"James
Garner, a master of light comedy who won an Emmy as Rockford and earlier had
shot to fame as a charming and dry-witted gambler on the hit TV western
‘Maverick,’ died Saturday (July 19, 2014) at his Los Angeles home. He was 86.”
-
Los Angeles Times, reported by Dennis McLellan
In
show business parlance, he was a “light leading man,” in the company of other light
leading men in the 1950s and ‘60s with first names that were clipped, even
craggy – solid-resonating names like Rock (Hudson), Cliff (Robertson), Rod (Taylor)
– men with chiseled jaws,
immaculate haircuts, and broad shoulders. James Garner, who had already
established his wry, laidback persona as TV’s first antihero, “Maverick,” a
roving gambler in the Old West who would sooner flimflam his antagonists than
draw a gun on them, found himself cast as cynical, self-effacing
types in a string of romantic comedies, among them “Cash McCall” (1959), “Boys’
Night Out” (1962), “Move Over, Darling” (1963), “The Thrill of It All” (1963),
and “The Wheeler Dealers” (1963).
His
leading ladies included Kim Novak, Doris Day, Lee Remick, and Natalie Wood, the
latter whom recommended, “Jim, now that you’ve established yourself, you need
to take some acting classes.” Garner, whose series, “Maverick,” had surpassed
rivals Ed Sullivan and Steve Allen in the Sunday evening ratings, replied, “Why
would I want to do that? I’ve got the top show on television. If and when
things start to go south, I’ll consider taking lessons, but until then I don’t
want to mess with a good thing.”
Never
fond of the pretensions of the acting profession, he often mentioned Spencer
Tracy as his inspiration. He noted in his 2011 memoir, The Garner Files, “I’m from the Spencer Tracy school: Be on time,
know your words, hit your marks, and tell the truth.” He didn’t have any
“theories” about acting “except that an actor shouldn’t take himself too
seriously…Acting is just common sense. It isn’t hard if you put yourself aside
and just do what the writer wrote.”
Garner
would also mention Henry Fonda as a mentor. Garner made his acting debut in a
1954 Broadway production of “The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial,” directed by
Charles Laughton and starring Fonda as Lt. Keefer (the role played by Fred
MacMurray in the motion picture “The Caine Mutiny”). Garner, who had no lines,
watched Fonda night after night: “I learned practically all my acting style
from him.”
In
his autobiography, he wrote, “I have to laugh when I hear actors talking about
their art. Hey, it’s a movie. Just say the lines.” In a 1984 interview, he told The New
York Times, “I was never enamored of the business, never even wanted to be an
actor, really. It’s always been a means to an end, which is to make a living.”
In
The New York Times obituary, Bruce Weber wrote, “He was a genuine star but as
an actor something of a paradox: a lantern-jawed, brawny athlete whose physical
appeal was both enhanced and undercut by a disarming wit.” That disarming wit,
along with a charming reluctance for rash heroics, served Garner well on “Maverick,”
from 1957 until he left the series over a legal dispute in 1962.
In
1971, James Garner returned to series television as the star of “Nichols,” portraying
a sheriff in an Arizona town who, like Maverick, is opposed to gunplay, relying
on his wits to overcome adversity, all the while hatching schemes to get rich
quick with a minimum of effort.
Garner called his character “a free spirit and an independent thinker
struggling to keep up with a fast-changing world.” The series is set in 1914,
and instead of a horse, the sheriff straddles a belt-drive Harley-Davidson. “We
slipped in a little commentary here and there…antiviolence, pro-civil rights,
and pro-women’s rights,” Garner recalled in his memoir, “but we kept it gentle
and never got preachy. And always tried to keep it funny.” Disappointed
sponsors anticipated a carbon copy of “Maverick,” and the series, retitled
“James Garner as Nichols,” was ultimately canceled after a mere two dozen
episodes. “I was so angry and disappointed,” Garner wrote, “I decided to kill
Nichols off in the last episode.”
Garner
reprised the role of Bret Maverick in the 1978 TV-movie pilot “The New
Maverick,” introducing actor Charles Frank (best known for his recurring role
as Dr. Jeff Martin on the daytime drama “All My Children”) as a Maverick nephew
or cousin or something. The subsequent series, “Young Maverick,” lasted a
single season in 1979.
