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Show THE ZEPHYR/JUNE 1993 Another Oven eh Rob “ Humiliating : { actor. sca’S fines at m Hon mu ou are E on but me seve that Y' ding © +. Loneso Moment... ublisher, pelie ; most outstae ieterm classic, puvall, aff and P nees, YOu reat W Deat Mr. apet, its st ble perform cCrae the 8) : me This ae memore- Augustus M y..that’s NB" n Amo yout pe rtrayal your PO is T oe ed prepat memo oO epeating: s in cas ance worth t to play > a for year est as' t es ae th tn addition eo Co £ with Robert Duvall 1993 i have to JAY yn fact, ty, have,id, Dang, chat’s ta5tY . Devotee é agreed {O . ea Bye: ma : ancluding articipate, S eente! ed envirO 2 what 5 LO rena, an esome DOV" miner’ jnele RogETS a aya BenBe inist Mic Lippy‘ i y Ses not A. ae an the role © ¢ a puck: his is the x o In the early summer of 1993, the production company of a major motion picture, "Geronimo," came to Moab. Among its stars was the great Robert Duvall. The Zephyr ran this ad in its June issue... Below it is the story that ran in o the next issue...the aftermath... of the Zephy* From the July 1993 Zephyr... I know many of you have been on pins and needles, waiting to hear about the outcome of my “Invitation to Robert Duvall." I had been rehearsing my lines, checking my wardrobe, and conferring with the other "players," while waiting for the call. I knew that Groene would have no problem playing Blue Duck, but I wasn’t sure Mayor Stocks would be up to playing a man who wears a chamber pot on his head, even if it was true that a lot of people would like to put a chamber pot on his head. A couple of days after the June issue hit the stands, I got word that Duvall had seen the ad; in fact, he was showing it to a few friends on the set. And his associate, Keith Allison, indicated that he planned to fax the Invite to Hollywood for what was described as an “appropriate creative response.” I wasn’t sure what that meant. For all I knew, a creative response might be a call from Duvall’s attorney, telling me to stop harassing his client. But I was, at heart, still hopeful. I hunkered down by the phone, waiting for the sound of Augustus McCrae’s voice, but finally gave up when, after three days, the only call ! got was from my dear mother. But then one night, I stopped by Fat City for a Slick Burger and a few kind words, and found myself right across the aisle from Duvall himself. His buddy Keith had just left the table for the rest room and the Great Actor looked a little uncomfortable. He reminded me of someone who really didn’t want to be approached by his adoring public. He looked like a guy who just wanted to eat his meal in peace. Before I opened my mouth, I already felt ashamed. "Mr. Duvall," I said. Duvall continued to look straight ahead. Well...what else could I do? This could be my one and only chance. Besides, earlier in the day I'd received a phone call from John Hollenhorst at KSL TV in Salt Lake. He had seen the Invite in the Zephyr and wanted to cover the event if it ever came off. I now had an obligation, not just to Zephyr readers, but to Robert Duvall/Gus McCrae fans throughout the Intermountain West. "MR. DUVALL." He turned ever so reluctantly, wearily, in my direction. He had almost finished his meal. He “was so close to making a clean escape. If Allison hadn’t gone to the john, he would have already been out the door. But Duvall has, during the short time he’s been here, earned a reputation "And what would I say?" Duvall asked warily. "OK...You’d say, ‘Well we don’t rent pigs, and I figure it’s better to say it right up front, because a man who does like to rent pigs is...He’s hard to stop.’” "You really do know all the lines, don’t you?" said Duvall. It was obvious to me by now that they both thought I could use some lithium and a little electric shock therapy. Maybe they feared I was one of those Hollywood stalkers. Maybe they thought I’d sneak up on him one night, and knock him silly with a branding iron, providing only a terse, "I hate rude behavior in a man...I won't tolerate it," as an explanation. In any case, they said they'd think it over, but I had a feeling the moment had come and gone. Still, I waited. Nothing. Nothing at all. Finally, I bumped into Allison one day at Beaudean’s. | told him I was running out of time for the next issue. He was sympathetic but said that Duvall just didn’t do sequels. This was no sequel, I explained...this was a re-creation. How often would he get to do lines with Moab’s very own semi-beloved mayor? "You wouldn’t believe how many people talk to Duvall about Lonesome Dove," said Keith, trying to change the subject. "He’s beginning to wonder if anybody has seen his other movies...As a matter of fact, he was delighted when a guy came up to him the other day and said, ‘I love the smell of napalm in the morning.” for being gracious, charming and kind to even his most idiotic fans. - Which is a good thing, because I felt like a grinning moron as | introduced myself and explained that I was responsible for the Invite. Duvall chuckled and replied that he had indeed seen the Dear Gus proposal. “The problem is," he explained, "I don’t remember my lines. I doubt if I] remember any of them." "Oh don’t worry about that,” I said. "I know your lines too...1 know all the lines.” I could tell that this disturbed him some. Perhaps if he’d known me better, he would have taken me aside and said, "You know Stiles, about you memorizing the entire script of Lonesome Dove, all 1 can say is, you really need to get a life. You Know? I mean don’t you have anything better to do with your time?” But he didn’t say that. He just laughed again and kept looking over his shoulder for Allison to return. We chatted for awhile about the movie, about my Kentucky origins, and about his love of the South, especially Texas. Finally, Keith did return and the two prepared to leave. But first they stopped by my table. I told them about the call from KSL, which seemed to pique their curiosity a little. “Now what exactly do you want to do?” asked Duvall. “Just stop by and do some lines," | explained. “But not the whole thing,” said Allison. "Oh nothing like that," I said. "For instance, we could pretend we were on horses, and I’m playing Call, and I'd say, ‘That was a dang stupid thing to do, bringin’ that old sign along... You'll have us the laughin’ stock of this whole country with that We Don’t Rent Pigs part.” He turned ever so reluctantly, wearily in my direction. He had almost finished his meal. He was so close to making a clean escape. "Yeah...that’s great,” I sighed. Later, however, I began to feel better about the whole affair. I realized that Duvall’s heart was somewhere else and there was nothing I could do about it. You see, Robert Duvall is a dancing fool and has spent most of his free time trying to teach the entire town of Moab the Argentine Tango. The man has Happy Feet. Previously, I'd considered changing my tactics. Maybe we could even do another movie, | thought, like To Kill a Mockingbird. As Boo Radley, Duvall had no lines, and I could have played that kid (jem?). Since in the only scene they had together, Jem was unconscious, it would have been a piece of cake...with me lying there, out cold, and Duvall petting me on the head. In any event, I’m glad I didn’t hire an agent. eee JOIN THE BACKBONE... For $99.99 a year, you can become a member of The Zephyr Backbone. Take a look at page 26 ...f you'd like to help keep this very independent, locally-owned publication alive, please consider signing up... THANKS. Ee PAGE 16 |
