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New biography tells true story of tough guy Charles McGraw, a real character from Akron
By Rich Heldenfels
Beacon Journal popular culture writer
Published on Sunday, Apr 06, 2008
Many film fans remember the movie Spartacus. Big scenes. Kirk Douglas. Laurence Olivier. Stanley Kubrick in the director's chair.
Alan K. Rode also remembers Charles McGraw's performance as Marcellus the gladiator trainer. McGraw, who grew up in Akron and often returned, was ''the apotheosis of villainy,'' the film historian says in a new biography of McGraw.
When Marcellus leaves Spartacus, Rode said in a recent interview, ''The movie wasn't as good for me.''
Rode is unquestionably an admirer of McGraw, and it shows in Charles McGraw: Biography of a Film Noir Tough Guy (McFarland, $45).
Rode assembled the book through research and interviews (including McGraw's companion, Millie Black, and his daughter Jill, as well as McGraw's friends and colleagues). He looked again at McGraw's films and then did more research.
He did not get to Akron — where McGraw was Charles Butters — from his California base. But he had long-distance help from the Beacon Journal librarians, as well as from John Miller of the University of Akron archival services. Miller arranged for a photo of McGraw's boyhood home on Cleveland Street, as well as getting a copy of the actor's transcript for his only semester at UA. From Black, he also got a photo of McGraw with his Central High School graduating class in 1932.
And the admiration goes beyond the book. Rode's Web site (http://www.alankrode.com) includes two of McGraw's films — The Narrow Margin and The Killers — among the 10 best movies in film noir, the often hard-boiled features full of darkness, shadows and grim endings.
McGraw can also be found in supporting roles in major films like In Cold Blood and Tell Them Willie Boy Is Here. And even when he was appearing in TV shows and decidedly minor movies to pay the bills, McGraw was at the very least memorable in an ''Oh, there's that guy!'' way.
He had the distinctive face of someone who had lived hard, and a voice with a full complement of gravel.
Indeed, columnist Earl Wilson once wrote that McGraw's daughter, Jill, asked him to change his voice because he always sounded angry.
McGraw told Jill to look at their home and swimming pool. ''Without the voice,'' he said, ''we'd probably be living in a two-room flat somewhere.''
But when reading Rode's book, it is also possible to see that McGraw might have achieved more — been more than a character actor in the movies, a frequent TV guest star, a good storyteller and barroom companion.
Instead, as Rode wrote, McGraw's life was like a film noir. It had a broken marriage and a strained relationship with his daughter, too much booze and more than one bad career break.
There were some elaborate fictions, such as McGraw's tales of a World War II record that Rode's research dismisses as ''blarney.'' After McGraw died in 1980, Rode notes, obituaries ''repeated a number of the fallacies that Charlie had assiduously circulated to press agents.''
And McGraw's story ended in 1980, when he fell through the glass shower door in his home, cut himself and bled to death. A delay in the arrival of the paramedics may have hastened his demise.
But in his book, Rode maintains that McGraw was ''authentically compelling,'' and notes that his movies continue to live in revival houses, festivals and DVD releases. Rode, who never met McGraw, relishes the idea of McGraw as a guest at screenings of his movies — ''except he would have expected a check along with a few drinks at the bar afterward.''
Although Rode has long studied movies, especially film noir, he came to the idea of a McGraw book when he and his wife, Jemma, met Millie Black. (Jemma is now a caregiver for the ailing Black.) He learned of McGraw's horrible death and his personal complexity. Aggressive onscreen, McGraw could be shy off-camera. Seemingly confident during a performance, he could be nervous while preparing for them.
And however much he could impress audiences, Rode said that ''Charlie himself looked at acting the way a plumber or electrician looks at his job. He looked at it as a job of work.'' When movie roles were in short supply, he turned to television. And when television was dominated by westerns, the urban-seeming McGraw did westerns.
Rode said that, in considering McGraw, he was reminded of Winston Churchill's statement about Russia as ''a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.'' Since he was long dead when Rode began the book, some of that mystery remains. But Rode has offered a lot of detail about the course of McGraw's life, debunked myths and given readers a sense of the man who so compelled as Marcellus.
Rich Heldenfels writes about popular culture for the Beacon Journal and in a blog at http://www.ohio.com. Contact him at 330-996-3582 or rheldenfels@thebeaconjournal.com.
Many film fans remember the movie Spartacus. Big scenes. Kirk Douglas. Laurence Olivier. Stanley Kubrick in the director's chair.
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