John Wayne

My Old Man & The Sea

John Wayne sought solace and the simple life aboard Wild Goose, his refitted U.S. Navy minesweeper.

In the early ’60s, John Wayne bought a 9,000-square-foot waterfront home in Newport Beach, California along with what would become a powerful force in his life: a 136-foot former U.S. Navy minesweeper, which he refitted and renamed Wild Goose. By then, Wayne was already an established Hollywood icon. But beneath the high-profile, leading man exterior, Wayne was a devoted family man who longed for a simpler life at sea. His third wife, Peruvian actress Pilar Pallete, gave birth to three children: Marisa, Aissa and Ethan—the latter named after his father’s character in the movie The Searchers.

While Wayne kept steadily working on movies through his late 60s, Ethan and his sisters grew up aboard Wild Goose. Along the way, Wayne would survive a 1964 bout with lung cancer that cost him part of his lung and several ribs. His health slowly failing, Wayne doubled down, spending every available moment aboard the yacht with family and friends. He would describe this time as the happiest point of his life. For Ethan Wayne, now the president of John Wayne Enterprises and director of the John Wayne Cancer Foundation, fond memories of the boat and its numerous voyages, parties and the important snapshots from the Duke’s life still linger.

One of the largest privately owned vessels at the time, the 136-foot refitted minesweeper was a hub of John Wayne’s social life.

The youngest son of John Wayne, Ethan, says his father was happiest when on board the family yacht.

Prefer to listen?: Listen to the full interview with Ethan Wayne below.

Power & Motoryacht: What was your first boating experience with your dad?

Ethan Wayne: It’s hard for me to say because it was just always there. Right about the time I was born he bought the house down in Newport Beach and the minesweeper, and I was on it from the get-go. As a child, when I was not even a year old, we were over in the Azores on Wild Goose. So, it wasn’t like “Oh, we go boating in July.”

Power & Motoryacht: How much of your childhood was spent on Wild Goose?

Ethan Wayne: I would say at least 30 percent of my life was [spent] on the boat, if not more. Because when we went on the boat, we went for a while.

Power & Motoryacht: Why did you get to accompany your dad on all his trips?

Ethan Wayne: While putting together an unfinished biography, [journalist Wayne Warga] asked [my father], “Why do you take Ethan out of school? Why does he get to go to all these places?” And he said, “Because I’ll lose him later as a teenager and I won’t be there by the time he comes back.” So, I went on location [with him] and I went on the boat. His life was making films, and when he wasn’t making films he was trying to get to the boat. And if we had to stop at the house to take care of administrative issues, we did. But most of the time we were on Wild Goose. In the summer it was up north in British Columbia and southern Alaska and in the wintertime it was the Sea of Cortez or mainland Mexico.

Power & Motoryacht: What was life like aboard Wild Goose?

Ethan Wayne: It was really comfortable, and it was really nice, but it wasn’t … fancy. Like if you look at John Wayne, he had a clear style that wasn’t overly embellished. If you look at his outfit on screen, he looked good: the shirt and scarf, a nice velvet vest, cotton pants and really nice boots. He was specific. That was what he wanted to look like, and the boat was similar. It was very seaworthy, and very well kept. But it didn’t have teak and holly decks; I don’t know what they were made of, but they were basically painted decks. The surface that you walked on was painted wood, some kind of non-skid material. It wasn’t teak.

Power & Motoryacht: It sounds like it was a boat that was made to function well and not be particularly showy, even though it was pretty impressive at the time.

Ethan Wayne: Right. At the time, there weren’t a lot of boats that were 136 feet cruising around.

Power & Motoryacht: What are some of your fondest memories aboard?

Ethan Wayne: At sunset we would take the American flag down and we’d fold it and fire off a canon. Every day. So there’s videos of him showing the crew how to fold the flag, along with the 2- or 3-foot canon we’d stuff with gunpowder and wet leaves and paper. He’d fire off the canon, and then, you know, it was time to have a drink.

