a boy and a girl. He was up at his ranch when he learned that he would soon be attending a funeral.

Bobby hung out at a bar on Hollywood and Vine. If recognized by a tourist he was always kind and gracious. He hadn’t worked in television in four years. He walked with a limp courtesy of a freak accident in an elevator in the 1940’s. He was frustrated. Acting was his life and that…had been taken away from him. He dove deeper into the bottle.

He was living in a cheap apartment in Hollywood with his mother. He saw his son when he could…

“My dad had a lot of disappointments” replied his son Robert Jordan Jr.

Bobby was living with some friends in 1965. His health was deteriorating…but still he drank. In August of that same year he entered the Veterans Hospital in Sawtelle, California. His liver was shot. The last week of his life his son was at his side…

On September 10^th, 1965 the multi talented, vibrant and underrated Bobby Jordan’s heart stopped. He was only forty two years old. All the remaining Dead End Kids reunited for his funeral. Leo later said…“Bobby Jordan must not have had a guardian angel.” 

Leo himself was next to go. He came across his fifth wife from a Lonely Hearts Club magazine, they married in 1968. He pondered a show business comeback but rarely left his ranch. In 1967 He published his autobiography… 

After walking away from the Bowery Boys in 1955, Leo had also walked away from his brother David. In late May, 1968 he collapsed and was taken to the Merritt Hospital in Oakland, California. His thirty seven years of a shot an hour of whiskey had finally caught with him. Like Bobby, his son Leo Jr. was at his side as his gifted and driven father muttered his last words…

“Those dirty rats…those dirty rats”

Leo was one hour short of his fifty second birthday.

Billy supplemented his income by working steadily in television in the 1960’s. Unfortunately his third marriage had ended in 1967. In 1971 he was cast in the hit show All in the Family as Munson, a tough New York City cab driver. Was this poetic justice?  Billy was playing a tough guy from New York. He would eventually appear in nine episodes, and feel himself being rediscovered. I can remember watching an episode and being struck by something. I didn’t recognize him from Dead End and Angels with Dirty Faces, two of my favorite movies.  It was that voice of his, deep, scratchy, and with a brooklyneze drawl that made my eyes widen. Yes, said my dad who always knew these kinds of things, that is the SAME Billy Halop.

Billy died in his sleep on November 9^th, 1976. He was fifty six years old. He had lived long enough to witness some of his old movies being called classics. He liked that… 

And the so boys…the lost boys…had been found again. Critics were talking about their gritty, hard-hitting films. Though their personal lives had been filled with pain and tragedy, ultimately they had been rediscovered by a new generation who loved their raucous antics and reveled in their adventures on screen.  Later as some of them metamorphosed into The Bowery Boys they maintained their unique personalities. One of them felt some bitterness, but near the end he discovered a peace and serenity. They were the perfect fit for their times, the golden age of the movies when…story…not special effects, was the driving force.

John Raspanti © April 2008

John Garfield:

Body and Soul

By John Raspanti                                                

Dark and cynical the young actor smoldered and seethed and responded to his other actors with a rapid fire delivery and intimidating intensity. Moviegoers watching from the shadows asked…who is he? Listed as a supporting player he’s stealing the movie from his more established co-stars. His wife later said “He’s got something”

She was right…that something was ‘real’ and the audience could sense it.

Later in the movie, seated at the piano, a cigarette dangling from his lips, he projects a cynicism and bitterness unseen up to that point.

Playing a character named Mickey…he recites Mickey’s lines as if he had written them himself…

 Mickey “I wouldn’t win first prize if I were the only entry in the contest”

Ann “Mathematically speaking, I think you’d stand a fine chance”

Mickey “You think they’d let me win”

Ann “Who?”

Mickey “They”

Ann “Who?”

Mickey “The fates, the destinies, whoever they are that decide what we do or don’t get”

Ann “What do you mean”

Mickey “They’ve been at me now for a quarter of a century. No let-up. First they said…Let him do without parents…He’ll get along…Then they decided,  He doesn’t need any education…That’s for sissies…Then right at the beginning, they tossed a coin...heads he’s poor, tails, he’s rich.. So they tossed a coin and…”

This was no high brow kid from Beverly Hills ‘playing’ a lost soul…this was somebody who knew how it felt to be lost and could channel it through his acting. He wasn’t quite sure how he did it, oh the method helped but ‘it’ was something else…something deep inside of him.

Where did that something come from?

He was born March 4, 1913 into the poverty of New York’s Lower East Side to David and Hannah Garfinkle. His parents named him Jacob Jules Garfinkle.  Twenty five years later, in his very first movie he was a sensation but his name wasn’t Garfinkle.

It was Garfield…John Garfield.

His early life was difficult. His parents were both Immigrants. There was very little money. The flat they lived in on Rivington Street was a slum apartment; there was no heat in the winter. There was barely a bathroom, as each floor’s tenant had to share a single toilet.  In the summer, the family climbed out on the fire escape or up to the roof to hopefully get some sleep.

