“I didn’t show up to collect any of my first three Oscars. Once I went fishing, another time there was a war on, and on the third, I was suddenly taken drunk.”
Arguably the most influential American filmmaker in the history of cinema. John Ford’s career spanned six decades and nearly 150 pictures, including more than 60 in the silent era. (First film: The Tornado, 1917; last: Chesty, 1976). In between, Ford won a record four Academy Awards for Best Director: The Informer (1935), The Grapes of Wrath (1940), How Green Was My Valley (1941), and The Quiet Man (1952). He had a unique visual style characterized by long shots and vast landscapes. Ford worked in all manner of genres—war films, period pieces, comedies—but is most closely associated with Westerns, of which his The Searchers (1956) is considered defining. He established a stock company of actors, including such heavy hitters as Jimmy Stewart and Henry Fonda, and was instrumental in the development of John Wayne’s character and career, directing him in over twenty features. Repeated use of Monument Valley as a location earned the region the nickname of “Ford Country.” Legendarily efficient, he was known for shooting a bare minimum of footage, often in sequence (especially impressive, as he didn’t utilize storyboards). Despite his reputation as a tough and abusive taskmaster on set, Ford was hugely respected by his actors, particularly by Wayne. Film scholars, auteur theorists, and fellow directors consider him a master to this day.
THIS DID NOT RESEMBLE a John Ford production. Having already directed literally dozens of films, Mister Roberts was to be an adaptation of a popular stage play, starring Henry Fonda, James Cagney, William Powell, and Jack Lemmon. It was a big project, partially shot on location in Hawaii, but Ford—in contrast to his normal demeanor on set—was treating it much like a vacation. First of all, he was drinking. Second, he was drinking a lot. This had rarely ever happened on the job. Yes, there was that time on Arrowsmith when he went on a bender to Catalina and got canned, but that was more than twenty years ago, and had proven to be an anomaly.
Ford’s immigrant Irish father had been a saloonkeeper, so it is not altogether surprising that Ford developed the drinking habit. That his binges were severe and prolonged wasn’t a secret. But like, say, Spencer Tracy, they typically only happened between films. During Prohibition, as soon as a picture wrapped, Ford would give his wife, Mary, two thousand dollars for booze. If the bootlegger couldn’t handle the order, they’d call in some friends from the Navy, who’d provide some of the 180-proof grain alcohol used to power torpedo motors. The stuff had a poisonous additive that made it unsuitable to drink, but if you were savvy enough, you could figure out how to remove most of it. Ford would mix up big batches of “torpedo juice”—grain alcohol and pineapple juice—in the tub. It might still make you sick, but it was better than nothing.
When in production, however, Ford was a consummate professional. Which is why it was so strange for him to be waddling out to the pool at the Niumalu Hotel, a towel wrapped around his waist, clearly schnockered. Betsy Palmer, the movie’s female lead, was sunning herself at the time, the straps of her bathing suit pulled down off her shoulders. Ford asked if she was getting tan. But before she could answer, he pulled her top away, looked down at her breasts, and confirmed that yes, she was indeed getting a tan. He then climbed to the top of the diving board, dropped his towel, and revealed that he wasn’t wearing a thing beneath—he was, in cowboy speak, unshucked.
Turned out Ford was having a bit of a breakdown. Fonda, who’d originated the part of Lieutenant Roberts in the stage production, had taken umbrage with Ford’s freewheeling approach to the material, his encouraging improvisation and veering off script. Specifically, Fonda had told Ford what he was doing was “shit.” Ford responded by throwing a punch. To further aggravate, Leland Hayward, who’d produced the play, was also giving Ford grief, continuously expressing his displeasure with the direction.
Ford, in turn, seemed to have decided “screw it.”
It worked: A few weeks later, Ford was in the hospital with his abdomen grossly distended, having his gallbladder removed; Mervyn LeRoy had taken over direction of the film, and Ford’s next film, The Searchers, would be considered the greatest Western of all time.
THIS TAKE ON John Ford’s Torpedo Juice is not for the faint of heart, but not so lethal as to blow anyone out of the water. For one thing, the grain alcohol is Everclear. While it is 190-proof (about 10 proof higher than Ford’s), Everclear is not used to power torpedo motors and does not contain any poisonous additives. There are a few other alterations, too, that might just keep you from sinking.
