"Jesse James: The Making of a Legend" By Larry C. Bradley Larren Publishers, Nevada, Missouri, 1980 Chapter 3, "Preparations," Excert Pages, 41 - 54

Fortunately, Twentieth Century-Fox had under contract the perfect actor to play Jesse James. Darryl Zanuck told how his choice of a leading man for Sing, Baby, Sing a couple of years before was yielded to by the protests of director Sidney Lanfield.

"He was a new young player in whom I had great confidence," said Zanuck. But after a day or two of shooting, Lanfield was still dissatisfied, and the actor was taken from the cast. Asked to name the actor, Zanuck answered "Tyrone Power."

Henry Fonda was selected to portray Frank James. Walter Brennan was -scheduled to depict Major Rufus Cobb, but at the last moment Henry Hull substituted. Nancy Kelly was given the feminine romantic lead of Zee. Randolph Scott was assigned to play Will Wright, the United States Marshal. A call to "central casting" produced some powerful-looking characters which included Slim Summerville, J. Edward Bromberg, Brian Donlevy, John Carradine, Donald Meek, Johnnie Russell, Lon Chaney, Jr., Jane Darwell, Harold Goodwin, George Breakston, Charles Tarmen and Ernest Whitman???????????..?

??????.. King and Power arrived several days in advance of the train by private plane. They admitted that there was a time on their flight from Burbank, California when they would rather have been on the ground. "We were flying over a mountain at an elevation of about 14,000 feet, and it was so bumpy we both became nauseated," Power recounted. "King told me maybe I would feel better if I ate something. I found a sandwich, and then happened to notice it was thickly buttered. Then I really did get ill. I finally ended up by drinking soda POP."

Power said there was nothing in his contract to prevent his flying a plane, but Twentieth Century-Fox "would just as soon I didn't." He signed autographs and answered questions about the picture and was sincerely enthusiastic about the role he was going to play. "I regard this as one of the most. important roles I have ever played," he told reporters.

"Ever since I began my acting career I have always wanted to appear in a production based upon the life of a real person," Power pointed out. "I had that opportunity in Marie Antoinette, and now in my role as Jesse James I try to imagine how he would have talked or acted, and what his reactions would have been when confronted with the many perils which marked his life. I believe the fact that I am porg the life of a real man tends to lend a certain sincerity to my act traying ing which I might otherwise not have in a fictional role."

There were many who believed the young star's performance in the film would turn out to be the greatest of his triumphal career. Power, who modestly declined to comment, pointed out that his present role was different than any he had ever tried before. He was enthusiastic over the possibilities of such a region as the Ozarks for future technicolor productions. "The setting is perfect," he told his newly-made friends, "and the scenery is beautiful."

Here and there, the movie company and the Ozark people did not quite see eye to eye. There was the splendidly bearded farmer who Power sought to befriend. Observing the gentleman's whiskers with envy and amazement, Power got into a conversation with him, and learned that he wished to appear before the cameras, but somehow, when he applied for extra work, he had been overlooked.

Power promised to fix that up. He introduced the farmer to King, who agreed to give him a part. Later Power was surprised to find the farmer tending his garden when he should have been on location. Naturally, Power asked the reason. "Hell," said the farmer. "That feller wanted me to be an orator."

Power was walking down the streets of Pineville when he was accosted by another bewhiskered native. He admitted that he was playing the role of Jesse James and the native opined "He war a skunk." Rather startled, poor Power protested, "Isn't that a matter of opinion?" The native replied, "Opinion 'round here is he war a skunk." That seemed to settle the matter.

While Power was studying his part and making new friends, King set out to see an Ozark mountaineer. He wanted to take some shots of the man, his home, and the clear stream which ran through his property.

"What are you going to use it for?" he drawled.

"We're going to shoot Jesse James there," replied King.

The old man scratched his beard and looked puzzled. "You don't 'know Jesse's been shot?"

After some discussion on the matter he persuaded the old man to rent the property and handed him a contract to sign.

"I can't write my name, but I'll put my mark on the paper," the old man explained, and affixed an "X" to the contract.

