To Kill the Duke (28 page)

“I have so many movies lined up, that it will be 1980 before I’m free,” Duke said.

“Have you ever thought about doing one of the classics?’ Powell found himself asking Wayne.

“Thought about them, why I have already been in some of the best films of all time,” boasted Duke.

“Let me rephrase my question Duke. I meant a
literary
classic, like
Moby Dick, Les Miserables, A Tale of Two Cities, The Scarlett Letter
or maybe
The Call of the Wild
,” Powell said.

“Me… as Ahab. I like that Dick. We can start to work on it as soon as we are done with
The Conqueror
. Ward Bond would make a great Starbuck,” Duke said.

“You’ve read Melville?” a surprised Powell asked his friend.

“I read a lot of things when I’m not acting and playing,” Wayne said.

“Maybe I could pull off making a real artsy film with you in it,” Powell responded as he mused about how easy it would be to get financing for such a film with John Wayne in it, especially if
The Conqueror
scored with movie goers. But there was no way Powell would cast Duke Wayne as Ahab in a Dick Powell production of
Moby Dick.
Maybe a narrator, and Powell thought about poor Oscar Millard and his original script, tailor made for Brando.

Poor bastard.
“Guess again, Duke.”

“This isn’t a guess, Dick. Can you do me a favor for a very good friend?” John Wayne asked very seriously.

“I don’t think Ward Bond can play a Mongrel,” Powell said.

Now it was John Wayne’s turn to play the one who knew the answer. “Guess again, Dick.”

“You want a role for Bruce Cabot? I think I can find something for him. That is if he has his drinking under control,” Powell said.

“You’re not going to guess, so I’ll have to tell you,” Wayne began “and it does involve someone with a drinking problem.”

“Gail Russell?” guessed Dick Powell.

“You’re a better guesser than I am Dick,” Wayne said. “Can you find her something, my friend?”

“Last I heard she was really hitting the bottle. I wanted to use her on a film a few years back, and we couldn’t get insurance on her, because of the booze. Maybe I can bring her up here for the environment. With you and the others, she might find some peace and quiet,” Powell said, happy he had finally guessed something right.

“Yeah. Maybe up here it will be like therapy,” Duke said happily. “Will she get paid?”

“Not much. I can probably get her on as an extra here and there. But even then, I’ll have to check with Howard. You know that, Duke,” Powell said.

“Forget about it. He’ll say yes. I’m not worried about that. He’ll fuck her brains out and then dump her. Probably make her sink even further into the booze. Can’t you do me this favor Dick? Bring her on up and not tell Howard?” begged the Duke.

“Sorry Duke. I can’t afford it if it backfires. You can’t either. Tell you what I will do. When we get done up here, let’s produce a movie for her, and we won’t need to worry about insurance or the money men like Howard,” Powell said.

“Promise?”

“You have my word Duke, and you know what that means.

“Yes. I have your word as long as it wasn’t a mistake,” Wayne said, as he began howling over the line that everyone in the movie business had heard uttered once and been a victim of way more times.

“Duke I have to correct you. It is
my
word,
unless
I made a mistake,” Dick said with a chuckle. “Back to the game Duke,” Powell said as he took another sip of the terrible tasting coffee. “By the way is this the greatest phone conversation you have ever had with the director of any of your movies who happens to be in Podunk while you’re in Hollywood?”

“Come to think of it… yes. By the way what the hell is ‘Podunk?’” Wayne asked Powell.

“It’s more of a where than a what. By the way, you can bet that by now, every operator in America is in on
this
conversation! Powell added.

“No wonder the connection is so good! I’m running out of great dames,” Duke lamented. “Okay… this has to be it… Joanne Dru,”

“Another great guess, Duke,” answered Dick who also thought
Joanne had Howard’s type of figure.
“Not her. She’s too busy with television and told me she didn’t want to ride horses anymore.”

“How do you know all this trivial stuff about everyone?” Duke asked Dick.

“It’s my job to know,” replied Dick Powell. And it was. A great producer knows what actors and actresses of every sort are doing at all times.
In addition, Powell owned the great big book on Hollywood actresses that Hughes’ crack research team had completed.

“She held her own with me, Clift and Brennan you know,” Duke said.

“I’m impressed she held her own with Walter,” Powell said.

“You’re being sarcastic again, Dick,” Duke warned.

“Maybe I am and maybe I’m not. Walter Brennan is one of the best scene stealers of all time,” Powell said. “He has won three Academy Awards already!”

“Tell me about it,” Duke said. “He once stole a scene from me and Clift with his teeth out. Hawks notices that Brennan doesn’t have his teeth in and makes us reshoot it. Clift and I promise to each other to steal the scene back,” Duke said.

“And Brennan
still
stole it, didn’t he?” guessed Powell.

“Yup,” Duke said. “You know who taught him how to steal scenes, Dick?’

“No,” replied Powell.

“The Three Stooges!” Wayne yelled.

“I didn’t know that. I knew Walter was old, but I didn’t realize he was
that
old,” said Powell sarcastically.

“I thought you producers and directors knew everything! Okay how about Lana Turner?” Wayne asked.

“You worked with her once and you will only work with her again if I’m not involved in the production,” Powell warned his friend.

“You don’t care for her? She’s a better actress than her reputation,” the Duke said.” She’s also a lot of fun to have around when the filming stops.”

“Cohen and Stompanato is all I’m going to say,” Powell said.

“Lana’s doing both of them? Geesh, I heard she was loose, but sleeping with those gangsters isn’t going to help her popularity in our town,” the Duke said.