His father David worked long hours as a pants presser. He immersed himself in the culture of the old country. John never understood his father. He related much more to his mother who by all accounts was warm, outgoing and very supportive of her young son. When John was five years old his mother gave birth to another son named Max. John was excited but could sense a change in his mother. The pregnancy had been difficult on her and their hard life in the slums unbearable at times. Her health slowly deteriorated until she died in 1920. John didn’t know what to do. If his mother hadn’t died it’s likely that he wouldn’t have hit the streets like he did, but it was right there…so close…right down the steps and out the door. To John it was like the call of the wild so…he went for it.    

On the streets again, John left the pain behind him. He liked practical jokes and ditching school. He had developed a stutter, but that didn’t stop him. He was full of energy and loved showing off. It was all mischief and fun. People liked him; he soon joined a street gang and had his first street fight in a vacant lot not far from where he lived. He learned about loyalty. His father tried moving his family to the Bronx, but basically he felt an indifference towards John and Max.  They were a burden, he shipped them off to other relatives were John learned more and more tricks like…how to steal without being caught. His father remarried in 1925. Her name was Dinah and she cared, cared enough to spend more time at school then John did, explaining his absences. John didn’t see that way. He already had a job selling newspapers. He wanted to quit school completely not an uncommon thing in a household where money was so scarce. Anyway he had discovered something called acting and loved performing for the other kids. But still John wanted to quit school. Dinah said no as did his Father. John mouthed off as usual. They wanted him to get some kind of an education, the problem was finding a school that would engage John, challenge him.

Her friends told Dinah about a school in the Bronx with a reputation for dealing with ‘problem’ children. The school was run by a man named Angelo Patri who tended to be a bit unorthodox in his thinking about education. If he found a student with a particular talent…like acting…Patri would allow the student to concentrate more on their’ talent’ than on the more traditional ‘three R’s’.  So John was sent to live with another of his uncles. At first he didn’t like his new school. John was suspicious of adults but Patri was different. He went out of his way to help him. John’s grades weren’t very good but he did well in Drama. Patri was immediately surprised and impressed at how quickly John was able to grasp character development. He could see that he was a natural. His grades started to improve. John shocked everyone but himself and Patri by coming in second place in a city wide oratorical contest. He later said of Patri “For reaching into the garbage can and pulling me out…I owe him everything”                     

John applied at The American Laboratory Theater. He impressed Maria Ouspenskaya, one of the more prominent drama teachers with his reading of an Edgar Allan Poe poem. Still she needed more and gave him a month to show some promise which he did in the first week. She then awarded him a full seven month scholarship. John was sixteen years old. David Garfinkle thought John’s acting career was ‘silly’. He considered actors ‘bums’. John worked odd jobs and continued to study acting. His lust for life and pursuit of adventure caused more chaos as he went on a cross country ‘vacation’ riding the rails and for months living the life of a hobo. He returned ill having contracted typhoid fever which permanently damaged his heart.

After resting and recovering for over a month John debuted on Broadway in 1931. He landed a small part and was thrilled. He also auditioned and received parts in two other plays. His confidence was growing. In 1934 he joined the Group Theater. That same year he had met playwright Clifford Odets and the two clicked. Odets had been involved with the group since its infancy…and he endorsed John to Lee Strasberg. Strasberg didn’t think much of Odets but after witnessing John’s improvisation with a Picasso painting he was impressed enough to add him to the roster.

The Group Theatre was conceived by Harold Clurman, Cheryl Crawford and Lee Strasberg in 1931. The goal of the group was to produce serious, socially realistic plays that portrayed the times that they were living in. They would act in an ensemble and promote a new ‘acting’ technique called ‘the method’…which is a style of acting where the actors use real life emotional experiences and then incorporate that experience into the character they are playing. John was already using the method without even recognizing it. His method was instinct and he followed it without hesitation. Not as experienced as the others he still had an ability to connect with the character.  Strasberg could see John’s talent but the actors considered him green and very naïve. To them he was just some enthusiastic local kid who probably wouldn’t amount to much. What they couldn’t see was John’s inner drive and determination. He would NOT be denied.

In 1935 John got married. He was twenty one, and Robbe his wife twenty. They had known each other since John was fourteen. Robbe was strong willed and political. John  was pretty easy going and bored by politics. Still they were madly in love and saw no point in waiting. Anyway his acting career was going pretty well, in the next 18 months he appeared in six plays.      

John received good notices for his performances in such plays Awake and Sing and Waiting for Lefty. Both of these productions were written by Clifford Odets whom John considered a friend.  In 1937 he was acting in a more traditional Broadway play called Having A Wonderful Time, and again he received some very positive reviews. His so called friends in The Group were not nearly as impressed, they had ridiculed his performance. A lot of the criticism could be explained by personal jealousy. Here was this green kid doing better than them. John was hurt but as was his habit, he said nothing. Backstage after the play he was visited by Odets, who told John he was writing a new play specifically for him. John was ecstatic…the play was Golden Boy and he felt the part was perfect. 

       In reality the part of boxer Joe Bonaparte, part time violinist and boxer WAS perfect for John. But by the time the play was cast another actor was playing Bonaparte. John was stunned; he couldn’t believe that Odets had broken his promise. Outwardly he hid his disappointment and played the part of Siggie. The play opened in November 1937 and was a smash hit. John still felt the sting of discontent and bitterness. Officials from Warner Brothers and MGM contacted him; they wanted to give him a screen test. He thought what the hell and showed up at the New York offices. He hadn’t told anybody,  it was his instinct and impulsiveness leading him again. He didn’t believe anything would happen anyway, it was all a joke…the movies?