"By the way," he asked a moment later, "is that a legal document I justed signed?" He was told it was.

"Then I'll have to sign my legal name," he told them, marking another "X" opposite the original one.

King even tried to rent or buy a still that was in operation in the Woods. He had been exploring the local countryside and came across some moonshiners engaged in their cheerful operation. After a friendly discussion of this and that and the movies, King suggested that he'd pay well for the still and would cart it off as soon as it cooled. Still friendly, but terribly serious, the moonshiners said, "Mister, she ain't goin' to cool off, because we ain't aimin' to shut'er down. Any objections?" There were none?????.?

??????Meanwhile, King returned to supervise last minute details in the reconstruction of the Crowder farm into the Jesse James homestead. A wire fence around the yard was replaced by a picket fence and a split-rail fence was erected near the barn. Out back, a room of the Crowder house had to be duplicated, fireplace, stairway and all, to accommodate the cameras, lights and all the equipment necessary to take interior shots.

Mrs. Florence Crowder thought it was a "heap o' confusion." Robert Webb had negotiated a contract with her, and it was speculated that $3,000 was paid, however, he rented it for ten dollars a day. In addition, he hired two of her sons. "We got the farm so cheaply, " he said, "I figured it wouldn't do any harm to help her make a little more. I suggested that it would be all right with us if her two sons sold a little soda pop to the hordes of people trampling over her place ......

The next thing Mrs, Crowder knew was that the place was overrun with actors and visitors with no one paying any attention to her. She often stood in one corner of the yard, looking on in bewilderment, and selling soda pop and fresh milk, charging only a nickel for it.," I didn't know what I was getting into," said Mrs. Crowder, wishing she had never signed that paper.

"What with her soda pop concession and this and that, she cleaned up several thousand dollars," said Webb. Her period of wealth, however, ended in tragedy. The excitement, or perhaps the strain of having that much money suddenly, was too much for her. Mrs. Crowder suffered a nervous breakdown caused, according to relatives, by the rabble-rousing and the continuous stream of visitors to the home. This attributed to her death by heart disease several months later.

Pineville was rapidly becoming inundated by tourists. Some came as far away as Baghdad, Iraq. Hundreds of applications for work in the picture began piling up, and letters were received from almost every part of the country. The railroads and bus lines ran excursions, and the roads were jammed with cars.

With only a dime in his pocket, a farm boy hitch-hiked almost 100 miles to Pineville. Two days later, on his return trip, he was telling about his experiences to a motorist who had picked him up. "I spent five cents for a bottle of soda pop," he explained, "and I had to milk a bunch of cows for a man before I could get anything to eat, but I've still got a nickel and I'm almost back home again."

Some people came with the curiosity of how a motion picture was made, some to take photographs, while others were awaiting the arrival of the special train bearing the cast and equipment. Most of the natives shook their heads doubtfully. "Pineville will never be the same , they said. A majority of them, with plenty of cash, probably did not care much. They were more concerned with "When are the movie people leaving?" and "Are the movie people coming back here to make another picture?"

Every night was party night. Power spent an hour or more at Shadow Lake, sitting in a roped off section. He signed autographs and was occasionally interviewed by the press. Power thought that Noel, was "a cross between New York and Hollywood."

"In Hollywood you expect to work hard," explained Power, "and in New York you expect crowds of autograph hunters, but in Noel you have both to encounter."

He finally hit upon the time-saving device of signing his name simply, "Ty Power," to avoid an attack of writer's cramp.

The night before the train arrived the dance lasted well after midnight and many of the merrymakers spent the night on the lawn near the depot, while a few passed the time idly away. An estimated 4,000 to 5,000 persons lined the streets awaiting the arrival of the special train. A young man named Elmer, from Joplin, Missouri, saw to it that many persons got something to eat. He bought loaves of bread, cheese, and hot dogs and distributed the food to the crowd. Just why he was so generous was never explained. Many hundreds of people went without breakfast in the desire to get a glimpse of the stars.

