John Wayne: A Giant Shadow

by C McGivern

  That may have been true but he was still legally tied to his original Latin beauty who hadn’t made him happy and who was still stubbornly refusing to grant him a divorce. And whilst Chata rarely left his thoughts he recognized a great contradiction in his needs. One minute he still longed for his faithful, submissive wife, at others he wanted the wild animal who laughed and drank as much as he did. He was romantic and amorous and needed a woman in his life. He would have preferred that woman to be his wife, but when Chata wandered along offering blatantly sexual charms, he found himself drowning in his needs and turned to her for satisfaction. Too honorable to enjoy the concept of an affair, he was still far too human to deny his needs. He craved romance and was searching for a deep, meaningful and abiding love. At the same time he yearned for this Latin American sex object. Almost the instant he laid eyes on her he believed Chata could give him all of the things he was looking for. Even then he knew he was being unfair in his expectations. He built her up into his idea of the perfect woman, the answer to all his prayers. But he had no firm plans for their future and decided to take his opportunities without getting too involved too soon.

  On that trip, he spent most of his time lying on the beach, sleeping, getting a tan, drinking, playing cards and going sightseeing with the others during the day. He didn’t seek her out but noticed she always seemed to turn up at night. He saw her at another function and she looked sensational in a white silk evening gown, she was a vision of freedom and pleasure. The attraction was immediate; she was the very opposite to Josie. Where she had no interest in his work, Chata hung on his every word and he liked the attention she gave him. Josie was solid and dependable, her life rooted in Church and society, Chata offered untold pleasure. He hated going to the society parties that filled Josie’s life, and he had gained a reputation for sulking, “he would wander around her parties looking tired, unhappy and oh, so bored.” He was heard moaning, “I was up to my ass in Catholics!” He was not the most important thing in Josie’s life. He had to be the centre of his woman’s life, and Josie made it so painfully obvious that his concerns were not hers. Duke’s women had to worship him, which was unfortunate because the very quality that always drew him to a woman in the first place was the sense that they were their own person. Chata was willing to share his interests, his loves, and she was all fun and hot passion.

  And her joy in him was uncomplicated, she looked at him as a child might, full of wonder at the big movie star, she loved listening to him talk about films, she loved it when he tried to speak to her in Spanish. She was attracted by his air of innocence. The night she wore the white dress all he wanted was to be alone with her. He knew it was wrong, but he was in Mexico on holiday and he couldn’t help it. They danced and talked, and strolled out in the soft, warm Mexican air. He kissed her gently. It was pure romance, the way he saw it in the movies … the way he wanted it, and just as it had all started with Josie too. But Chata wasn’t like Josie, or any other woman he had known. She told him she didn’t want to go back into the reception, it was an invitation. He refused it, telling her that he was honor bound to return for the speeches! But at sunrise the next morning they rode together on the beach. Chata liked to ride, swim, fish, hunt, and generally enjoyed the same outdoor life that he did, just as Marlene had, but somehow, because of her Mexican origin, she seemed more interesting to him. He was fascinated by her sultry looks, by the hidden promise. She introduced him to her mother and his fate was sealed. The rich, famous, handsome, film star, who reportedly only cared about his wife and children had fallen in love with a Mexican prostitute, almost at first sight, and despite his not making any attempt to search her out he also made no attempt to cover up the fact that he spent every night of his vacation in her arms.

  When he returned to Hollywood it was to find that Josie was already fully informed of all the sordid details. This was the first time he had flaunted a girl in public. With Marlene it had been different because she was a film star, and leading men and women often dined together. He had also acted with restraint, doing his best to protect her and the children from the gossip. Scandal rarely attached itself to him, but this time Josie knew she had a problem when she heard the words, “I won’t try to hide it because I’m serious about Chata.”

  For the children’s sake Josie was still willing to close her eyes to the affair. But Duke had changed and he tried to make her understand that he would no longer remain in an empty marriage, and that separated to him meant single and free to be with whomever he wanted to be with. He pleaded with her to divorce him. He wanted to start a new life and he moved out of the family home permanently, renting his own apartment rather than staying at friends or at clubs as he had been doing. And still she refused him his divorce as she searched for a solution.

  The Catholic wives of Hollywood were willing to put up with minor indiscretions; they refused to permit them to destroy their marriages. Josie believed he would come back to her, certain he still loved her. But after Mexico he was, for the first time, cold toward her, he no longer pleaded, nor shouted his rage and frustration either. Whatever had happened between them in the past, he had never been cold or distant, he had always burned for her, and been reduced to begging. But now his eyes were steely and she saw the resentment there. It was too late to give him what he needed and in 1943 they were legally separated. They had been married nine years and together for seven before that. She was angry with him and refused to speak to him for the next two years and would not allow him into their house during that time. Mutual friends collected the children when he wanted to see them. She still refused to divorce him hoping he’d change his mind, love her again, and return home. Of course he could never be the person she wanted; he didn’t want to be anymore, he knew too much, had done too much to ever want to go back. But meanwhile he suffered as he waited for his divorce.