How wrong he was. A few weeks after the test both studios offered contracts. John signed up with Warner’s, a two picture deal that would be completed within a year. Could he survive for one year in Hollywood? He thought one year was plenty.

Of course after John informed The Group that he was on his way to Hollywood, they reacted in disbelief. “Who do you think you are?” they said.

They told him he was extremely limited as an actor, and that they would no longer speak to him during the run of Golden Boy. John felt badly, and tried to explain himself. Some eventually forgave John, others didn’t. They probably realized that John was destined to be a star. John wasn’t thinking movie star as much as survival. He had enough self doubts to sink a ship. But he was curious.

His first film was Four Daughters a bit of a tearjerker about four sisters and their father. John was cast as Mickey and had decided that he would be as professional as he could. The film was completed quickly and so John moved on to his second picture. He had taken to film acting immediately but still considered the whole scene a lark, but he liked the money and Robbe was pregnant. Jack Warner had also convinced John to change his name from ‘Jules Garfield’ to John. He completed his work for Warner Brothers and went home. He figured he wouldn’t hear anymore from Warner’s He just didn’t think his acting was that good.

Then Four Daughters opened. The film was a hit and John was a star. The audience felt his power and magnetism. He couldn’t be acting; he was too down to earth, too genuine. He was…like them. A few months later he was nominated for an academy award. John was in shock.

And so the movie career of John Garfield was born. Unfortunately for awhile he was typecast. John had in essence played the first rebel onscreen. He was the ‘father’ of Clift, Brando, Dean and later Pacino and Deniro.  He made Blackwell’s Island and They Made Me a Criminal with the Dead End Kids in 1939, both films were box-office hits. His rollercoaster-like confidence was sky high. Warner’s thought they had another James Cagney but John had his own other ideas, and demanded something different. He got it with Juarez co-starring alongside Paul Muni. His role was a general named Porfiro Diaz, but he was miscast and he knew it.

Next was a sequel to Four Daughters and a few more potboilers. John was bored. He was getting tired of repeating himself. He again demanded something different. They gave him a script called Saturdays Children, John liked it. He was playing a doctor, not a street kid on the run, or a boxer, just a regular guy. The reviews were good, unfortunately the movie died a quick death at the box office, proving to Warner’s that John had to be in a ‘John Garfield Picture’. They pushed him into doing East of the River which John loathed. His performance revealed his distaste for the script. The excitement that he had created with Four Daughters was dying down, his career was slumping but women were now throwing themselves at John and he had no problem catching what they were throwing. This was all heady stuff for the poor boy from the Bronx. Robbe might have sensed something but chose to ignore it.

He turned down a number of scripts Warner’s offered; got himself suspended. He went back to the stage.  He knew he needed to something different. Then he heard that The Sea Wolf was about to go into production, he pushed for the role of Leach. As a kid he had loved Jack London’s stories, he met with Jack Warner and pleaded his case. Warner finally agreed. Even though his role was supporting, John didn’t care. Edward G. Robinson got top billing. The film was a huge hit at the box office. Next he did Out of the Fog with Ida Lupino. John played a ruthless gangster and was superb, receiving some of the best notices of his career.

For the next few years John Garfield alternated between staring and co-starring in his films. He acted alongside Spencer Tracy in Tortilla Flat and Cary Grant in Destination Tokyo. He enjoyed himself immensely, throwing everything he had into the World War 11 drama, guilty perhaps by the fact that his weakened heart made it unlikely he would serve. John watched old pros Tracy and Grant closely. He was back as the star in The Fallen Sparrow a part drama, part mystery with a little bit of film noir thrown in.  

John still longed for a challenge and got it with Pride of the Marines the true story of World War II hero…Al Schmid. For once John didn’t have to lobby for the part, Warner’s felt there was only one actor who could play the role…John Garfield. Al Schmid didn’t think of himself as a hero. Sent to Guadalcanal, Al and his fellow marines are assigned the job of preventing the Japanese from breaching their line. During a night attack, many of his fellow Marines are killed, but Al ends up single-handedly saving the day, killing hundreds of Japanese soldiers. Wounded during the battle he loses his eyesight. John wanted realism, he didn’t just want to play at being blind, he wanted to feel as much of it as he could. He spent two weeks at the Naval Hospital studying the mentality of blinded soldiers. He hung out with Schmid for over a month, taking notes…watching him. The film was released in August 1945 and the response was overwhelming. John’s acting was praised universally as was the film.

Reaching a new height in his career John took a major hit in his personal life that he never fully recovered from. His daughter Kathleen died suddenly at age seven. John came home to find his daughter already gone, her limp body being cradled by his wife. He burst outside and howled in anguish a gun at his side. He wandered the Hollywood Hills until his friends were able to talk him down. John never talked about the death of his daughter…but whenever the subject came up…his face would slacken and his eyes would drop to the floor. He was soon back to work…

 During the war John and Bette Davis opened the Hollywood Canteen, a club offering food and entertainment for American Soldiers. He traveled to Yugoslavia, North Africa and Italy…entertaining the troops. Forever reeling after the death of his daughter he tried to be a more attentive father but always felt disconnected.

