Alias Smith & Jones Read online

  Classic Cinema.

  Timeless TV.

  Retro Radio.

  BearManor Media

  See our complete catalog at www.bearmanormedia.com

  Alias Smith and Jones: The Story of Two Pretty Good Bad Men

  © 2015 Sandra K. Sagala and JoAnne M. Bagwell. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopying or recording, except for the inclusion in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This version of the book may be slightly abridged from the print version.

  Published in the USA by:

  BearManor Media

  PO Box 71426

  Albany, Georgia 31708

  www.bearmanormedia.com

  ISBN 978·1·59393·031·8

  Cover Design by Valerie Thompson.

  Front cover photo courtesy of Jerry Ohlinger's Movie Materials Store.

  eBook construction by Brian Pearce | Red Jacket Press.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Preface

  Introduction

  Chapter 1: Into the West Came Many Men

  Chapter 2: Two Latter-Day Robin Hoods

  Chapter 3: The First Season — Amnesty? For You Two?

  Chapter 4: Leading Model Lives of Temperance, Moderation, Tranquility…

  Chapter 5: The Second Season — So All We Gotta Do Is Stay Out of Trouble for One Year?

  Chapter 6: December 31, 1971

  Chapter 7: The Show Must Go On — Continuation of the Second Season

  Chapter 8: It Was a Good Life, but Times Were Changing

  Chapter 9: The Third Season — The Governor Might See Fit to Wipe Their Slate Clean

  Chapter 10: Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry Would Cease to Exist

  Endnotes

  Appendix A: Maverick vs. Alias Smith and Jones

  Appendix B: Bloopers

  Appendix C: Trivia

  Appendix D: Merchandise

  Appendix E: Time Slots

  Appendix F: Roy’s Rules for the Writers

  Bibliography

  Acknowledgments

  Writing a book like this one takes the cooperation of many people, people who were willing to speak with us and who didn’t ask for anything in return. So here’s a big thank you to all the folks who shared their memories, dug through their files and put up with our persistent and lengthy questioning.

  To ROY HUGGINS, who claimed it was all too long ago to remember, but then entertained us with stories all afternoon. He was a charming man and we’re grateful to have had the opportunity to speak with him before he passed away.

  To JO SWERLING, a delightful man who always made time for us. We’ll remember him as a man 6'3" tall, with lots of hair, just as he requested.

  To GLEN LARSON, for sharing the story of how it all began and for even suggesting he might begin it again.

  To FRANK PRICE, who may fall into the category of an “Evil Suit from the Black Tower,” but is in reality a staunch supporter of the show who fought for its survival throughout its run. He’s really a “pretty good bad man.”

  To BEN MURPHY, for not only answering all our questions, but doing so with long-suffering patience and charm.

  To ROGER DAVIS, who was very generous with his time, his money, his car and his home.

  To ALEX SINGER, as thrilled to tell us the story of his work on Alias Smith and Jones as we were to hear it. The screenings with frame-by-frame analyses were highly educational and great fun.

  To GLORYETTE CLARK, for the reminiscences of Roy Huggins both as a film editor and writer.

  To KIM DARBY, who opened her heart to us and showed us Peter Duel the man.

  To JACK JOBES, for the memories of the mischievous side of Peter Duel in college and in Hollywood.

  To DENNIS FIMPLE, who shared his memories not only of the show, but also of Peter Duel. Thanks for an afternoon filled with laughter. Rest in peace, Dennis.

  To MONTY LAIRD, who not only gave us insight into the second unit, but also taught us to fast draw. Happy trails, Monty.

  To EARL HOLLIMAN, who kept in touch long after the interview was over, sharing photos and memories.

  To LANE BRADBURY, who watched “The Day the Amnesty Came Through” with us, giving a running commentary and analysis of the show from the perspective of a female performer.