In
1981, Garner’s production company, Cherokee Productions, hooked up with Warner
Bros. Television (Garner’s legal nemesis from his “Maverick” days) for the
shortlived series “Bret Maverick,” which was canceled after one season. When
Mel Gibson starred in the 1994 big-screen reboot of “Maverick,” Garner played a
frontier marshal named Zane Cooper (perhaps as an homage to prolific sagebrush
writer Zane Grey and “High Noon Star” Gary Cooper) who is revealed to be Bret
Maverick’s father.
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| Washington Post critic Tom Shales observed that Garner "embodied the crusty,sardonic and self-effacing strain of American masculinity" as Maverick and Rockford. |
From
1974 to 1980, James Garner played his most endearing character, Jim Rockford, a
pardoned ex-convict and self-described “chicken” trying to eke out a living in
Los Angeles as a perennially broke private investigator who “got beat up a
minimum of twice per show.” Garner told a Variety interviewer in 2005 that
Rockford is “not a hell of a lot different from Maverick. They’re antiheroes,
both of them, and for an actor, that’s probably the most fun kind of leading
man to play.”
Because
of physical ailments (bad knees and back trouble, doubtlessly aggravated by his
insistence on performing his own stunts) – and an ugly legal quarrel over the
show’s actual profits - Garner eventually decided to not continue the series,
and CBS canceled “The Rockford Files” midway through its sixth season in 1980. It
would take 14 years before Garner’s Rockford made a comeback on television,
from 1994 to 1999, in eight reunion movies on NBC, opposite such leading ladies
as Rita Moreno, Dyan Cannon, Joanna Cassidy, and Kathryn Harrold.
The
New York Times’ Bruce Weber said Garner “was most at home as an iconoclast, a
flawed or unlikely hero.” According to the Los Angeles Times, “Garner’s
seemingly effortless flair for delivering humorous dialogue - and delivering
straight dialogue humorously – made him one of television’s biggest stars.”
When a studio executive suggested Garner tone down “Rockford’s” humor during
the series’ original run, the actor said, “Humor is what I do best. That’s what
people hire me for…either fire me or don’t mess with it.”
There
was a less humorous side to James Garner. He admitted in his memoir, “I’m a
pessimist by nature…I’m really an old curmudgeon.” His longtime assistant,
MaryAnn Rea insisted he was a “curmudgeon wannabe.” Garner wrote, “We argue
about it.”
Occasionally,
James Garner had the opportunity to stretch his acting chops in meatier
dramatic roles. As a matter of fact, his first starring role was in “Darby’s
Rangers” (1958), a World War II action flick based on the first elite commando
unit of the Army Rangers. Garner lucked into the part after the studio refused
to give the originally cast star, Charlton Heston, a percentage of the profits.
(In his memoir, Garner dismissed Heston as a “stiff as a board” actor.)
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| Off-camera, the stars of "The Great Escape" (1963), James Coburn, James Garner, and Steve McQueen, relax with director John Sturges. |
Garner
exhibited a determinedly grave presence in the ensemble casts of 1963’s “The
Great Escape” (with Steve MecQueen, Richard Attenborough, Charles Bronson,
Donald Pleasence, and James Coburn) and 1966’s “Grand Prix” (with Eva Marie
Saint, Yves Montand, Toshiro Mifune, Brian Bedford, and Antonio Sabato), but
what we’re interested in the Moviehouse is a handful of films that explored the
dark side of Hollywood’s light leading man when the goings got grim. So dim
the lights in the Moviehouse…
After
his departure from “Maverick,” James Garner was filming the 1962 love nest romp
“Boys’ Night Out” (costarring Kim Novak, Tony Randall, Howard Duff, and Howard
Morris) when he was interviewed by Cosmopolitan magazine’s John Whitcomb, who
asked him if he was out of the saddle for good. Garner replied, “You couldn’t
get me back with a crane.” Despite protests that he was finished with westerns,
he found himself back in the saddle for the first time since “Maverick” in the
1966 film “Duel at Diablo,” produced and directed by Ralph Nelson.
When he was 15 years old, Long
Island-born Ralph Nelson won a New York Times oratory contest and was
singled out by a judge as “potentially the most dangerous juvenile criminal” in
the metropolis for his participation in a string of gang fights, When his next
birthday rolled around he had been jailed in a dozen states for vagrancy and
suspicion of burglary.
