Bucking Hollywood

By Susan Robertson

A unique and gifted actor once bucked the system in Hollywood. This is the life story of movie and TV actor Dale Robertson, told by the person who knew him best: his wife, Susan. Susan says she is not a professional writer but wanted to write this book totally herself with her own thoughts, ideas, time frame, and no ghost writer. She laughs when someone says, "Well, you are a writer now." As she states in the book, Dale would joke when someone would approach him to do his autobiography. He'd say, "Not now." It was because he did not know how it ended. Also he would remind them of all the thousands of interviews he had done over the years and to "let the younger actors do these interviews now." Because the autobiography had not been done, Susan wanted to do it to help in some way to preserve his legacy. Susan now resides in San Diego, California, to be closer to family and hopes folks will enjoy the book. She knows her husband better and that he did not compromise himself in the film industry and in life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644248010

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Bucking Hollywood

Denver Post, 1950

SUSAN ROBERTSON

Copyright © 2019 Susan Robertson

All rights reserved

Second Revised Edition

National Association of Book Entrepreneurs

Pinnacle Book Achievement Award:

2019 Winner in the Category of BIOGRAPHY

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2019

ISBN 978-1-64424-803-4 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-64424-801-0 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Francine Roark Robison

On the New Year of the late 1940s, we were no longer fighting the Germans or the Japanese, not yet fighting the North Koreans. Communism and Cold War were still unfamiliar terms for most of us. America was the strongest and the bravest and the best country in the world.

Everyone was smoking Lucky Strikes, or Camels, and listening to Groucho offer $100 if you said the secret word. Sugar and gasoline were no longer rationed. Little Orphan Annie and Buster Brown sold Ovaltine and shoes, while Stella Dallas and Young Widow Brown brought their problems to each of us as we tuned in daily.

I had a stick horse that galloped through the house like the wind. I wore my red rodeo chaps and vest with the white fringe. I also had a red cowboy hat with a string that tightened under my chin. Mama thought it was too big for me and didn’t want to buy it. But she couldn’t resist when I used the hem of her dress to wipe my eyes.

And in Hollywood, a new star was rising, a man who would make sixty-three major movies and hundreds of TV shows, including the stirring weekly dramas Tales of Wells Fargo, The Iron Horse, and Death Valley Days. Who could forget the young hero Jim Hardy as he outsmarted thieves and other assorted criminals intent on gaining the strongbox and whatever fair maiden happened to be available?

And deep within ourselves, we knew that we could help save the payroll and drive the team to safety if need be as, dressed in boots and hat and armed with a single-action cap gun, we watched the drama unfold.

We, the cowboy generation, grew up with Saturday morning matinees and the TV classics of Bonanza, Rawhide, Gunsmoke, Tales of Wells Fargo, and Death Valley Days. From rocking horses to Shetland ponies, we rode with the best of them—we rode with all of them. There was no telling how many discarded broomsticks answered to Trigger, Champion or Jubilee.

Today, nostalgia still binds us to the romanticism of the Old West and to the characters portrayed by our cowboy heroes. Dale Robertson was one of those heroes—an ordinary man from an ordinary town, outstanding in so many ways. How well I remember sitting with my parents in front of the black and white Philco, watching a handsome young star take us on an exciting journey through the past.

He had many titles: war hero, movie hero, cowboy hero, Westerner of the Year, Stuntmen’s Hall of Fame, Oklahoma Hall of Fame, Cowboy Hall of Fame, American Patriot Award, Will Rogers Award, Oklahoma ambassador, and many, many other titles…

Our heroes have always been cowboys

But what does that really mean?

Is it Clint or George or John Wayne

in a big hat and tight blue jeans?

Is it Saturday morning serials,

Where Tim and Hoppy rode?

Is it Tom and B-Grade Westerns

Where the hero was never throwed?

Could it be the Lone Ranger lunchbox

Or paper dolls of Roy and Dale,

Or the rodeo at the fairgrounds,

Or shaking hands with Gene at the rail?