  Thanks also go to Carolyn Cassady for the incredible job she does on her website www.asjcollection.com, which made our research much easier, and for her invaluable comments on our manuscript; Asialee Crumley, first reader, volunteer research assistant and interview transcriber; Sophia Ellis of Granada Plus, who detailed the UK broadcaster’s reasons for adding Alias Smith and Jones to their lineup; Chris Fimple, for loaning us many items from his father’s collection; Cinda Gillilan, for sharing her goodies with us; Trish Hayes of the BBC Archives, who provided us with everything the BBC has on record for their most popular American series; Adele Huggins, for putting us in touch with her son-in-law Frank Price; Thorne Moore, first reader and top-notch critic who provided us with a British fan’s point of view; Mike Shannon, who put us in touch with his cousin Roger Davis; Judy Singer, for adding to her husband’s stories and providing spectacular lunches; and finally to Alias Smith and Jones fans worldwide who kept the show alive in their hearts and whose ponderings and speculations on Internet message boards sparked many of our research paths.

  Preface

  Sandy’s Story

  One evening in 1971, I joined my father-in-law in watching a new television western titled Alias Smith and Jones. It didn’t occur to me then that this, of all the TV I would ever watch, would gallop into my heart and never leave. The appeal was primarily two amiable reformed outlaws, Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes. Their exploits in keeping just this side of the law were entertaining and the subtle humor addictive. After watching one episode, I was hooked.

  Many years later, when reruns of ASJ showed up on the Family Channel, I undertook a serious study of the program. By then I had cable and a VCR, so could tape and view them at leisure. Growing older in the ensuing years gave me the confidence to contact Ben Murphy and Roger Davis to thank them for the happiness the show brought me. Knowing nothing of how to go about it, I enticed my uncle, a born researcher, into digging up information and was delighted when he found a home address for Ben.

  A friendly correspondence began. Ben, to his credit, responded to my letters and made me feel like a friend instead of a faceless fan. In September 1991, I met him in person for the first time. Perhaps I was expecting an older, more mature Kid Curry; what I found was a modern bachelor with a penchant for tennis. Since then I’ve enjoyed many pleasant days in his company though he remains confused over my long-time fascination with ASJ.

  By 1998, I was compiling a little book about the episodes and sought out Roy Huggins. When I contacted him for a phone interview, he was still going strong at eighty-plus years and was kind enough to answer my myriad questions. I confessed I was writing about the show simply because I loved it, and Huggins confirmed, “That’s a good enough reason.”

  With the purchase of a home computer and Internet access, I was surprised to learn I was not alone in my memories and interest in ASJ. Websites and message boards led to the exchange of tapes and offline correspondences developed into friendships. Before long, I realized my previous research into ASJ history and characters had just scratched the surface. There was so much more to know.

  With Jo as collaborator, we began an academic study of this quaint western still remembered fondly by so many. The fun I had doing the research, conducting the interviews, and even the incessant revising surely equals the fun had by everyone as
sociated with the series. They told us so.

  Jo’s Story

  On January 5, 1971, I sat down in front of the television set and fell in love with two outlaws. I was only nine years old, but I knew Alias Smith and Jones was something special. Blessed with indulgent parents, I controlled the TV on Thursday nights, never missing an episode. When the show moved to Saturday, those indulgent parents bought me a television set of my own, so they could enjoy All in the Family while I followed the exploits of my favorite outlaws.

  All too soon the series came to an end. Heyes and Curry no longer galloped across my TV screen every week, but I never forgot them or the lessons I learned from them, like the meaning of the word “amnesty,” or that flying an American flag upside-down is a recognized distress signal, or how to stand an egg on end.

  Years passed, yet I never lost my passion for this show. I was delighted when the VCR was invented because I was finally able to realize my dream of having an Alias Smith and Jones library, courtesy of KDOC and CBN. Then the advent of the Internet led me to discover others who fondly remembered the lovable outlaws. I joined a discussion group devoted to ASJ and, in order to fully participate, I watched my tapes with new attention. I soon realized that one reason this show remained my favorite into adulthood was because it was more than just an hour’s entertainment. The show had a surprising depth to it and, the more I watched it, the more I saw in it.

