The one embarassing role that “haunted” John Wayne “for the rest of his life”
As the de facto western hero and definitive American macho man, John Wayne held a monopoly on masculinity and how it was portrayed in cinema for a good 30 years. His position as one of the icons of cinema was undeniable.
In the 1920s, his early years saw him working mainly as a supporting actor, but by the 1930s, he’d secured a status for himself as a leading man, culminating in the seminal 1939 John Ford movie Stagecoach. The movie would be a launchpad into becoming more than simply an actor: he became an all-American hero.
The 1940s and 1950s saw him transition to a fully-fledged all-American hero, delivering iconic and indelible contributions to the cinematic landscape with the likes of Rooster Cogburn in the Oscar-winning True Grit and Ethan Edwards in The Searchers. By the time the 1960s had rolled around, The Duke had transitioned into film producer and director, making his debut with the three-and-a-half hour epic historical war movie, The Alamo, in 1960.
By the time Wayne passed away in 1979, he’d made such a profound impact on not just cinema but American culture that he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President Jimmy Carter – the highest honour a civilian could be honoured. He left behind him a filmography of 179 movies, a career spanning 50 years and a legacy that endures today – but one that is being eroded constantly by more and more tales of Wayne’s racism, xenophobia and general bigotry.
With a career that long, there are bound to be a few hiccups along the way – the occasional dud that failed at the box office or performance that one wishes they could try again. For Wayne, however, one role and movie that marked his career early on would be later described by the actor as one he was “fucking embarrassed by”. That role was of Singin’ Sandy in 1933’s Riders of Destiny.
Before Stagecoach revived his career, there had been a slump in the mid-1930s, which forced Wayne to take on work that some might have considered subpar: B-movie westerns, to be precise. It was a usual run of things for actors trying to make it, and it was the ladder Wayne was forced to climb.
One of these was Riders of Destiny, which featured Wayne as a government agent defined by his talent and affinity for singing. The character was also required to play guitar, two talents that Wayne did not possess. As such, he was pushed into becoming a gentle laughing stock as he tried and failed to live up to the billing. Wayne may have been a brutish and, oftentimes, brutal man, but many of his insecurities were there for all to see.
Wayne was notoriously guarded about his machismo and would often be shamed by his lack of military service. It makes sense then that a role which sees him play guitar and sing, putting him an uncomfortable position, would become a plague on his mind for the years that followed.
In Michael Munn’s 2001 biography, John Wayne: The Man Behind the Myth, the writer explains how the role would come to be a blemish on Wayne’s career. “He started as Singin’ Sandy Saunders, the singing cowboy, in Riders of Destiny,” he wrote. “It was something that would haunt Wayne for the rest of his life as the subject of his singing would often be brought up.”
The production, wisely acknowledging the potential problem of Wayne being unable to do either of his character’s defining traits, hired singer Gene Autry to dub Wayne’s singing voice. For the western hero, this was all too much. “I was just so fucking embarrassed by it all,” Wayne said. “Strumming a guitar I couldn’t play and miming to a voice which was provided by a real singer made me feel like a fucking pansy. After that experience, I refused to be Singin’ Sandy again.”
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