A few years had passed since my initial meeting with Happy Shahan, impressive in his tailored Western cut suits, Tony Llama cowboy boots and multiple diamond rings on several fingers. The Alamo had been well received by theater audiences and a minor hit for "The Duke" although a money loser. The set he built for the epic film cost millions and now belonged to Happy Shahan and christened "Alamo Village". Signs on Texas highways proclaimed its importance as "Vacationland" and although no alcohol could be bought at this fun spot, business was terrific that first season following the releases of the film by Wayne and John Ford's "Two Rode Together" and in the spring of 1963 the promoter was looking for a singer-guitarist to entertain tourists in the Cantina with cowboy humor and song. I still remembered hillbilly classics like, "Ole Mountain Dew", "White Lightin'" and "Galvanized Washing Tub" and thought I could fill the bill.
"Happy, I'm calling from New York. I've been here since '61, trying to get a record deal, but nothing is working out. I'm tired of waiting on tables," I complained, "I need a new job, can you use me?" "Get here by May 1st." The pay is $1.25 an hour and they'll be lots of them", was his reply. It was as simple as that. On May 1st of 1963, I was once again on the Shahan spread sitting in his office; its walls decked with celebrity photos, cattle horns, guns, spurs and a floor covered with horse hide throw rugs. This was only one section of the new home that had been completed with some of the money earned from the filming of The Alamo."
This was Happy Shahan's private world and museum where his accomplishments in cattle raising, promotion, and Texas-type public relations were displayed for all who would believe, and lots of us did as well as the many aspiring actors, singers, and musicians that were to come along after me (Johnny Rodriguez was one who made it big in country music). All believed in this man and what he could accomplish for them. I would soon learn that all of this window dressing would not always indicate that great things were waiting on the horizon. Was he all "do" or all "do do?" Happy was not quite as "happy" as he would like the world to believe. By the spring of 1963 the movie set that he had constructed and preserved as his personal tourist magnet had lost some of its pull.
The cowboy attired "actors" I was to work with and befriend informed me that upon the opening of the "village" following the completion of John Ford's "Two Rode Together", tourist business was terrific. Women especially, and children, grabbed at these one or no line movie stars they imagined had appeared in "The Alamo" (didn't everybody?) and who strutted the dirt front street of the set, practicing their quick draw abilities, and their John Wayne swagger. The western comedy skits written by Ron Gast (John Cody) and Jack Spahn, remnants of the film's extra bunch, only helped to expand the crowd's interest and affection.
Somehow, pretending to get shot and rolling around in the dirt was a prelude to attracting some lonely star struck mother on vacation, the husband was either estranged, at home, looking the other way or nursing a hangover in Via Acuna. "Cody" who was to later become my bunkhouse partner in town when we shared a house off the ranch, had a Clark Gable face and mustache, and capped teeth in front straight from "Cuna's" red light district ("Boy's town") and his one line with Frankie Avalon and three second close-up worked wonders with the Houston, Austin and Dallas housemothers. "Yeah Ray, we had great times here that first year." My buddy-to-be Robert Harris fresh from the army recalled.
"You should have been here, it was wonderful!" Harris who is still one of my closest friends is a legend in the history of "location bums" and his story could fill up novels. He enjoyed the attention he received after "The Alamo so much that he spent the rest of his "adult" (if you can call it that) life chasing movies and women in Texas and has participated in practically all films made there either as an actor, extra, stunt man, set dresser, teamster or caterer. He has drank with, gambled with and tripped over, John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart, Robert Redford, Linda Crystal, Chill Wills, Richard Widmark, Glen Campbell, Chuck Robeson and Dean Martin. A very few of these people learned to love him like myself although most were astute enough to avoid him for the sake of their own good and much protected reputations.
To summarize, I was arriving at Alamo Village at a bad time, business was not good and Shahan was no longer "happy" and being in control it was natural for him to take charge of practically every aspect of the lives of his employees who were almost constantly in his sight, both on the set and in his home where "the crew" was given lodging.
The grip was tight and times was tough. "I would prefer if you didn't associate with those people," he remarked to me after a few visits I made checking over downtown Brackettville, downing Lone Stars with his ranch foreman Aaron, a real Marlborough man type. This was done on my time and on my day off. I asked innocently, "What do you mean by that?" I was soon to realize that "those people" were several of the town who had some kind of grudge against him over broken promises, or boasts he did not have the power to fulfill (my case was a perfect example).
