Indigo and the Cowboy

Chapter Sixteen
The Epilogue

“It has great power,” Indigo yelled above the rush of air over the windscreen.

Taza turned in the passenger seat and looked at Indigo sitting in back. “He drives too fast. This is because he never really learned to ride a horse, I am sure.”

“Oh shut up, both of you,” Darby said. “We’ll be late if I don’t hurry.”

“Alex will wait,” Taza said. “Besides, I thought you told me it was fashionable to be late.”

“For women. Men are expected to be on time. Oh, there’s the entrance.”

“Thank goodness,” Indigo said. “This old man was about to invoke protection from the spirits.”

“The only spirits that get invoked in this town come in a bottle,” Darby said as he slowed to make the turn.

The car handled like a dream. Well it should since it was the latest model produced by the Cadillac Car Company. It was painted a deep burnished red with black trim, something that turned heads whenever Darby drove through town.

The roads here in Hollywood had vastly improved once the studios started staking out territory. The streetcar tracks still tugged at the wheels on Santa Monica Boulevard but at least there were no longer any horse droppings to run over.

It was 1926, and a lot of things had changed here in California and across the world. The film industry had seemed to grow up overnight thanks to the documentation of the war horrors seen in the trenches of France. Alex ventured there had to be a million miles of film taken during those terrible years, and now they had reaped the benefits.

Selig’s Polyscope Film Company was no more, having failed eight years before, but the studio facility had lived on. Billy had managed to accumulate his zoo of wild animals and although he didn’t make it, the first Tarzan movie in 1918 was filmed there. But five years later even the zoo was sold off to someone named Louis B. Mayer.

Alex had seen it coming when many of Billy’s grand dreams never materialized. The War in Europe had changed the type of films audiences wanted to see and there were others waiting to make them. But Selig and many of the early pioneers had fought Thomas Edison’s company in court for a decade and finally won. Now studios seemed to be springing up overnight.

The parking lot at the Pickford-Fairbanks Studio was damn near filled since it seems everyone had been invited to the party. From Darby’s estimation this had to be the busiest corner of a bustling Hollywood. Pickford-Fairbanks was also known as United Artists Studio, and the site was so extensive that even Samuel Goldwyn was filming there.

In the twenty years that Darby and Taza had spent here in the warm sunny climes of California neither of them had regretted the time. “Diversify,” Alex had said, and so they had. Although they still had a hand in the film industry, and Taza was still considered the local Indian affairs expert, the money they had was spent wisely.

Alex Morgan and Darby O’Brien had partnered up to purchase vast acres of land in the hills surrounding Los Angeles. Two gentlemen named Woodruff and Shoults had begun to develop the hillside below Mount Lee and erected a giant fifty foot high sign to advertise their enterprise. Darby thought the Hollywoodland sign was terribly garish and an eyesore, but he couldn’t see it from his house.

Even as he turned the car over to a parking valet by the studio entrance that damn sign seemed to loom over the enormous facility they were about to enter. The studio lot still contained the scenery built for Douglas Fairbanks’ last two films, The Thief of Bagdad and Robin Hood.

Darby sighed as he looked at the turrets of the English castle, and then he had to smile. Alex had been involved in that picture to some degree because of his management association with a developing Universal Studios.

Studios spent a lot of money developing their list of big name stars. Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford were like Hollywood royalty, but they shared that list with many others. Buster Keaton, Ronald Coleman, Lionel Barrymore, Boris Karloff, and the rolls of male stars went on and on…and then there were the ladies.

Lillian Gish, Norma Shearer, Greta Garbo, Joan Crawford, Marion Davies…the beautiful women of Hollywood too numerous to name, but Darby had met a few of them thanks to Alex. In all nearly fifty feature length films had been produced that year, and even more if you counted the contributions from film studios around the world.

Darby led Taza and Indigo towards the entrance and saw Alex standing there beside a tall gentleman that looked quite familiar.

“Darby…look who I found…you remember Tom, don’t you?”

“I certainly do. Hello, Tom.”

“Darby…and Taza, how have you been? But who is this?” Tom asked.

“This is our good friend Indigo,” Taza said. “He’s of the non-acting variety of Indian. Indigo, this is Tom Mix. We used to work in films together for Polyscope.”

“Hello,” Indigo said.

“Tom just finished a train robbery film,” Alex said.

“The Great K & A Train Robbery,” Tom said. “I’m the good guy.”