  If he was worried about Josephine and the kids, he was even more worried about the studio’s reaction to what he was doing. All stars had to sign a morality clause with their contracts, “The artist agrees to conduct himself with due regard to public convention and morals and agrees that he will not do or commit any act or thing that will tend to degrade him in public.” Many of the clauses were instigated by Mary Ford, wife of Duke’s mentor, and a woman who held huge power in Hollywood and over certain stars at the time. She tried to persuade her husband to force Duke into giving Chata up. “Force” in this case meant threatening him with no more work and Ford did give him a stern lecture. Duke was a worried man. He’d obviously broken the clause on more than one occasion, though this was the first time he had openly flaunted an indiscretion or committed an act likely to degrade him in public.

  The contract was judged on a sliding scale, with some stars able to get away with more than others, but breaking it had led to the swift end of a number of glittering careers. Europeans were generally able to get away with more than the “Wholesome Americans” and Duke felt particularly open to attack and was extremely sensitive to the problem. He hated to be seen doing anything wrong. He presented himself as the classic American hero, tough and uncompromising on the outside, decent and honest on the inside. The image created was of a man who did not avoid the “just” war, who certainly did not leave his wife and four children to have a wild affair with a Mexican prostitute! He was uncomfortable with the reality. For more than a year after their first meeting he dithered. At times he longed for her and took himself down to Mexico just to be with her, he kept her photograph openly on his desk, and she was often in his thoughts. At other times he was determined to hold onto his new found freedom, urged on by the promiscuous Ward Bond to forget all about her.

  But he was gradually being sucked in. He began writing to her; the number of letters and visits steadily increasing. Chata had told him she was an actress, and he toyed with the idea of obtaining a contract for her at Republic, of bringing her to California where she could share his life. They could spend all day together on location; Chata and work, his two favorite
things rolled into one package. At other times he shuddered at the idea of being married to an actress, a self-made prima donna, the sort of woman he disliked. That didn’t prevent him sealing his fate when, in a moment of weak loneliness, he offered her a stunning proposal, telling her if she came to stay with him he would get her a screen test.

  He sat back and waited for her to fly into his outstretched arms. She had told him she wanted a Hollywood career, but her letter back was brief, curt and impersonal. He wrote again. This time her reply took a long time to arrive. He was worried, and had no idea what he had done wrong this time. The Duke had called, Chata hadn’t jumped. Finally her Mother wrote explaining she was unwell. As always, mention of the word “illness” frightened him, and he was filled with terrifying visions of his love, lying at death’s door.

  He was friendly with Howard Hughes, and one night as the two were out drinking together he told the pilot about Chata and his dilemma. He moaned about her being ill in Mexico and his inability to get to her, and about his own loneliness. Hughes simply replied, “Why don’t we go down there then Duke, now?”

  He promised to get him back to the studio by Monday morning as he was in the middle of filming The Flying Tigers, “What the hell are we waiting for?”

  Needless to say Chata wasn’t dying, she was toying with him, tightening the line and reeling him in. He forgot to question her about her apparent good health and before he left he persuaded her to go to Hollywood for the screen test. He was now well and truly caught and Chata soon arrived on his doorstep, suitcase in hand.

  The frustration he felt and his fear for the future led to him becoming increasingly angry with Josie. He was now living openly with Chata. In the Hollywood of the forties his behavior was considered outrageous. By actively and openly pursuing his happiness he was risking an awful lot more than his marriage and his children’s regard, he was jeopardizing everything he had slaved for.

  But the studio in Duke’s case was Republic. It had more to lose than he if they enforced the morality clause. Yates had already proved by not allowing his hero to go off to war how unwilling he was to let Duke escape his clutches, and now he decided to stand by him, reluctant to lose his only asset. He decided on a course of damage control. It was vital for Republic that Duke remained popular and that the public was firmly on his side, so Yates protected the image and continued presenting him to the world as a decent family man. He fought desperately to keep Duke’s messy private life out of the papers. He gave Chata a contract with the studio and sent Duke back out to work, whipping him out of Hollywood and away to a distant location, far from the prying eyes of gossip columnists.

  Duke was a lucky man. As he left town to cover his tracks, the rest of Hollywood sank into a summer of the wildest scandal imaginable; and none of it had anything to do with him. Errol Flynn was about to stand trial for rape! It was open season on sexual scandal, and somehow Duke missed all the mud flying round. He was up to his neck in the mire but nothing stuck. He wasn’t even in town when Hollywood blew up and his name wasn’t mentioned in the columns so full of condemnation for his fellows! His indiscretions were minor compared to what the others were up to in Babylon!