Could it be lessons from Daddy?

Carry your load and beyond.

Share a meal with a traveler.

Let your word be your bond.

Could it be that it’s all the above?

With other things thrown in, too—

Like grandpas and daddys standing tall,

Showing us what to do.

The movies and toys and music

Remind us of days long ago

When men were honest, truthful, and just,

So kids knew which way to grow.

Those Cowboys are America’s heroes—

They lived the Cowboy Code;

Loved God and Mama and horses—

Proud of the trail they rode.

Now, this cowboy is also a hero

Who’s modeled the Code of the West—

Worked hard with movies and horses

With perfection as his quest.

His handshake is good as a contract;

His word he will not break;

He knows a man’s name’s important

When his reputation‘s at stake.

He’s proud of his local background,

And family, and farm, and friends—

Called the Best Horseman in Hollywood,

He still sets racing trends.

Yes, we grew up with cowboys

And learned the Code of the West;

We gauge our heroes next to them

And consider ourselves blessed.

So thank you, Dale, for memories

And a model to emulate;

You’ll always be my hero,

And you’re a credit to our State.

(Francine Roark Robison March 20, 2000, Oklahoma)

Yes, Dale was a hero to so many. He was definitely my hero.

My twin sister, Nancy (left), and I were always cowgirls. I think it was meant to be for

me to marry a cowboy!

When Susan met Dale

Dale had been married three times before, and when someone asked him why he had been married so many times, he said, Well, it took Joe Lewis three knockouts to finally get it right. I figure after three marriages, maybe I have got it right this time. Dale was my first and it lasted thirty-three years until he passed away. I feel lucky he had a little practice! Ha!

Dale said, reflecting, I’ve learned a man can make a wife a good wife or a bad wife, depending on how he behaves, and a wife can make a husband good or bad, depending on how she acts. Then he made a remark quietly. If either the wife or the husband isn’t doing well, the other one better change in a hurry.

Some people would say, I could never really get to know Dale. That is one of the many reasons I am writing this book.

I was a flight attendant for American Airlines when I first met Dale. Based in Los Angeles, I was working a flight as first flight attendant in the first-class cabin, going from LA nonstop to Tulsa. We spent the night there and, the next morning, we had a stop in Oklahoma City before returning nonstop back to LA. I was getting ready at the fwd cabin door to greet passengers as they boarded when the agent came up to me and said Dale Robertson would be in F/C. Well, all of a sudden, the other flight attendants rushed in the lavatories to check their personal appearances. Of course, I did not have time since the boarding had started.

Dale stepped in the door and said, Howdy, I’m Dale Robertson. Nice to meet you. I smiled and told him I was Susan Robbins and it was nice to meet him.

You’d never for a moment doubt that Dale was a product of Oklahoma. Once you listened to his picturesque drawl, you’d peg him. When he first hit the Hollywood borders, some tried to get him to drop the accent. He was even told once that if he dropped it, he could get a certain part, so Dale went to work, softened the drawl, and came out with a modified version of the King’s English. But he didn’t get the part. So he kept the accent. Period. It definitely made him distinctive, and it certainly didn’t hurt him in pictures. Anybody who could knock off the leads in Golden Girl, Return of the Texan, The Outcasts of Poker Flat, Lydia Bailey, and numerous others didn’t have it too bad!

I have to stop here to explain that I must have watched every episode of Tales of Wells Fargo with my family in the late 1950s and early 1960s and was a little stunned to actually be working a flight with him onboard. There were only three passengers in F/C that day and the other F/A with me had to help in the coach cabin, with it being full. So I was the only F/A in F/C, which made it a little awkward. I was a little nervous to wait on him. He sat down in his seat as some of the passengers were wanting to shake his hand, say hello, etc., actually stopping the flow of traffic. I was too embarrassed in front of Dale to ask the passengers to keep moving. Then during the flight, the other attendants thought of excuses to come up to first class and, of course, meet Dale.