In 1946 he had another hit with The Postman Always Rings Twice alongside Lana Turner. John was perfect as ‘noirish’ character Chambers. His Warner’s contract expired after he completed Nobody Lives Forever and Humoresque. He wanted something else. He had played a variety of characters over the years…the guy on the lam…the guy in prison…the guy with a chip on his shoulder. He was a comic Romeo in Tortilla Flat and then an Irish-American fighting Nazis in The Fallen Sparrow. Most of his performances were quite good…others only so so. He knew this…

“If I don’t find the truth”…he said “I fail miserably”

What to do? How about form your own independent film company. John did this in 1947 with Enterprise Studios, being one of the first actors to take this step.

“I want to make pictures with a point-zing, spit, fire” he said

His company’s first film…with John as the star was Body and Soul and it had all of the zing, spit and fire he was looking for. It’s a morality play with John playing Charley Davies a poor kid from the slums who fights his way to the top without bothering to notice all the carnage piled up around him. John had played a boxer before, but rarely with so much depth and darkness. This is film noir at its finest with the good girl and the femme fatale mixing it up with a healthy dose of cynicism.  Some fifty years later the dialogue still crackles…Charley fed up with his mother’s attempt to get financial assistance says…

“Shorty, get me that fight from Quinn. I want money. Do you understand…money, money!’

His mother replies “I forbid, I forbid. Better buy a gun and shoot yourself”  

Charley retorts “You need money to buy a gun!”

Money, money, money…that’s what Charley is…a money machine. And he thinks that’s all he needs to be…ignoring all the corruption floating around him. He loses almost everything, including himself until the end when he agrees to engage in a fight he really doesn’t want.

After the fight, Charley, gets accosted by the mobster Roberts…who says

“Good fight, champ”

Charley locked in a stare down with the mobster remarks “Get yourself a new boy. I retire”

Roberts “What makes you think you can get away with this?”

Charley “What are you going to do…kill me?...everybody dies”

It’s a classic line…and pure Garfield.

For his efforts in Body and Soul, John received his second academy award nomination. The fact that he didn’t win was disappointing but as he proved in Body and Soul and to a larger extent a year later, Garfield the actor had matured and taken his God given talent to another level.

He followed Soul with Gentleman’s Agreement; which starred Gregory Peck. John was cast in a supporting role and didn’t appear until the halfway point, but when he did he brought energy and focus to the screen. Peck was impressed by his co-star.

“He had strength, a poise, an inner calm”

John considered the theme of the film…anti Semitism so important that he worked for scale. The film and John received mostly enthusiastic reviews.

The next project to showcase John’s talents was Force of Evil another noirish tale written and directed by the same man who wrote Body and Soul…Abraham Polansky. Stretching himself, John found the main character a bit of a mystery. He couldn’t relate to him. Joe Morse is an educated man, a super slick lawyer who uses the power of words to get what he wants. Morse concocts a  brilliant plan for his mobster boss to take over all of the smaller numbers rackets in the city by ‘fixing’ the lottery to fall on the number…776…a number everyone…since it’s July 4^th  has bet on. The only catch in the plan is that Joe's semi-estranged older brother, played by Thomas Gomez runs such a racket. Joe feels guilty and wants to give him his brother a break. A day before the first scene was to be shot; John still couldn’t ‘find’ the character of Morse. He was beginning to panic until a friend gave him a Phi Beta Kappa key attached to a watch chain. That was it…John now understood Joe Morse. It’s interesting when watching the film how many times he fingers the key.

The film itself is extremely compelling and beautifully filmed. Combining guilt, and ambition, corruption and ultimately redemption Garfield gives what many reviewers feel is his career defining performance. Using his natural charm he strips Joe Morse of his cocky confidence and reveals a man who is terrified, and guilt ridden. Near the end of the movie Garfield searches for his now missing brother…running down a path and then a steep set of stairs, his own body lost as if he’s in daze…his voiceover is haunting… 

“I just kept going down and down there. It was like going down to the bottom of the world”

John’s film career peaked in 1948. Over the next three years he made a total of four films. He played skipper Harry Morgan in The Breaking Point a more faithful adaptation of Hemingway’s novel, To Have and Have Not then the Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall version. Warner’s picked Michael Curtiz to direct. The experience was enjoyable for all involved. The film’s reviews were good, but the box office was not. John was surprised but lurking above him was a black cloud. The cloud was the communist scare and John was right in the middle. He had always been liberal in his politics, signing documents without paying much attention and attending meetings with his wife. She was the political animal, John considered himself inferior intellectually. He did believe passionately in equality and justice for all, but still he thought of himself as the poor kid from Brooklyn still trying to prove himself. He never forgot how the writers who he admired so much would snicker at some of his comments or when he used the wrong words. Back at home he had filled a room with books, all classics. He said he read them all when in reality…he had not. But he was no communist. His problem was he probably knew a few and someone who was very close to him was at one point…definitely a communist.  

