Ten amazing stories trace the wild rise and spectacular fall of John Wayne’s ambitious attempt to bring the historic Alamo to the silver screen. From lofty patriotism to budget‑blowing setbacks, each episode reveals why the film became a cautionary tale in Hollywood lore.
Amazing Stories from the Alamo Production
10 A Rough Beginning
John Wayne had been itching to make an Alamo picture ever since 1944, drawn to the story’s red‑white‑and‑blue appeal. The Duke saw the Alamo defenders as symbols of courage that could rally “namby‑pamby” 20th‑century audiences to stand up for what they believed in.
According to his third wife, Pilar, the film was Wayne’s way of fighting “the faint‑hearted who didn’t believe in good old‑fashioned American virtues.” Author Gary Wills even suggested that the closest thing Wayne ever had to a religion was his devotion to the Alamo, a belief he was willing to sacrifice himself for.
Getting the project off the ground proved a nightmare. While under contract to Republic Pictures, studio head Herbert Yates kept postponing the film, prompting Wayne to quit the studio and chase his dream independently. Ironically, Yates later green‑lit an Alamo movie, perhaps as revenge.
Every major studio turned Wayne down until United Artists finally agreed to release the film, fork over $2.5 million, and grant him creative control—provided he signed a three‑picture deal and starred in the picture. Wayne, who originally wanted only a cameo as Sam Houston, ended up donning a coonskin cap and playing the legendary frontiersman Davy Crockett.
9 Building San Antonio
When the Alamo project finally gathered momentum, Wayne first eyed Mexico as a cost‑saving location, hoping to dodge union rules and high wages. Powerful Texas oilmen, media magnates, and politicians, however, threatened to block any Texas investment and ban the film from Lone Star theaters if it was shot abroad.
Undeterred, Wayne turned his search back to Texas and met James T. “Happy” Shahan, the mayor of Bracketville outside San Antonio. Shahan owned a sprawling 22,000‑acre ranch that he wanted to develop into a Hollywood set. The Duke was impressed and secured the property for filming, winning over the state’s influential businessmen.
With the ranch as a canvas, Wayne and art director Al Ybarra transformed the land into a 19th‑century “Alamo Village.” Over a million adobe bricks were hauled in, a full‑scale replica of the Alamo was erected, and utilities—electric lines, sewage, even a landing strip—were installed. To populate the period piece, the crew corralled roughly 1,400 horses and 300 Texas longhorns, laying railroad tracks to deliver feed.
The undertaking cost about $1.5 million, much of it from Wayne’s own pocket. He mortgaged two homes, his cars, and his production company Batjac, declaring that his career, fortune, and even his soul were at stake.
8 Casting Problems
Wayne took on the role of Davy Crockett, but he still needed stars for Jim Bowie and William B. Travis. He flirted with Clark Gable and Frank Sinatra for Travis before settling on British actor Laurence Harvey, much to the chagrin of Texans who balked at a foreigner playing their hero.
For Bowie, Wayne initially wanted Burt Lancaster, yet eventually hired Richard Widmark. The two men quickly fell into a bitter rivalry—Widmark’s liberal politics clashed with Wayne’s conservatism, and Widmark resented the rookie director. Their feud sparked when Widmark arrived and demanded his name be used, prompting Wayne to reply, “If I ever take another ad, I’ll remember that, Richard.”
Wayne also faced casting controversy over Jim Bowie’s slave, Jethro. Sammy Davis Jr. coveted the role, but Texas financiers rejected him due to his Rat Pack image and interracial romance. The part ultimately went to Jester Hairston, sparking debate among fans.
To broaden appeal, Wayne added pop singer Frankie Avalon for younger audiences and bullfighter Carlos Arruza for Hispanic viewers. In total, about 342 cast and crew members, plus thousands of extras shuttled daily from Mexico, gathered on set for a blessing led by a local Catholic priest—though perhaps they should have prayed a bit harder.
7 Disaster After Disaster
Even before cameras rolled, the Alamo set was cursed by nature. While workers crafted adobe bricks, a deluge of 74 cm (29 in) of rain hammered Happy Shahan’s ranch, spawning a flood that nearly erased all progress.
After the flood, Shahan’s daughter survived a near‑fatal car crash involving two crew members, and the publicity office later caught fire, destroying payroll files and promotional paperwork. To make matters worse, 80 % of the cast and crew fell ill with the flu, all while rattlesnakes and scorpions roamed the grounds.
On a key scene, Laurence Harvey, playing Travis, stood atop the Alamo walls and fired a cannon in defiance. The cannon rolled back and crushed Harvey’s foot. He remained in character for the shot, then spent hours alternating hot and cold water on the injury—an act of machismo that impressed Wayne.
These calamities paled in comparison to the tragedy that would soon strike a promising young actress on the brink of stardom.
6 The Alamo Murder
LaJean Ethridge, a member of the Hollywood Starlight Players, arrived in Texas hoping for extra work. After impressing casting director Frank Leyva, she earned a speaking role and stayed at nearby Fort Clark with the rest of the crew.
Her boyfriend, Charles Harvey Smith, grew jealous when Wayne offered her more screen time and a higher salary. After a heated argument, Smith stabbed Ethridge with a 30‑cm (12‑in) knife, and she reportedly whispered “I love you” as she died.