As an ”innovative and widely
celebrated director,” in the words of Burt A. Folkart in the Los Angeles Times,
Nelson “honed his professional abilities in television’s glorious and growing
days of live performances.” The New York Times’ Ronald Sullivan noted, “Mr.
Nelson was widely credited with bringing consistently strong and innovative
direction to live dramatic programming in the early years of television.” He
directed more than 1000 dramatic shows for TV. The 1956 CBS production of
“Requiem for a Heavyweight” on CBS’s “Playhouse 90” won Emmy Awards for
director Nelson, writer Rod Serling, and star Jack Palance. Six years later,
Nelson directed the acclaimed screen version of “Requiem for a Heavyweight,”
starring Anthony Quinn, Jackie Gleason, Mickey Rooney, and Julie Harris.
In
1963, Ralph Nelson directed Sidney Poitier in an Oscar-winning performance as
an itinerant handyman reluctantly persuaded by a group of German immigrant nuns
to build a chapel for the poor in the Arizona desert in “Lilies of the Field.” Three
years later, Nelson cast Poitier in “something a little bit different than
‘Lilies of the Field,’” in the director’s words, as a former buffalo
soldier-turned-gambler hired by the Army to break horses in “Duel at Diablo.”
The
story in “Duel at Diablo” is a familiar one for western fans – a cavalry unit
of raw recruits transports wagons of ammunition and supplies to a fort through
hostile Apache territory – but Nelson succeeds in making the familiar fresh
with an array of complex characterizations. Alongside Poitier, James Garner
portrays a world-weary frontier scout who also happens to be searching for the
white man who murdered and scalped his Indian wife. Stockholm-born Bibi
Andersson, a favorite actress of Swedish director Ingmar Bergman’s, made a rare
American appearance as a woman ostracized by townsfolk after being rescued from
Indian captivity.
Rounding
out the cast are Dennis Weaver (best known as the star of the 1970s police
series “McCloud”), as Andersson’s husband, a self-centered and hateful tradesman
who denounces his wife for not killing herself when she was abducted by the
Apache, and Bill Travers (best known for his starring role, with real-life wife
Virginia McKenna, in “Born Free”), as Scotland-born Lt. “Scotty” McAllister, a
by-the-book rank officer with dreams of becoming a general.
No
Bret Maverick he, Garner’s no-nonsense westerner, Jess Remsberg, is as
rough-hewn and weather-beaten as the movie’s striking Utah landscapes. His
soulful eyes reflect the film’s pervasive air of fatalism and almost
Shakespearean tragedy, not to mention graphic bloodshed. There’s a marvelous
moment when Jess sadly watches the beleaguered troop ride into the night on a
desperate mission to distract the Apache, led by a battered and wounded Scotty,
who quotes from Scottish poet Robert Burns’ patriotic song “Scots Who Have
(with Wallace bled)”: “Welcome to your gory bed / Or to victory.” The movie
boasts an attention-getting music score – rife with guitars, trumpets, and
drums – by Neal Hefti, a jazz trumpeter who played with big band leader Woody
Herman.
In
his memoir, James Garner recalled, “I loved working with Sidney and my old pal
Dennis Weaver. Everybody did stunts in that picture, even…Bibi Andersson.
Sidney had to learn to ride – he didn’t know anything about horses and I think
he was a little afraid of them.” (As a matter of fact, Poitier made only one
other western, 1972’s “Buck and the Preacher,” which he also directed,
costarring Harry Belafonte and Ruby Dee.)
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| Between takes, "Duel at Diablo" costars Sidney Poitier and Bibi Andersson hone their shooting skills. |
Director
Ralph Nelson, who often appeared in his pictures (credited as “Alf Elson”), has
a cameo in “Duel at Diablo” as a colonel who leads the cavalry rescue at the
end and forces the Apache to surrender and return to their reservation. When
one character wonders if the Apache will stay on the reservation, Garner’s
scout bitterly intones, “Why should they?” underscoring the filmmaker’s depiction
of Native Americans as victims of prejudice and racism. Noticeably, no issue is
raised in the script over Poitier’s presence.
Nelson
returned to the subject matter – with even more graphic violence – in 1970’s
“Soldier Blue,” with Candice Bergen and Peter Strauss witnessing the wholesale
rape and slaughter of a Cheyenne village by the Army, obviously mirroring the
My Lai Massacre of hundreds of South Vietnamese villagers by the U.S. Army in 1968.