In April, 1951 the house committee on Un-American activities subpoenaed him to testify. John was stunned but appeared and answered the committee’s questions. His personal code was in place, he would not name names. He would not rat out his friends. He would not name his own wife as a communist. Most felt he did well but he was unofficially blacklisted. The studios would not touch him. Others testified after him, none said he was communist. United Artist’s possibly trying to exploit his notoriety did release his last film before he was blacklisted. The film, He Ran all the Way was well done and John, playing a criminal for the first time in many years is excellent.

But again the box-office was poor, depressing John even more.

Unemployed and now separated from his wife, John tried everything he knew to clear his name. Nothing he did seemed to help. He needed to work. His old friend Clifford Odets told him about an idea he had. He wanted to revive his old play and he wanted John to play the lead. The play was Golden Boy and this time John DID star as Joe Bonaparte. The play opened in March 1952 to enthusiastic audiences and very good reviews. But the darkness still hung around John. His health wasn’t very good. He had suffered a heart attack a few years before and he tired easily. But still he laughed it off. He was running on all cylinders but barely getting any sleep.

He kept on running until May when exhausted he stopped by a girlfriend’s hotel room to try and get some sleep. This time he did sleep…but…didn’t wake up. It was over… John Garfield was dead at thirty nine years old.

“You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that, oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell”

Raymond Chandler’s Phillip Marlowe

John Garfield was an extraordinarily gifted actor. His performances in Body and Soul, Force of Evil and He Ran all the Way are mesmerizing in their scope and depth. They live on as a testament to his singular talent.

As a man he suffered from an inferiority complex and self doubt. At times during his life shadings from his most popular film, Body and Soul seemed to push him to do whatever he could to get what he wanted. Near the end, it seemed like he was driven more by a redemption of the soul than by…revenge. In that way he died by the code of the streets…loyal to the end…ever silent…with no complaints.  

A special thanks goes out to my Dad…John Raspanti Sr who over forty years ago introduced me to the films of John Garfield.  

November 2007

The Rifleman and Superman

When I was a small child westerns still dominated television. Shows like…Death Valley Days…Bonanza…Life and Legend Of Wyatt Earp…Gunsmoke…Cheyenne…The Restless Gun…Colt 45 …Wanted Dead or Alive…and Lawman played over and over on our small black and white television. 

The 1960’s brought a new batch of westerns. Laramie, The Rebel…and the cult western The Westerner.

My dad watched them all. My mom watched my dad watching them, and my sister and I glanced over at the TV and wondered what the ruckus was all about. 

I had already found my favorite television show. The Adventures of Superman starring George Reeves. I watched it religiously every week, plopping down every Tuesday at 4:30. My mom had prepped my red cape and had it ready for me. At each commercial I would jump up and ‘fly’…that is flying around the house and jumping off anything I could find.  My mom would tell me to stop, but I was too fast for her. I mean come on…I’m flying here. I always made a point of going into my sister’s room to jump off her bed because…well… doing that ALWAYS annoyed her.

Dad would takeover the TV when he got home. After dinner he would sit in his favorite chair and read the paper and wait for one of his westerns to come on. I would sometimes join him until I saw what show was on.  He would ask me to stay for a few minutes and watch and sometimes I would but my restless nature would soon take over. Then…I was gone. I wasn’t into cowboys and Indians…at least not yet.

There was one show that he watched every week that bothered me. As the show began, the camera would pull back in unison…the main character moving forward…slightly crouching and then repeatedly firing and cocking his modified, altered rifle. No music, just…bang…bang…bang…bang...bang…bang…bang…bang. ` The narrator would say the name of the show…THE RIFLEMAN...in a very aggressive and commanding way. Then…at least to a four year old, the main character would glare at the camera. I thought he was glaring at me and I didn’t like it, this guy was menacing and a bad man. The guy was NO Superman.

So that was it, off I went to my room while my Dad watched a show about a bad guy who fired a funny looking gun. My dad would tell me   what a good show it was…but I wasn’t listening. I never watched any episodes of The Rifleman. As I grew up I certainly knew about it…but still had no interest.

That is until about six months ago when bored one night and flipping through On Demand I spotted that familiar title. It was the middle of the night, and I thought what the hell…so there I was watching that ominous opening again and…NOT feeling a desire to bolt to my room. Later…after it was over, I was stunned. The show was good…very good actually.

I watched another episode the following week. I was hooked.  I’ve since watched 24 episodes. Almost immediately I was struck by the cinematography. Sometimes they shot on a set which at times is painfully obvious but like Superman, it doesn’t detract from the finished product. I’ve read somewhere that the first two years are the best. Most of the writing is top notch. Sam Peckinpah wrote six episodes and directed four. His episode titled The Boarding House is excellent. Katy Jurado guest starred, seven years earlier she had stared alongside Gary Cooper in the classic High Noon. A repeated theme of the show is personal integrity…which nowadays we are in great need of.