“She’s just sleeping with Stompanato. You know that Mickey Cohen is Johnny’s boss. Come to think about it, I guess she might as well be sleeping with Mickey,” Powell added.

“Okay Dick. I’ve just been pulling both your legs. I know who you got. There’s only one woman who was made to play Genghis Khan’s love
interest. Maureen O’Hara… right? What do I win? Do I get my salary doubled?” Wayne said.

“Not until I deduct the cost of my plumber’s bill from your salary, which I can’t do with your latest guess, because you’re wrong,” Powell announced.

“She’s perfect for the role. She does all her own stunts. She’s beautiful. She can act. Heck, we know what the other one is going to do before we do it. Furthermore, she can type better than anyone you have on the set. Comes in real handy when written notes on changes have to be spread around to everyone,” the Duke said.

Powell had already thought about O’Hara. She was everything that Duke said and more. But with the Duke already playing Genghis… Maureen O’Hara would be too beautiful in the part.
Who would ever think a movie producer would turn a woman down for being ‘too beautiful’
he found himself musing.

“She also sings. You ever hear her sing those Irish love songs?” the Duke asked.

“I’ve heard her sing at parties. Her voice is as beautiful as she is. She could have been a singer if she wanted to,” Powell said. “Susan Hayward is going to be your co-star Duke,” Powell announced.

“Not bad, Dick. Not bad at all,” was the Duke’s reply.

“Good. You’re happy and I’m going to return to my trailer. Keep working on your dialogue and I’ll see you soon. You’re going to love it up here,” Powell said. “Wait till you see what the stuntmen have rigged up.”

“Goodnight Dick. And goodnight to all you telephone operators,” Duke said.

“Wait a minute Duke. I need you to talk to this deputy sheriff who was my escort. I’ll return the favor someday. You have my word on it.”

“Here’s my price — you can’t deduct that plumbing bill from my salary,” Wayne said.

“I’ll think about it, Powell said as put the phone down and went to get the deputy. “Hey kiddo, someone wants to say hello to you,” Powell told the kid.

The deputy followed Dick Powell into the other room. Dick handed him the phone.

“Who’s on the other line?” the deputy asked.

“John Wayne,” said Dick Powell

And the deputy passed out.

Should I hire this guy?
Powell found himself thinking after he trotted over to the bucket to relive the whole ‘cold-compress’ scene after explaining to Duke Wayne what had just happened.

“So I’ll have to pay that bill after all,” Duke said dejectedly.

And Dick Powell smiled. He finally got one over on John Wayne… he hoped.

Dick Powell was in his office, which was really the front part of his trailer, and going over all sorts of items for the upcoming shoot.

The only thing harder than being both producer and director of a movie is acting in one that you don’t like
, he thought as he poured over shooting schedules and budgets. Now that most of the cast and crew was in place and had been taught to sand ski by the stuntmen, the third-tier actors and actresses were showing up. Dick Powell always liked this group, because they needed the money and always volunteered for other duties on the set. And every once in a while he found someone that he could promote up the acting ladder… which always made him very happy. He was going over the list of locals that had signed up to be extras at the open casting for the movie, and was looking at their pictures and resumes. This was always fun to do, and he didn’t want to enjoy it all by himself. He got a hold of Oscar Millard, Mel Berns, who was handling makeup, Ed Killy, his assistant director and Boyd “Red” Morgan of the infamous sand skiing sport, and invited them over. He would have asked others, but his trailer wasn’t large enough.

One of the pitfalls to doing a sprawling action and adventure film was the need for extras. At the studio in Hollywood, finding extras was as easy as breathing air.

“Hollywood and all of Southern California has more extras than Carter has liver pills,” Hughes once told Dick, when Howard was lecturing Dick on the ins and outs of running a studio.

But on-location shooting, especially in Southern Utah, wasn’t Sunset and Vine in Hollywood. Extras were needed and Dick Powell did what
he had learned from not only being a movie star, but a disciple of Howard Hughes. He had ordered his intern, Randy Komara, to post flyers up around where the filming was going to take place. Komara also spread the word to local businesses about the need for extras as he bought items for the on-site filming. Randy also placed an ad in the local paper, after the reporter had done a puff piece on
The Conqueror
being filmed locally.

The results were thousands of applicants for the roughly few hundred jobs that were needed. “I should make Randy read all these and give me a report on them all. After all, he did all the advertising,” Powell groused out loud.

“There appear to be more extras in Southern Utah than red grains of sand,” Powell said (paraphrasing his boss) after his other second-unit director, Cliff Lyons, dumped three huge duffel bags of resumes, pictures and letters in his trailer.

“Don’t dump ‘em out. Dick. Take out a few at a time. If you dump them out, I’m going to need the entire construction crew to help find you, and I need them building some sets,” Cliff said to his boss with a laugh.

So Dick Powell started picking through the bags for the letters, envelopes and resumes, all the time wishing that he still got this much fan mail.

In a way, it
is
fan mail
he thought as he started opening up the envelopes.

The first letter included a photograph of the applicant. The man explained that he had been out of work for a while and could ride a horse, due to his being a ranch hand, which is why he was out of work.

“Ranching is seasonal, Mr. Powell,” the deputy with a bad habit of fainting had told him on the drive back from the guessing game Dick Powell had played with John Wayne. “A lot of the men up here are harmless as puppy dogs when working on a ranch. But when they are unemployed until the ranching season begins again… watch out. That’s why we have sheriffs and deputies out here and not detectives.”