Trivia: Hayden was born Pate Lucid. After working behind the scenes in films as a grip, sound recorder, film cutter, and assistant cameraman, he began acting in films in the mid '30s. Between 1937-41 he played Lucky Jenkins, William Boyd's saddle pal, in 27 Hopalong Cassidy Westerns. He starred in his own Western series in the '40s, and in 1943-44 he was voted one of the Top Ten Cowboy stars; he also costarred with James Ellison in numerous Westerns which he co-produced, and occasionally had leads in non-Westerns as well as one adventure serial. Beginning in the early '50s (when he retired from films) he produced and directed TV Westerns, including the series 26 Men and Judge Roy Bean, starring in the latter. He married and divorced actress Jan Clayton, who was his leading lady in some of the Hopalong Cassidy films. Later he married actress Lillian Porter.

Trivia: All but forgotten today due to a lack of surviving footage, robust William Duncan was one of the leading serial and Western stars of the 1910s. A former instructor at McFadden's Physical Culture School and later the owner of his own bodybuilding academy, the Scottish-born, U.S.-educated Duncan gained nationwide notoriety touring vaudeville with the famous wrestler Sandow. He became an actor/director with the Selig Polyscope Company in 1910, and his personal stock company would soon include the novice Tom Mix. Leaving Selig in favor of the bigger Vitagraph in 1915, Duncan directed and starred in The Fighting Trail (1917), the first of ten action serials that would make him both immensely popular and comfortably wealthy. A Fight for Millions (1918) co-starred brunette Edith Johnson, who would soon become Mrs. Duncan offscreen. They made an additional seven serials together and then retired. Duncan came out of retirement in 1935, and would portray Buck Peters, Hopalong Cassidy's Bar 20 boss, in five Westerns released by Paramount between 1935 and 1939.

Trivia: Brutish-looking actor Walter Long entered films in 1909 after brief stage experience. He became a valued member of D.W. Griffith's stock company, excelling in roles calling for strong-arm villainy and glowering menace. In Griffith's The Birth of a Nation (1915), Long played Gus, the renegade Negro whose lustful pursuit of virginal Mae Marsh results in the girl's suicidal leap from a precipice; while in the same director's Intolerance, Long was "the musketeer of the slums," a gangster boss whose murder motivates the climactic race to the rescue. He persisted in villainy into the 1920s, providing a formidable foe to such silent heroes as Rudolph Valentino and William Boyd. Despite his on-screen skullduggery, Long enjoyed a reputation as a prince of a fellow; his courtesy and good manners were particularly prized by the leading ladies whom Long's screen characters frequently imperiled. In talkies, Long proved to have a low, guttural voice that matched his movie image perfectly, and he continued unabated to portray thugs, pluguglies and lowlifes. Though many of his talkie roles were bit parts, he was well served in the films of Laurel and Hardy, playing a prison cell-block leader in Pardon Us (1931), a drink-sodden prizefighter in Any Old Port (1932), a vengeful gangster ("I'll break off yer legs and wrap 'em around yer neck") in Going Bye Bye (1934), a shanghaiing sea captain in The Live Ghost (1934), and a Mexican bandido in Pick a Star (1937). During World War II, the fifty-plus Walter Long served as a lieutenant colonel in the Army; upon his discharge, he returned to the stage, where he remained active until his retirement in 1950.

Trivia: Virtually the prototype of all grizzled old-codger western sidekicks, George "Gabby" Hayes professed in real life to hate westerns, complaining that they all looked and sounded alike. For his first few decades in show business, he appeared in everything but westerns, including travelling stock companies, vaudeville, and musical comedy. He began appearing in films in 1928, just in time to benefit from the talkie explosion. In contrast to his later unshaven, toothless screen persona, George Hayes (not yet Gabby) frequently showed up in clean-faced, well groomed articulate characterizations, sometimes as the villain. In 1933 he appeared in several of the Lone Star westerns featuring young John Wayne, alternating between heavies and comedy roles. Wayne is among the many cowboy stars who has credited Hayes with giving them valuable acting tips in their formative days. In 1935, Hayes replaced an ailing Al St. John in a supporting role in the first Hopalong Cassidy film, costarring with William Boyd; Hayes' character died halfway through this film, but audience response was so strong that he was later brought back into the Hoppy series as a regular. It was while sidekicking for Roy Rogers at Republic that Hayes, who by now never appeared in pictures with his store-bought teeth, earned the soubriquet "Gabby", peppering the soundtrack with such slurred epithets as "Why, you goldurned whipersnapper" and "Consarn it!" He would occasionally enjoy an A-picture assignment in films like Dark Command (1940) and Tall in the Saddle (1944), but from the moment he became "Gabby", Hayes was more or less consigned exclusively to "B"s. After making his last film appearance in 1952, Hayes turned his attentions to television, where he starred in the popular Saturday-morning Gabby Hayes Show ("Hullo out thar in televisium land!") and for a while was the corporate spokesman for Popsicles. Retiring after a round of personal appearance tours, Hayes settled down on his Nevada ranch, overseeing his many business holdings until his death at age 83.

