Before we left for Yuma, Wayne came to me with another husky young man over six feet tall who played on the same football team. ‘Mr. Walsh, can you find a part in your picture for this friend of mine?’ He sounded apologetic, as though he might be asking too much. When I inquired the friend’s name, he answered ‘Ward Bond.’ I hired Ward as a wagon-train driver. He was to drive many more wagons in later years. In helping a pal, Wayne had done picture fans a favor. …

I needed a clincher, something to bring home to viewers how the pioneers actually put their lives on the line during such migrations…. The opportunity I had been waiting for came when a transverse cleft stopped progress. The cut was deep and precipitous and there was a white curl of water in the bottom. In other circumstances, I would have called it a day, but I wanted the train to cross that canyon. …

The last wagon to go down gave the sequence more reality than I had bargained for. About halfway in its swaying descent, a knot must have slipped. The wagon hung lopsided just long enough to heighten the suspense. Then it went crashing to the canyon floor to make a pile of wreckage in the white water.

The Big Trail, after all the worries and doubts, ended fortunately and made money. In spite of weather extremes and frequent changes in location and the bellyaching of the Broadway element, my new leading man had made a fine frontiersman. His acting was instinctive, so that he became whatever or whoever he was playing. Later, under the direction of John Ford, he joined the ranks of movie immortals. There is a lot of pride in the knowledge that I discovered a winner. Not only that. I also found a great American. – RW