The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 150: Dude Looks Like a Lady

Episode Date: February 25, 2020

She broke the glass ceiling with ease.  But her secret was taken to the grave.

This is the way I heard it. The year was 1943, and Powell was dozing on the set of another action movie. Like most stuntmen, Powell could nap pretty much anywhere, even in the middle of a hectic set. Sitting next to him was his manager, a man who now wondered if his 21-year-old client would ever get the break he deserved. You see, unlike most stuntmen, Powell could actually act. And unlike most actors, Powell had done. no ego. He never complained about the hazards of his profession or whined about where his name might appear in the credits, if indeed it appeared at all. And today, he didn't care that he was

doubling for the leading lady, something a lot of stuntmen might have resisted. In short, Powell never said no. Maybe that's why everybody liked him. Maybe that's why everybody called him Powell. Powell's big break came later that afternoon when the leading lady on the film threw a hissy fit on the banks of the San Joaquin River. Specifically, she refused to jump into the water as the script required. It's not that she couldn't swim. It's just that the current was swift, the breeze was cold, and frankly, she didn't want to get her hair wet. And besides, why should she? isn't this why she had a stunt double in the first place? You know, the director was not pleased.

Fred Wilcox wanted his star to fully embrace her role as the next female action hero, a role he thought might lead to a sequel and maybe even a franchise. Wilcox didn't expect her to do all of her own stunts, but surely jumping into a river was not an unreasonable request for the next female action hero, Was it? Well, it was no use. After much pleading and cajoling, the leading lady returned to her trailer, and Wilcox called Powell. Actually, he called Powell's manager, who found his favorite client napping again, this time under an oak tree by the craft services tent. Rise and shine, pretty boy. The director is waiting for us down by the river. Let's go. Pal got up and followed his manager over to hair and

makeup. Not his favorite part of the job, but the role demanded it, and when you're doubling for a leading lady, you do what you got to do. 20 minutes later, freshly quaffed and looking decidedly feminine, Powell was standing on the banks of the San Joaquin River. The director explained exactly what the scene required, and Powell listened attentively. Actually, his manager listened attentively. Pau just sat quietly under all that hair, waiting for someone to say, action. At which point, Powell earned his keep, springing to life, he bolted down the riverbank and dove headlong into the swirling current, swimming hard for the opposite shore like the natural athlete he was. In hindsight, Wilcox had been wise to call a pro. The currents were much

stronger than he had realized, and Powell was hard-pressed to make it across. But the director was also wise to position himself on the opposite shore to capture Powell's dramatic exit from the rushing river on camera, because in that moment, the 21-year-old stunt double did exactly what his manager had told him to do. He continued on with the scene, with a performance that changed his life. If you look at the footage on YouTube, you'll see a serious actor doing some of his best work. Never mind Meisner or Stanislavsky or Strasbourg or whatever other method today's Thespians are prattling on about. This was something altogether different, an instinctual performance filled with nuance and subtlety. Not at all what the director expected from a stunt double.

The raw emotion on his face, said Wilcox. It was sublime. the way he dragged himself through the mud, exhausted and quivering. I could not help but weep as I watched him. It was magic. Fred Wilcox was so impressed with Powell's performance, he fired his leading lady on the spot and offered the role to her stunt double. The title role.

Naturally, Powell accepted. Actually, his manager accepted, but it's safe to assume that Powell was on board. A job was a job, after all. even if it meant playing a girl, a very brave girl, as it turned out, who climbed mountains, leapt over yawning chasms, faced-down wild animals, got shot at, and, of course, swam across a raging river all by herself. You might be tempted to compare Powell's performance to Robin Williams in Mrs. Doutfire, or Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie, but that would miss the point,

because unlike Robin and Dustin, Powell never broke character. Not once. Even when he was off-screen, doing press after the film's release, this 21-year-old stunt double embodied the female he portrayed. Of course, in people years, Powell was only three when he assumed the identity of his leading lady and agreed to leave his name off of the credits. Actually, that decision was made by Rudd Weatherwax, the manager who guided Powell's career from the very beginning. You see, Rudd Weatherwax believed that Powell's gender should remain a secret from his many millions of fans, and MGM concurred. Thus, no one ever imagined that underneath all that hair, America's latest female action hero, was really a boy. A very good boy with a very savvy manager who carefully groomed his favorite client for the role of a lifetime.

A role that would send Powell leaping into a raging river only to emerge on the opposite bank with a brand new name. A name that gave Rudd Weatherwax a Hollywood franchise worth over $250 million. Not a bad return for the manager. whose best friend lived to the ripe old age of one hundred and 26. That's only 18 in dog years, of course, but still a pretty good run for the beloved collie that everyone called pal, until he became the female action hero.

Everyone remembers as lassie. Anyway, that's the way I heard it. or to say the same thing in a slightly different way, the lassie was a laddie. This is the way I talked about the way I heard it wherein I attempt to relay some of the circumstances that led to the writing of the story you just heard and share perhaps a few pertinent facts I wasn't able to include in the tale that I think you might find of passing interest.

