John Wayne _ The Man Behind the Myth - Michael Munn [168]
Watergate was the topic many reporters asked about, and someone asked him if he blamed the newspapers for Nixon’s troubles.
Wayne said, “The news media in our country have gotten more power today than the railroad had in 1890. But in 1890 at least they were trying to set up channels of communication. These newspaper fellers today, they keep striking attitudes. Yes, sir, I blame them.
“Of course I blame the papers. The media is too powerful for its own good. Can’t blame all the papers. Just some. Why don’t they put the blame where it belongs. The blame lay on politics. Not on leadership.”
Somebody asked if Nixon was innocent or guilty. Wayne replied,
“Of what? Tell me. Frame that into a reasonable question and I’ll answer it. Look how he brought the boys back from the prison camps. Look how he started a détente with Russia, with China even.
He stemmed inflation. He’d done all right. By rights, this should be his hour of crowning glory.”
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When asked what went wrong, he replied, “Mr. Nixon did his best to keep everyone—liberals, moderates, conservatives—everyone in his government. That’s a loony position.”
The whole time he was sipping whisky. Max tasted each tumbler first, making sure it was exactly the way Wayne liked it. That’s what it means to be such a megastar—you get someone to test your whisky. In fact, Wayne was never without a glass in his hand throughout the event. He also, to my surprise, puffed on a cigar.
The questions came thick and fast as he found himself surrounded.
Max tried to get between the star and the media, pleading, “Please, ladies and gentlemen, we just got in this morning.” Nobody budged, but still Duke grinned and maintained his composure.
Max persevered: “We’re understandably a little jet-lagged, so if you can please take it easy and be patient, we’ll answer all your questions and sign autographs later.”
For a moment, Max’s plea kept the press at bay, and Wayne saw his opportunity to move forward. But after just a couple of steps, he was suddenly surrounded again. I saw the strain was beginning to show in his face, and I had the feeling that Wayne was about to explode. Max saw it too. Then through the crowd pushed a Spanish waiter, like a comical Mexican character from an old Wayne Western, saying, “Thees drink ees for Meester Wayne. Give it heem please.” Max grabbed the glass, tasted it, pushed it into Wayne’s hand while dextrously removing the empty tumbler the Duke had been holding.
This is all part of the publicity machine the public never sees.
They get to read the quotes in the newspapers the next morning. But the chaos that ensues at a press reception can get out of control. I’ve seen it happen many times.
Max was still trying to hold back the ladies and gentlemen of the media but, when Wayne realized his PR man was having no luck, he took matters into his own hands and just began walking forward.
Anyone stupid enough to stand in his way would clearly get run down. As it turned out, nobody was that stupid, and Wayne was able to make it to the bar.
As everyone moved in again, he found himself wedged against the bar. I saw how people, women in particular, took delight in touching 21184_ch01.qxd 12/18/03 1:43 PM Page 316
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him, some probably to reassure themselves he was actually real, others just because they wanted to say they had touched John Wayne. It all began to feel a little distasteful.
Finally, Max and Eddie decided enough was enough and announced Mr. Wayne was leaving. He began moving forward once more, and the crowd opened up before him and closed immediately behind him. I’d been carrying my 8 x 10 photo of Wayne around all day, hoping I might get it signed. So I decided it was now or never, and said, “Please, Mr. Wayne, sign this.”
“Sure, son,” he said.
He wrote, “My best wishes and thanks, John Wayne.”
It still hangs, framed, on my wall.
It was a cold, damp London that John Wayne came to in January 1974, and it took its toll on him. He caught