Nelson personally yanked “Soldier Blue” from theaters in Australia to protest what
censors there had removed.
Nelson
revisited his gentler side when he elicited an Academy Award-winning
performance from Cliff Robertson in “Charly” (1968). When he made “Lilies of the Field,” he agreed to a budget of
$250,000. Ralph Nelson’s last directing credit was the 1979 made-for-television
sequel “Chirstmas Lilies of the Field” (budgeted at $1.6 million), with Billy
Dee Williams in the Sidney Poitier role.
In
The New York Times review of “Duel at Diablo,” critic Robert Alden pointed out
that Garner’s “tiredness with the pointless struggle is evident in every line
of his weather-beaten face.” Well, as much as the actor’s eyes conveyed a
weariness with the world in “Duel at Diablo,” his portrayal of Wyatt Earp in
the following year’s “Hour of the Gun” was, in his own words, “the most
steely-eyed of all my roles.”
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| Doc Holliday (Kirk Douglas), Wyatt Earp (Burt Lancaster), Virgil Earp (John Hudson), Morgan Earp (DeForest Kelley) in "Gunfight at the O.K. Corral" (1957) |
In
1957, director John Sturges made “Gunfight at the O.K. Corral,” a very popular
but highly fictionalized account of the events leading up to Western folklore’s
most legendary showdown, starring Burt Lancaster as Wyatt Earp and Kirk Douglas
as Doc Holliday. A decade later, when Sturges wanted to reunite the original
cast in a sequel - originally called “Tombstone” (later the title of the 1993
western with Kurt Russell as Earp and Val Kilmer as Holliday) - the studio,
United Artists, desiring to distinguish the new film from its Paramount Pictures predecessor,
demanded different actors. “Hour of the Gun” was filmed on a number of Mexican
locations, including the small village of Torreon, which doubled as Tombstone,
Arizona.
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| Morgan Earp (Sam Melville), Virgil Earp (Frank Converse), Doc Holliday (Jason Robards), Wyatt Earp (James Garner) make their way to the O.K. Corral in "Hour of the Gun" (1967). |
James
Garner, who had previously worked with Sturges on the 1963 box-office hit “The
Great Escape,” recalled, “My agent called and said Sturges was doing a sequel
to ‘Gunfight at the O.K. Corral’ and I agreed to do it without seeing the script.
I trusted John that much. It’s a different kind of western than I’d done.”
Historically, the 30-second
shootout between the Earp brothers – Virgil, Wyatt, Morgan – with Doc Holliday, and cowboys Ike Clanton, Billy Clanton, Tom McLaury, Frank McLaury, and “Billy
the Kid” Claiborne resulted in the shooting deaths of the McLaury brothers and
Billy Clanton, while Ike and Claibrone ducked for cover. In the aftermath,
Virgil Earp was crippled by shotgun blasts in an ambush, and Morgan Earp was
assassinated in a billiard parlor. Riding with a posse that included Doc
Holliday and kid brother Warren Earp, Wyatt took the law into his own hands in
a relentless vendetta that resulted in the deaths of four desperados.
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| James Garner and Jason Robards in a publicity photo for "Hour of the Gun" |
Roger
Ebert proclaimed, “Garner turns in one of his best performances. Sturges must
have tamed him. He doesn’t shout or swagger; he’s quiet and squint-eyed, and in
20 more years when he works up some wrinkles he’ll make a good, indestructible
cowboy.”
(Coincidentally,
a little over 20 years later, Garner reprised his portrayal of Wyatt Earp in
“Sunset,” a 1988 action comedy written and directed by Blake Edwards that finds
the aging former lawman teaming up with silent screen cowboy star Tom Mix to
solve a murder mystery in 1920s Hollywood. In reality, Mix served as one of Earp's pallbearers at his funeral. According to Garner, Bruce Willis,
as Tom Mix, “ad-libbed all through the picture. At one point, I took him aside
and gave him some friendly advice: ‘No matter what you think, you’re not a better
writer than Blake Edwards.’ He didn’t listen. He just wasn’t serious about the
work.”)
At
a time when violent, amoral, nihilistic Italian spaghetti westerns were
changing American audiences’ perceptions of their homegrown genre, and so influencing
American filmmakers’ revisionist takes on our frontier history, Roger Ebert
praised “Hour of the Gun” as a “Hollywood Western” that “remains blessedly
itself.”