Happy was very upset when I developed a friendship with Rudy Robbins. Rudy had the job of providing horses for the trail rides at Ft. Clarke and had been given a few choice recurring scenes with dialogue in The Alamo". His father owned the Alamo Cafe on the highway and had had business disagreements with Shahan. Rudy also sang, played guitar and fronted a cowboy band. He was very good at this and one Saturday night at a local dance-hall called The Hilltop Rudy hired me to play lead guitar for him. Shahan learned that on my own time, after leaving the village. I played in Rudy's band and although he was friendly with Rudy, he was upset that I had performed for "those people" who to him were mostly beer drinking (Shahan didn't) uncouth enemies who didn't appreciate his efforts to make Brackettville a film capitol. "Happy," I protested," you recall that when you hired me you promised to help me make some extra money with bookings like this, and you haven't yet. I needed the extra $15.00 Rudy paid me. What's the problem?" "I'm your manager," he asserted, "and I must approve any outside music jobs you do, even if I don't get any. You can't be one of "my people" and theirs' too. "Remember that", I knew that after this rebuke the job at Alamo Village was going to be more fun than I had anticipated.
"O.K. Campi," Happy had just toured me through the completed Alamo Village and I'd set up my guitar and arranged a microphone on the cantina stage, "when you hear me call you over the P.A., you've got tourists to entertain and we've got to try to keep them here long enough to buy some cantina food from Bill Kegans and to check out Nakai's Indian store to see if we can sell some souvenirs," every sale counts. We'll also need you to act out the gun show skits, I'll teach you what top do."
"OK Happy. I'm ready to pick, sing and act when needed, I never imagined I'd be doing anything else I replied. "And by the way, hook up with Gast and Harris, they're in that building past the "livery stable with a bunch of tools. I want you guys to build an authentic looking museum of some kind. I bought some display cases and they've got to be filled with all the stuff I picked up from that old general store in Hondo that closed in 1910; there's lots of photos to be framed and mounted on the walls. Then there's a big rock that Essau Nelson found. Clean it up and mount some kind of light over it". (The story goes that in the 1930's, rancher Essau Nelson found this stone in dried river bed and carved on it were figures and writing similar to Biblical languages, thought to be thousands of years old by archeologists). "OK Happy, I'll find the guys, we'll start on it," I replied. "It will take a while to get the museum finished, but when its done the cemetery needs lots of repair. "The Cemetery?" I asked. "Yes, our own Boot Hill, we built a few years ago, you know, piles of dirt, a few boots sticking up and wooden tombstone imitations with funny captions written on them, the lettering is wearing off and needs to be repainted," Shahan informed.
This was Ron Gast's idea of fun having been the original creator of this and most of the captions reflected his poetic, and dry humor.
A sample was something like, "Here lies Ortho, whose life was suddenly tooken, when one time too often, he complained about his wife's cookin'". This spot was a hit with the visitors and it took about 30 minutes to see it all. During the summer Cody, Robert and I would often hide behind a wall, and listen to the laughter of the tourists as they paused and read each grave marker. Shahan impressed me with the importance of the cemetery tour, "We've got to get these tombstones readable as they help to keep people here as long as possible; remember, we've got food, drinks, and Indian key chains to sell."
As I assumed, it was time to get to work and started off towards the museum Shahan stopped me again with more pertinent information. "We also have a weed problem, but I'll tell you more about that when the museum is underway."
Thanks, I replied, and trudged off down front street where I would meet Robert Harris and Ron "John Cody" Gast for the first time; two great guys who would be a part of my life for decades.
Work on the museum was progressing well during the week when one morning, Shahan found me and called me aside. "I need you to work on the bushes and weeds today. He passed me some heavy shears and a hoe and rake. "Start on these bushes over there by the Marshals office, but keep in mind that when you her me calling you over the P.A. (there was a speaker in the church bell tower) come running to the cantina; put down any tools you have, and get into entertaining, there'll be tourists, having lunch hopefully waiting for a show from you."
One blistering afternoon, I was cutting weeds in the 110 degree sun, sweaty and dirty when I heard Happy's voice on the P.A. calling, "Ray Campi, come to the cantina!"
I didn't come as he demanded, so he came looking for me. I yelled at him; "Hey man, here I am, cutting your bushes, full of sweat and dirt and you want me to drop everything and play Roy Rogers for 6 tourists. He noticed the pitiful sight I was and strangely enough he backed down. "OK", we'll pass on this one, just keep cutting those bushes." I followed his instructions and worked diligently until about 3:00 that afternoon when I started to feel quite dizzy, and passed out. I woke up in Shahan's bedroom up at the house with many people crowding over me. Someone yelled "put some hot towels on him," which was done. This didn't help as I was still delirious and I remember Virginia Shahan telling some one, "get those towels off of him, he's hot enough already, he needs ice which she applied to my forehead. Thanks Virginia, because of you I'm alive today.
Forget the Alamo: the case of caricatures or "The West As It Never Was. It would be in order to provide some description of the folks I worked with that summer at Alamo Village and why I'll never forget them (I really didn't try too hard.)