Trivia: An "Okie" whose parents died when he was a child, William Boyd became a manual laborer before breaking into the movies in 1919 as an extra in Cecil B. De Mille's Why Change Your Wife? He soon became one of De Mille's favorite actors and was cast as an unassuming leading man in comedies and swashbuckling adventure films. Boyd continued his success in the sound era, but was hurt when a scandal hit another actor named "William Boyd" and the public confused the two. His career took off in 1935 when he began to appear in "Hopalong Cassidy" films (based on the Clarence E. Mulford stories of the Old West), beginning with Hop-A-Long Cassidy and eventually amounting to 66 episodes, the final twelve of which Boyd produced. Cassidy, dressed in black and mounted on his famous horse Topper, was a clean-living good guy who didn't smoke, drink, or swear, and hardly ever kissed the heroine; the character became an enormous hero to millions of American boys, and Boyd bought the rights to it. With the breakthrough of TV in the early 50s, Boyd began to reap huge profits from the character as the old shows found a new audience and by-products began to be produced and sold; he played Cassidy the rest of his life, even into genial, gray-haired old age. Ultimately, William Boyd Enterprises was sold for $8 million. Boyd was married four times and divorced three, each time to an actress: Ruth Miller, Elinor Fair, Dorothy Sebastian, and Grace Bradley.

Trivia: American actor Pat O'Brien could never remember just why he wanted to go on stage; it just sort of happened naturally, just as his college football activities at Marquette University and his enlistment in the Navy for World War I. In the company of college chum Spencer Tracy, O'Brien moved to New York in the early twenties, where, while studying at Sargent's Academy, they were cast as robots in the theatrical production RUR. O'Brien spent several years with numerous stock companies, forming lasting friendships with such future Hollywood notables as Frank McHugh, James Gleason and Percy Kilbride. He also met his wife, actress Eloise Taylor, with whom he remained for the next five decades. In 1930, O'Brien was brought to Hollywood to play ace reporter Hildy Johnson in The Front Page (1931); this came about because the director mistakenly believed O'Brien had played the role on Broadway, when in fact he'd played managing editor Walter Burns in a Chicago stock-company version. This misunderstanding was forgotten when O'Brien scored a success in Front Page, which led to a long term contract with Warner Bros. Casual film fans who believe that O'Brien played nothing but priests and football coaches might be surprised at the range of roles during his first five years at Warners. Still, the performances for which Pat O'Brien is best remembered are Father Jerry in Angels with Dirty Faces (1938), in which he begs condemned killer Jimmy Cagney to "turn yellow" during the Last Walk so Cagney won't be a hero to the neighborhood kids, and, of course, the title role in Knute Rockne, All American (1940), wherein he exhorted his flagging team to "win just one for the Gipper." Too old to serve in World War II, O'Brien tirelessly did his bit with several hazardous USO tours in the thick of the action. Following the war, O'Brien continued to play leads in a good series of RKO films, but he'd put on weight and lost a few hairs in the years since his Warner Bros. heyday, thus was more effectively cast in character roles like Dean Stockwell's vaudeville dad in The Boy With Green Hair (1949). Then, inexplicably, the roles dried up. O'Brien always believed that he was the victim of a blacklist -- not for being a Communist, but for being such a right winger that he was frozen out by Hollywood's liberal contingent. The diminishing box office for his films and an overall slump in the movie industry may also have played a part in O'Brien's fall from grace, but the fact was he found the going rough in the '50s. Fortunately, he had an aggresive agent and several loyal friends -- notably Spencer Tracy, who refused to star in MGM's The People Against O'Hara unless the studio set aside a big part for O'Brien. Television and summer stock kept O'Brien busy throughout most of the 1950s, with a brief comeback to stardom via a good part in Billy Wilder's Some Like It Hot (1959) and a weekly TV sitcom, "Harrigan and Son" (1960). O'Brien also worked up a well-received nightclub act, in which he described himself as "an Irish Myron Cohen" (Cohen was a popular Jewish dialect comedian of the era). Unlike his close friend James Cagney, O'Brien never stopped working, touring with his wife Eloise in straw hat productions of Never too Late and On Golden Pond. His performances proved that this was no pathetic oldster clinging desperately to the past, but a vibrant, up-to-date talent who could still deliver the goods. Nor was Pat O'Brien falsely modest. In answer to an interviewer's query if he felt that he'd been underrated by Hollywood, the seventy-plus O'Brien mustered all his Irish pugnacity and snapped "I'm damn good and I know it." As did everyone who saw Pat O'Brien's feisty final film performances in The End (1978) and Ragtime (1981).