John Ford biography

Film historians and scholars always seem to be “searching” for John Ford -- endlessly examining his films for motifs and hidden meanings. When he was alive, Ford took special delight in shooting down academics whenever possible. In his old age, and against his better judgment, he consented to a number of interviews. One student researcher was particularly interested in Ford’s photographic inspiration in a certain scene. He built up an interminable preamble to his question, outlining the scene in detail, comparing the result to the many Ford films he had seen. All the time Ford, resplendent in his eye patch, looked bored. Finally the researcher arrived at the question. “How did you film that scene, Mr. Ford?” the interviewer asked pompously. “With a camera,” Ford shot back.

The answer was typically Ford. Though the director made some of the best westerns in the business he, at least in public, downplayed both his achievements and himself. To him, film making was “a job or work” and he was the humble practitioner. His simple introduction said all. “I’m John Ford,” he would say. “I make westerns.”

A few years later, Ford was offered a chance to direct by Universal. His first feature film was a western, “Straight Shooting”, made in 1917. His star was Harry Carey.

Carey was a craggy-faced character actor who had started with D.W. Griffith. Ford cast him as a westerner in the rugged mold of fellow actor William S. Hart, who was enjoying great popularity in a series of gritty, realistic oaters. Together, Ford and Carey they made 26 features together. Then something mysterious happened and their association was abruptly terminated. Neither man would ever talk about it. Maybe it was because a slick new cowboy star, named Tom Mix, was replacing the rugged westerner that Carey and Hart had championed. Hart had also stopped making films at about the same time. But Dobie Carey, Harry’s son and Ford’s godson, thinks that the two might have had a serious falling out. At any rate, they didn’t speak to each other for years.

Toward the end of the silent era Ford became acquainted with a former University of Southern California football player -- now a hulking prop boy at Fox named Marion Michael Morrison. The two struck it off and Ford put Morrison in several of his films. After sound came in, Ford introduced Morrison to director Raoul Walsh. Morrison was just the fellow to play the role of the wagon master in Walsh’s new super western, “The Big Trail”. For that film, Morrison’s name was changed to John Wayne.

Ford made some of his best non-westerns in the 1930s including “The Hurricane” and “The Informer”. Sometime during the period, he purchased the rights to a Saturday Evening Post short story by Earnest Haycox entitled “Stage to Lordsburg”. Ford had kept in touch with Wayne and his career. Apparently he saw something in Wayne that other producers didn’t recognize because, by 1939, the actor had been reduced to roles in quickie westerns. He had even served a short stint as a singing cowboy.

When Ford tried to get financing for his film, the studios refused because he insisted that Wayne play the lead character of Johnny Ringo. Wayne, the executives argued, was just a cowboy actor. He didn’t have enough of a name to carry a major picture. Ford persisted and finally an independent producer named Walter Wanger agreed to finance the picture with John Wayne as the star.

If Ford was anxious to sign John Wayne for “Stagecoach”, he didn’t act like it on the set. He constantly browbeat his star, made fun of him, told him he was a lousy actor, said that he walked funny, and generally picked on him at every opportunity. Wayne’s co-stars, including Claire Trevor, Thomas Mitchell and, especially, Andy Devine, came to his rescue. One day Devine blew up at the director and threatened to wipe the set up with him unless he laid off Wayne. When Ford walked away smirking, Devine suddenly realized the cast had been had. To prevent the name actors from being jealous of the newcomer, Ford had made it so rough for Wayne that they came to his defense instead.

Ford’s infuriating treatment of John Wayne didn’t end with “Stagecoach.” Throughout Wayne’s career -- and he made many films with Ford -- the director continued to taunt him on the set. In fact, he treated many of his actors this way. “If he liked you,” Dobie Cary said, “he mistreated you. If he ignored you, then you’d probably never work with him again.” The irony of it was that most of Wayne’s best performances were in Ford pictures.

One of Ford’s major targets for abuse was Ward Bond, another former USC football player. Ford was constantly making fun of Bond’s ample behind. Another favorite mark was Victor McLaughlin. McLaughlin starred in Ford’s film “The Informer” and had won an Academy Award for his effort. But that didn’t stop Ford from berating McLaughlin’s acting ability. McLaughlin, who could be ill-tempered himself at times, more than once threatened to knock Ford’s block off.

Many in the industry called John Ford cruel and sadistic, and refused to have anything to do with him. Yet, they couldn’t deny the fact that he was a fine filmmaker. Nor could they deny that numerous actors and directors would have been out of work if not for Ford. His films were populated with actors who had seen their best days and were now barely remembered by movie goers -- Dick Foran, Tom Tyler, Blanche Sweet, George O’Brien, Hoot Gibson, and others -- all earned paychecks from Ford. After Harry Carey died in 1947, Ford not only gave his widow parts in his films, but cast his son Dobie (who was billed as Harry Carey, Jr.) in major roles. And Ford introduced Victor McLaughlin’s son, Andrew, to the right people and was instrumental in getting him his first directorial assignment.

John Ford was a man of many sides. He could be both cruel and kind to co-workers. But to moviegoers, Ford was the man who made the best westerns around. Unlike the scholars, who are apparently still searching for John Ford, his fans “found” him a long time ago.