James T. "Happy" Shahan: little more can be said about him, I think you've gotten the picture; outgoing, focused, dedicated to his cause, one who got results; friendly (but not all of the time). Virginia Shahan: a great wife, mother, lady and business person who eventually operated the gift shop and ran most of the village stores. She worked constantly and is still a great friend.
Another character I was to work with at Alamo Village was the Bullman, who as hired mainly to drive the stage coach and act in the gun shows. He had spent most of his young life on the ground or in hospitals. He was very likeable and had survived financially by riding bull in rodeos. He loved to talk about these adventures and tried to impress women with his "bull stories." He had lots of them. You might say he was "full" on them. Although he had never won first place honors in this field, he had done a lot of bull riding for a young fellow and had ben injured on practically every ride.
"This one jumped out of the chute when I wasn't ready, and I got my right leg crushed against the," he'd explain to the girls who listened patiently. He'd then pull up his pants leg to show the ugly results. "When the belt I was holding on to slipped, I fell under this other bull's hind legs and he stepped on my chest." He'd then unsnap his western shirt button to reveal his broken collarbone and some surgical scars. The women shuddered at the sight. "I had three ribs broken on this side," and his shirt would come completely off.
When college let ut for a summer break three pretty young girls came to live on the ranch and work as cashiers in the stores. One very attractive one caught the Bullman's eye. "Hey man, did you see the short brunette with the big smile that showed up at the village today? Wow, I'm on love with that one," and he was. He moped and drooled over her every time she walked by. Every chance he got he was checking out the new merchandise in her store. Then he'd start in with her on all of his bull riding exploits, showing his damaged body parts. Before long she was convinced he had fallen on his head a few times (which he had) and she started to spend time with me and every chance she could she found an excuse to get away from him. I was a friend of his, but he just wasn't impressing this doll.
Oddly enough, after a few weeks my friendship with this girl started to settle in and soon we were involved in late night love sessions, counting stars, under the moon where we mooned over each other passionately to the rippling waters of the cattle's water tank, slapping mosquitoes and putting our lips together repeatedly. I fell guilty as I really liked the Bullman and I don't think he ever forgave me, but I had my own emotions to deal with.
One of his favorite tricks was to take terrible falls when he was shot off the stage coach in the gun shows. He thought this up himself, Shahan was concerned he might be killed. but it looked so exciting it was kept in the show
Uncle Benny,
Upon first glance, this tall, bold, German Texan in his seventies had the appearance of an upside down horseshoe in cowboy boots. Years of horse wrangling molded his legs into this "U" position.
"I'm Benny, Ray. My job is to take the tourists on horse trail rides." This was his only job besides talking to the rides and chatting with visitors, especially ones with small children, It didn't take long for me to notice that Shahan didn't mind assigning me alternative jobs besides my singing. Ron, Robert and myself were told to clean out the outhouses, trim bushes, pull weeds, paint the cemetery signs, construct a museum, and anything else he could think up besides acting in the gun shows.
Jesse only drove the stage and acted sometimes in the shows. The beautiful ladies were solely store cashiers. Uncle Benny, though in late middle age, had two very nice teen-age boys who lives in Del Rio. He was a friends to all children he met. Next to horses, kids were his love.
One day we got talking about horses, specifically one he owned and rode. "She's a fine, gently mare. I raised her from a colt. I've trained her to do anything I want her to do. I'm going to use her on the trail rides for the youngest kids. You've got to have a safe horse for the little ones." I agreed, but a few days later Benny got the shock of his life. The Wrangler would tie all the horses together and walk the group of riders slowly around the ranch. He was not on his horse this time as he had assigned her to a five year old boy. The boy's feet were tied to the stirrups and the horse was on the rear of the group. Suddenly, for some reason, Benny's favorite bolted in fright and tore away from the others with the child screaming. The animal started running back to the stable which was about four blocks away. "Stop, stop." Benny called the horse's name repeatedly to no avail. The startled man was still screaming as the mare broke into a gallop. The kid slid to one side of the animal, hanging upside down by one tied stirrup, screaming and crying. As the horse entered the corral's stable the frightened kid's head just barely missed the gate post by inches. The mare stopped in the corral with Benny leaving the other riders to assist the child. He reached him, got him upright and out of the stirrup, and handed the boy over to his shocked parents. Later, Benny recalled how close the youngster cam to being hurt.
"Well Benny, You've taught me a good lesson; never trust a horse, especially one you've raised yourself."
Rudy Robbins,
"Hi, I'm Rudy Robbins. I rent horses for trail ride at Fort Clarke and here at the Village also. You'll be seeing me around the stables. I also do some acting when I get a chance."
Rudy was also a great entertainer. He specialized in cowboy songs, played guitar and sang well and often got music jobs on "dude" ranches that catered to vacationers who wanted to ride horses and re-live the western lifestyle. During the casting line-up for The Alamo" John Wayne spotted him and he became a favorite. Rudy was tall and thin, had a prominent lantern jaw, and was a natural at comedy acting. Wayne cast him several times in scene and made him one of Crockett's men and gave Rudy a line to repeat several times that made him get noticed.