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| James Garner and Clint Eastwood in a 1959 episode of "Maverick"; forty-one years later, they reunited in "Space Cowboys" |
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| James Garner looks lean and mean in "A Man Called Sledge" (1970)... It's in the script, but it's highly doubtful anyone in the Old West uttered the epithet, "Wise ass!" |
Whether
James Garner wanted to further stretch his acting chops or whether he was
looking forward to a transatlantic vacation in Almeria, Spain (a location
popular in numerous spaghetti westerns), he remained reticent about exactly why
he played against type as an amoral, sadistic outlaw in 1970’s “A Man Called
Sledge," produced by fabled Naples-born movie mogul Dino De Laurentiis (who
grew up as a youth selling his father’s spaghetti and later contributed to
filmdom lexicon with his immortal phrase, “When Jaws die, nobody cry - when Kong die, everybody cry”). In his autobiography, Garner admitted, “I wish I
could remember why I let Dino De Laurentiis talk me into this turkey.”
It
was “one of the few times I’ve played a heavy,” Garner recalled, “and one of
the last.” As the ruthless leader of a gang outlaws – including Garner’s “Duel
at Diablo” costar Dennis Weaver and Claude Akins (best known for his portrayal
of Sheriff Lobo in the series “B.J. and the Bear” and “The Misadventures of
Sheriff Lobo”) – he masterminds an improbable robbery of $300,000 in gold dust
from a heavily guarded prison. One internet wag was prompted to remark, “Who
would have thought that McCloud, Sheriff Lobo and Bret Maverick would ever team
up and pull a heist?” Also along for the ride are Wayde Preston, star of the 1950s western series “Colt .45,” and Tony Young, who guest-starred on
several TV westerns, including “Maverick.”
Sultry
Italian actress Laura Antonelli plays the incongruous love interest for the
surly Garner, a prostitute who insists they don’t need gold for happiness. John
Marley (familiar to fans of “The Godfather” as the obstinate Hollywood mogul
who finds the severed head of his prized horse in his bed) wins the Gabby
Hayes-Walter Brennan Award for Most Embarrassing Scene-Stealing by a Grizzled
Coot.
![]() |
| John Marley as "Old Man" in "A Man Called Sledge": "Gold gives off a scent. It's like an animal or a man. Paper money don't throw off a scent. Paper money don't whisper to you like gold does." |
The
dour western, rife with heavy-handed clichés about no-honor-among-thieves, was
directed by actor Vic Morrow, best known as the sullen Sgt. Saunders on the gritty
World War II series “Combat!” Morrow co-wrote the screenplay for “A Man Called
Sledge” with Frank Kowalski, a script supervisor and dialogue director on
“Combat!” Kowalski also worked with director Sam Peckinpah as a script
supervisor on “The Ballad of Cable Hogue,” “Junior Bonner,” and “The Killer
Elite,” as well as writing the story for Peckinpah’s “Bring Me the Head of
Alfredo Garcia.”
Morrow
directed a number of “Combat!” episodes. Unfounded rumors say he was fired
during production of “A Man Called Sledge” and replaced by a hack director of
spaghetti westerns. As an actor in several television and film dramas, Morrow always
seemed to project an aura of bleak fatalism, from his first role as a juvenile
delinquent in “Blackboard Jungle” (1956) to his final role as an angry bigot in
“Twilight Zone: The Movie” (1983). Writing about Morrow as an antihero in
“Combat!” pop culture observer Gene Santoro noted, “At times, you can see the
tombstones in his eyes.” Not surprisingly, a sense of nihilism pervades “A Man
Called Sledge,” as greed destroys the band of thieves until only Garner
remains, “bitter and disappointed,” in the words of critic Tony Mastroianni in
The Cleveland Press, “just like the audience.”


























1 comment:
I can just hear Garner's voice when I read this sentence: “I wish I could remember why I let Dino De Laurentiis talk me into this turkey.” Especially the way he says, "turkey."
Another such Garner word that reverberates in my mind from "The Rockford Files" -- can't you just hear Garner's pronunciation of "Dennis"?
Garner was never a huge, huge star, but he made a living. And if we take him at his word, maybe that's all he really wanted to do.
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