“Is Tony still working with you?” Taza asked.

“Why yes he is, thanks for asking,” Tom said.

“Tony is Tom’s horse,” Darby explained to Indigo.

“From what I see this might be my last quiet western for a while,” Tom said. “Talking pictures are here to stay. Have you seen that test film with Al Jolson?”

“No, how did it sound?” Darby asked.

“Not quite the quality of the Vitaphone recordings, but it’s film history in the making. Sound right on the film, imagine that. Next we’ll have singing cowboys and dancing horses. I need to start producing these things.”

“Look me up, we’ll talk about it,” Alex said. “Shall we go in?”

A studio party like this was never formal but there were still those in a tux and formal wear. The vast space was cooled by vents attached to the latest in conditioned air technology, but with all these people it was still quite warm. Not as hot as Arizona, Darby thought.

They took a seat at a table with a view of the dance floor and the orchestra, which was playing quietly in the background. The walls were lined with scenery from dozens of different films and gave the huge open space a surreal quality.

There were a dozen people around this table, and more than a few up and coming young starlets Alex seemed to know…of course he did. The man had been married twice in the past twenty years and was once again single, and obviously looking. Hollywood marriages seemed to develop like speculative relationships at best.

Tom went off to schmooze at other tables but not before introducing a quiet young man who sat across from Indigo.

“Mr. Morrison, I believe…isn’t that the name Tom gave us?” Darby said.

The young man was tall and lanky with rugged good looks. “I like to be called Duke these days…the studio likes that better than Marion.”

“So you’ve had parts in some of Tom’s films?” Darby asked.

“Yes…I’m from Iowa. Never thought I would be a cowboy.”

Darby had to laugh. “I’m from New York City, not an actor but I thought I was going to be a cowboy.”

“What happened?” Duke asked.

“I made friends with the Apache and there wasn’t a cow in sight…”

That conversation went on for a while and then the orchestra started to play some dance music. One of the starlets nodded at Duke and she asked him if they could dance. Darby resisted a smile when he saw Duke blushing and then stand up to tower over the young lady as they walked to the dance floor.

Hollywood was a melting pot of talented individuals from all over the country, Duke was no exception. If he worked with Tom in films then there must be something to the young man, only time would tell.

The party was to celebrate the wrap up of Fairbanks latest film, The Black Pirate. Little noticed during the filming, it was about to expose audiences to the latest developments in film technology since it was in Technicolor.

It had been only ten years ago that Indigo had finally returned to California and that trip had been memorable for several reasons. It was the first time that Itza-chu and Taza’s mother, Gouyen, had left Arizona to visit the outside world.

Arizona had become a state in 1912 and in that year the Verde Apache had been granted their mountain lands. The village was abandoned and everyone moved to the foothills of the Verde Mountain. James Pennington had done a wonderful job and received a single eagle feather from the Apache. Of course Darby had been given the bill for all that legal work.

But just seeing Indigo accompanied by his parents had been an emotional high for Taza that lasted for years afterwards. By then Taza could drive a car and toured his parents around Los Angeles. The buildings and the studios were very impressive, and then he loaded them on the electric railway for a ride out to Venice Beach.

Itza-chu stood in the sand and stared out at the vast ocean. “With this much water we could plant the whole state of Arizona with corn,” He said.

“Ocean water is filled with salt, the plants would die,” Taza said. His father cupped a small amount of water, raised it to his mouth and then spit it out. It was a moment to smile as Taza remembered his first impression of the sea.

The visit was perhaps remembered best by Itza-chu’s reaction to the land as he stood in the back yard of the house Darby had built in the hills. The view of the San Fernando Valley was spread out before them and as green as early summer would allow.

“This is a land of the spirits,” Itza-chu said. “So green, so filled with life.”

Taza’s mother was a little more practical and had pulled several oranges from the fruit trees Darby had planted. “I will take these home to our village,” she said. Just like Taza she had become enamored with the orange seltzer she had been served.

The other reason this trip had been so memorable was that Indigo announced he would take Taza’s parents home and then be back.

“My mission to the Verde Apache is finished. They have their mountain and a good lawyer to look after their affairs. Itza-chu can summon me again if he so desires, but I think they will do just fine. Besides, I am getting old…”

“Oh here he goes again,” Darby said. “I have trees in the yard older than you are.”

Indigo held out his arms. “Don’t see any leaves on me, do you? I wish to bask in the glory of our friendship and sleep in the cool night air of these hills. I think Lenna will like it here.”