His outstanding moment is when one fellow frighter, collapsing near Rudy below the compound wall, is dying and look out at the hundreds of Mexican invaders and says for the last time to Rudy. Does this mean what I think it do?" Rudy's sappy answer was only two words, "it do!" Theater audiences would laugh when "It Do" appeared on the screen and blurted out these words.
A couple of years later when Rudy and Robert Harris arrived in Old Tucson to seek extra work on McClintock Robert was ignored, but Rudy was greeted by Wayne with "Hi, 'It Do,' are you ready to go to work?" He got to act also in several other of Wayne's future pictures including Green Berets in which he appears in several scenes with lines. My old radio and television friend from Austin Cactus Pryor was also featured in this one.
The Breen's
I became very close over the years to two people I met during my entertaining stint at Alamo Village in 1963. Nakai Breen had married Bud and they had six children. She had extensive knowledge of authentic Cherokee Indian folklore, religion and language and over the years she taught most of it to Bud. When I first met her she was operating the Indian souvenir store at the Village. Years later she became an expert at traditional healing methods and medicine and she and Bud conducted outdoor meetings where praying and healing were practical. They also operated a restaurant, and a museum of Bud's beautiful oil paintings of Cowboy and Indian life in the heart of Brackettville, Texas.
"Hi, I'm Bud Breen", I heard as I turned around quickly. "I'm sort of an all around man here at the Village, I do a little painting on the buildings, some of the gun show acting and in my spare time, I squeeze off an oil painting or two." Before me appeared the most authentic looking cowboy type of man I'd ever seen; he possessed a high cheekboned face and draping under his nose was a long handlebar mustache. His shaggy brown hair draped over his shirt collar and his clothing consisted of tight black cotton pants, a striped long sleeve shirt and a red printed bandana hung loosely around his neck. He also wore a black leather collared vest and a battered black ten gallon hat made of heavy felt. On top of his basic clothing he wore very high leather fringed brown boots. On top of all of this his clothing was topped off by a well-worn pair of brown "working cowboy" chaps
"If you need anything here at the Village I'll be glad to show you around," he invited. In the years to follow this meeting I was to learn how talented this humble man was and how his art captivated all who saw his paintings, including myself and Happy Shahan. Bud had also been an extra throughout The Alamo production. His linear face and mustache put him in league with another actor who was quite famous in Western films and his dry humor on film. Chewing and spitting tobacco was a trademark of Arthur Hunnicutt. Interestingly enough he had an important part in a former Alamo film made near Brackettville in 1954 called The Last Command starring Richard Carlson as Davey Crockett. Years later when tourists, many being Western movie fans, would meet Bud they would comment, "Mr. Breen, I've enjoyed all of your movies including The Last Command." Being a very humble and caring person rather than embarrassing the complimentor Bud would respond with a simple, "Thank you" and then sign an autograph "Bud Breen" for them. The Bud Breen museum of Indian and Cowboy art is an important attraction today in Brackettville, Texas and is filled with scores of beautiful oil paintings created by Bud Breen. More of some of the interesting friends I made at Alamo Village coming up in the next part of Forget The Alamo.
Bud and Nakai produced several children and years later adopted one. Bud was always short of money and never got the job at the Village he relished which was to clean the coins out of the wishing well. Whoever did this usually got the price of a hamburger for himself. Maybe that's why someone in authority always took care of this chore to Bud's frustration.
Robert Harris,
I met Robert Harris in that steaming adobe building which was finally furnished through our efforts as the Alamo Village Museum and our friendship has endured all of these years. His friendly demeanor and his ability to get a laugh out of the most stiff-lipped snobs is legendary. He has an innocence about performing the most stupid antics, completely oblivious to some of the most ridiculous things he's done, like donning a blond wig in Robert Redford's film The Great Waldo Pepper, to double him in an open biplane, and then crashing into a barn. Robert had no idea his "Redford doubling" was going to involve out of control flying and the sound man had trouble figuring out what all the screaming was about that was coming through his earphones. Robert survived this mis-adventure to go on to even more outrageous ones in his long but unspectacular career in and mostly out of films. One can never be angry with Robert (except when he's drunk) and he's loved by all who meet him, especially drunks and any woman who passes in front of him, married or not.
Upon returning from a stint in the Army in Germany where he operated a film projector for Elvis, with whom he remained on speaking terms, he settled with his parents who lived in Brackettville. His dad had farmed land in Crystal Springs, Texas and both parents operated "The Palace (ha!) Theater" on the town's main street where cowboy movies were the mainstay during the evenings. Years later after this operation shut down Robert moved two projectors to some vacant lots his family owned near the Air Force base near Del Rio, set up folding chairs under a tent and began showing X rated movies to his Airmen customers. He had to shut down after months of criticism by local preachers who got negative stories printed in the Del Rio newspaper condemning Robert as "the Son of the Devil."