  One of the people in that discussion group was Sandy Sagala. With a mutual interest in ASJ as a start, we soon became friends and went from e-mail correspondence to personal visits. One October afternoon, buffeted by the spray of Niagara Falls, Sandy suggested we write a book about the show and so we began our very own Heyes and Curry adventure. My childhood memories are now accompanied by the priceless experiences we had writing this book — Roy Huggins, with a straight face but a wicked twinkle in his eye, explaining the “magic saddlebags”; fast draw lessons with Monty Laird; dinner with “Danny Bilson”; a “Heyes and Curry” reunion in Malibu. Our interviews were filled with laughter as everyone shared their stories with us, proving the magic ingredient in Alias Smith and Jones is fun. Turn the page and join in.

  Introduction

  Smith and Jones. Could two more generic, all-purpose names be found in American society? Good, solid-sounding, easy-to-remember, easier-to-forget names were important to Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, “the two most successful outlaws in the history of the West.” Porterville Sheriff Lom Trevors didn’t have to think too long or too hard to come up with them. In fact, they were a desperate spur-of-the-moment inspiration.

  But just who were those guys?

  Their ancestry harkens back to romantic tales of highwaymen on fiery steeds who urged traveling coaches to stop, stand and deliver. Whether silk handkerchiefs or coarse linen covered their faces, the Robin Hoods excited in their victims a willingness to hand over their goods. In stories told about the legendary bandits, the marauders then fled, leaving behind passengers eager to share word of their encounter with the noble thieves. Heyes and Curry were born of this tradition.

  They can count among their forefathers a young man named Robert Leroy Parker who, in the summer of 1889, joined three or four other desperadoes in robbing the Telluride, Colorado, bank of $10,000. Shortly afterward, he adopted the name Cassidy to honor his friend Mike Cassidy and took on the first name of Butch from butcher, a trade in which he had briefly been engaged. [1] Under his alias, he led a gang who called themselves the Wild Bunch or the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang. Numbering at times from a handful of outlaws to a small regiment, the gang included Harry Longbaugh, known as the Sundance Kid, and Harvey Logan, a.k.a. Kid Curry. Despite his acquaintance with Sundance, who could draw “as fast as a snake’s tongue,” and Curry, who was reputed to be a vicious “tiger of the Wild Bunch,” [2] Butch’s reputation included his never having killed anyone.

  Three years of frequent bank and train robberies brought the gang to the attention of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Before the Civil War, Allan Pinkerton founded the company of dogged and rugged men. He instituted the Rogues Gallery, demanding that his operatives obtain photos of criminals and list all known aliases, nicknames, hangouts and associates. [3] After the telephone and telegraph increased cooperation between law enforcement agencies, the Wild Bunch realized their days were numbered. When the gang split up, Butch and Sundance fled the country via New York City. While in the Big Apple, the pair, with girlfriend Etta Place, proudly sat for photographs. The Pinkertons flooded western towns with these photos and used them to trace the pair to South America. For six years, Butch and Sundance practiced American-style Wild West outlawry in Bolivia. Finally the Bolivian army tracked them down and reportedly killed them in a bloody shootout in 1908. Another version contends that only three troopers cornered them and, realizing that the end was near, Butch shot Sundance and then himself. Still a third account has Cassidy returning to the U.S. and living under the alias of William T. Phillips in Spokane, Washington. Allegedly, he died there in 1937. [4]

  George Roy Hill brought the story of the popular American outlaws to the big screen in 1969. For his screenplay, William Goldman won an Academy Award. Paul Newman (as Butch Cassidy) and Robert Redford (as the Sundance Kid) starred in the film that was one of Hollywood’s first to depict bad guys as good guys, turning “Old West bandits into modern folk heroes.” [5] The audience was advised at the beginning of the film that “most of what follows is true” and it mostly was.

