For those who know who John Wayne was, the typical assumption is probably that the characters he played were alpha males (for those familiar with the term “alpha male” anyway).
Having seen my share of Duke flicks, I can testify that his characters were never pick-up artists (PUAs)–something that seems to go hand-in-hand with alpha behavior. (In fact, it was usually the woman who pursued and approached him–especially in the Howard Hawks movies.) That and a few other personality traits perhaps make a further study of the John Wayne persona worthwhile in the future.
But I used the word “persona” intentionally, rather than mention any specific role he played. Critics of the Duke point out that he wasn’t really an actor, but a movie star. There’s some truth to that, because the characters he played were usually the same guy, just with different names and historic contexts for the different movies.
To over-simplify it for a moment: John Wayne was almost always the hero. I say “almost” because there are a couple exceptions when he was called on to play an antihero.
One of those exceptions occurred when he was curiously cast as Ghengis Khan in The Conqueror. The most interesting exception was the role he played in a John Ford western called The Searchers, and that’s what we’ll look at now.
The Searchers is a great film for many reasons. One of the most basic of those reasons is the characters it is built around.
The role of Ethan Edwards was a real departure in the screen career of the Duke. Yes, he still exuded toughness, strength and cocksurity, but underneath that was a vengeful, bitter racism that made him the darkest character Wayne ever played.
Unless you watch carefully for details, you’ll miss that Ethan’s
parents were murdered by Commanche. Ethan Edwards is a fanatic. His hatred of the Commanche has caused him to learn their language and customs, and even think the way they do. Ironically, this obsessive racism has made him a perpetual outsider among the white settlers in 1868 Texas.
The clip below reveals a lot about the plot, the characters, and what’s gone on behind the scenes. Watch carefully and take special note of how the hierarchy shines through.
You can spot the alpha dog right away, can’t you? Ward Bond’s swaggering alpha bravado is right at home in…nay, demands to be…the center of attention. He’s a natural leader, and he barks orders at everyone lest they forget who’s in charge. The posse he’s putting together is made up of betas and arguably a couple delta males. Then you can feel the power shift as Ethan Edwards makes his presence known.
Ethan Edwards at this stage of his life is a “sigma male.” He’s the only one in the film the Reverend/Captain Samuel Johnson Clayton (Bond) can’t bully, intimidate, or inspire to follow his leadership. Not only that, but Ethan overrules his authority without hesitation or apology, and turns the impromptu interrogation around on Clayton by questioning his loyalty to the Confederacy.
Exhibit B is Ethan’s sister-in-law Martha. Notice how she caresses Ethan’s coat, and all the unspoken feeling that passes between them when she hands it to Ethan? Important subtext was revealed right there:
Martha married and bore children to stable beta-male provider Aaron Edwards, but her desire is (and always has been) for bad boy Ethan, who left her to go fight in the Civil War.
Female hypergamy hasn’t changed at all since 1868.
Also notice how Sam Clayton witnesses this, but doesn’t find it surprising at all.
Another interesting character is Martin Pawley, played by Jeffrey Hunter. He’s an adopted orphan, in his late teens. He’s an outsider when the story begins. Seems like a beta male, with some alpha tendencies that grow as he matures into a man. (Unfortunately, he fights like a girl.)
Back to Ethan Edwards and the Reverend/Captain Sam Clayton: 
There’s a scene leading into the climax of the film where a young cavalry officer finds Ethan and Martin who have just crashed a wedding (and Martin took back the bride-to-be from his beta rival, Texas Ranger Charlie McRory). The cavalryman is looking for the Captain of the Texas Rangers, and, upon observing those present, he assumes it’s Ethan Edwards until corrected.
Something about Ethan just makes people assume he’s in charge. Sam Clayton is miffed about this and takes to humiliating the young lieutenant. Ethan, who is often amused by the drama that goes on between other people (most of whom he regards with barely-hidden contempt), actually joins in on the roast of the young Yankee officer (who is played by Wayne’s son and becomes an increasingly comedic/pathetic character as the film goes on).
There are a lot of reasons to watch The Searchers, re-watch it, and analyze it visually and thematically. One reason is that, half a century before there was a “manosphere” or any discussion of the socio-sexual hierarchy, director John Ford knew how it all plays out in the theater of life.