Chuck Connors who played Lucas McCain brought a heroic like charisma to his portrayal. Never considered a great actor he’s a revelation here. Was this the part he was born to play? He’s the strong silent type, cut from the same cloth as Clint Eastwood. Before becoming an actor Connors played two seasons of professional basketball with the Boston Celtics. A few years later he was in the major leagues playing for the Brooklyn Dodgers and then the Chicago Cubs. Connors who was born in 1921 and stood 6’5, made his acting debut in the 1952 classic Pat and Mike, starring Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn. In 1955 he guest starred on The Adventures of Superman. Recently I watched that rather forgettable episode. Connors’ acting appeared a little green but still he’s so likeable and funny that all else is forgotten

Johnny Crawford played Lucas’s son Mark. Interviewing 20 or 30 other kids before production began Connors knew Crawford was right for the role even before talking to him. As 12 year old Johnny walked towards him and a producer Connors remarked…

“That’s him…that’s the Rifleman’s son”

Connors was oh so right. Crawford more then held his own with Connors. The interaction between them is very believable. You can feel the warmth as if they really are father and son. Their acting is touching and honest, and very much on a par with some scenes from Superman.

The background music by Herschel Burke Gilbert is excellent and again like Superman, dramatic in its composing. Gilbert sets the tone very nicely, .composing a soft and quiet sound when Mark and Lucas are seen together…and then higher in tone when Mark is sad. The action scenes have a very dramatic drum roll or a stop and go quality that only heightens the suspense.

Of the 24 episodes I’ve watched all have been good and some have been almost great.

I guess it proves the old adage that you can’t judge a book by its cover or in this case judge a show by it’s opening. The Rifleman is a real gem and if you haven’t watched it in awhile, don’t wait 44 years like your’s truly.  Get to it!!!

Oh and Dad if you’re reading this…YOU WERE RIGHT!

John

August 2007

Chasing Superman's Ghost
By John Raspanti

Movie studios have always fascinated me. There has always been something so exciting about seeing the spot where a classic movie or television show was filmed. My goal as a teenager was to get inside a studio and...explore. I wanted to walk the lot...investigate the soundstages...and prowl the back lots. I had to see where Casablanca was shot, the Sherlock Holmes series with Basil Rathbone and of course The Adventures of Superman. To say I achieved my goal would be a bit of an understatement...but...I'll get into that later. 

The Adventures of Superman began shooting on July 10, 1951.

Its home was the historic RKO-Pathe Studios in Culver City, California.

The studio opened for business on December 1, 1918.  A few highlights...

Cecil B. DeMille stalked the back lot in the 1920's.

King Kong frolicked there in 1933.

Six years later Rhett Butler told Scarlett O'Hara 'Frankly My Dear I Don't Give a Damn'

A couple of years later Orson Wells whispered 'Rosebud'

Alfred Hitchcock lensed Notorious in 1946 with Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman.

The studio and the famous back lot now called 40 acres were dripping with history. It must have been an amazing place to work.

The entire first season of Superman was shot there. The production team used the back lot extensively.  The Unknown People...The Case of the Talkative Dummy...The Mystery of the Broken Statues...and The Monkey Mystery...all showed off the downtown part of the back lot and as they called it...Main Street to a great advantage. Later The Deserted Village...and Riddle of the Chinese Jade used another area of Main Street. Near the end of the first season Czar of the Underworld was filmed. This episode revealed more about the lot...the bad guy cab driver took Clark Kent and Inspector Henderson past a row of buildings that I had never seen before. Later when Superman lands with Luigi Dinelli...he carries him to stage thirteen.

The number thirteen stuck with me. In the summer of 1977 I was staying in the Los Angeles area with my grandparents. One of the first places I had to locate was where The Adventures of Superman was filmed. I had to see it. I knew the studio was near MGM in Culver City. The weather that day was overcast and 'smoggy', typical for LA. I found Washington Blvd and slowed, spotting many business and industrial buildings. I kept thinking I would run right into it. I was right. When I spotted it I let out an audible breath. Colonial in style, with numerous pillars, I flashed on Gone with the Wind.  I parked right in front of the studio. Cars whizzed by me. I got out of my car and walked slowly up the driveway by a hedge that needed trimming. I could see some decaying along the edges of the building. The white paint was peeling but still I was in awe. There was so much movie history right in front of me and movie ghosts dancing about. I can remember wishing that the back lot hadn't been bulldozed. I noticed immediately that it didn't say Selznick International anymore. The big letters above the front door spelled out ...Laird. Oh well that didn't matter. I knew what had happened here, now I wanted to see it.
I was ready to fill out an application and then to somehow get on the lot and look around. I opened the front door and casually walked in. The door groaned as I closed it.  The secretary barely looked up...I smiled and said

"Are you accepting applications?"

I already knew the answer to this question. I had called the studio a few weeks before. I waited. She still hadn't said anything. Using slight of hand she produced an application and gave it to me.

"Thanks," I said.

The office was old, small and scruffy. There was one desk for the secretary and four or five cabinets spread out. Papers were stacked up. There was another chair for visitors which I was using. I remember seeing dust and dirt on the windows. Everything had a grayish tint to it. I wondered if George Reeves had been in this same office.

I filled out the application quickly. My heart was pounding. I stood up, took two steps and handed her the application. She took it without looking.

I waited a beat and said "Do you have a restroom I could use?"

This time she looked up for a second and said, "Go out that door behind me and turn to the right."

I was in.

Exiting the bathroom I hesitated. Should I do this? The resounding answer was YES.

