Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1938)

PAY BOY OF THE WESTERN WORLD Unrecognized by Hollywood stars, unknown to the city slickers — yet rival producers read Gene Autry's box-office score and weep This shy, ingratiating Texan becomes the messiah of a great revival BY KIRTLEY BASKETTE MORE women adore him than Clark Gable. They write him more love letters than they write Robert Taylor. More kids worship him than Shirley Temple. His screen voice thrills thousands more than Bing Crosby's husky notes, his grin cracks more masculine crusts than Jimmy Cagney's fists ever cracked, his daring deeds are more admired than Errol Flynn's. Darryl Zanuck has just laid a cool half million on the line for his contract, and had it laughed back in his lap. Zanuck wanted his magic draw to persuade people to sit through Shirley Temple and Eddie Cantor and Tyrone Power and Alice Faye — so they could see him in the second feature: He's the most amazing young man in Hollywood — yet not a tenth of Hollywood has ever seen him. More than half of the beglamoured stars of the upper movie crust have never even heard of him — until quite lately. Maybe you haven't, either — or maybe he's the most notable man in your life. Vv HAT Gene Autry means to you depends on where you live, for one thing. And on how old you are. And whether or not you consider yourself "sophisticated." If you hang out at Waxahachie, Texas, Tupelo, Mississippi, or Moberly, Missouri, chances are, man or woman, you're familiar with every tenor yodel and bass guitar twang in his bag of tricks. You probably sigh to his easy Texas drawl and flutter v/hen he unlimbers that wide white smile. On the other hand, if you dwell in Manhattan's towers or Philadelphia's flats, and hit only the first-run houses, then all this may merely hand you a querulous and puzzled frown. But even that's not so important. You can take Gene Autry or leave him. But you can't skip lightly over what he is and what he's done. He's much too important a gent in Hollywood at this moment. In fact, Gene Autry is right now the musical messiah of a great Hollywood revival — the resurrection of Westerns. Westerns were about laid out in the black pine box three years ago, when he came along. They're running all over the place today and multiplying like fruit flies. Wherever you look new cowboy stars are popping up like mushrooms after a rain. And it's all on account of Autry. I HREE years ago (and a few months, maybe) Gene Autry was just a blue-eyed, towheaded six-foot gandy Texan, yodeling out a living for himself and his wife on local radio stations and an occasional vaudeville turn. Five years ago he was an unknown voice on a phonograph record, but a voice that was outselling the popular recorded booboos of Bing Crosby three to one. Eight years ago he was sitting in tank town railroad depots in Oklahoma, Missouri and Texas tapping out telegraph messages and passing the empty hours making up cowboy songs. Eighteen years ago, he dangled his cactusscratched legs from the cattle loading platform of the Tioga, Texas station, waiting to help herd his dad's steers aboard the slow train. And while he waited he milled around with the older cowpokes and picked up the fret changes of the "gitter" and the lonely tunes of the range. That might seem a dull dish of history to pass you at this point, but it planted the bonanza that started the Western gold rush today. Because one night in Claremore, Oklahoma— you've heard of that place — a hometown boy with a maverick shock of grayish (Continued on page 84) 61