Another thing we would do in the Pacific Northwest—and this was in the ’60s, mind you—we would go to a glacier. And the icebergs that had fallen off the glacier, we would get on top of them with fire axes from Wild Goose, and we’d hack off chunks and chunks of glacial ice that they’d then put in the freezers in the aft deck; there were probably like 12 feet of freezer on each side of the boat, big stainless steel ones. And we’d store that ice for their cocktails because it didn’t melt very fast and it didn’t water down whatever spirit they were drinking. Along with Wild Goose, a small 16-foot Boston Whaler that they used as a dinghy—and a modest crew—would often accompany the family on local cruises to Santa Catalina Island or remote destinations.

Power & Motoryacht: We’ve read life aboard was no luxury liner. You had to earn your keep?

Ethan Wayne: It wasn’t like a scuba diving trip where someone hands you your equipment and connects your regulator to the tank. We did everything. It was different back then. When I was a kid, we took care of all the equipment. We drove the dinghies. We mopped the deck. We wiped down the rails with the crew. It was just like if you grow up on a ranch, you take care of the animals. There’s just certain things you do. And it’s not a vacation, it’s not like “Oh, we’re going yachting.” We lived on a boat for as long as we could whenever he had time. And the boat did have a crew, but we were very involved with it. If the dinghy ever came loose, you had to go get it. I could tie a bowline before I could tie my shoes. I can remember people not tying up the dinghies and having to swim to go get them. And they weren’t big dinghies, but they weren’t small either: One was [the] Whaler and the other was a 17-foot British dory type boat. But man, I put a thousand hours on those things. Every chance I could get the keys, I would disappear with those.

Power & Motoryacht: What were your responsibilities on board?

Ethan Wayne: It’s funny, it doesn’t seem like we give young people the same latitude that I had when I was growing up. I could go get fuel for the boat and put it in and mix it. I could take my little sister, [Marisa] who was four years younger than me, when I was 10 and take the Whaler out. We’re in places where there’s nobody around, and maybe the only little fishing village is a few miles away. We’d go up rivers that had breaking surf at the mouth, and when I think back to it now, I’m like, “Jesus Christ, I can’t imagine letting my nephew loose!” [laughs]. But when you grow up in it, you kind of accept the responsibility, and you have to be able to think on your own. You have to be responsible for the equipment. I shouldn’t say that, obviously I broke stuff when I was a kid. But you had to have a modicum of neurons working to get back and to keep everybody safe.

I can remember him telling my little sister “Marisa, clean out your room.” Then he goes out and comes back, and it’s still not made up. He goes, “Marisa, I asked you to clean out your room. I’m not going to ask you again. Clean out your room.” “Okay, Dad.” She’s playing with her toys, he’s playing cards. He gets up again and goes to her room and all of a sudden you see her clothes flying over the side—just right out the door into the water. She goes “Hey! Wait a minute, what are you doing!” And he goes “I told you three times to clean out your room and you didn’t do it, so now you’re going to live without this stuff.”

Power & Motoryacht: I think that is the way we hoped John Wayne would run a boat.

Ethan Wayne: That was sort of the way he did things. He wasn’t overtly mean, but there would be a point where [he would expect you to] just get your shit done. He’s the one that has to buy the clothes, so he’s basically throwing his own clothes overboard. But he’s sending a message to the kid that she’ll remember.

Power & Motoryacht: What are some of your most vivid memories aboard Wild Goose?

Ethan Wayne: Just the fear that if I did something that affected my little sister in any adverse way, there would be hell to pay. He’d say, “Run her into the place” and the place is up the river with breaking waves at the entrance. I’m 10 in a 16-foot Boston Whaler with a 115-hp motor on the back. And you have to judge the waves, and ride the back of a wave in, then you’ve got to get out. One day, [we explored a big inlet] and it was pretty scary getting out of there. I remember thinking, “I don’t care about the boat, I don’t care about anything, I just don’t want to get back there and tell my dad we got turned over in the surf.”

And you know what’s funny? He never really got physical. His look or his tone did it all. When I think back on it I’m like, “He must have kicked my ass...” but he didn’t really kick my ass. He just was very good at getting his point across.

Power & Motoryacht: Did that firsthand experience help influence how you operate the family business today?