“Lenna, the daughter of Laziyah?” Taza asked.

“The very same,” Indigo said. “She is a plain girl and never married so I took her in. I have taught her some English and she is a wonderful cook, what else does a man need?”

“A house,” Darby said, “but that can be arranged.”

So Indigo accompanied Itza-chu and Gouyen back to the Apache village, and within several weeks he returned with Lenna and all their possessions in tow. As expected she was amazed at the train journey and seemed quite pleased to see Taza, but her affections for Indigo were apparent.

There was so much land surrounding Darby’s estate that he caused Indigo’s house to be constructed near the slopes on the other side of the wooded lot. A small guest house the county assessor deemed it, but it was a bit large in Indigo’s eyes. Lenna was overwhelmed by the running water and the bathroom, now her life would be made easier and her mother so jealous.

Now that Taza’s parents had visited it was time for Darby to bring his parents to California. He had tried to lure them westwards over the years but his father was a stubborn man and the business came first. But one afternoon he had injured his arm at the forge and was unable to swing that heavy hammer like before, it was time to retire.

Darby’s sisters had married and there were a passel of grandchildren to carry on the business. His father had always had an abiding love of the sea, although the cold Atlantic only made the beaches habitable for short periods of the year. Darby decided he could seduce his father with the sands of the Pacific.

Trains were faster now and the trip to New York only took Darby and Taza four days. But if the downtown of Los Angeles had impressed Taza he was not prepared for the towering monoliths of New York City.

The town had changed Darby decided when they alighted at Union Station. The station seemed familiar but what was outside those doors was not. It was the most crowded city in the country and Woodhaven seemed to have been overrun in the process.

His parents knew Taza was coming, and Darby introduced him as a close associate in the film industry and a very good friend. That seemed to do it for his mother who said she had probably seen Taza in several films. The Woodhaven house looked much the same except without his sisters in residence Darby and Taza each had their own rooms during the visit.

Darby brought gifts and the all-important photographs of the beach in Venice…the seduction had begun. They were there in time to celebrate Darby’s 34^th birthday and the house was filled with relatives and children. Taza was quite the curiosity to the youngsters, who like their grandmother had Taza pegged as a film star.

They stayed for two weeks and visited the sights of the city. But although Darby’s mother was ready for a trip to California, and perhaps ready to see a few famous people while she was there, his father was not.

It took Darby several days to convince the man to make the trip.

“You haven’t had a vacation since before I was born, Dad.”

“That’s not true…we made trips to the beach, didn’t we?”

“Day trips, it’s only ten miles from home. I mean a long leisurely vacation where other people pamper you with good food and soft beds. I want you to come to California and see the country along the way.” And then the kicker. “Mom needs to get away.”

“But it is so expensive…”

“I’m going to pay for it…all of it,” Darby said.

“How can you do that, where is all this money coming from?”

It was time Darby figured. “It all started with Sean…”

Of course his father was astounded that Darby had so much money at hand and the means by which it had grown. It was difficult to declare himself a millionaire to his father who had counted every dime he ever made.

“I will go,” His father said,” but only for your mother’s sake, and on one condition.”

“And that would be?”

“I want to see Sean’s grave…I want to say goodbye to my brother.”

“We can do that,” Darby said.

Tombstone was not the viable town Darby remembered from his youth. Between the fires that often swept through the mostly wooden buildings and the flooding of the mines the town had fallen on hard times. Mrs. Randolph’s store was gone but she had retired to Phoenix. The only hotel in town was the Willard and Darby wasn’t planning to stay there while Taza was in his company.

James Pennington had moved his practice to Tucson and he met the train when Darby and family arrived. He had a large car and drove them the seventy miles on a newly graded road all the way to Tombstone. The town looked sad, so shabby and nearly deserted.

“Only a few hundred folks left,” Pennington said.

“And the cemetery?”

“County takes care of that now…historic preservation.”

Sean’s grave had a new headstone which surprised Darby.

“Thank Itza-chu, he really loved your uncle,” Pennington said.

There were moments of silence as Darby explained all he knew about his uncle’s death, calling it a terrible accident. It seemed best that way. The family said their farewells and returned to the car.

“Are we going to the Apache village?” Pennington asked.

“I don’t know if we have the time and the road…” Darby began.

“Road is fine, runs all the way from the highway to the village. I convinced them that would be the best way to attract attention and receive visitors.”

