1912 - 2001
Dedication
by Eric O'Keefe
 As
a Texan, I believe it is a class C misdemeanor to attempt to alter,
modify, or otherwise willfully tamper with the lyrics of a Willie
Nelson song. I must therefore throw myself at the mercy of the court,
Your Honor. My heroes have not always been cowboys. And as for my
defense, I offer the life of Dale Evans."I think Republic Pictures suspended Mom's contract three different times." Cheryl Rogers-Barnett laughs as she recalls the turmoil that Dale's convictions created. "The first time was when she married Roy. Dad was so handsome, and he was widowed, too. He was a publicist's dream come true—until Mom took him off the market. Then she had the nerve to go and get pregnant, so they suspended her again and kept Roy making movies with Penny Edwards and Jane Frazee instead." There is more laughter as Cheryl describes how Dale played havoc with the studio's no-nonsense production schedule. The late 1940s were the heyday of the studio system, and back then actors were strictly managed. Actresses, on the other hand, weren't managed; they were controlled to an extent unimaginable today. And maternity leave had no place on any studio exec's flow chart. Her third suspension? "That was our Robin," Cheryl says. It's hard to imagine a day and a place where a mother could be convinced to part with a newborn, but when Robin Rogers was born with Down syndrome, the powers that be wanted her existence extinguished. Immediately. "When Republic Pictures insisted that Mom and Dad keep Robin hidden from the public, it was just the prevailing culture of the time," Cheryl says. For decades, eugenics-crazed professionals armed with pseudo-scientific notions kept countless families hiding in disgrace. Children with disabilities were from bad stock, they said. Even worse, some saw them as punishment for the sins of their parents. That was until the day Robin Rogers came home with her parents. "I was ten at the time," Cheryl recalls, "and I can remember Mom and Dad calling us kids together. They told Linda Lou and Dusty and me that they were bringing Robin home, and from that day on I don't ever remember any of us expressing a second thought about it. It didn't matter that she needed a nurse, or we moved from Hollywood to Encino so she could have more room because Robin was the sweetest, happiest, most loving child." Not only was this loving little girl made welcome by her family, but she even stepped into the spotlight herself, venturing out with her brother and sisters to attend the shows and rodeos where her parents were featured performers. "I guess it was about 1954 when I first started noticing other kids with Down syndrome at Mom and Dad's shows. Up till Robin, it was like they didn't exist," Cheryl remembers. Despite the prevailing medical wisdom, all that Robin really needed was a hero. She got more than that with her mother, a heroine brave enough to risk her career in order that Robinóand countless other kids—could live happily ever after. "Dale embodied the credo of the West as much off-screen as she did on-screen," Katharine Ross says. "From starring in all those movies to writing songs like "Happy Trails To You," she was completely undervalued as an actress and a musician because she worked so hard to put Roy's career first." Maybe that's why Cowboys & Indians is dedicating this issue to the Queen of the West. Whether it was at home with her family or on the set making movies, Dale Evans put others first. "She was such a godly woman," says Naomi Judd. A godly woman who lived the Golden Rule—Dale Evans blazed a happy trail. |
©2001 Cowboys & Indians