Brighty of Grand Canyon

The bray echoes everywhere in the Canyon, every-where that Brighty once travelled; above the rush of Roar-ing Spr-ings, across Devil's Backyard, along the edge of Phantom Creek. The locale is familiartotheadmirersof Marguerite Henry's work. So is "Brighty," the l'il burro who relished sugar, honey, sorghums; was on nodding acquaintance with white-throated swifts and pesty chickadees, and considered the wide expanse of the Grand Canyon, rim to rim, pine-forested plateaus and shadowy deep caverns his friendly land.

Brighty of the Grand Canyon encountered printer's ink in 1953, published by Rand McNally & Company. Popularity has been constant and the book has become a classic of its kind. Now that Stephen F. Booth Productions have filmed the story, as a full-length feature, the fame of the flapjack-loving donkey will shortly reach world-wide proportions.

Authoress Henry is a prolific writer of children's books. Animals figure prominently in all of them. Usually horses. Misty of Chincoteague, King of the Wind, Born to Trot have never slackened in appeal and, as with all her books, are vibrant with romance and imagination. However, Brighty has an element that the other works lacked: Mystery.

The plot tells of an old prospector who befriends a wild burro he finds raising dust on the winding banks of Bright Angel Creek. When the Canyon sourdough dies under strange circumstances, the burro returns to racing the wind, leading a life of adventure, misadventure and, frequently, dangerous charm.

Before the concluding pages are reached, the shaggy fellow encounters a lively cast of characters including Teddy Roosevelt and lion-hunter Uncle Jim Owens, a rugged individualist who, aided by Brighty, solves the question of the prospector's death and brings a murderer to justice.

Such a yarn sounds like a flight of fancy, but it isn't. Tap roots run to truth. Recalls Mrs. Henry: “Brighty and I 'met' in a library. I was just winding up my book, Album of Horses. The editors were breath-ing down my neck, prodding me to turn it loose. Twenty-two chapters on twenty-two breeds were quite enough, they thought. But I thought the book needed something on the relatives of the horse, the mule and the burro. They would be fun to write about, and enlightening for me as well as for my readers. So I persisted.

"The mule presented no problem. I had met plenty, had even ridden one. But never in my whole life had I seen or touched a real live Arizona burro.

BY TIM KELLY Norman Foster's BRIGHTY OF THE GRAND CANYON

"In a burst of curiosity I looked up burros and don-keys in the card catalog. But the real plum was handed me by a Miss Lathrop, the librarian. It was an old maga-zine dated 1923, and in it was an account of an actual burro named Brighty who had lived two lives. In winter-time he gypsied and shared meals with prospectors in the warm depths of the Grand Canyon. But at the first sign of melting snow on the rimtop, he high-tailed it up the canyon wall and spent his summers in the cool, dry air of Kaibab Forest. The more I thought about his free, unfettered spirit, the more I knew that he had a story to tell."

At the Canyon, Mrs. Henry promptly set to work. She was not able to locate the article's author, Thomas H. McKee. No one was able to recall him, although anecdotes about Brighty drifted in like hints of autumn.

Yes, Brighty did lead the sheriff to the tent where the solitary prospector had befriended his murderer. Certainly, Brighty was the first to cross the new suspension bridge over the Colorado River. Of course, the l'il burro packed water from a spring below the rim to a summer camp in the nearby woodland.

Why, Brighty was just bout the friendliest critter thar wuz, hobnobbin with geologists and map makers, visitors, trappers, and naturalists.

Mrs. Henry admits that since all the characters were real she found them comparatively easy to portray. One character did elude.

"I felt surely Brighty must have had a friend, a boy who liked to ride him with loose rein or none at all, a boy who led him to the spring and filled his water tins and unloaded them, so I invented a make-believe boy, Homer Hobbs."

After the book was published, a rather remarkable letter was received, which said in part. "I'll enclose a snapshot of him (Brighty), with his loving companion, my son Bob, sitting on his back. As my wife and I read your book, we knew in a twinkling that our son was the Homer Hobbs of your story."

At the end of the letter, in fine flowing hand, was the name of the man for whom Miss Henry had searched, Thomas H. McKee. So, even the imaginary Homer Hobbs was based, unknowingly, on fact.

Brighty's literary creator tried to persuade the Park Superintendent, Harold C. Bryant, to capture one of the wild burros on the Tonto Plateau so she could take him with her to help in portraying a more real Brighty. Bryant's retort was brief and knowing. "No," he said. "Already you have created in your mind a warm image of him. If you were to own one of these wild critters, he might be an ornery fellow and ruin that image."

At home in Wayne, Illinois, authoress Henry was perplexed. Brighty was becoming robot-like and vague. A live burro was still needed.

The surrounding countryside was combed. When the point of giving up was about reached, the Township of Blackberry came up with a promising farmyard.