The next morning a train whistle could be heard in the distance. The heavy-eyed crowd stirred and surged forward to the front of the station, and a locomotive pulling a freight train swished past., The crowd was disappointed, but thirty minutes later another train whistle could be heard in the distance. This time it was the special train bearing the cast and crew, comprising nearly a hundred in all. It took four full baggage cars to bring all the equipment.

King and Sidney Bowen met the train with buses and cars to take the cast and crew members to various living quarters, scattered throughout the town. The edge was taken off the situation when a dozen or more bodyguards cleared a path for the cast. "What in hell is going on here?" asked Henry Hull, when he saw several hundred persons gathered outside his train window. When he heard that a majority of persons in the crowd probably were autograph seekers, he clasped his hand across his forehead and murmured, "This is going to be awful."

Hull had been brought to play the role of Major Rufus Cobb, the newspaper editor friend of Frank and Jesse James. "King saw me in New York while I was there playing the role of Jeeter Lester in Tobacco Road," Hull explained. "He arrived at the conclusion that Major Cobb was a type similar to Jeeter, although more refined."

Hull said his father was, at one time, city editor on the Louisville (Kentucky) Courier-Journal and this was the first time he had ever had to essay such a role himself. "I've been reading about this editor, Cobb, and I want to say I think he's all right," Hull told reporters. "If all newspapermen today were like Cobb, there would be bigger and better newspapers."

The reporters asked the stage star for a brief story of his life, and he rummaged around in his suitcase until he found a manuscript and handed it to one of them. "Here's one I wrote all by myself," he told them. "Take it with you."

One of the first things Donald Meek did after departing the train was to purchase a flashlight to guide him along a mountain stream to the, cottage where he was staying. "I have no desire to be fed to the fish as yet," he explained??.?

??????..With a dapper tilt to his Panama hat, John Carradine arrived for the sole purpose, he explained, of killing Jesse James. Natives thought he was talking in a foreign tongue until they discovered he was only indulging in his favorite occupation-reciting lines from Shakespeare. When Carradine stepped from the train platform he was surrounded by autograph seekers. A friend sought to rescue him, but he waved him aside. "Leave them alone," he smiled. "If the autograph seekers didn't come around I'd think I was slipping."

The cast emerged on the side opposite the crowd, entered the station, jumped out the window and proceeded to enter the waiting vehicles. Officials reported it was done to avoid confusion. Once they were situated, guards were posted around their living quarters to protect their privacy.

Women tourists almost started a stampede when Power and Fonda arrived at a Noel cafe for their breakfast. Although attempts were made to provide the stars privacy, admirers showed ingenuity in methods of crashing the gate. Singling out a girl in the crowd, Fonda called to her: "Young lady, do you know what I'm going to do sometime'? I'm going over to your house and watch you eat breakfast."

The same attitude existed later that day at Shadow Lake where an orchestra was playing. The dance floor was comfortably crowded, but the dancers did not have their hearts in it-not the girls anyway. They kept looking at the door.

For all their vigil however, Jane Darwell, Randolph Scott, and several minor members of the troupe, walked through the dance to a table on a porch overlooking the river and started eating before anyone saw them. Upon being observed, there was a small rush for autographs from Scott and Miss Darwell, which they graciously gave out between bites. "I'm used to it," she said. Scott summed it up when he told newsmen, "We're bothered with autograph seekers in Hollywood, too, but the people here seem to be much more civil and considerate. "

The girls in the crowd still kept watching the door, and all of a sudden, without any apparent signal, most of them rushed out of the place and up the street to a restaurant. They jammed, shoved, and fought their way into the place. They came to an abrupt halt at a chain hastily thrown up to bar the entrance to a sort of private dinner room. They gaped, stared and gasped.

"It's HIM kid," said a blonde from Oklahoma ecstatically.

"Where? Where is he," said another blonde from Kansas.

"Right there. At that table by the winda. Looka him. Ain't he sweet?"

"Oh, HIM. Why it's only Henry Fonda. I thought you meant it was Tyrone."

If the fact that he was playing a second fiddle to his co-worker was evident to Fonda, a tired-looking young man with crisp, dark hair, he gave no-sign of it. He went on munching a ham sandwich. And if he did know how some of the girls felt about it, -he may have gained some satisfaction from the fact that he had undeniably cramped Power's entrance by getting there first.