  The film depicted the events of August 1900 when the Wild Bunch stopped a Union Pacific Railroad train after it passed Tipton, Wyoming. Woodcock, a railroad employee, refused to open the door, so the gang dynamited the railroad car. The Union Pacific management decided this was the last straw and a few hours later, a special train was dispatched from Cheyenne carrying Pinkertons and a special posse. [6] Unable to shake them, Butch and Sundance decided to head for South America. Once there, under the aliases Smith and Jones, they continued their bank and train robbing careers and soon were enthusiastically hunted by the Bolivian authorities who knew them as the bandidos Yanquis. Director Hill went with the more dramatic of the death scenes, having the outlaws killed by scores of Bolivian soldiers.

  It is difficult not to deduce that the film had some bearing on Glen Larson’s inspiration to create a western television series based on the two lovable outlaws attempting to outrun the law. Larson’s script for the pilot contained several mirroring scenes. In both, the outlaw gang uses dynamite to blast a safe being transported in a railroad car they’ve stopped. Something goes wrong and apprehension grows. A little old lady passenger approaches, fearless of the Wild Bunch. “I’m not afraid of you, I’m not afraid of anything,” she shrieks. “I’m a grandmother and a female and I’ve got my rights.” The Sundance Kid dismisses her with the observation, “We got no time for this.” When a similar, but kindlier, grandmotherly old lady hands outlaw Kid Curry of the Devil’s Hole Gang a pamphlet at the site of their failed train robbery, it starts him and partner Hannibal Heyes thinking about amnesty. Before either scene can develop further, the posse dispatched to chase them down gallops into view.

  In another scene in the film, a card sharp who doesn’t know Sundance suspects him of cheating. When Butch uses the Kid’s name in conversation, the man is shocked for he instantly realizes that he will die if Sundance draws his pistol. Saved from his fatal error by an amiable Butch, the man wonders how close he came to death. “How good are you?” he asks Sundance, who answers by shooting the gun belt off the man’s hips, sending it skittering across the floor. Hannibal Heyes’s accomplice has the same quick-draw talent. When Wheat Carlson of Heyes and Curry’s Devil’s Hole Gang challenges Heyes during a bank robbery, Heyes refers Wheat to the loaded six-gun in the hand of Kid Curry. Wheat is immediately cowed.

  Dismayed at modern technology that has made their “jobs” so much harder, both Butch Cassidy and Hannibal Heyes lament the improvements. When Butch inspects a refurbished bank, he is overwhelmed by the ne
w bars, bolts, alarms, and safes. He asks the guard what happened to the beautiful old one. “People kept robbing it,” the guard responds laconically. Butch muses that it was “a small price to pay for beauty.” Heyes, unable to open the Brooker 202 safe in the train they’ve stopped, is doubly confounded by the Brooker 404 newly installed in the Porterville Bank. His nimble fingers are stymied by the locks built into the newer models. He concedes that “the banks they’re building today are unrobbable.”

  There is dissension in Cassidy’s gang, the Wild Bunch. With him and Sundance frequently absent, Harvey Logan takes charge and defies Butch for supremacy. In his own mind, Butch is, and always will be, leader. “I don’t mean to be a sore loser,” he whispers to Sundance as he’s about to engage in a knife fight with Logan, “but when it’s done, if I’m dead, kill him.” Similarly, Wheat Carlson challenges Heyes for leadership. When Heyes’s brilliant scheme to escape with the unopenable safe goes awry, Wheat insists that he could have done it better. When pushed further to detail how he would do it, he cryptically remarks, “Smarter.” Heyes doesn’t worry about a physical confrontation with his subordinate; Wheat’s ideas usually fizzle out long before they come to fruition.

  Despite the challenges aimed at the leaders of the Hole-in-the-Wall and Devil’s Hole Gangs, their partners respect their brains, however sarcastically they may express it. Sundance laughs at Butch Cassidy’s latest ideas. “You just keep thinkin’, Butch, that’s what you’re good at.” Curry depends on Heyes’s wider vocabulary and wisdom, asking him to define “amnesty,” and defers to him as leader of their gang.