STEPHEN F. BOOTH PRODUCTION PHOTOGRAPHS

"To my delight — there was a 4/2-feet-tall burro named Jiggs, the spittin' image of Brighty! As I explained my project to his young owner, Jiggs seemed all in tune with the idea, his ears swinging back and forth like semaphores, wagging sympathy. It gave me a sense of awe to finger the black cross on his shoulders, the very one that Jesus is said to have given all burros in reward for carrying Him into Jerusalem on that first Palm Sunday."

Jiggs was to be "rented" for the duration of the work-in-progress, but he never returned to Blackberry. Marguerite Henry bought him to keep.

Brighty of the Grand Canyon, with evocative drawings by Wesley Dennis, was an immediate seller. It appealed to adults as well as to older pre-teens for whom it was written, became a Junior Literary Guild Selection and in due time received the William Allen White Award, selected by children themselves.

In the spring of 1963, a young Michigan TV and motion picture producer, Steve Booth, was searching for a children's book that did not end abruptly, had depth and meaning and would appeal to his three boys, ages five, seven, and twelve. A bookstore clerk suggested Brighty of the Grand Canyon. At home, the reading was decidedly a communal affair, and the Booth family enthusiastically agreed that the book should be a feature movie. Five months later, producer Booth had acquired the film rights. Next on the agenda came the choice of a director. Making this cinematic effort would be no cinch. Besides the small cast of human beings, the book called for an army of fur people and assorted kin: cougars, racoons, ring-tailed cats, porcupines, coyotes, skunks, dogs, chuckwallas, wolves, and Kaibab squirrels. Hair-raising stunt work was indicated, and filming in all kinds of weather would be mandatory. For example, on the North Rim, over 200 inches of snow usually falls by early May. The mantling of hillsides with aspen and the slow flapping of distant winter birds may be a sight worthy of canvas, but it imposed serious hardships on any filming venture.

and Kaibab squirrels. Hair-raising stunt work was indicated, and filming in all kinds of weather would be mandatory. For example, on the North Rim, over 200 inches of snow usually falls by early May. The mantling of hillsides with aspen and the slow flapping of distant winter birds may be a sight worthy of canvas, but it imposed serious hardships on any filming venture.

Various camera shots would have to be made by employing everything from a helicopter to a mule pack train.

The camera would have to be mounted in a helicopter, packed to inaccessible spots by mule pack train, or carried by manpower up steep trails.

The writer-director picked for the assignment was Norman Foster, a man whose cinematic credits are impressive. He had made films in Mexico, Spain, Holland and Sweden, as well as Hollywood. Many of his pictures bear the stamp of Americana: Rachel and the Stranger, made in Oregon; Davy Crockett, in Tennessee; Indian Paint, in Texas; The Nine Lives of Elfego Baca, in New Mexico; and the award-winning Navajo, filmed in Arizona's Canyon de Chelly.

From long experience, Foster knew Arizona and loved it. And he had made outdoor pictures something of a forte. Since he was also a screen-writer and could be counted upon to adapt Brighty into a workable shooting script, his selection was as logical as it was wise.

One problem was evident from the first: The casting of the lovable protagonist. When the script was ready, a friend of Foster's asked in earnest, "Where are you going to find the combination of a Marlon Brando and a Jimmy Dean to play the burro?"

It was a problem, all right.

The casting of the human characters was reasonably easy. Booth and Foster, knowing the rough road ahead, hand-picked their company. Joseph Cotten would play Uncle Jim Owen, the man who held the record for lion kills in Arizona. The villainous beaver-trapper, Jake Irons, would be handled by Patrick Conway, who found himself engaged in perilous stunt work almost daily. The role of the prospector, Old Timer, who first befriends Brighty, would fall to Dick Foran. Karl Swenson would portray Theodore Roosevelt, the legend of San Juan Hill, and Phoenician Jason Clark would be the sheriff. Homer Hobbs, the boy Marguerite Henry at first imagined, then discovered to be real, took time. Booth and Foster found him in Scottsdale: Dandy Curran, the young son of a former Miss America, Arizona's Jacque Mercer. The actual filming was detailed to the Saizis brothers of Birmingham, Alabama, Ted and Vincent. Hunters Marvin and Warren Glenn of Douglas captured two cougars for the film. Jacks (male burros) and jennies (female burros) came from Utah. The animal actors, save one, were secured with slight effort and watched over zealously. Locations were picked with an eye to keeping the year 1905 a reality. Photographs of Uncle Jim's actual cabin were studied and his abode re-created by using Kaibab logs. Piece by piece, detail by detail, preliminaries fell into place. They were ready to begin. But where was Brighty? In anxious doubt, producer Booth telephoned Marguerite Henry from the Canyon's North Rim. He could not find a burro that he felt was ideal. "None seem to fit the part. I've studied literally scores of them, and haven't yet found the right one." Silence greeted his words, then, slowly, Mrs. Henry suggested, "Why don't you come to Illinois and meet my burro?" "As a last resort, I will." Booth did come to see Jiggs, and the casting was completed. Getting the reluctant, shaggy celebrity to the Canyon took some doing. Until the time of his talent discovery, Jiggs had two concerns: to be near the youngster who had ridden him since he was a young jack, a neighbor of Miss Henry, Tex Drexler; and to be served his meals on time. Jiggs was vanned nearly two thousand miles and, when he got to the movie set, the cast and crew, wranglers, and a harem of jennies were there to greet him and usher him into his corral with a star over the gate.