Wayne, worried that the murder would halt production—costing about $60,000 a day—pressed on, filming around the police investigation. When a subpoena arrived demanding his testimony, Wayne even enlisted Texas highway patrol to set up roadblocks in an attempt to locate the lawyer and avoid a court appearance.
Eventually, Wayne gave a deposition, and Smith was sentenced to 20 years in prison, though Wayne had hoped for the death penalty.
5 The Duke Gets Frustrated
By this point Wayne’s nerves were frayed. He was smoking over 100 cigarettes a day, and the scorching Texas heat—often soaring past 40 °C (100 °F)—sapped four kilograms (10 lb) of water weight each day. The sweat also kept loosening the glue on his toupee.
His relationship with Richard Widmark deteriorated further. Widmark repeatedly dissed the Duke, even barging into Wayne’s quarters demanding release from his contract. Their confrontation escalated until Wayne called Widmark “a little s—t,” after which the two barely spoke.
Wayne’s temper manifested in bizarre outbursts: he tossed rocks at uncooperative cameramen and, when a plane of curious tourists flew overhead, grabbed a prop rifle and fired blanks into the sky.
One day, hearing chatter behind his director’s chair, Wayne unleashed a torrent of profanity—only to discover a group of nuns visiting the set. He promptly apologized, but the incident only added to his mounting frustrations.
4 Enter John Ford
John Ford, a four‑time Oscar winner who helped launch Wayne’s career, arrived on the Alamo set with mixed emotions. Known for his verbal and physical abuse of actors, Ford immediately began telling Wayne how to shoot scenes, shouting “Do it again!” whenever he was dissatisfied.
Wayne, desperate for sole directorial credit, tried to keep Ford at arm’s length. He cleverly paid $250,000 to give Ford a second‑unit crew to film battle sequences far from the main action.
Historians dispute Ford’s contribution—some claim none of his footage was used, while others credit him with 10‑15 % of the final picture. Regardless, Ford proudly touted the film as “the most important picture ever made.”
3 Russell Birdwell, PR Man
Wayne initially projected a $5 million budget, but the massive scale of extras, costumes, animals, and sets ballooned costs to $10‑12 million, making The Alamo the most expensive movie of its era. To generate buzz, Wayne hired Texas publicity guru Russell Birdwell.
Birdwell, famed for promoting Gone with the Wind and The Outlaw, employed gaudy, over‑the‑top tactics. He claimed the Alamo battle was the most important event since “they nailed Christ to the cross,” petitioned Congress to award the Medal of Honor to every defender, and even suggested a summit among England, France, the US, and the USSR at the San Antonio mission.
His pièce de résistance was a 200‑page press kit dubbed “The Bible,” boasting statistics like 510,000 cups of coffee consumed, 23 km of new roads laid, 2,800 m² of Spanish tiles installed, and 900 gallons of ice cream eaten. While Birdwell’s flamboyant campaign grabbed attention, some Texas backers warned, “Birdwell was Wayne’s doom.”
2 Chill Wills’s Oscar Campaign
After the final cut, The Alamo premiered in 1960. Wayne realized the picture was too long and trimmed 40 minutes, but critics still ripped it apart. Undeterred, Wayne and Birdwell pushed for Oscar recognition, framing opposition as un‑American.
The film earned seven nominations, including Best Picture, though it lost Best Actor and Best Director to other contenders. Chill Wills, a Texas character actor, secured a nomination for Best Supporting Actor for his role as the hard‑drinking sidekick Beekeeper.
Wills hired his own publicist, W.S. “Bow‑Wow” Wojciechowicz, who launched a barrage of ads listing every Academy member’s name beside Wills’ photo, declaring “you’re my cousins, I love you all.” Groucho Marx responded with his own ad, supporting a different nominee.
Bow‑Wow even placed an ad in The Hollywood Reporter proclaiming the cast’s prayers for Wills’ win, which infuriated both the Academy and Wayne. Wayne countered with a Variety ad defending the cast’s decorum. Ultimately, the Oscar went to Peter Ustinov for Spartacus, and The Alamo only snagged Best Sound, while Best Picture fell to Billy Wilder’s The Apartment.
1 Remember The Alamo
Box‑office wise, The Alamo performed surprisingly well, ranking among the top ten grossing films in the United States in 1960. Though banned in Mexico, it drew audiences in England, Japan, and elsewhere.
Nevertheless, Wayne saw little profit. He had mortgaged his homes, cars, and his Batjac studio, and the runaway budget forced him to sell his share of the film to United Artists just to cover costs.
Compounding the financial strain, Wayne’s adviser made poor investments, and close friend Ward Bond succumbed to cancer, plunging the star into depression. Yet Wayne rebounded, continuing to make popular pictures and winning Best Actor for 1969’s True Grit. Texas eventually honored him as an honorary Texan.
The Alamo Village set lived on, appearing in other movies and operating as a tourist attraction until its closure in 2010. Despite the setbacks, Wayne never abandoned the project; as co‑star Linda Cristal put it, “John loved The Alamo as a man loves a woman once in a lifetime—passionately.”