Power arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later. He was on the sidewalk in front of the little frame building before the mob recognized him. Then, in, full cry, the onlookers crowded in and Power fled to the room behind the chain. He sat down with Fonda beside a screened, opened window and ordered fried chicken, a favorite dish.

Hungry after a strenuous day of sight-seeing, he looked up in anticipation when the waitress brought in his order. On his plate were two chicken wings.

?Guess all that chicken learned how to do was fly," he commented.

When the two started to leave, they had a choice of two back doors. Half the crowd, led by a young woman with a miniature camera, stationed itself at one back door. The other half, led by a woman with a box camera, covered the other door.

Like hunted animals, Power and Fonda looked out first one door and then the other. They chose the one nearest the hotel, with the valiant Donlevy running interference for them, slamming the door shut in time's proverbial nick.

Panting slightly, the stars collapsed in chairs and relaxed in the comparative quiet of a bevy of reporters and photographers, who had been summoned from the soft drink place to the hotel for their interview.

The respite was brief. The crowd surged against the windows of the room they were in and pressed its collective nose against the screen.

"Tyrone," screamed another blonde. "Look this way! Look at me!"

"Why?" asked Power, reasonably enough, but he looked anyway.

While the crowd stood guard outside, the press talked to Power, Fonda, Donlevy, Scott, Kelly, Darwell, and other minor members of the troupe and took pictures.

Power was not to be trapped into calling his temporary home in Noel a mess. "I don't think it's a mess at all,'.' he said. "I like it. I'll admit I never saw a crowd as big as this at any place I've ever been on ,location. And this part of the country is a perfect setting for the story. It couldn't be better."

Power said he was enjoying "roughing it" in the rugged hill country, and had found the homespun trousers, old checkered shirt and leather boots he had to wear in the film an ideal attire for fishing trips or horseback rides.

"Those James boys had the right idea about comfortable clothing," he told them.

In a more serious mood, the young star had confided he was particularly happy over being given the coveted role of Jesse James because of the opportunity to portray on the screen the life of a real individual whose name had-been a byword with every school boy of the country for years.

Fonda was just a% enthusiastic about playing Frank James, and said he had to learn to chew tobacco for his role in the film.

"I'm learning how to spit almost as good as the natives now," he boasted.

"The first thing I did," said Nancy Kelly, "when' I went sightseeing was to purchase a pair of blue denim overalls and packed away my frilly dresses."

Miss Kelly had been learning how to speak with the soft drawling dialect of the Ozark natives. As the reporters got up to leave, she bade them goodbye, and then remarked coyly: "You all must come back h'yar and see us sometime. We'uns ud be powerful glad to see you."

By this time the crowd was solidly massed outside the hotel, and a deputy sheriff was talking about "clearing out the place." He was on? ly talking though. The crowd was too big for one deputy, or for ten, for that matter.

As they opened the door, the crowd shouted, "Bring 'em out here. Let us see 'em."

Somebody came out and set a long table-in front of the porch of the hotel. While it was being placed, a waitress from the restaurant came out carrying a tray and waving a half-smoked cigarette butt.

The crowd paid no attention to her. They watched the door. And this time, watching was rewarded. Out on a table stepped Jim Denton, publicist. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, "Mr. Power, Mr. Fonda Mr. Scott, Mr. Donlevy, and Miss Darwell will come outside.

They will give autographs to everyone who wants them." He intro? duced them but by the time he got to Mr. Donlevy's introduction he was ignored by the crowd. It had swarmed over Power and Fonda. They were busy autographing.

Later that afternoon, most of the members of the company went sight-seeing, striking up acquaintances with natives and visitors. Fon?da was stopped by a woman who asked him "to please stand still until I get a look at you, because I've never seen a movie star before." Fonda was embarrassed, but complied and she stared for a few minutes.

John Carradine became acquainted with the owner of a dance pavilion, formerly a widely known cellist. A friend chanced to over? hear Carradine engaged in a learned discussion about music with the cellist.