This story happened as the result of a phone call between myself and my friend Susan. Susan's a wonderful writer, terrific research, with whom I collaborate from time to time on the podcast. And we were discussing who should be the next James Bond. Daniel Craig apparently is hanging it up, which means a new actor will be chosen to play James Bond. And I have some strong feelings about this, and so does Susan. In fact, we each want the same guy.

What about you? Do you care who plays the next James Bond? Do you have a strong opinion? Are you the kind of person who meets a character on the page? and then forms in your mind's eye, a visualization of what that character looks like, and are you further the kind of person who goes to a theater, and then becomes disappointed when the actor or actress on the screen

doesn't look like the character, as you imagined? I am. This happened to me in 2005 when I went to see Jack Reacher, Lee Child's Jack Reacher. Lee Child is the author, and Jack Reacher is his creation. and it's one of the greatest modern day literary characters, I think. He's a mountain of a man. Six, six, two hundred and forty pounds. He's indestructible, an unstoppable force of nature, portrayed in the film by Tom Cruise. Now, with respect to Tom Cruise, he's a fine actor,

but he's, what, 5-7, 5-8? He's just, he's just not Jack Reacher. And, No amount of reaching would permit me to see him in the title role. It just took me completely out of the movie. Consequently, I didn't like the film. So I point this out because the actor I'd like to see play James Bond is a terrific British actor named Idris Elba, who happens to be a black man. So what's my problem?

Why am I okay? Why am I perfectly fine with a black actor portraying a white character, but unable to tolerate a short actor portraying a tall character? What's that say about me? Nothing great, obviously. My biases, my prejudices being what they are, for whatever reason, I struggle with the physicality as opposed to, uh, the color of the skin. But that's dumb because an actor doesn't have any more control over the color of their skin than they do their height. So I mentioned this to my friend Susan who says, well, yeah, you're right then. So you wouldn't have a problem with a woman playing James Bond. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, I said, what are you talking about? You have a woman played James Bond.

And she said, well, why not? I mean, the argument follows. Besides, an ancient, Greece and I think Shakespearean plays many times men would play roles of women. Why couldn't a woman play the role of a man? But I'm like, James Bond, are you serious? I said, look, if you can find an example in modern cinema where something like that

happened, I might rethink it, but right now I'm digging in my heels. No, James Bond can't be played by a woman. At which point Susan says, well, what about Lassie? I said, oh, crap. She's right. I had forgotten that Lassie was portrayed by a male dog. In fact, most every dog, I think, on screen is a male. There might be some exceptions, but they're almost always males because you know what females do? They shed more than males, and that creates all kinds of continuity problems.

So Susan proceeds to send me all this research. some really interesting articles on how PAL came to be the first female action hero. And that's sort of the premise that I ran with. And that's how the story came to be. The truth is, I also wrote it because I was fascinated by the relationship between Rudd Weatherwax and Powell. I love my dog. I've loved every dog I've ever had. but man, I don't know that anybody has ever loved a dog like Rudd Weatherwax loved his pal.

And for good reason. I mean, he made him a fortune for one thing. He got the pup when it was eight months old. A guy named Howard Peck gave it to him and said, look, this dog won't stop barking and he chases motorcycles. Can you fix him? And Rudd said, sure. Well, it turns out he couldn't.

He fixed the barking problem. But Powell, to his final days, couldn't help himself. He always chased motorcycles. And this guy, Howard Peck, was disappointed and said, I don't want the dog back. So Rudd said, all right, I'll keep the dog, and you can keep the money that you would have spent. And that's how he got the dog. And you know how Powell became Lassie. I just told you.

But I didn't tell you what really happened at the end of the run. Lassie come home was the name of the movie and the story. and the book by Eric Knight back in 1940 that launched the whole thing. But after Lassie come home, Pals starred in Son of Lassie, courage of Lassie, the hills of home, the sun comes up, challenge to Lassie, the painted hills, half a dozen films. And by 1952, MGM called Rudd Weatherwax and said, okay, we had a good run, but we're done.

And Rudd said, okay, you owe me $40,000 for the last season, and an MGM said, fine, we'll send you the check. And then Rudd said, or, or, you can keep your money and give me the rights to Lassie. Well, the studio had no interest in Lassie at that point, so they said, sure. And that's when Rudd Weatherwax and Powell got Lassie on television. And that is what turned into a monster franchise that generated over $2 billion in today's money and made everybody rich. The other thing I'll leave you with regarding Rudd, when Powell died at 18 in people years,

he went into a depression. Couldn't leave the house. Couldn't watch television for fear of seeing a promo for Lassie. Certainly couldn't watch any of the films. He loved Powell so much, he was just completely devastated when he died. And you know what?

It serves him right because you know what else Rudd Weatherwax did. He trained Old Yeller. And I don't know if you've seen Old Yeller, but if you haven't, spoiler alert, there's a fight with a wolf he gets rabies and they walk him out back and they have to shoot him. It was the most upsetting thing I ever saw on the big screen. I was a kid when they shot Old Yeller and I swear, it damn near broke me. Thanks, Rudd Weatherwax. Rest in peace, you and pal and all of the other canine friends who we've lost over the years. Anyway, this has been the way I talked about the way I heard it. I hope you liked it.

If you did, let me know on my Facebook. I'll come back and do it again next week, time permitting. But I'll be back with another story one way or the other. You can count on that. Until then, I'll be.