When The Alamo began casting young Robert got into a line-up before John Wayne and was picked the first day.
Robert recalled that first day at work; "Ron Gast and I were dressed as Mexican peasants and were told to walk down the back street. We were carrying these heavy baskets on our backs and it was hard to walk quietly. Ron was wearing heavy boots and when we reached the area where Wayne was filming an intimate scene with Linda Crystal, Wayne burst into a rage". 'Who the hell is making all of that 'clump, clump' noise with their boots?' I was close to him and he immediately blamed me while Ron snuck off. Wayne looked right at me and yelled," 'Hey kid, if you want to be movie star say this line for me and I'll put you in this scene.' Wayne spurted some Spanish words real fast and demanded that Robert repeat them. Robert repeated them, Robert choked out something close to what he had heard and Wayne said, 'O.K. let's film it.' After the camera began to roll Robert tried the line for a few times in his mind but had forgotten most of it. Finally, under extreme pressure in front of scores of extras, Wayne and Linda Crystal, he ad-libbed, "Santi Anas a comin." The entire street burst into laughter including Wayne and his Hollywood crew. Wayne got his revenge. "O.K. kid" he chided, "you're no actor, now get back into the crowd and keep those thick boots out of microphone range." The western star had been abused for years in front of fellow film-makers by John Ford and the actor, when in the role of a director had adopted the same practice. Yet, he did it mostly for fun and was very forgiving with young actors. John Wayne gave Robert Harris several more chances to be a star in The Alamo which he muffed also.
Another blunder occurred which Harris proudly admits to in a chase scene. Many extra riders had two sets of costumes. One uniform was that of one of Santa Ana's soldiers and the other was that of a rebel fighting with Jim Bowie or Davy Crockett. Wayne was directing a scene in which a group of Mexican soldiers were chasing some of Crockett's band. Robert Harris was one of the later group. He recalled "I don't know where they got all those horses from; some were barely broken. I got this horse and he reared and wouldn't hold still; the animal had no idea what pulling back the reins meant and when we started the chase he ran away with me. Pretty quick he had gotten in front of the Mexican group. I pulled as hard as I could trying to hold him back but I couldn't. The next thing I knew I was right in the middle of Crockett's boys and starting to move in front of them. Wayne was behind the camera screaming 'Who is that Mexican rider ruining my shot?' Many of us extras had beards and long hair and he didn't recognize me luckily, and I didn't want him to catch me again for screwing up so I rode up the hill to Shahan's house where I had parked my car. I jumped off of this crazy horse and changed clothes into my buckskin pants and jacket. I let the horse run away; I have no idea where he went. I then calmly walked back in my fresh clothes to the camera crew who had stopped filming. Wayne was scanning the faces of the Mexican soldiers trying to find the fool who couldn't control his horse. Thank God he never learned it was me. I would have been fired that day. A few days later he did catch me goofing up, but that's another story."
Robert Harris had more fun with his employer on the film, in another tragic incident. Robert's version was as follows; "I was dressed as one of Travis' fighters standing behind the Alamo compound wall. Wayne was filming and I was firing a rifle over the wall at the Mexican soldiers. There was a long stack of freshly loaded rifles real close to me. My rifle emptied so I turned real quick to pick up a new one and my gun butt hit the first rifle in the stack and they all went tumbling over like a row of dominoes. Wayne stopped shooting again, walked right up to me, looked me straight in the eye and said in that J.W. monotone, 'Ithink you did that on purpose!' I was scared and didn't utter a sound, but he let me keep working. I think he liked me."
John Wayne was beginning to accept Robert Harris who was to develop into an out-of-step, unpredictable, aspiring actor, extra, stuntman, set dresser, teamster, and movie caterer. "Duke" even had his photo taken with him as in later years also did Dean Martin, Robert Redford (Referred as Harris would pronounce his name) and Jimmy Stewart when their fates in filmaking brought these stars into his colorful presence.
At last he was given a big chance by Wayne to "act" in a challenging scene involving Davy Crockett and his group which included Chill Willis who were all chest deep in a creek holding their rifles over their heads. This scene was filmed in January and the temperature was in the 30's. Robert was playing one of several Mexican soldiers in a camp, late at night. They were enjoying some drinking, some dancing girls, and partying around a large campfire. Many were dozing off to sleep. Crockett and his men were attempting to steal some of their cattle as the fighters at the Alamo were out of food. Robert was directed carefully by Wayne before the shooting where he was to play drunk, stagger around the fire and speak a short line as he throws a tequila bottle to the ground, this was a critical point in Harris' career because: Robert knew he could not speak the line in Spanish believably and when the camera began rolling through nervousness he threw the bottle too hard; he only needed to drop it, and it sailed over to the creek splashing water in Wayne's face, barely missing the camera. "What's wrong with you boy?" Wayne screamed, and climbed out of the freezing creek to walk through Robert's action again. "Do it right this time, please, were all freezing;" cried Chill Willis. "Yeah, get it right," the group chanted. Robert tried two more times to do the scene with film rolling and managed to keep the dropped bottle in the scene, but still murdered the short dialogue. In the completed film Harris remains throwing the bottle down as he staggers and falls, but the botched line has been cut. He still got a Screen Actors Guild membership card for his efforts. John Wayne was a good person and enjoyed working with actors on the way up, or on the way down. It sometimes gave him someone to provide amusement for all; Robert Harris was expert at this.
