James Arness

315 Pages·2001·22.73 MB·English

by  James Arness

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Foreword

Introduction

Prologue

Part I. The Early Years

Part II. Anzio, 1944

Part III. Drifting into Show Business

Part IV. John Wayne

Part V. Gunsmoke

Part VI. And Beyond

Appendix A. Others Remembered

Appendix B. Comments by Guest Stars

Appendix C. Fan Letters

Appendix D. Films
Appendix E. Television

Appendix F. Honors and Awards

Author Information
JAMES ARNESS
An Autobiography
by James Arness
with James E. Wise, Jr.
Foreword by Burt Reynolds
McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers
Jefferson, North Carolina, and London
Photographs from the television program Gunsmoke, originally
broadcast over the CBS Television Network, are used with the permission of
the copyright proprietor, CBS, Inc. All rights reserved.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGUING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Arness, James, 1923–
James Arness : an autobiography / by James Arness with James E. Wise, Jr. ;
foreword by Burt Reynolds
p.    cm.
Includes index.
ISBN-13: 978-0-7864-3316-2
1. Arness, James, 1923–    2. Actors—United States—Biography.
3. Large type books.    I. Title.
PN2287.A695A3  2008
791.4502'8092—dc22 [B] 2008009830
British Library cataloguing data are available
©2001 James K. Arness and Janet L. Arness. All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by
any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from
the publisher.
Front cover painting: John Howard Sanden, James Arness—Matt Dillon, oil on
canvas, 46" x 44", 1981, 1982.05, National Cowboy & Western Heritage
Museum, Oklahoma City, OK
McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers
Box 611, Jefferson, North Carolina 28640
www.mcfarlandpub.com
For Janet, the heart and soul of my life.
Without her love and support,
this book would not have been possible.
Foreword
by Burt Reynolds
FOR MANY YEARS (45 to be exact) I have been asked, “What were the
best times for you growing up as an actor?” Without hesitation, I have always
said, “The 2½ years I was on Gunsmoke.” They were for me “the best of times.”
There were many reasons, but the main reason was that it was then I learned how
actors on a film set should behave. What it meant to say someone is “really a
pro.”
I learned that acting isn’t an easy career—long, tough hours sometimes—but
it can be a wonderful time. That the working environment really can produce a
“family” with real warmth among the cast and an honesty that you may or may
not share again, but you will always be striving for from that time on.
It’s no secret that such an environment starts at the top. If the “star” or top-
billed actor displays no fits of temperament or unprofessionalism and makes no
ridiculous demands, then it becomes almost impossible to act like a total ass if
you’re billed below that actor. It doesn’t stop people from trying, but in those
days a professional environment was very effective in stunting the growth of
temperamental types. Young actors who are totally unprofessional today couldn’t
have lasted back then. They just wouldn’t have been around very long.
The biggest surprise for everyone who had the good fortune to work on a few
episodes of Gunsmoke in those days was Jim Arness. He was funny. I mean get-
the-giggles, wrap-up-for-the-cast-and-crew, “time-out”-and-get-it-together
funny. I’ve known professional funnymen. It’s no surprise to people that Dom
DeLuise could (as I have done in return to him) practically put me in a coma
laughing. Yes, David Niven was the best storyteller (raconteur if you will) I ever
worked with. Jonathan Winters and Richard Pryor could always put me away.
But for sheer surprise (“Where did that come from?”) no one could top Matt
Dillon. First of all, he was a very large, imposing, strong man. Your first thought
always was, damn, he’s bigger than I thought he would be. He had that
wonderful ability to surprise you, make you laugh at yourself or the situation that
actors often find themselves in.
Just as surprising, he was totally without ego. He never imposed his position
on anyone. Not once did I or anyone else ever see Jim being rude, overbearing,
self-righteous or selfish to anyone, whether crew member, extras, day players or
costars. I’ve done over 200 TV shows (the only actor canceled by all three
networks ... twice) and over 75 features and I can’t think of any actor whose
behavior on the set and off was more unpretentious than Jim’s. He just didn’t or
wouldn’t play the “star.” I think the mere thought of it would have made him
laugh.
Yes, of course, my time spent with Milburn Stone, Ken Curtis and Amanda
Blake was priceless. I have hours of stories about the wonderful quality time
spent with each and every one of them. But in the end we all followed our tall,
self-effacing leader. We all hated “acting” that looked pretentious. If you could
catch us “working,” it wasn’t good. We worked hard to make it look effortless.
That’s why those shows, although now thought of as part of the “Golden Years
of TV,” were not as honored by our industry as they should have been. Who
knew when we watched Gleason, Lucy and Andy that we were watching
irreplaceable performances? Only now when every episode is being collected
and sold over and over again do we finally get it.
I left Gunsmoke only because it was time for me to move on, but I left with
everyone’s blessing and best wishes. I’ve had a hell of a ride since. A movie
career that I never could have dreamed of. But when I think of those episodes of
Gunsmoke on that wonderful old stage—sitting and telling stories in front of the
