Free John Wayne: The Life and Legend by Scott Eyman Page B

lonely. He even got a union card. In 1929, Duke Morrison became member number 34854 of Local 37 of the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees and Moving Picture Machine Operators, affiliated with the AFL. He kept his membership card for the rest of his life.
    And he was still nibbling around the edges of acting. His first screen credit—as “Duke Morrison”—actually came in a Fox campus musical called
Words and Music
that was barely released in September 1929 (it had a New York run of one day!). He also became friendly with George O’Brien, John Ford’s favorite leading man of the period. O’Brien got him another small part in a movie called
Rough Romance
, which came out in June 1930. But by that time, Duke Morrison was no longer Duke Morrison. He had a new name and a new career—the very one he had been hoping, dreaming, and planning for most of his young life.
    CHAPTER THREE
    The story of the christening of John Wayne varied only slightly in the telling. Raoul Walsh had approached Fox production head Winfield Sheehan regarding a western about the pioneers’ trek west. The film was to be based on a
Saturday Evening Post
serial by Hal G. Evarts entitled “The Shaggy Legion” that ran from November 30, 1929, to January 4, 1930, and was later published as a novel. The serial’s title referred to the last great herd of buffalo, but Walsh’s imagination converted it into a vast saga of western expansion, a sound version of
The Covered Wagon
or
The Iron Horse
—two of the greatest hits of the silent era. Fox signed Evarts to a screenwriting contract in February 1930 that paid $1,000 a week.
    That was easy; the hard part was the casting. As Evarts would write, “the male lead must be a true replica of the pioneer type—somewhat diffident with women, being unused to them, but a bear-cat among the men of the plains. Walsh was afraid that the sophistication of an experienced actor would creep through and be apparent to the audience. As against that was the probability that a man chosen from the ranks of the inexperienced would be unable to carry the part in so big a picture.”
    When people at the studio grumbled about Walsh’s plans to use an unknown, he told them, “I don’t want an actor. I want someone to get out there and act natural—be himself. . . . I’ll make an actor out of him if need be.”
    As Walsh said at the time, “If there was one thing I did not want, it was an established star for the role of Breck Coleman . . . I wanted . . . a personality, not an actor.”
    Walsh remembered that the critical moment came when he saw Duke Morrison lugging some furniture across the soundstage for John Ford’s
Born Reckless
, which was being shot early in 1930. “He was in his early 20s—laughing and the expression on his face was so warm and wholesome that I stopped and watched. I noticed the fine physique of the boy, his careless strength, the grace of his movement.”
    Walsh walked over and asked the boy his name. The gangling youngster looked him over and said, “I know you. You directed
What Price Glory.
The name’s Morrison.” He explained that he wanted to be in pictures but “this is as far as I’ve come.”
    “What else can you do besides handle props?” Walsh asked.
    “I can play football.”
    “I believe you. Let’s see how much you want to be an actor. Let your hair grow. Come and see me in two weeks.”
    Duke believed that Walsh had first noticed him at a Fox company picnic a week or so earlier. Morrison was hungover, having a beer, wearing a Harris tweed suit, and eventually competed in a walking contest, which he narrowly won against a “little grip that’s just right on my ass.”
    A few days later, Walsh saw Wayne crossing the lot with a table on his head and “it must have reminded him of the picnic. Actually, I was goin’ to a Ford set, and Walsh asked [producer] Edmund Grainger who I was, and Eddie yelled to me. I came over, we were introduced, and