John Wayne _ The Man Behind the Myth - Michael Munn [169]
By the time he returned to California his viral infection had turned into walking pneumonia, and the chronic cough he’d developed—
which Wayne shrugged off as mere bronchitis—had affected a mitral valve in his heart. But he didn’t know it at the time.
That June, John Wayne returned to London to film Brannigan, by which time I was running the stills department for both Columbia and Warner Bros. in London’s Wardour Street. Through a friend of mine at United Artists, I managed to arrange to spend a day on the set for the sole purpose of meeting and talking to John Wayne, and I arrived early at the London location where I met Michael Wayne and unit publicist Mike Russell.
Although Wayne had the reputation of always being up bright and early, this was one morning when he was, for whatever reason, like a bear with a sore head. Michael Wayne came to Mike Russell and said, “JW’s late on the set. Someone’s got to go and get him. You do it, will ya?”
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Mike Russell said, “You’re his son. Why don’t you do it?”
“I may be his son, but I’m still as scared of him as everyone else.”
So Mike Russell was sent that morning to the trailer, which was Wayne’s home in between takes. He was living at a house in Cheyne Walk in Chelsea. He arrived each morning at the location, usually in London, and went straight to his trailer where his makeup man would go to work on him.
When Wayne appeared, he was smiling and saying, “Fine morning, Bob,” and, “Nice to see ya, Harry,” speaking to every member of the crew he passed—and he knew all their names.
I’d somehow been abandoned and left on my own, so I went up to him nervously and said, “I think you were expecting me.”
He said, “Oh, yeah. It’s Mike, isn’t it. I’ll call you Michael. It’s a damn good name. Well, I got some free time today, so we’ll go to my trailer and get some coffee and talk. Sound okay?”
I nodded, quite unable to speak for a moment.
“What’s the matter, kid? You look pale.”
I owned up and said, “I’m a bit nervous.”
“What for?”
“I never met a living legend before.”
He roared with laughter, and said, “Kid, you and I are gonna have a fine time.”
I followed him back to his trailer which, I seem to recall, was huge; not unlike a home away from home. Stepping inside I couldn’t help but notice several toupees hanging on the wall. The press often had much fun at the expense of Wayne’s baldness. He was almost completely bald by this time. Unfortunately, his toupees were fashioned for the 1970s and, as everyone who lived through that time will remember, hairstyles in the 1970s were appalling. Consequently, Wayne’s hairpieces were also appalling. But he never wore them out of vanity.
He told me, “I never go out in public without a hairpiece because that would disappoint the public.” I believe he was right. In the privacy of his own home, he usually left the hairpiece off.
So there I was, sitting with John Wayne and having coffee, and for me it was an unforgettable occasion. There was also a very 21184_ch01.qxd 12/18/03 1:43 PM Page 318
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frightening moment. When he told me about the story of the marine who had been heckled by students from USC, his recounting of the incident had become so animated and loud that he began coughing.
I began to wonder when his coughing was going to stop. It went on much longer than an ordinary cough. I became alarmed at how violent it was as he doubled up, coughing into a huge hand-kerchief, unable to catch his breath. I became anxious that he was actually going to die there and then, and I was desperate to do something.