Search the Western Clippings Site

An Interview With…
        - Archives

Will "Sugarfoot" Hutchins
    - August 2018
    - March 2018
    - February 2018
    - January 2018
    - September 2017
    - August 2017
    - July 2017
    - May 2017
    - April 2017
    - January 2017
    - December 2016
    - October 2016
    - September 2016
    - August 2016
    - July 2016
    - May 2016
    - March 2016
    - February 2016
    - January 2016
    - December 2015
    - November 2015
    - September 2015
    - August 2015
    - July 2015
    - May 2015
    - April 2015
    - March 2015
    - February 2015
    - January 2015
    - December 2014
    - November 2014
    - October 2014
    - September 2014
    - August 2014
    - July 2014
    - May 2014
    - April 2014
    - March 2014
    - February 2014
    - January 2014
    - December 2013
    - November 2013
    - October 2013
    - September 2013
    - August 2013
    - July 2013
    - June 2013
    - May 2013
    - April 2013
    - March 2013
    - February 2013
    - January 2013
    - December 2012
    - November 2012
    - October 2012
    - September 2012
    - August 2012
    - July 2012
    - June 2012
    - May 2012
    - April 2012
    - March 2012
    - February 2012
    - January 2012
    - December 2011
    - November 2011
    - October 2011
    - August 2011
    - July 2011
    - June 2011
    - May 2011
    - April 2011
    - March 2011
    - February 2011
    - January 2011
    - December 2010
    - November 2010
    - October 2010
    - September 2010
    - August 2010
    - July 2010
    - June 2010
    - May 2010
    - April 2010
    - March 2010
    - February 2010
    - January 2010
    - November 2009
    - October 2009
    - September 2009
    - August 2009
    - July 2009
    - June 2009
    - May 2009
    - April 2009
    - March 2009
    - February 2009
    - January 2009
    - December 2008
    - November 2008
    - September 2008
    - August 2008
    - June 2008
    - April 2008
    - March 2008
    - February 2008

Do You Remember?
    - Archives

Comic Book Cowboys
    - Archives

Westerns of...
    - Archives

Heavies and Characters
      - Archives

The Stuntmen - Neil Summers
    - Archives

Western Treasures
    - Archives

Circus Cowboys
    - Archives

Rangeland Elegance
    - Archives

Western Artifacts
    - Archives

Film Festival Fotos
    - Archives

Silent Western Reviews
    - Archives

Serial Report
    - Archives

Research & Consulting

Subscribe to Western Clippings

COLLECTIBLES FOR SALE:

Western Clippings Back Issues

Serial Report Back Issues

Daily Comic Strips

Sunday Comic Strips

Books

Miscellaneous Collectibles

Lobby Cards

Laser Copies of Lobby Cards

Movie Posters

Home

AUGUST 2018

Howdy! My first four gigs in showbiz were on Albert McCleery’s “Matinee Theatre”, NBC-TV, live, five noons a week, cross-country, in beautiful compatible color. I had the good fortune to work with Ed Kemmer on one of those puppies. First hand, I got lessons from a consummate pro in action. Good fortune followed on “Sugarfoot”. Ed acted in, at least, two episodes, lending a touch of class to the proceedings. In ‘64-‘65 I worked with lovely, talented Fran Sharon on Broadway in “Never too Late”. I played her husband. Later, Ed played her husband in real life. Ah, yes—Ed Kemmer, Mensch! ^ ^ Ah, yes—our lovely buddy Jan Merlin! His sweet, sweet wife Barbara! But did you know they are not well liked? Not even liked? No, my friend, they are loved!