"I didn't know you knew so much about music," he told Carradine.

"Frankly," said the actor, unperturbed, "I don't, but I've been learning how to play the piano and I'm trying to get in the mood to go back and practice again.

The natives thought Power was one of the greatest fellows it had ever been their opportunity to meet. He discussed their crops with them, spun yarns and soon became acquainted to them as an all-round regular fellow. Power said simply and sincerely, "They are the most hospitable people I have ever met."

Streams of motorists had begun to arrive early at Noel and by midmorn the streets were packed with 16,000 to 17,000 automobiles. A crowd estimated at 20,000, all eating and drinking, standing around in town, taking pictures from the roof of cars and dropping into local cafes for banana splits and double cokes, poured in to see film luminaries "in the flesh."

Everyone's noses were pressed against window panes lest they miss a chance to see Power, Fonda, or other members of the cast. Jim Denton was eating dinner with Donald Meek when he overheard a lady sigh with ecstatic relief "Oh, I've seen Donald Meek-now I can go home happy!"

Mary Clarke, young daughter of an Arkansas attorney, came to Noel with her mother. Power saw her and asked her if she would dance with him the next night. Much to her disappointment, she had to go home.

The highways were lined with cars and by late afternoon traffic was stalled for over a mile. In spite of the huge crowd, law-enforcement officials were able to keep some semblance of order. More than 18,000 cars were said to have been counted crossing the river bridge into Noel.

The Missouri highway patrolmen were the heroes of Johnnie Russell, who enacted the role of Jesse James, Jr. Russell became a favorite with the officers soon after his arrival in the Ozarks, and the patrolmen obtained permission from King and Russell's mother to take him on one of the inspection tours through the area. Russell returned home full of enthusiasm. "They've got machine guns, shotguns, pistols, and everything in their automobiles," he told his mother. "I'll bet they could give even Jesse James a tough battle."

Residents of Noel never dreamed that thousands of visitors would crowd into the town. As a result those who owned front and back yards were quick to realize an opportunity for extra profits. Cars had to be parked so they rented out what available space they had, charging a quarter per vehicle.

The only serious incident that occurred was the death of a little five?year-old girl. Her father, mother, brother, and sister had driven to Noel to catch a glimpse of the actors who arrived that morning. Her father said he had just parked his car when the little girl alighted, ran around the rear of the vehicle and into the path of an oncoming car. Her only desire had been to see a movie star.

That evening, at Shadow Lake, the stars and others of the troupe mingled with the natives and had a grand time. Miss Kelly was kept busy accepting invitations to dance and told reporters "that she was having a wonderful time and thought the people she had met were wonderful, too."

"Randy Scott is a very good dancer and has been teaching me a lot of new steps," she confided. "I guess I've danced more since I've been in the Ozarks than I have for ages, and I'm having such fun."

Power, Fonda, and Scott danced with local belles. "I've never been in a given area so crowded with good-looking girls in my life," remarked Power. "It's true we have beautiful girls in Hollywood, but they are brought there from every place in the world. In the Ozarks, they just come by it naturally. Beauty there is pretty unanimous." There were plenty of autograph seekers, and the stars thought it was fun writing in their books, on scraps of paper, hats, pocketbooks or anything else that, was handy because they were so appreciative. Don? levy, Fonda, and Hull mixed a little fun with their autographing. Sometimes they would sign just any name that popped into their heads such as Lionel Barrymore, or Booker T. Washington. This made no difference to the autograph seeker.

Hull received the strangest request of any from a couple of feminine fans. "Would you do something for us, Mr. Hull?" they asked. He asked them what they wanted. "Would you please just once say 'b'God and b'Jesus' like you-did in Tobacco Road?"

Three records of Alexander's Ragtime Band, which had recently starred Power, were worn out as a tribute to him. After that he seldom turned on his radio, possibly fearing he would hear the song. The evening was cut short when director King informed those present that they had to be on location the next day at 5 a.m. He emphasized that he had a daily schedule to maintain, and delay would mean a loss of money, and at a cost of operation at $22,000 per day, time was money.