I’m older now than that old duo
Walter and Gabby made quite a duo, though they weren’t exactly a team.
They operated independently. They were like separate moons, Io and Ganymede, orbiting the same planet but tracking different courses.
They were two seasoned actors who I loved watching as a youth. They reminded me of my great grandfather.
Though they’ve long since departed the scene, I still get a kick out of watching their ancient films, mostly Westerns. The difference today? I’m now their contemporary. We’re the Three Amigos: Walter Brennan, Gabby Hayes and me.
I appreciate their work of 50 to 70 years ago.
I viewed a classic John Wayne film the other night that featured Duke and Brennan. In it Brennan, who won three Academy Awards during his illustrious career, uttered the immortal line: “Jumpin’ Jehosaphat!”
He invoked that idiom rather frequently while pursuing his life’s work. Brennan could capture the essence of that phrase better than any actor I’ve seen.
What precisely is its essence? “Jumpin’ Jehosaphat” is an alliterative euphemism, meaning it’s a grammatical unit that expresses strong sentiment without resorting to outright profanity.
Gabby Hayes had his own signature line: “Yer durn tootin’.” Oh, and how about “Young whippersnapper”? He used that a lot, too.
Brennan and Hayes were within the same cohort in the motion picture industry. Hayes was nine years older and was born in 1885. He died in 1969 at age 84. Brennan died in 1974 at 80. But in their films they seemed to be at least 100.
I got to know of them in the mid-1950s. Jumpin’ Jehosaphat, I was a mere whippersnapper!
Hayes was often seen whittling on screen; Walter was a spitter of “tobacky” juice. Those were both traits employed by my colorful Great Grandpa, Bert Ragsdale of Coffeyville, Kan.
“Poppa,” as we called him, lived with us on Balboa Island for long stretches after Great Grandma died in 1948. And we loved having him.
In case you haven’t noticed, Balboa Island and Coffeyville are light years apart. My Grandma — Bert’s favorite daughter (of six) — scolded him numerous times for spitting tobacco juice on the island’s pristine walkways. Despite having to curb his country instincts, he loved Balboa Island.
When Brennan and Hayes came along in my life Bert had departed. We’d received a long-distance telephone call from Coffeyville. It was a sad day. But Walter and Gabby reminded me of him.
I implied earlier that Brennan was old at the time he made the John Wayne film that I watched the other evening. Actually, he was five years younger than I am today. That’s a wakeup call!
But to me he’ll be forever old, like Poppa. I was a big fan of Brennan’s when he charmed the nation in his television series, “The Real McCoys.” The series ran from 1957-63.
Brennan played Grandpappy Amos McCoy. He sounded just like Poppa.
In college, I did a pretty fair imitation of Brennan’s high-pitched histrionics, his West Virginny drawl (actually, he was from Massachusetts), and his distinctive gait.
Though he mimicked a limp for many roles, Brennan didn’t have one himself. It became a trait for many of his characters — perhaps a shortcut for establishing a persona. But he wasn’t disabled in that way.
Audiences today wouldn’t abide such an affectation.
As a young man, Brennan was in an accident that cost him most of his teeth. I’m assuming he had a set of choppers at home because he exhibited a full complement in “The Real McCoys.” But in nearly every one of his screen roles he took advantage of a snaggle-toothed appearance.
Brennan and Hayes had distinct countenances but they also shared similarities. They, for the most part, played sidekicks, and were toothless, unshaven codgers. Poppa missed many of his teeth as well. His favorite meal was crushed cornbread in buttermilk.
Brennan and Hayes were notorious scene-stealers. Poppa stole scenes, too. He was funny. He looked funny. He talked funny. He even spit funny.
Walter, Gabby and Bert. I haven’t forgotten them.
JIM CARNETT, who lives in Costa Mesa, worked for Orange Coast College for 37 years.