I was on a pathway leading away from the administration office. Would the secretary wonder what had happened to me?  Nah...she had probably forgotten about me already.

The pathway opened up revealing a couple of more buildings. One said prop room. Oh boy...the buildings looked old like everything around this place. I didn't see any other people. I didn't hear anything only...the occasional sounds that the outside world were creating. Inside this world...it was pretty darn quiet.

I resisted the urge to look behind me and entered the prop room.

It was dark, and smelled like mold. I let my eyes adjust, I blinked...some of the ghosts were here. That is...if they could find any room!!! The place was packed, there were boxes stacked on top boxes some leading right to the ceiling. Chairs of all kinds were lying on their sides. Talk about crowded; I took a few steps forward. I spotted something different.  Peering around a few boxes I could see an ancient clock propped up against the wall. It was basically unencumbered, alone like a prominent statue.  I wondered if there was something special about it. Had it been in Gone with the Wind or Citizen Kane...or The Adventures of Superman?

I didn't know...I moved around some more, trying not to knock over any of the boxes and chairs. I allowed myself to wonder what else of movie history was nearby. I didn't know...I heard some voices outside and figured that was my cue to leave the prop room. It was quiet again; I opened the door and walked out casually. I could see where the voices had come from. Two people were walking away, past the soundstages.

Soundstages...stage thirteen...that's it!!

I was walking faster now...stage thirteen...but my mind was thinking about Superman. Twenty six years ago...'they' were here, Jimmy, Lois, Clark, Perry and 'Inspector' Henderson. I saw some numbers...2 and 3...then a building. I glanced to my right and saw more numbers on a huge structure that peeked a little near the top...11 and 12...I think it was...then 14...15...16. Yes a soundstage!!!...but NO stage thirteen!!!!!  I paused and gazed at the warehouse like building. No mobile dressing rooms like the ones I had seen at Universal...just this piece of architecture. Could this have been the soundstage used in Czar?? I had seen the episode a hundred times...the corner of the building sure looked like the same one from Czar...it had to be it...

Now what? I had told myself to be inconspicuous, to try and not draw attention to what I was doing, but still my natural curiosity was prodding me. I knew I couldn't leave yet. I had no choice really. I had to see the inside of the soundstage. I walked around the side of the building and saw a door. I stopped. The door was propped open ever so slightly. I was being drawn in, my nerves were jumping. I pulled the door open and stepped inside.

Darkness.

I was in short entryway. No sounds, just darkness. I took a few steps and tripped on something. I stopped as the echo from my shoes bounced around me. Jeez...didn't I say I was trying to be inconspicuous? I was moving forward on my tip toes. Up ahead was something, a faint light?  Yes...I brushed past a curtain and felt the stage open up. It was huge, and the light was coming from two places. Somebody had been nice enough to leave a couple of movable lights...in the on position. They were situated near the center of the stage.  I don't remember much about these stage lights except they were taller than me. I just stood there and looked up and down and all around me. I remember the ceiling was so high...and the stage was so enormous...and those ghosts again. I could hear them...

'GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST '

A huge crashing sound broke the spell. I tip toed across the stage and through the entry hall to the door that was still ajar. I stepped outside and remember blinking a number of times. My eyes were stinging. That was it. I knew it was time to go. I walked back to the administration building at a much brisker pace. I passed a few people, one smiled at me. I nodded. I was wondering about the secretary. Would she ask where I had been? It made no difference. When I walked back inside the office, there was no secretary. I went out the front door and walked to my car. I felt a little on edge, my adrenaline was pushing me.

I started the car and was shocked by what time it was. I had arrived at 9 AM. It was now past lunch time!!!

I had spent a good three hours roaming the studio. But it was funny because it had felt like mere minutes...not hours.

What an amazing place.

I hit all the Superman studios that summer. My quest was based on the order of the years in production. So...since season two and three were filmed in 1953 at California studios...that was where I was going next.

California Studios of 1953 had become Producers Studios in 1977.  It was and still is (even though it's been Raleigh studios since 1979) located directly across the street from the much more famous Paramount lot. I didn't know much about the studio. I did know that Mary Pickford had shot a silent picture there in 1915.  Douglas Fairbanks Sr had wandered the lot, which I really liked since the old time movie stars have always fascinated me. I had recently discovered that In the Heat of the Night had been shot there and numerous other classics like The Best Years of Our Lives. The Margaret Herrick Library on Wilshire Boulevard had been a wealth of information that summer. 

My plan was to copy what had been so successful at RKO-Pathe...fill out and application and then crash the lot.

Would it work again?? I felt reasonably confident as I attempted to find somewhere to park. I was parked on Bronson and walked up the sidewalk past the old brick building. The time was near 9 AM. Cars raced down Melrose Ave, and as always nobody was paying any attention to me.  I came to the end of the building and saw a chance. Forget filling out an application! A large gate that was probably supposed to be closed was...OPEN. I took this as an invitation and walked right on the lot.  It was funny but unlike RKO which had awed me, this studio was underwhelming. It looked like an old lumber building to me. I walked past what I presumed was the office I had been looking for. Later I said...first things first. I was on the other side of the building, trying to feel the history but not feeling anything. I glided past a large soundstage and was almost run over by two guys who had exited the soundstage and were in a big hurry. They glared at me...I wanted to glare back but instead I said "Sorry"
They didn't say anything and as I walked away I could feel them watching me. Uh oh...I went past the door to the soundstage those numbskulls had just come out of. I slowed but could still feel their eyes on me. I glanced inside the soundstage and saw complete darkness...the voice inside was screaming at me to GO...I turned around and eyeballed the numbskulls who where still in the same place...they in turn were eyeballing me back. Cool I thought...be cool. I wandered back over to them with a perplexed look on my face...