Undoubtedly, the film will score considerable impact with European audiences as well as with American. Travel posters from the Canary Islands to Warsaw display Canyon scenes. The yawning chasm carved by the persis-tent demands of erosion and the forces inherent to and allied with the Colorado River with its near-audible stillness and unearthly aura, begs for inspection. Foreigners visit in ever-increasing numbers. Americans, perhaps, are too accustomed to the thought and actuality of this colos-sal attraction covering, as it does, some 1,100 square miles and boasting a hollow 217 miles long, stretching from one

Canyon, the fault was in himself, and a film like Brighty of the Grand Canyon graphically shows why.

Foster encountered endless challenges. To begin with, he had to avoid any evidence of encroaching civilization, remaining faithful to a time when stagecoaches groaned up from Flagstaff hauling sightseers at $20 a head. He had to capture the vast wealth of the Canyon without detracting from Brighty's tale, had to instruct a troupe of animals, none interested in becoming stars, in the finer points of dramatic art.

Deciding the troublesome, although appropriate, sites for the camera's work was hazardous and physically exhausting. From the North to the South Rim, from the bottom of the Canyon to the Tonto Plateau, from the Kaibab Trail to Ribbon Falls where, in summer, sunlight hits from 8:30 to 9:30 a.m. only. Foster explored locales that man had never seen before. Strange as it seems, much of the Canyon remains undisturbed. Filming on location took more than three months. At the height of operations, thirty-five mules made up the to fourteen miles wide. But to the mind viewing the travel posters abroad comes a fantasy world of foliage, color, wildlife, intrigue, winds, frost, fury, history, and splendor. Those who do come and see return with vivid impressions that often sound exaggerated. One wonders about that certain Lt. Joseph C. Ives who undertook exploration of the area in 1857 and later reported, "Ours has been the first and will be the last party of whites to visit this profitless locality. It seems intended by nature that the Colorado River, along the greater portion of its lonely and majestic way, shall be forever unvisited and undisturbed." Not content with this opinionated and foolish evaluation, the army officer went a step further and condemned Brighty's domain as being "valueless," adding: "It can only be approached from the south, and after entering it there is nothing to do but leave.

This professional soldier was muzzy in the head. If he found nothing but a grieving atmosphere at the Canpack train that freighted production equipment. Half the crew lived at the bottom of the Canyon. Perhaps the most untiring worker involved was a two-seater Hughes 300 helicopter. The whirlybird was indispensable for endless assignments and duty, making over 1,000 trips: delivering props, cables, mikes, personnel, and boxes of lunch. Temperatures zoomed from thirty-eight degrees at the rim to 112 degrees at the bottom. A round trip to the famed Phantom Ranch, far below, took twelve minutes; the routine run only seven. Besides the operator, there was room for none but the skinniest of passengers, and the, rider was always weighed down with gear needed below.

Although Brighty of the Grand Canyon deals principally with the enchantingly rugged exploits of a winsome burro, it features the Grand Canyon of Arizona as a personality; thus emerges an unusual and endearing story with a breathtaking travelogue that drifts across the screen in vibrant color and undeniable fascination. invariably goes a step beyond offering sheer enjoyment in her writings, blessing each effort with the happiness of freedom and the awe to be witnessed in nature.

Such virtue is captured in the Stephen F. Booth production, particularly in the concluding segment when Uncle Jim Owen speaks to the audience while a young Brighty races the dry wind of the North Rim: "Teddy Illustrations by WESLEY DENNIS from the book BRIGHTY of the GRAND CANYON By MARGUERITE HENRY

Published By RAND MCNALLY & COMPANY

President Theodore Roosevelt's wish, one that came to fulfillment in 1919, that the wonderland should be a National Park, is also underscored. Roosevelt cautioned, "Do nothing to mar its grandeur, keep it for your children, your children's children, and all who come after you, as the one great sight which every American should see."

If by a "family film" we mean a motion picture that the entire family can enjoy, Brighty of the Grand Canyon is, indeed, such a work. However, Marguerite Henry Roosevelt's dream came true. There are a few changes, but the Grand Canyon will remain the same to the end of the world, as long as there is a world. Brighty has long since left this earth. But some animals, like some men, leave a trail of glory behind them. They give their spirit to a place where they have lived, a part of the rocks and streams and the wind and sky. Brighty's spirit lives on – forever wild, forever free.

Brighty would be pleased by such remembrance.