For you children too young to know, Roy Rogers was a movie and television cowboy star. At one point in the 1940s and into the 1950s, he was probably as big a star as you can imagine. According to one biographical sketch about Roy, "In the Motion Picture Herald Top Ten Money-Making Western Stars poll, Rogers was listed for 15 consecutive years from 1939 to 1954, holding first place from 1943 to 1954."
He was what was known as a "singing cowboy," a genre popularized by contemporaries ranging from Gene Autry to Tex Ritter. Very early in his career, even John Wayne was groomed as a singing cowboy. The singing part faded quickly for the Duke, although the cowboy part served him pretty well for a few decades.
Roy Rogers' signature song was "Happy Trails," usually sung with his wife, the singing cowgirl, Dale Evans. He has always been held in particularly high regard in southern Ohio, because he was born in Cincinnati and grew up on a farm near Portsmouth. He made it to Hillsboro once or twice, too, after he achieved fame.
My fondness for Roy Rogers grew primarily out of his 1950s TV series, which I grew up watching in Saturday morning reruns in the 1960s. But even after that and until his death in 1998 at the age of 86, Roy Rogers would turn up on TV once in a while, still popular, still in demand.
So one day in 1994 while serving as editor of the Portsmouth Daily Times, I heard a rumor that Roy Rogers was in town. His sister, Cleda Willoughby, still lived in Portsmouth, and Roy was known to pay her quiet visits from time to time. I found Cleda in the phone book, and dialed her up. A male voice answered the phone. "Is Cleda Willoughby there?" I asked.
The voice replied, "She's in the bathroom right now. This is her brother, Roy. Can I help you?"
I hesitated for a second and finally sputtered, "Roy Rogers?" "Yes," he said.
I was dumbstruck. Trying to assume a business-like air of calm, I identified myself as the local newspaper editor and explained that I thought our readers might enjoy a story featuring an interview with the region's favorite son.
I had heard that Roy had never been too keen on doing interviews when he tried to make his quiet, unannounced visits to Portsmouth, so I wasn't too surprised when he made an excuse, saying that he and Cleda were planning to go out for the afternoon and did not know when they would return.
I was faced with a choice - maintain my professional demeanor and thank him politely for his time, or drop the pretense and slobber all over him like the little boy inside of me was dying to do. It really wasn't a difficult choice.
"Mr. Rogers," I said, spitting out the words, "I'm a big fan, and I used to watch your show every Saturday, and I would really love to just drop by and meet you and say hello" and who knows what else I might have rattled on about in that vein.
Roy softened some, and said, well, maybe around 3 o'clock would be alright, they should be back by then.
Yes!
I rushed into our darkroom (children, that was a room where we developed and printed pictures before the digital age) where our photographer, Steve Moses (kids, newspapers used to have staff members who did nothing but take pictures) was hanging out smoking a cigarette (youngsters, America was once a free country) and told him I needed a camera, pronto.
"Why?" he inquired. I explained, and he said, "No. If anyone is taking pictures of Roy Rogers, it's me."
Steve, who passed away in 2008 (he probably shouldn't have smoked, children) was a very close friend, about my age, and also a Roy Rogers fanatic. But I insisted, explaining that it had been difficult enough to talk my own way into this visit, let alone drag a photographer with me. But I offered a compromise - if Roy seemed amenable to a photographer once I got there, I would give Steve a call.
When I arrived at the Willoughby residence, Cleda answered the door to the simple two-story frame home, and ushered me in. There, in the living room watching TV in a recliner, was the man himself.
He grinned his Roy Rogers grin, the one that made his squinty eyes twinkle, and welcomed me in with a quiet but friendly gesture. After a few minutes of small talk, I asked whether it might be OK to ask our photographer to drop by.
Roy glanced at his sister and said, "Well, I guess if I put my hat on I'll look like Roy Rogers." In fact, there on a credenza and wrapped in cellophane was a bright, white Roy Rogers cowboy hat.
I called Steve, who I swear knocked on the door before I hung up the phone - which was doubly impressive before any of us had cell phones. Steve took some great pictures that day, accomplishing what he always strove for with his feature photos - capturing his subject's soul.
He also took some pictures of Roy and me, and he handed me his camera - which he never, ever did - so I could snap shots of him posing with Roy. I told that story at Steve's funeral, when I noticed that the picture of Roy and Steve was on display at his service.
Then, Cleda brought out some scrapbooks, and we spent the rest of the visit leafing through the pages with Roy as our guide. When he came to photos of his famous and beloved horse, Trigger, Roy's eyes moistened, and he said quietly, "That Trigger was some horse."
Throughout my career I have met a lot of famous people, many of whom would probably be more impressive to some of you than Roy Rogers. But not to me.
Finally, Steve and I made our way out the front door, and Roy and his sister stepped out onto the stoop to bid us farewell. And as God is my witness, Roy broke into a chorus of "Happy Trails" as he waved goodbye.
Happy trails, Roy Rogers, happy trails.
Gary Abernathy is the publisher of The Times-Gazette in Hillsboro.
Reader Comments
Posted: Friday, March 8, 2013
Article comment by:
Marshall Stewart
Wow, what an experience. I just might be as big a Roy Rogers fan as is the author. Early on I went to the movies to watch Roy get the bad guys. I was usually dismayed a tad when they broke in to song around the campfire. Well, by the time I reached adulthood I had become the Sons of the Pioneers greatest fan. Still am today. Now when I watch an old Roy Rogers movie (and I have a few) I can't wait until Roy & the Sons sing "around the campfire".
Posted: Friday, March 8, 2013
Article comment by:
Shirley Adams
I grew up in Portsmouth, and through various means, became friends with Roy, Dale and Dusty (their son). Later when I moved to Los Angeles, I spent a lot of time with them at their museum and at social events. I love them dearly...they were the "real thing".
Posted: Friday, March 8, 2013
Article comment by:
Ida Lee Brewer Cann
Mr. Abernathy, thanks for sharing your Roy Rogers story. I was fortunate enough to get to visit the Roy Rogers Museum in 1995 when it was still located in Apple Valley, California. Having grown up attending his movies at the old Lamax Theater in Wilmington and later watching his programs on television, I really treasure that visit. The world would be a far better place if we had more people like Roy Rogers and Dale Evans in it.
Posted: Friday, March 8, 2013
Article comment by:
Donald Damron
I watched Roy Rogers too when i was a kid. He lived next to my Aunt in a place called DuckRun Portsmouth ohio.
Posted: Thursday, March 7, 2013
Article comment by:
Pat Haley
Thank you for a great article, Gary. Wish I had been there with you.
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