There was no reason to feel nervous because, unlike many celebrities, Dale was so easy to talk with. Later after the meal was served, I showed him a picture of my horse, and that started a whole lot of conversation!

Dale moved to Oklahoma City in 1978 when his brother passed away, who had been running his horse farm while he was making films and TV series and going on guests appearances, Las Vegas shows, rodeos across America, etc. in Hollywood.

Back to our first meeting. Dale was going to LA to attend a function there and took his eldest daughter, Rochelle, with him. We planned on a dinner date in Tulsa on my layover there while I worked my next flight that month. He drove from OKC that night. We had a lovely dinner at the Montagues Restaurant at the very nice Williams Hotel, where I was staying. I still have a souvenir, a small dish with the name on it. We then went to several nightclubs where everyone knew him and, at one, he sang Gi Gi. He had a very appealing voice—so amazing! He showed me another amazing talent he had when he pulled out a book of matches out of his coat pocket and struck up a little tune, tapping his fingers with the matches like it was an instrument! Ha! Actually, it sounded great. We were just very relaxed and comfortable with each other. We went back to the hotel, and he walked me to my room and stepped in the door to avoid anyone watching us when he kissed me goodbye. It was a wonderful, warm, and soft kiss. His broad shoulders and strong arms felt so comforting to me. He knew I was not going to have him stay the night and said there would be the right time for us. That right time was not too far off! Being the wonderful, decent man that he was, he drove back to OKC. His youngest daughter, Rebel, was living with him, and it was best he was there for her.

Dale flew out to LA shortly after that for a guest appearance on Fantasy Island. It took several days to shoot. The last night after filming, we went to a function at the Marriott Hotel on Century Boulevard, close to the LA airport. We were in the lobby and he lit up a cigarette. Then he walked over to one of those stands with sand to put out cigarettes and looked at me and said, I am going to see which one I like better—you or one of these damn things. He proceeded to put the cigarette out and said to me that I had never mentioned anything or complained about his smoking; that was the reason among many that he did it. He never picked up another one for the rest of his life. Gosh! Later, I sort of missed the little matchbook tune!

We flew together the next morning to OKC to meet his daughter and his friends, and he showed me Oklahoma City. The first place he took me to was the Cowboy Hall of Fame, now called the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum.

In 1979, Dale in front of the Cowboy Hall of Fame, now renamed the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum. Has gone through many changes since this photo.

When we first arrived at the farm. If you notice the license plate, you will know he had friends in high places.

One of the classic cars Dale had.

James, who was our driver, drove some of my girlfriends to Ardmore, Oklahoma, where there was an upscale fashion clothing store, and we pretty much filled up the limousine! These were the only photos I could find. There was a 1955 TB, my favorite.

Of course, I loved the farm. He introduced me to all the dogs, horses, longhorn cattle, pigs, chickens and miniature goats. We went for a horseback ride all over the farm. He rode his big black-and-white paint called Ishto. The full name was Ishto Hulpaney, a Chickasaw Indian name. I rode Man O’ Man, a big brown-and-white paint.

I have never seen a barn quite like the one at the Haymaker Farms. Dale’s office was huge, like a scene from one of his Western movies. He would sit behind a cluttered three-hundred-year-old English partners desk. The bookshelves had every book that had ever been written about horses. I donated them to the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum in Oklahoma City. Dale could tell you all bloodlines on every famous racehorse ever! There was a living room area, where the entrance to the barn was, and his office was to the left. The huge kitchen was to the right with a fabulous bar and a kitchen equipped with all that one would need. When he first showed me into his office, he was able to push aside a fabulous painting of Spanish Fort by Orin Mixer, which he said was the most perfect conformation horse he had ever raised. (Bob Funk has that painting at his home now; he lives just down the road from the farm.) The stall of his horse Ishto was directly behind, and Ishto stuck his head through an opening just made for him to stick his head through to tell us, Howdy! Dale didn’t have to go through the barn door directly off the back of the living area and left to Ishto’s stall to see him! Behind, where the stalls were, was a huge riding arena equipped with more open-type stalls, hot walker, and equipment for training. After we were married, we had many barbeques, functions, and horse sales at the barn.

