The Duke at 60

The visitor at Fort Benning, Ga., stirred as much excitement as if he were the Army Chief of Staff, or at least Cassius Clay getting into khakis. But the commanding and familiar figure that strode past the barracks was dressed in civvies. The only martial markings were a brass wire on his right wrist, symbolizing his initiation into a Montagnard unit in Viet Nam and, on his other wrist, a watch crystal worn inward, combat style, to which was attached a gold tag with name and address, presumably to notify next of kin if anything happened to the bearer. The tag read: JOHN WAYNE.

Just two days before, "Duke" Wayne had celebrated his 60th birthday at the premiere of his 162nd picture, The War Wagon, in Arlington, Texas. Now he was working at Benning without rest through the long Memorial Day weekend to stake out No. 163, The Green Berets. He would prefer to shoot the film in Viet Nam. "But if you start shooting blanks over there," he says, "they might start shooting back." Duke knows. Last year, while touring a Marine encampment for the U.S.O., he heard the crack of Viet Cong snipers' rifles. "They were so far away," sniffs Wayne, "I didn't stop signing autographs." The bullets, in fact, tore up the turf within 17 yards of him.

Kicking "Big C." Thirty-eight years of such energy, courage and authority have made John Wayne the greatest moneymaker in movie history: the gross comes to nearly $400 million. He is still the hero by Hemingway out of Hollywood, the he-man's he-man and the she-fan's idol. He talks and looks as tough as ever, though it was less than three years ago that he lost a lung while, as he put it, "kicking the Big C (cancer)."

Give or take some creases over the eyes, the huge, leathery face has hardly changed. Nor have the jutting jaw, the laconic grin, the squinting eyes blue as the big sky. The shoulders on his rangy (6 ft. 4 in.) frame still seem persuasive enough to get his football scholarship to Southern Cal renewed. He still looks born to the saddle; in The War Wagon, he mounted his horse with his own steam, while Co-Star Kirk Douglas, ten years younger, had to leap aboard his mount with the help of an unseen trampoline. The only perceptible indications of Wayne's years are a bit more heft around the middle and the hairpiece he wears on the set to mask a thinning pate.

Everything else is the original goods. Among them is the same sort of part Wayne has been playing since 1929 with the same acting style that his studio biography calls "naturalistic." "In my acting," he says, "I have to identify with something in the character. The big tough boy on the side of right--that's me. Simple themes. Save me from the nuances. All I do is sell sincerity, and I've been selling the hell out of that ever since I started."

Chasing Marlin. Evidence of the Duke's selling success is his $175,000 house that sprawls behind a seven-foot wall at Newport Beach. Amidst the semitropical garden setting are eleven rooms, seven baths and a projection studio. Inevitably, there is a kidney-shaped pool, and also a playroom for his three latest children, aged 18 months to ten years, by present wife Pilar Pallette, 38, a Peruvian-born actress-model. He has had two previous wives (both also Latin American), four other children and twelve grandchildren.

The favorite family rendezvous is the Wild Goose II, Wayne's 130-ft. converted Navy minesweeper. The Goose is a substitute for riding, which he has had to give up on doctor's orders, except while filming. He still goes after marlin off Baja California, hunts deer in the Sierras. His other prey and preoccupation is Communist expansion. He was a prime mover of the old anti-left Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American I deals. Today, his cause is Viet Nam. "Once you go over there," he says, "you won't be middle-of-the-road. Bobby Kennedy and Fulbright and all those goddam 'let's-be-sweet-to-our-dear-enemies' guys, all they're doing is helping the Reds and hurting their own country."

Making Ends Meet. As can be deduced, the Duke is a down-the-line Republican and, apart from Viet Nam policy, is all the way against L.B.J. (whom he lately calls "LSD"). After he campaigned for Ronald Reagan last fall, there were rumors that he would be California's next actor-candidate. The Duke scoffs. Basically, he says, "I hate politics. I consider it a necessary evil." Besides, he likes his work too much--and says he needs the money. "I guess I've made higher salaries than anyone else in the business," he says, "and I have not, to my knowledge, been extravagant. Yet I can't afford a jet plane like some of these guys."

He would like to do more directing and cut down from 2 1/2 to 1 1/2 pictures a year. But no fewer. "You have to do that many," he figures, "if you want to stay in the mainstream." "I'll never retire," he vows, "until they just don't want me any more." Clearly, he will die with those unfillable size 11 boots on. "I want to continue to be a worthwhile citizen," rasps the Duke, "till the man upstairs knocks on the door."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.