His most stunning moments in The Alamo occurred in a scene in which the results were devastating. Although he often acted "dim-witted" and oblivious to his surrounding at times he made friends with Cliff Lyons and his stuntman crew. They were his heroes for their skill and bravery in action picture making. Several caissons were used in the picture. These were horse drawn cannons mounted on four wheel carts. Two horses pulled, guided by a "driver", riding on the back of one horse holding a bridle. This person needed experience to control the two horse. Two soldiers were seated in the wagon and their job was to man the cannon which was being pulled behind the wagon. Extra pay was given to any extra who would accept this job and Harris was willing. "Plunker" Sheedy got the job of driver and Robert was one of the cannon soldiers. The stuntmen all advised against it. The fellow cannon soldier riding next to Robert was an eager extra from Uvalde. The scene began and the two horse and three men were off and running. As predicted, the vehicle got out of control when it ran down a hill and began to turn over on the side of Robert's fellow cannon man. "Plunker's" bridle had broken and he had slid underneath his pulling horse and was hanging on for his life. "Jump" the crew shouted from the sidelines as Robert's sideman spilled to the rocky ground with his foot lodged in the spokes of the wagon wheel spinning like a windmill, being beaten like a wet rag. The stunned on-lookers kept yelling, "Harris, jump, jump!" He reminisced to me: "I was falling fast and looking for a soft spot to land on and the Uvalde man looked good so I dropped on him for my own protection and my weight pulled his leg from the spinning wheel. He got up, everyone was cheering me thinking I was a hero for saving the man." I hit the ground and noticed that the runaway horse pulling the cannon crashed directly into a Panovision camera smashing it to the water, destroying it (actually, the film was not damaged and this scene appears in the edited version).
"Wayne was sick over this, but couldn't bitch at me too much because everyone rushed over to me, praising me as a hero for pulling my partner out of the wheel. Wayne's stuntmen buddies Cliff Lyons and Red Morgan were backslapping me and they became my friends throughout the picture. A short time later I worked with them again on John Ford's Two Rode Together with Jimmy Stewart and Richard Widmark, filmed on the Alamo Village set. A shot of me in a group scene wound up on a lobby card for the movie."
Bob Harris remained on The Alamo set through its final days of filming and years later when he arrived on the set of True Grit in Colorado looking for work Wayne spotted him Duke's only comment to him was, "Don't I know you?"
Every Man's Home is His "Palace"
This conversation took place during a poker game between Robert Harris and one of his card playing buddies during a game in the backroom of his Palace Theater in Brackettville, Texas, during the late 1960's. "O.K. Harris, you've got to clean up this dump." The complainer was Kinney County attorney John Tobin, Robert's favorite drinking, and card playing buddy. "The rats are running wild, scaring the children when they brush by their feet under the seats. All that popcorn and candy you leave on the floor after the shows is growing the rat population and they're moving in to all of your neighbors joints. The rodents are multiplying and getting out of control." Harris had a few logical excuses; "Hey Tobin, what do you want me to do? I've got enough jobs already trying to run this place. I've got to start every evening selling tickets in the booth, then I run inside to make popcorn and get the concession stand in operation, then run upstairs to the projection room to start the show; then I run back to the candy stand during the intermission selling stuff, then I'm back upstairs running more of the show, then back downstairs to drive out the stragglers and lovers and to close up, and now you expect me to be the janitor too! Your nuts!" Tobin was unmoved. "And I'm getting complaints from the restaurant next door about the stink out in the alley that comes from that bathtub over there" (Robert's chair was next to it). He was proud of how he skillfully set up this old style four legged tub in the backroom deteriorating movie house that served it's owner as a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, storage area, and card parlor. Since no proper plumbing existed to drain off the stagnant bathwater Harris had placed a plastic pipe from the tub drain out the side door, flushing the soapy liquid on to the open ground. In the hot Texas sun the smell from this home made sewer filled the air to every neighbors disdain. "Hey Tobin, you've already lost a fortune to me this month. When you start paying me off your gambling debts then I'll have the cash to make improvements around this place. Until then, quit bitching and start winning," Harris countered.