Dale was certainly one of Oklahoma’s favorite sons. Everywhere we went, it was like he was the president of the US. I was so proud to be with him and so proud of him. He was always kind and approachable and as down to earth as Oklahoma’s top soil.

Former governor George Nigh said of Dale, Both in my public service and my private life, I have made with sincere enthusiasm more than my share of ‘Be proud you’re an Oklahoman speeches. In those speeches, I list Oklahomans who have ‘done good’ and brought great credit to our state. That list always includes Dale Robertson. It included him, but with even more enthusiasm after I met Dale personally. Throughout his most successful career, he has always held high his Oklahoma roots and connections. I join in saluting Yukon’s and Oklahoma’s superstar.

His daughter Rebel was getting ready to go to college and still had a few days before leaving while I was there. Dale, wanting to be proper, had me sleep in her room with her. Ha! She talked my ear off and finally fell asleep. She was so cute and so smart. She is now a CPA and married to a wonderful man, Scott Salmon, in Dallas, Texas.

We flew back and forth to be with each other for about six months and married in downtown Las Vegas at the Horseshoe Casino (which belonged to his friend Benny Binion) on February 2, 1980. Benny Binion was a legend in the history of Las Vegas, a real character to say the least. He was one of the last of Nevada’s colorful old-time gamblers turned casino entrepreneurs. He had built the Horseshoe Casino into one of Las Vegas’s liveliest attractions. The Horseshoe gained fame over the years for its high-stakes poker tournaments and million-dollar craps table bets. He put Dale and me up at his casino in the best suite and was so generous in offering everything at our disposal.

Everyone had a great time. My mother, father, both sisters, their husbands, and several friends were there. Best way to get married. No big fuss.

Benny Binion, owner of the Horseshoe Casino,

a real legend in the history of early Las Vegas.

What American raised on Saturday Westerns and cap pistols could fail to relish a story about a gambler who was a real legend?

Benny Binion, the patriarch of the Binion clan, had a smile as broad as the Texas landscape that spawned him. This son of a Texas cattleman can spin yarns about his gambling adventures till the cows came home. Whether sporting a Stetson and bandana handkerchief or not, he was surrounded by an aura of sizzling cattle brands and marathon card duels.

Binion belongs to a small coterie of men whose personal lives parallel the development of the West. He remembered clearly the original Concord stagecoaches that opened the Western frontier. The story goes that he had his own Concord stagecoach built so he could meet the first airplane to arrive in Las Vegas, carrying one thousand passengers.

Growing up in Grayson County, Texas, just after the turn of the century, he got in on the closing era in which rough and rugged men opened the West to commercial development. They never had much money and kept what little they did have circulating at the poker tables.

He came to Las Vegas in 1947, at the time when legalized, carefully supervised betting began to attract an entirely new breed of gamblers. He immediately sniffed the way the wind was blowing and set the philosophy that had directed the course of the Horseshoe ever since: offer serious players a pure gambling house, introduce innovative gambling, and take an earnest interest in the well-being of the community. The Horseshoe had become a favorite tourist attraction partly because of the $1 million in $10,000 bills, which was kept on continual display.

I got the idea visiting Washington DC, said Binion. There was this long line of people waiting to visit the US Mint—just to look at the money. Seemed to me that it would be a good investment to put a million dollars on display in our casino, just for the heck of it. You’d be surprised how many people come by just to have their pictures taken, standing alongside all that money.

One time when the million had to be temporarily moved to one of the local banks, Binion had an opportunity to demonstrate the gambler’s fondness for a good prank. We had new guards at the time, so I gave the boys a money box and sent them over to the bank, telling them I’d follow along in a few minutes, he said, remembering. They opened the box when I arrived and everyone’s jaw dropped a foot because it was filled with cut-up paper. His eyes twinkled in mischief. I was carrying the million dollars in my Western boot. He laughed.

