Airport Journals


The Stuff of Heroes	May '07

By Cliff Robertson

Perhaps many of you fellow "greatest generation" (World War II) veterans recall earlier films from Hollywood starring the redoubtable W.C. Fields. W.C. Fields was not only a brilliant, irascible comic; he was also an original. He had a scathing, incisive eye on society and its foibles. Nothing was sacred to that former vaudevillian juggler. Like Mae West, another original from those Depression days, he had the courage of his very, very scathing convictions. But just about the time one might dismiss "Bill" as a churlish, negative observer of the national and cinematic scene, he would display a hidden side—a slight crack in his tough exterior. People began to realize this over the years.

The public mistook other rough characters in those days as hopelessly tough, mean, irascible and not to be toyed with. Certainly Humphrey Bogart fit that mold. He was as tough off screen as on. But there again, about the time one would write him off as impossibly negative, he would show a very human, sensitive side. "Bogie" has gone now, but fortunately his films are still here to remind us what a consummate actor he was. And, dare I say, a badly disguised humanist—even sentimental purveyor of mankind. His beautiful widow, Lauren Bacall, is still with us—her talents and beauty apparently everlasting.

Recently I had an opportunity to speak briefly with Lauren after a showing of Sidney Lumet's classic motion picture feature, "The Orient Express." She was talking to a warm, receptive audience about the making of that film and, of course, answering questions (some questions!!) about that experience of 20-some-odd years back. Listening to her field some of the questions, I was struck by her unswerving directness. Candid to the core, honest of heart, with a winning wit. Another example of the book's cover not telling all about the book. Tall, sleek and seductive, Lauren doesn't disappoint. She calls it as it is—warts and all. (No—no disfigurements on this lovely lady.) Hollywood, characteristically, didn't know what it had. To many, Lauren was "Bogie's girl" and later, "Bogie's wife." After Bogie's demise, she married another brilliant actor and good friend of mine—Jason Robards. Not unlike Bogie or Lauren, Jason inevitably called it as it was, for what it was.

My first film introduced me to another great cinema star who became a very close friend—Bill Holden. Bill, though pictured by many as the all-American boy, was a man of true integrity in a town that counted the gross that movies made, rather than the character of the men and women who made them. During the rehearsals of "Picnic" in Hollywood, prior to the company moving to Hutchinson, Kan., I witnessed a confrontation right out of "High Noon." In front of the entire cast and crew, a very tough production manager confronted Bill, trying to demean him in front of the cast. True to form, Bill took this character's best shot and answered with a fusillade of his own. No, Bill was not the cover of the book. He was not the all-American boy. More to type, he was every American man's concept of forthright—no BS courage.

Also in that film was a beautiful actress—sharp of tongue, with an honest eye. Rosalind Russell. Another example of beauty belying a brilliant mind. Roz was unafraid in spite of many challenges during her career.

I learned a little about character during the four months filming that feature film. I learned that those of integrity were unafraid to stand up to unbridled challenge and threat. Later on, I worked with fellow ex-journalist Sammy Fuller (and veteran of the Normandy Invasion). Sammy was from the old New York journalist school—tough, unafraid and honest. Also, a damn fine director. We did a film called "Underworld U.S.A." Many questioned Sammy's bravery, touching on elements of corporate crime. Sammy, wielding anger like Excalibur's sword, was unafraid of anyone in Hollywood, be they columnists, press agents or studio heads. Not surprisingly, this short, fierce, tough writer/director worshipped Mark Twain. In fact, I suspect Mark Twain was Sammy's absent mentor.

This Hollywood cast of characters is proof of the adage, "One cannot tell a book by its cover." For they, in spite of the ofttimes unctuous environment of "La-La Land," refused to crumble to monied pressures. They were like the late Orson Wells—secure in their talent and their skin. Unalloyed by bullies or threats.

There were many others, of course. One that does not come readily to mind is Wayne Morris, a decorated Navy flier. Upon his return from WWII South Pacific fighting, he couldn't get work in Hollywood. This, in spite of Hollywood's promise that he, like other star volunteers, would have a job upon returning. Not surprisingly, Morris looked for some comfort in alcohol and died far too soon. As I understand, he stipulated in his will that the few dollars left in his bank account would go to those pals who stood by him, with one strict caveat: the meager dollars left were to supply his pals with money for one last blowout of a party. Rumor has it that they responded to Wayne's request with great respect.

This little salute of mine shouldn't be construed as advocating anti-professional behavior. It's simply a reminder that the cover of a book is often misleading. Conversely, covers portray some as near God-like—deserving of social and cinematic salutes—when, in truth, perhaps a closer look might reveal contents belaying the reverence. That I will not touch on. Suffice to say that a few "hail to conquering hero" types neatly dodged the draft in America's time of need. These dodgers managed to fool the public, but not too many members of their own "greatest generation."

As for WWII, accolades handed to General Jimmy Stewart are an example of the real stuff; and yes, Clark Gable, though not a pilot, became a sergeant gunner in the skies over Germany. Neville Brand, a wonderful character actor, was shot up pretty good in the "Big One." As was my pal Lee Marvin, Bill Blees (killed in Okinawa) and James Arness. And, of course, the most decorated combat soldier in WWII, the late Audie Murphy. Hollywood lassoed Audie after recognition by Life Magazine, and he went on to do some very fine work, but he also left the scene far too soon.

These are simply meandering memories of this addled actor. There are, of course, more heroes than time and this column can accommodate. Suffice to say aviation played a major part in that bloody victory. And suffice to say the men and women who volunteered for the Air Force were the stuff that heroes are made of—without press agents.

Academy Award and Emmy Award winning screen star Cliff Robertson has owned and flown a wide array of aircraft, including a Spitfire MK IX, a Messerschmitt ME-108, a French aerobatic Stampe SV4 biplane, a Grob Astir glider (in which he still holds a distance record) and a Beech Baron 58. A holder of single, multi, instrument and commercial licenses, as well as balloon, the pilot of many thousands of hours has accumulated many aviation awards, including EAA's highest Eagle award and the AOPA Sharples award. He was recently inducted into the National Aviation Hall of Fame, and the American Veteran Association has honored him as Veteran of the Year. His columns will appear in his soon-to-be-published book. For more information, visit [http://www.cliffrobertson.info].