Like a lot of us, Bracken is bothered by a government that views as it’s primary enemy the very citizens whose rights it was established to protect. Up until Castigo Cay the backdrop of his stories was almost entirely comprised of the efforts of renegade public servants hell-bent on violating a specific article of the Bill of Rights they swore to uphold. I’ve read and 
But Stachel is a little too eager to distinguish himself. He sets his sights on winning the Blue Max, which requires 20 confirmed kills. His cold, dogged pursuit of this goal is, frankly, similar to that of a hardcorps gamer trying to get the high score/next level on a videogame–only dealing out death to real live human beings, of course, instead of A.I. generated digital targets.
In remembrance of the 70th anniversary of the Normandy invasion, I’ve been celebrating the work of my favorite war fictioneer, Len Levinson. I just came across something he wrote that I really should have included in my intro to 
is a jerk and Topkick is a LIFER scum (been there, done that). The soldiers under Mahoney are typical grabasstic draftees. And “friendly fire” incidents become almost habitual, perpetuated by typical military bureaucracy and the incompetence it breeds.
One thing Len liked to do in this series is steer Mahoney into notable highlights of the war in Europe. Sometimes he went beyond that and had Mahoney himself become instrumental in the course of events. As mentioned previously, I thought the way he had Mahoney destroy the German fuel reserves during the Battle of the Bulge (#8 
Once was in the book preceding this one (#2 
similar contrived moment in this book. Here’s a little historical note to orient you: the hedgerows in northern France were so tall and thick that they’d been an obstacle to armies going back to Roman times. How high and how thick? Well, even the Sherman Tanks deployed by the Allies had a very difficult time busting through them. This delayed the Allied Forces from breaking out of the landing zone…in other words, it was holding up the advance in a way that the Germans by themselves couldn’t, and ultimately prolonging the war. Then an American tanker, using a little Yankee ingenuity, welded together a crude brush-cutting blade and afixed it to the front of a tank. Not long after that, Patton’s 3rd Army broke out and had the Krauts on the run.
I’ve followed Mahoney through the blood splattered pages of nine novels, so I know him pretty well. He’s a fantastic field soldier, an accomplished pick-up artist, and probably the world’s greatest bayonet fighter. One thing he is not is a handyman. Mahoney is not mechanically inclined, so having him be the one to design the brush-cutter for our tanks was an eye-roller for me.
osted 
g John Lennon, and it got me to thinking (dangerous, I know). As an armchair historian and anthropologist, I’m fascinated with the radical change in our country between the end of WWII and the escalation of our involvement in Vietnam (roughly 1946-1966, let’s say). I don’t mean technology, though certainly that played a part. I mean culturally and ideologically there seemed to be a sort of paradigm shift in the mainstream—especially the younger demographics. Plenty of people can pontificate why it happened, including me, but you actually lived through it. I’d like to get your reflections on it. Did you notice it happening? What did you think of it at the time?
LEN: My literary agent Barbara Lowenstein handled the initial ebook deals. I assume she contacted e-publishers and pitched all her clients including me. I think that Piccadilly contacted me about THE SERGEANT and BUTLER and I referred them to Barbara. Then I entered into an agreement with Piccadilly to publish six of my non-series novels, which all are selling very poorly, I’m sorry to say.
e (like yours) and writing some of my own. I still don’t want to swallow this pill, but it’s really looking like there’s no money to be made in old-school men’s fiction. There are few red-blooded American males left in our culture, it seems to me, and very few of them have an interest in reading. Some authors are making a go of it with niche sub-genres, but only those with the time and talent to build a platform of followers on the Internet.
LEN: I think there’s money to be made in action/adventure fiction, but not as much as in other genres such as women’s romances. American publishing seems unable to adapt to the modern technological world, and is plagued by political correctness just like every other area of American life.
ture fiction, author Len Levinson.
Tell me about these guys—were Mahoney and Butsko based on any specific men in particular, or were they amalgams of various war veterans you crossed paths with?
The Sergeant was usually a one man show, though occasionally Corporal Cranepool shared Mahoney’s spotlight. The Ratbastards (as the name suggests) was more like an ensemble. There was Homer Gladly, Sam Longtree, Frankie LaBarbara, the Reverend Billy Jones, Craig Delane, Shaw, Gomez… though Butsko and Bannon were certainly your “go-to” guys. What made you decide to change your approach to writing about the war between these two series in regards to number of continuing characters?