I said "Do you guys know where I would go to fill out an application?"

Of course they did, and so I went there and didn't do any exploring after I was done. There just wasn't much here and I didn't feel George...or anything.

The next day I found myself parking a half a block away from what was once Charlie Chaplin's studio. I wasn't a big Chaplin fan then. I had grown up on The Three Stooges. It wasn't until till later that I discovered the genius of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. Charlie Chaplin had opened his studio in 1918. It's located at the corner of La Brea Avenue and Sunset. The Adventures of Superman had shot season four at the Chaplin Studio. As always this alone was enough to motivate me to see what was there.

And so it was. I walked briskly up the sidewalk toward the studio. I glanced at what looked like some small cottages. I crossed the street and eyed a pale building with two metal gates on each side. One looked like a door (I learned later that this was the door Chaplin himself used to enter the studio) past more cottages and bungalows. I looked skyward and could see the sign above the entrance to the studio. I remember the sign was round and inside the circle the letters...A&M were displayed. Herb Alpert of...Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass now owned the studio. I was getting closer to the entrance and the butterflies were back. Again I was dressed like a dude. My plan was the same but things weren't turning out the way I had envisioned them. I tried the door nearest the studio entrance. It was locked. Ok...I kept walking right to the main entrance...decision time...I turned and slowed but then instead of stopping and turning around, I kept going right onto the lot. A guard dressed in a green uniform came out from a building to my left. The guard looked at me, I looked back and nodded. I kept going, waiting for a voice that would shake the heavens...something like Broderick Crawford after gargling with razor blades...

"Hey YOU...STOP THERE!"

But...nothing...no Broderick Crawford voice. I didn't dare look back. I just kept going, past some more structures that looked English. I slowed down hoping my heart would do the same. I stood there, still expecting the guard to pop out and nab me. I started moving again in the direction of some soundstages. I remember the stages being very near each other, they appeared freshly painted unlike some of the other building that looked rundown. But there was something so different about Chaplin's studio. It had an aura of sophistication. The door to one of the soundstages was wide open...I moved toward it and then heard a crunching noise behind me. I looked over my shoulder.

The guard was coming fast. He was walking in my direction. He looked very determined. I turned from the soundstage casually, the guard was getting closer. I already knew what I would say. But...would he believe me??  Closer and closer he came. He was about on top of me. I faced him. I was ready.
But apparently...he wasn't. He walked right past me and nodded. I nodded back.

There wasn't much more to see. (The studio was quite a bit smaller in 1977 then it was in Chaplin's day)...but I did find the place fascinating. It reminded me of Sherlock Holmes and Charles Dickens. I never did find the administration building, but really didn't care. There were no apparitions floating about other than Chaplin himself who seemed to be dancing in the shadows of his old studio. I remember thinking his place was pretty cool...

I was nearing the end of my quest. I was back in my car cruising down La Brea towards Santa Monica Boulevard. My mind was drifting.  What would I find? All I had was an address scribbled on a piece of paper. I had found the address at the aforementioned, Margaret Herrick Library. But what would be located at 7950 Santa Monica Blvd? I was really hoping for a grand old studio, with the name ZIV painted on it. ZIV had once been Hollywood's Eagle Lion Studio until Frederic Ziv purchased it in 1954. I had learned that ZIV had produced some other shows that I had enjoyed watching like, The Cisco Kid, Highway Patrol and Sea Hunt. Highway Patrol was easily my favorite. I found myself wondering if like RKO, I would find some old props and who knows what else. The possibilities were endless, or so it seemed. 

I was on Santa Monica near the address I had written down. I was getting closer but still didn't see the studio. 7950 was right on top of me. I parked across the street and stared. I was here, the address on the building was correct. But there was one big problem. There was no studio. I sat there feeling like I had been punched in the stomach. All that was left was a string of businesses and a liquor store.  I shook my head and gazed imagining the bustling studio for what it once must have been. I smiled, nothing is forever.

I didn't want to leave. I sat there and contemplated what I had seen. ZIV was the last studio George had worked at. The last Superman episode, directed by George was filmed there. But being a fan of Season One I much preferred the hallowed halls of RKO-Pathe. Of all the studios, RKO had the most amazing movie history, and I liked to think that George was at his happiest there. RKO was the place where he got his big break opposite Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh in Gone with the Wind. I could only imagine what a thrill that must have been. Returning twelve years later to play Superman must have been in a way, bittersweet but still the role had given him the stardom he had always wanted and...immortality. So to me at least RKO is where the ghost of Superman is, not unhappy or fleeting...but happy and proud...arm and arm with George...forever.

© John Raspanti July 2007