This backroom of the Palace Theater played a memorable part of the life of myself and one other person around this time. In the summer of 1967 I'd been recently married and part of the honeymoon trip was a visit to Bracketville and Alamo Village. Having practically no money, it became advisable to accept Robert's invitation that myself and the new bride spend a couple of nights with him in the backroom of his "Palace." There were no windows in this stinky, boiling cell, dirty laundry spread around the place, and with the three of us packed on to mattresses thrown on the floor a night in the nearby Spofford jail would have been more enjoyable, even though it had no roof and was falling apart. Needless to say, that first night in the Palace honeymoon suite was a fitting prelude to a failed marriage.
"I'm from Amarillo, did some acting work in The Alamo and have been spending my summers here in the dirt." This was my introduction to "Cody" on that hot May morning at Alamo Village. Our meeting place was the adobe building that was to become "the museum" due mostly to Ron's innovative ideas. The primary tool of his creativity was not a hammer but a typewriter and I learned that he had a large role in writing the western skits that were performed for the tourists several times daily. They were very funny satires on western and cowboy life that centered around feuds between the sheepman and the cattleman. Some of them were; The Homesteader, Don't Lose Your Temper, and the shortage of desirable women in the West was the topic of Mail Order Bride. Some of these 15 minute epics were performed in the cantina and others were acted out on the main street, where "rolling in the dirt" was a requirement. These shows involved gun play (Shahan could always guarantee that his actors would stay working the entire season if he sold them a six gun and then deducted payments from their wages) getting your stage clothes ripped, having "whiskey" (really tea) thrown in your face as well as being shot dead if you were the unlucky "bad guy" in a performance. "I'll teach you a few of these shows; you'll get the hang of it," Cody re-assured.
Rober Harris took me aside after we'd been working together a few days. "Have you noticed that Ron is real 'moody'? Some days he'll walk right by me and never even say 'good morning'." I was to learn that Ron Gast was this way at times as he enjoyed being alone, planning new plays to write. Also, he considered Robert to be a "babbler" and didn't want to waste time with him endlessly.
One day I thought I'd play a trick on him. "Ron, how about if I play the cattleman today in Don't Lose Your Temper and you be the sheep-man?" He reluctantly agreed as we all got bored with doing these shows repeatedly and needed diversions in which the two men who hated each other, harassed each other with the cattleman being the aggressor trying to get the sheepman to get angry so he could shoot him. The bully, would fold and stomp on the sheep-man's hat, kick him in the seat, and the most fun bit was to throw whiskey (tea) and cigarette ashes (flour) in his face. This would amuse the over-confident cattleman but in the end the sheep-man would grab his gun when he was not paying attention and shoot him. In this particular show I had the pleasure of throwing the whiskey in Ron's (the sheep-man) face. In this performance instead of filling the bar glass with about 2 inches of tea, I filled it completely to top. Ron who looked a mess but in character could only take the hit. In a future show he could get even with me, which he did as he was a great "trickster."
Cody was sometimes pursued by women and in conversations about one he disliked he'd refer to her as an "old bag of guts." This was one of his favorite expressions as well as "home-brew," words that worked their way into the gun shows. He loved funny names like "Rowena" and "Ortho", "Juke" and the like. One day he told me a funny story about his pets at the village. "I was living in this adobe building at the end of front street and I'd picked up this stray German Shepherd. There were always unclaimed cats being born on the ranch so I got one of them too, which I tamed. I wanted to keep them in my room together, but they were constantly fighting each other, but I put a stop to that", he revealed. "How did you do it?" I asked. "I found this big burlap bag and I stuffed both of them inside and tied the top with a rope. Then they both started screaming, barking, fighting like Hell. The sack was jumping all over the place. It was like an earthquake." "What them?" I asked. "I just locked them in the building and went into town. When I returned early the next morning and opened up the place I saw an amazing sight. They were out of the bag, there was dog hair and cat fur all over the place, the two were sitting calmly side by side like two old buddies. It was funny!"
Some other hilarious moments involving Cody took place with Bud Breen. Bud was the perennial proto-type of the starving artist with six kids and a wife to support he rarely had a full stomach. Bill Kegans, Cantina owner served a large hamburger placed on an ample slice of fresh lettuce. Bud who had no lunch would sit across from Cody, eyeing his eating process, waiting for him to finish the burger. "What are you staring at Bud?" Cody would ask. Bud's reply was, "just waiting to see." "Waiting to see what?" "Waiting to see if your gonna eat that big piece of lettuce at the bottom!" Bud would then grab the lettuce slice, gulp it down and run out the closest door of the cantina into the street. Shocked at Bud's slyness and speed Cody could say nothing. Later upon seeing Bud, the contented look upon his face was a joy to behold.