Long Branch Saloon with Matt, Kitty, Doc and Festus—well, it just never gets
any better than that.
This will embarrass Jim, to hear me say that he was and is so loved and
revered by all of us. But you have to face it, old friend. Like it or not, you and
that show are what the word icon really represents.
—Burt Reynolds
Introduction
by James E. Wise, Jr.
WHEN I ARRIVED ON A LOVELY, bright morning, Jim Arness swept me
into his home like a long-lost friend. I was doing research for a Naval Institute
Press book, Stars in Khaki, about actors who’d served in the U.S. Army and the
air services. Knowing that Arness had been wounded at Anzio in 1944, and as a
longtime fan of his Marshal Matt Dillon character on Gunsmoke, I’d hoped he
would grant me an interview. He did much more than that: he and his wife,
Janet, granted me their friendship.
Because of my Navy background, Jim wore a USS Enterprise ballcap,
received years earlier when he’d visited the aircraft carrier. He’d laid out all
kinds of World War II mementos from his days in the Army. Quietly he told me
about his experience. Before being shipped “over there,” like many other young
American men during World War II, he’d thought of combat as a new, exciting
adventure. He couldn’t wait to get overseas and fight for his country.
James Aurness (he would later change his last name to Arness when he
began his acting career) was assigned as a buck private to the 2nd Platoon, E
Company (rifle), 2nd Battalion in the 7th Regiment (“Cotton Balers”) of the
famed 3rd Infantry Division. (Audie Murphy, the United States’ most decorated
soldier during World War II, also served in the 3rd.) As a replacement soldier at
Monte Cassino, Italy, he witnessed brutal fighting and killing. He and his
comrades remained anxious to join in, but their zeal took on a more sober tone.
They saw that their chances of survival were diminishing, especially after they
landed at Anzio. There, they faced an overwhelming enemy force. The 3rd
Division suffered some 3,000 casualties during its first ten days of combat.
Jim’s leg was shattered during a night patrol on 1 February 1944. He was
transported by ship to a hospital in Tunisia, then Stateside to an Army hospital in
the midwest where he spent one year recovering. When he left the war behind
him, he wore a Combat Infantry Badge, a Purple Heart, his campaign medals,
and, eventually, a Bronze Star.
When Jim and Janet asked if I would help write Jim’s autobiography, saying
yes was easy. I’d gotten to know him as an unassuming, charming man full of
enthusiasm and wit. We were both from the midwest, and we’d both spent
happy, carefree childhood summers in upper Minnesota and Wisconsin. Our
recollections meshed so often that it seemed as if we’d hung around the same
country stores.
As we wrote this book, I couldn’t help but feel that I was also in the
company of Matt Dillon. The actor and the character he portrayed on TV for
twenty years are one and the same. Both are honest and strong, born leaders.
Few actors are cast in a role that so deeply fits their true selves. Fortunately for
all of us who spent a good part of our lives watching Gunsmoke, Jim Arness is
one of them.
—James E. Wise, Jr.
Prologue
WHEN TROOPS PREPARE FOR WAR there is not much time for quiet
reflection, but on a January day in 1944 I made what time I could. With bagpipes
playing as we marched down the streets of Naples to our landing craft, I tried to
keep my mind apart to think about my life so far.
Many hours later we were lying off the port city of Anzio, ready to storm the
beaches of Italy. We heard our craft’s engines revving up; then we moved out
toward our assigned beaches. As we waited for incoming fire, I tried to
concentrate on images of home. So much that was unknown and frightening lay
ahead, while behind me lay everything I knew and everyone I loved.
I kept the pictures in my mind for as long as I could.
I. The Early Years
WHEN MY GRANDFATHER LANDED at Ellis Island in 1887, his name
was Peter Aursnes, but “I had to throw away the s in the middle of my name,” he
reminded his father and brother in a letter dated 4 September 1893. Because the
Americans could not pronounce the Norwegian, his family should spell the name
“Aurness” when they wrote to him.
Thirty years old at the time of his arrival, Peter “Aurness” had studied
medicine in Oslo (which at the time was called Kristiania). In America he made
straight for Minneapolis and the Norwegian community that lived there—we
assumed he must have known others from his homeland who had settled in the
farmland community. He enrolled at the University of Minnesota to complete his
training, and eventually he graduated from their School of Medicine.
Peter also experimented with medical equipment that he designed himself,
running a mail-order business out of his home. He sold his own patented
stethoscope; we still have among our family mementos the patent documents and
a few of the instruments. His medical practice was quite successful, and by the
time he met my grandmother, Ida Cirkler, he was a prominent physician and
surgeon.
Ida was the child of German immigrants in New Ulm, Minnesota, about 75
miles southwest of Minneapolis. It was mostly farm country. When she was a
baby, in the summer of 1862, the Minnesota Sioux and four Dakota subtribes
known as the Santee attacked the town. The natives had signed a treaty in 1851
but had been cheated in their reservation rights, and after a clash on 17 August
1862, warriors asked fifty-year-old Little Crow to lead them in an uprising.
According to my mother, the family historian, they set out to kill all whites in
New Ulm.