  Still he understood he’d had a near miss and when he returned to town from location late in the autumn he came back determined to put his life into some kind of order and to try to be the decent, honest character he portrayed on screen. He would take no more risks with his career or his image as he started living his life according to public perception. It wasn’t only his fear about the possible public reaction to his exploits that caused him to suffer; he also hated what he had done in private. He planned to do things right in future. In fact guilt brought its own rewards as, once again, he seemed to mature on screen through his suffering. He knew he looked and sounded better than he had ever done before. He was no longer the young innocent hero and he had managed to change the persona to suit. Life’s experiences were helping him out on screen and he used them to full effect.

  Republic meanwhile were turning out war stories in the same way they had the western, they were cheaply made, and not very good. Duke only had to turn up on time, go through the motions and then, as soon as he finished, rush straight on to the next. When he got back into town in the autumn of 1943 he was hustled away to make The Fighting Seabees, one of the few Republic scripts he ever liked himself. It was a nice, safe piece of cinema. All the studios were cautious about the films they were making then because the Government was acting as a board of censors, vetoing anything that didn’t serve the public good. The Fighting Seabees, a story about teamwork and co-operation, was a peace offering from Republic to the Government. It became a solid hit for Republic and both the studio and Yates made vast sums of money at box-office on its back. But Duke, more than anyone else, benefited from it and the rest of the formula pictures he was turning out with such monotonous regularity.

  In each new story he embodied the spirit of the American fighting man. No other star, not Cooper, Tracey or Bogart could play the hero like he could, despite the fact that they were the real heroes. All he had to do was slightly develop his screen persona from American western hero to American war hero. His war pictures were effectively no different from his westerns. He remained the tough, difficult, uncompromising, but always truthful, loyal and ultimately likable guy he had always been. The public had loved his cowboy and they accepted him again and were happy he was still around to deliver the message of hope. They needed a hero to celebrate and Duke was there, steady and sure as ever, fulfilling their every escapist dreams.

  On screen the hero, in private, a complete mess. He hated it when people said he was the same off screen as he was on it. He was all too aware that he wasn’t, at least not during the war years. Later he might try to be the man he knew people wanted him to be, but right then, as he worked flat-out on the war films, his own life was heaped full of moral dilemma, as he said, tongue in cheek, “I was REAL brave.”

  He had spent seven years trying to win Josie and now he began to wonder if it was going to take that long to get free from her. Though he longed for his divorce so he could marry Chata, all was not well on that front either. His wife had always hated him going out with Ward Bond and now he was living with Chata she too disliked him drinking with his friends, and she also disliked the loud, bullying man who occupied so much of her lovers time. Bond was generally unpopular, but his flaws endeared him to Duke, who merely laughed at his constant complaining and belief that he always knew best. He deliberately baited him and laughed all the louder as he watched Bond grow red with rage. Bond’s temper subsided as fast as it arose, no insult was carried around by him for long, and Duke was secure in his loyalty. He knew that no matter what he did it would be Bond who forgave him first, he was the one person who never made him feel guilty and he needed him in his life to ease his burdens. As he had walked around in despair waiting for a commission to materialize, hearing people openly criticize him for not pushing harder, it was Bond who stood by him. Both men had just left their wives and though Duke moved straight into another relationship he continued to spend as much time as he could with his friend, giving and taking support. Outsiders condemned them both, but Duke always had a happy knack of bringing people around, and making them like him, no one could stay mad at him for long. Bond, on the other hand, remained heartily disliked and Duke’s association with him probably did him no good in the eyes of the world. Still, he needed him; he helped him retain his perspective in the insanity of Hollywood.

  During his life Duke left two women behind, and his third marriage also failed, but he never deserted a friend! He needed and loved his women, but needed and loved his friends more and no friend was more important to him than Ward Bond. He was conceited, self-centered, hard-drinking, difficult and prickly, but he served as Duke’s safety valve in every crisis. He remained ever-present in Duke’s life, helping to relieve his boredom and the pressures that he always felt when he wasn’t working, he shared his sorrows and guilt,
but ultimately he was there to share his fun. Throughout the war they continued to act as if they were still back in college, still playing the old pranks and childish tricks of those carefree days. When they were drunk, as was so often the case, they did anything that seemed like a good idea at the time. One night Duke wanted Bond, who was in a deep sleep, to go out drinking with him. He repeatedly called him and tried various attempts to rouse him, when everything failed he poured vodka on his chest and set light to it. Another time when they were both staggering drunk, Bond bet Duke that he could stand on a newspaper and that he wouldn’t be able to knock him off it. When Duke accepted the bet, Bond placed the paper down in a doorway and closed the door with Duke on the other side. “O.K. you dumb son of a bitch, now hit me.” … and Duke duly obliged, smashing his fist through the door to knock Bond clean off the paper and win the bet. How they survived those years was a mystery to all who knew them and the things they got up to.