Dale taking off my garter for me to throw to the lucky person to marry next.

My parents, Bob and Mary Robbins, me and Dale.

My older sister Carol and her husband Bob Bryant; me and Dale; my twin sister Nancy and her husband Tim.

My sister Nancy, me, Patty (my roommate before getting married, who caught my bouquet and did get married next), Mom, Franya (my friend, also an American Airlines flight attendant), my sister Carol and Sue Mose, our friend.

Babe, the first horse Dale gave me.

Dale was definitely the love of my life. I was so fortunate to have a loving, faithful husband. We never really argued, but were able to discuss any disagreements; they were very few. In our thirty-five-year relationship, he never used any foul language or tried to belittle me, like I hear some women experience with their husband’s verbal or physical abuse. I cannot remember a day that he did not tell me he loved me and, when we were apart, we never missed a night to call each other. I guess going through several marriages is good training. Ha!

When Dale moved back to Oklahoma to run the farm after his brother passed away in 1978, he was mostly retired from the film business. After we were married, he periodically returned to Hollywood to appear in an episode of Love Boat; the series Dynasty; Matt Houston; Dallas; Murder She Wrote; Harts of the West; two made-for-TV movies, American Horse and Horseman and Big John, a TV pilot. He starred in the TV series JJ Starbuck.

I felt so complete because I knew he believed in me and, when people would ask about his wife, he would, most of the time, call me his best friend and wife. Consequently, I could be myself and grow more confident, so it was very easy to take care of him when he needed me so.

Some folks never have that. Guess I never will again.

Who Dale Was as a Man and Person

You’d find that Dale was one person who made friends easily. He loved people. As he’d tell anyone, I like to hear what everyone has to say, to swap ideas. You can learn a lot by talking to people. You might think this attitude would make him gullible and would have led to some spontaneous friendships that could go rather flat. He’s had his experiences with phony friends, but he still did not put up any wall of reserve. There was one fellow he liked very much. One day, the gent borrowed some money—a small amount actually. From that day on, he never went to see Dale again and, needless to say, he didn’t pay back the money. This is the kind of person Dale could have done without.

I’ve found that phonies are the exception among people and not the rule, Dale would say. His pals did not include many actors, with the exception of Jeffrey Hunter, Richard Widmark and Rory Calhoun early in his career. They are people who worked for Dale, like Kit Carson, his stand-in; Tom MacDonald and Dean Smith, his doubles; and just as many old friends and not really famous people. You will see later in the book. I like these fellows because their ideas of being friends are like mine, Dale would say. I call a guy a friend who can come over to my house, do what he wants to do, go to bed at my place if he doesn’t want to go home, go to the refrigerator and help himself if he’s hungry. That’s the way I am anyway. I don’t want to have to entertain my friends. While I like most of the stars I’ve met here, I don’t think they’d quite go along with such informal ideas of entertaining. They’re a little more reserved, so I hang around with the people I know well.

Even with this informal attitude, you’d not think Dale was the type who had a careless idea about his job. Far from it. He was very satisfied with his career, and he wouldn’t mince any words telling you he liked it. It’s not a difficult job because I like it, he’d say. But I sure don’t go for the kind of actor or actress who gets all swelled up and turns on the temperament. From where I sit, an actor is about the only person on a set who can be replaced. Why, you could take almost anybody off the street and get him to read lines right with a little work. But try to find someone on the street who could jump in and photograph a scene or light one with even a whole lot of work. Anybody who makes the salary you do in this business and lets success go to his head is silly. When success goes to your head, it’s because that’s the only place left in your body with any room for it to go.

Chapter 1 has given the reader a little of what kind of a man Dale was. He had so many good friends, and they knew he thought a lot of them when he would call them pard, meaning partner. The name really