“Itza-chu agreed?” Darby asked.

“I don’t know what you did to him in California, but he’s gone big on tourism. They’re advertising Mount Verde in the newspapers back east. It seems to be working, there’s even a bus down from Tucson every weekend. People are starting to come.”

Taza had to laugh. “My father never told me anything about this. I suppose they have native crafts and dance shows.”

“You guessed it…big attraction. And now there’s the film thing.”

“Film…what film?” Darby asked.

“Fox Studios…some man named John Ford plans to shoot some western pictures out here.”

“I’ll be damned…this I have to see,” Darby said.

The road led straight to the river and crossed a newly constructed bridge. The old Apache village was now a tourist center where horses could be rented by the hour for trips into the hills. Now that the mine was played out it seems the Verde had time on their hands to lead tours.

Taza laughed at the sight of his father dressed like Geronimo complete with war paint and weapons. Others from the village were in native costume and even the women were involved weaving baskets and selling blankets.

They stayed for several hours, long enough for Darby to introduce his parents to the various friends he had. Laziyah invited them to stay for dinner but they kindly refused.

“We must return to Tucson before dark,” Pennington said. “But thank you kindly.”

“I wish you had come up Saturday, James.”

“Oh, why then?”

“We’re going to act out the battle with Perez and those Mexican bandits for a tour group…tickets sold in advance,” Laziyah said.

“Battle…Mexican bandits?” Darby’s father asked.

There were farewells and then Darby spent the ride back to Tucson explaining about the attack on the Apache village by the Mexican bandits and Sean’s part in planning the defense. His mother was appalled at the danger while his father sat back and smiled.

“The Irish come from a long line of warriors, brave men who fought the elements and the invaders,” His father said. Taza turned to look, certain that he was about to get a new understanding of Darby’s ancestors.

“A proud history of fighting off the Norsemen and the English…I’m sorry to say we lost on both accounts. But none so brave as an Irishman fighting for his land.”

Taza realized this man and his father had much in common. And so they boarded the train once again and headed for Los Angeles. And finally the car ride through the city and up into the hills above Hollywood seemed to give Darby’s parents a sense of peace.

Their son was a success in life and they could ask for nothing more. From the small boy who brawled on the streets of Woodhaven, New York, they now beheld a grown man in his element. Indigo and Lenna greeted them at the door and they entered Darby’s home to have lunch.

Connor O’Brien finally sat down with Indigo, Taza, and his son on the back porch to enjoy the afternoon. The deference his son paid to these two Indians spoke volumes about their friendship and the influence Sean had on all of them.

“Your grandfather was dirt poor when he arrived in this country,” Connor said. “Sean and I grew up in a family that worked hard but had little until the business took hold. I was considered the practical one, learning the business from boyhood and taking my role very seriously.

“Sean was always the dreamer, the story teller, and yet I envied him. It seems fitting that he had such wonderful success and that only makes his death all the more tragic. But he was also more than an uncle to Darby, he was a hero to the boy, something I could never be.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Darby said. “I was the rebellious one, too smart for my age.”

“Perhaps, but you were very much like your grandfather from the stories I was told. But he was brave and it took courage to leave behind the land of his birth and come here, much like the way I see you in this land of California.”

Connor smiled once again and looked out over the valley. “I figure your mother would be happy here. My instinct tells me you brought us out here with the intention of asking us to stay, to leave behind all we have known and start a new life.”

He nodded. “The world is shrinking, did you know that? Pretty soon there will be airplanes flying across the country in a matter of hours. You want me to leave behind my daughters and their children, and twenty years ago I would have said no. But now they can come to us so I won’t say no and that will make your mother happy. Just give me some time to get used to this new idea.”

In the years of his retirement Connor O’Brien put the lie to his naming Sean the family story teller. The stories he told about Darby were always amusing and he became a Hollywood celebrity in his own right. The only bone of contention he had with his son was over Taza, something he had suspected all along.

The relationship between two men was not something Connor could talk about. His Catholic sensibilities were shocked but then he figured that was his problem not Darby’s. A father’s love was supposed to be unconditional, and besides, his son was the most successful person in the family. He would mind his own business.

Connor O’Brien and Darby’s mother moved west three months later and settled in the budding township of Santa Monica on the beach. Darby owned property there and constructed them a home with a view of the ocean and Connor learned to play golf.