As the summer season progressed Cody approached me with a suggestion. "Hey Ray, would you like to get out of the castle on the hill and share a house with me in Brackettville?" It didn't take long for me to jump at the opportunity. My Village working hours were 9:00am to 7:00pm but when you lived in the boss' house there were always "chores" to be done like washing clothes and all of the bed linens, vacuuming the rooms occupied by the family and employees, cooking dinners for the bunch, and washing dishes. "Ron, I'm never getting to sleep before midnight; these "chores" are wearing me out and I need some private time for my own fun," I confessed. "Well we can do it," he replied, "I know old lady Fritter and she's got this apartment behind her house for rent, and it's cheap." We moved in that week. Shahan was again in his "unhappy" mode, but so be it.
Ron Gast and I worked together through most of the summer until he left to work in Glendale, California with Rollie Harper whom he met and worked for on The Alamo. The cantina owner, Bill Kegans, left after the summer and became a cook for Rollie also.
I wasn't to imagine that 1964 I would also be working for Rollie (check out my story How I Learned to Hate Monkeys). Ron Gast later attended law school after giving up acting ambitions. He was a great person and friend (he once loaned me money to record a song) and was one of the most interesting people I met at Alamo Village in 1963. Another incident that stands out in my mind that illustrates "Cody's" humor that brought havoc to Alamo Village had to do with a life-sized wooden Indian that welcomed visitors to Nakia Breen's Indian store. One morning Virginia Shahan notice it was missing. "Someone has stolen the wooden Indian," she cried out. "Has anyone seen it?" A day or so later it was found in and adjoining building. "Yeah, I took it, Harris, I moved it," Ron admitted to Robert. "We got Nakai here and one wooden Indian is enough!" was his joking comment.
After Ron and I had moved into Mrs. Fritter's bungalow Robert Harris started dropping by to invite me to party in Old Mexico, "Cuna" as Via Acuna was called. Ron usually stayed in, working on scripts. One night that he dropped by he asked me, "How do you like my new suit? I'm gonna knock the girls out tonight," he bragged. After an evening of partying he and I got back to the house and Robert removed his pants and passed out on the couch, leaving the new suit draped over a chair. Upon waking about noon I opened my eyes to screaming; "My pants, my new pants!" Robert cried. During the night a playful puppy Ron had acquired had discovered a new toy. Robert Harris' suit pants were now only good for an amputee; a man with one leg. All was not lost though as we had some dish rags for quite a while.
Ron was always involved in some incident or prank that riled the Shahan's, yet Happy appreciated and needed him and tried never to upset him. After I'd been working a few weeks a "mouse colored" jacket often used in the shows was missing. Happy was playing the role of "unhappy" this day and approached a table in the cantina where Ron, Bud, Robert and myself were having lunch. Happy approached me directly for some reason. "Campi have you seen the grey jacket we use in the shows?" I calmly explained in front of the assembled workers, "Yes, Happy I have seen it in the past on the floor over in the hotel building," now used as a wagon garage. At this time I was no longer living in Happy's home and I think he was upset with me for mingling in town with "those people." He kept pushing on me with the obvious intent of getting me to say that I took it myself. I got angry after a bit and yelled at him, trying to insist that I didn't know the whereabouts of this worthless costume. He kept goading me until I yelled, "I told you, I did see this coat, but I don't have any idea where it is now. That's all I have to say about it!" Happy called me aside in a rage and told me not to challenge him in front of the other guys. Eventually we cooled off and were always friends after this incident, but during the argument Ron and the others said nothing. What shocked me was a few days later I found that jacket in our apartment in Ron's closet.
Another Ron Gast story was told to me by Harris: On the first Winter of the Alamo Village opening Ron was living in one of the unheated buildings, freezing to death. He got a hold of an old wood stove, but had no pipe to vent it and the room was always full of smoke. He complained to Robert "I've got to find a stovepipe, I'm choking to death." Robert advised, "I think I saw an old vent pipe in the loft of Shahan's general store; check it out." Ron did, and he located a soot-filled rusty, dented up pipe which he confiscated without telling anyone. He attached it to his stove, ran it outside a window and he was comfy for a few days. "Where did that stove pipe go we had stored in the back?" Virginia Shahan asked. Happy replied, "It's around here unless someone took it." He suspected that someone stole it and sure enough, the smoke coming from Ron's room was the tip-off. "Ron," Happy demanded, "bring that pipe back right now!" Ron was angry, but delivered the merchandise to its rightful owner. "Here's your damn stovepipe!" "Clunk!" He threw it down on the floor of the store projecting black soot everywhere which flew on to the new merchandise, with more crumpled and dented corners being applied! This outburst of independence amazingly didn't get him fired, for after this incident Ron could get away with even more unpredictable behavior. It could have been that he was very much respected for his acting and writing skills or that Happy had to keep him employed so he could deduct from his wages the payments for the pistol he had sold him. Who knows?
Ray Campi Stories