Jocko Mahoney.One night, back in the ‘70s, Jock Mahoney phoned me. I didn’t know Jock, Jock didn’t know me. No matter to the world’s extrovertest extrovert. He invited me out to a valley shoot on a Western movie street for a Canadian magazine spread. Roy, Dale, Buttram, Don Barry, John Russell, all the usual suspects, including Fred Feldkamp, Western movies’ most famous street crosser. Thus, the beginning of a beautiful friendship. From time-to-time, Jock would get me on the Ameche and tell me to get my duds out of the moth balls, and we’d go play cowboy. Not long before I went overseas for three years, he wrangled a gig for me on ABC-TV’s highly rated special, “When The West Was Fun—A Western Reunion”, hosted by Glenn Ford. In ‘83, I came home and hooked up with Babs. Before long we hooked-up with Jock and Autumn Mahoney, and the adventures began. Jock got us invited to the Memphis Western Film Festival. Babs and I were greenhorns on the nostalgia trail. We didn’t know to bring b/w 8x10 glossies. We didn’t know to own b/w 8x10 glossies. On that fandango we met Boyd and Donna Magers, and our horizons widened.

First day at a Roy Rogers Fest in Portsmouth, OH, the press gathered for a session of Q&A. I remember Jock’s revealing that he considered himself a psychic. I’d toss-in Mystic. He was asked to recall some of his favorite stunts. He chuckled as he recollected working with The Three Stooges. The scene: a western saloon. He played a gangling goofy galoot with a gitfiddle. He moseys along the bar, trips on a spittoon, accomplishes a full frontal forward flip, lands on his boots, moseys on out. “Dogies! I’d love to see that rip snorter!” I told Babs. Next a-yawn, I turn on the TV, waiting for Babs to cowgal-up for breakfast. What do I see first thing before my very eyes? Moe, Larry, Curly in wooly chaps in a saloon. Yipes! Here comes a long drink of water, a weird cowpoke, carrying a geetar. Could it be? Yes, it is. It’s Jocko! He galumps along. (Look out for that spittoon! Too late.) Durn, if he doesn’t complete an airborne somersault, landing on his boots, cradling his git fiddle! That’s just the sort of thing that happened when Jocko was around.

Before we knew him, he’d suffered a stroke. He did his own re-hab. Everyday he’d report to the indoor track at the Hollywood Athletic Club. Members would job counter-clockwise. Jocko’s left side had paralysis, so he walked around the oval clockwise. If he faltered, he’d stumble to his left, hitting the wall, never falling, always pushing onward, getting stronger and stronger.

He invited us to drive with him to San Diego to judge gunfight recreations. We judged the contestants on dramaturgy, authenticity, costumes, and gun safety. Jocko preached gun safety, animal safety, actor safety. He never got over Vic Morrow and the two Viet Namese kids’ deaths during the filming of the little seen and long forgotten “Twilight Zone”. A fellow judge was Keenan Wynn, helluva talent, helluva guy. I asked him his secret. “I adapt to the times,” he said.

Next day, on our way home, we paid Mr. and Mrs. Budd Boetticher a surprise visit. They welcomed us with warm smiles and hugs. They dwelt in posh digs in a snazzy apartment complex, their horses stabled out back. Budd showed us clips of his work-in-progress, a documentary of the life of Arruza, El Matador Magnifico. Budd told us his wife had been deathly afraid of horses, and then they met. He proudly showed us a clip of his wife on horseback. She wore a form-fitting outfit, black from hat to boots. She controlled the strutting horse with her knees, a lance held in each hand. ¡Ay Carumba! She was now La Picador Magnifica.

The light turned yellow. Time to head homeward. Adios, amigos. I would have chosen a direct route home. Mr. Mahoney was an action star, a stunt man, an ace pilot, a jock of all trades. He chose for us a moonless mountain drive, high along narrow, winding roads. He drove fast, a tad unsteadily. Was he trying to scare us? He succeeded. My toes still curl.  He gave us a framed 8x10 signed glossy. Over the years it oxidized. Now, we have a beautiful picture of him in profile. No longer in black and white. Now, in silver and gold. On our wall of fame there’s no one like him. In the whole wide world, there’s no one like THE GREAT JOCKO MAHONEY!

 

                                        —Adios