By the end of that decade the opulence of Hollywood was delivered a blow as the Wall Street stock market crash of 1929 nearly toppled the studio empires. But in the following years the financial depression made audiences desperate for the emotional relief they found in films.

It is fair to say that opulence quickly turned to decadence in the early 1930’s. The stories in films were often considered immoral and provocative which produced a backlash from religious organizations. That came in the form of William Hays and government mandated censorship which would last for decades.

But this was a time when the major players in the Hollywood studios came together under the umbrella of the Motion Picture Association which was supported by the studio heads. This is where Darby and Alex parlayed their earlier association with Goldwyn and Mayer into a winning position with MGM Studios for some of the greatest films in Hollywood history.

With the advent of sound on film the studios backed away from the mass production of western themed films, and Taza was out of a job. He still had a stable full of trained horses, but with time on his hands he went looking for other projects…and that brought him back to his family and the Verde Apache.

The tourism business would always remain moderate here in a far corner of Arizona but that didn’t mean the needs of the people were always met. Taza founded a school, hired a teacher and set goals for the education of the Apache children. It was enough of a financial burden that he solicited friends and associates to contribute and they answered the call.

Between them Darby and Taza would remain active in films for nearly fifty years and in partnership even longer. No matter that film stars kept their same sex attractions secret throughout this period, those behind the scenes had no life in the public eye to worry about.

But just as they were both approaching a point where the work had lost its fascination, two things happened. Taza was called in to meet with a famous film director who had not made a western move in a decade. Hired as a consultant Taza was able to work on what became the preeminent western movie of all time, Stagecoach.

The director was John Ford who remembered Taza’s earlier work and was encouraged to hire the knowledgeable Apache by the film’s star, Duke Morrison who was now known across Hollywood as John Wayne. It would be Taza’s last film, or so he thought.

But Darby happened to be in Sam Goldwyn’s office when he saw a script lying on the great man’s desk and the name on the title page leapt out at him. The Wizard of Oz it read and Darby felt something stir inside.

The book was decades old by then but Darby remembered how enthusiastic his roommates had been in Mrs. Abercrombie’s boarding house. Sam allowed that he was considering making the film but that it was fraught with technical nightmares and would be costly. Darby informed him that he wanted a financial stake in the film.

Sam owned the film rights to the book but decided to sell them to MGM and mentioned Darby’s name as an investor. It may have been the wisest decision he ever made, but that didn’t become apparent for years. The film cost nearly three million dollars to make and was not that popular in the theaters after mixed reviews.

“Just give it time,” Darby told Taza. “Your western is an immediate success in the box office while my fantasy film is just waiting for audiences to grasp the wonders of Oz.” He was right although the film didn’t become the favorite of generations until it appeared on television in the sixties and seventies.

So when did the young Irish-American boy from Woodhaven realize that his life was forever changed? He would probably tell you that he arrived in Arizona Territory without the slightest idea of what he was facing and there he met Taza.

Those moments would be relived over and over again in the company of gay friends as they sat on the back porch overlooking the valley. But with a shared glance there was no doubt that any of this could have been accomplished without love. And without that love why would this have any meaning?

Indigo had finally reached the ripe old age of seventy when Darby finally admitted the man was old. The braids still hung down his back but there were lots of gray hairs mixed in with the black. But age only served to brighten Indigo’s spirit and he swore it was the perpetual springtime offered by the California weather.

“We have lived through incredible times,” Indigo offered to the small group of friends who had gathered to listen to his stories. “I was once an Indian, can you believe that?” He laughed at his own joke and looked at Taza. “I think you were an Indian once upon a time, too. Where did we go wrong?”

“This white man corrupted our spirits,” Taza said, taking Darby by the hand.

“Oh yeah…it always comes down to me, doesn’t it?” Darby laughed.

Among the small gathering were two other Indian faces, Apache faces. Nascha and Delshay, two teenagers from the Verde village. They had graduated high school in Tucson and had come to Los Angeles to attend the university. Everyone was so proud of their accomplishments, especially Indigo.

“I see we are confusing our young Indian brother and sister,” He said, turning to nod at the young people. “These are only old jokes shared among old friends. There was a time when such things were not possible, but times change and so do people…you are proof of that.”

“And how did those changes begin, Uncle Indigo?” Delshay asked.

Indigo smiled. “You know the story…why do you ask?”

“Because you tell the stories so well, Uncle.”

“Well if you must…It all began on the dusty streets of Tombstone where I met a man named Sean O’Brien…”