We're back in Kansas, Toto
Just flew in and, boy, are my arms tired. Ba-dum-dum. Left Telluride yesterday after the Labor Day feed and drove most of the way to Denver for the return flight. Might've gotten farther if we hadn't stopped in Ridgway, CO where John Wayne's classic True Grit was filmed. Went to the True Grit Cafe where the Duke's memory plasters the walls, including one of brick and aged general store paint that's the only wall left from shooting in 1969.
The cafe is homebase for this weekend's True Grit Days, a 2-day (albeit several months late) 100th birthday party for Wayne and a celebration of the mining region's biggest claim to fame since someone found a use for gypsum.
Met a guy named Mr. Bill (Calhoun, I later learned) who owned a livery stable back then and saddled up a horse for John Wayne whenever he wasn't filming or chugging whiskey with his posse at the White Stallion Saloon down the road a piece. Mr. Bill, 77 and a 58-year Ridgway resident, says the Duke never let anyone else pay but that meant he called the shots.
"John Wayne never bought me a beer," Mr. Bill said, "but nobody around him ever paid for any drinks."
About a half-hour later, I noticed Mr. Bill's Bud was running dry and asked Joni the bartender to give him a beer. You don't have to do that, he told me. I tapped his arm and said: "I want to do something John Wayne never did in his life." Mr. Bill understood.
As you can tell, the resolution on my photos isn't good. But I have to share this one from the Labor Day feed. After taking his photo, I impulsively asked director Werner Herzog if he'd honor me by using my cameraphone to take my picture; being even a brief subject for a master filmmaker is a hoot I couldn't resist.
He loved the idea -- although having to teach a world class director how to use the camera was an odd delight. I won't show you that photo. Then he suggested we take one together with me clicking the shutter. Then he started directing me; where to hold the camera, the pose, etc. Herzog directing me. Now I have something in common with Klaus Kinski.
Dianne caught that moment in another mildly blurred photo:
Steve Persall is the movie critic for the St. Petersburg Times. He was conceived behind a drive-in movie theater his father operated and raised in projection booths and concession stands. He doesn't care how you did it up north.
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