Ethan Wayne: For me, if you’re not doing something, you’re not doing something. So, if you’re sitting there relaxing, you’ve got to realize: You’re not doing something you could be doing. We would wake up, wipe down the rails, mop the decks, get something to eat and then do the same thing with the dinghy. I’m sure the crew would’ve done all that. But when we got there, we had to do some of it, too. I’m sort of thankful for that. I have my routine now when I go on my boat: I make the crossing, I drop anchor, drop the dinghy in, get the hose out, rinse off the boats, squeegee the windows, make sure all the dirt is gone from the mainland—you just get in a routine. That’s how life goes, right? You make a mess, clean it up.

As the story goes, John Wayne purchased Wild Goose from his friend, Seattle lumber tycoon Max Wyman, for $110,000. (Prior to selling it, Wyman had owned the vessel for seven years.) The two could typically be found cruising together, often in the Pacific Northwest, with Wyman aboard his 90-foot yacht Lord Nelson III.

Ethan Wayne: Max Wyman was a character. The shower on his boat had a sticker that said “Save water, shower with a friend.” I read that, and it was the first time it clicked in my brain. And I just looked up to him like he was a god.

Power & Motoryacht: What is your most shocking memory of Max Wyman and your father?

Ethan Wayne: The boats would always cruise together and we’d go from place to place. And Max had a terrific girl that worked on his boat. I can’t remember her name. She was French. I had pancakes over there one day. My dad had a cook on his boat, he was terrific. He made the best meals, the best food, for my father and his friends and my family for years. Terrific guy. But I remembered those pancakes. They were different, and I said, “I wouldn’t mind having some of those pancakes.” And my dad said, “Oh, you want those pancakes?” He radioed Max and told him to get over close to Wild Goose. I didn’t really know what was going on.

All of a sudden [my dad] grabs me by the scruff of my neck and around my belt and he just throws me over the side [to the other boat], which is a few feet lower. I’m sure they were going very slow. My memory as a child was “Holy shit!” Everybody on that other boat was scrambling to catch me as I came flying over. And I had pancakes over there and at some point in the day we stopped and I got back on Wild Goose.

Power & Motoryacht: Was John Wayne a hands-on owner/operator?

Ethan Wayne: He had the option to be as involved in the operations of the boat as much he wanted to—or he could just sit back and relax. I can remember a time where a log raft broke up, so there were a bunch of big pieces of timber in the water in the Pacific Northwest, and the captain [Bert Minshall] said something like, “Hey Duke, I’m not comfortable going out there. I think we should just go in another direction or let some time pass.” And my dad said, “Don’t worry, I understand your issues. I’m going to take us through.”

He’d be up there in front of the giant metal wheel with a brass outer ring, and he’d sit there and drive the boat, spin the wheel right and left, and find his way through those big timbers and get to his destination. And in that boat, you didn’t have direct control of the motors. You’d signal the engine room and they’d switch gears, or add power or take off power and signal back. It was a little bit different when you’re trying to maneuver. You’re just moving these levers and ringing bells, and guys down in the engine room are waiting to see what the lever does.

Power & Motoryacht: Overall it sounds like pretty cathartic times for your dad. Was it always good times, or did things ever get hectic aboard Wild Goose?

Ethan Wayne: He’d get frustrated when people didn’t know how to tie up the dinghy right. We always anchored, so you had all of the anchoring issues. You had tenders hanging off the sides of the boat. Guys anchoring in the wrong place, dragging an anchor over yours. Yelling and screaming over this or that. And I think when you’re John Wayne you have a larger spotlight shining on you all the time. If something were to go wrong, people want to yell and point.

Power & Motoryacht: Can you elaborate on any of the challenges he faced because of his star power?

Ethan Wayne: I think that’s probably why we went to remote areas like Ketchikan, Big Bay and Desolation Sound [in Alaska]. Those places had a boating community, but it’s not like today, where there’s so many charter boats and so many other boats there. If you wanted a 50- or 60-foot boat back then, there weren’t that many you could just go buy. Today, you can just buy a 50-foot boat—they’re a dime a dozen, so there’s people everywhere. Back then it was quieter. And it was the beginning of a lot of these places. It was just terrific. He got to relax and be around a smaller crowd. [Wild Goose] gave him a respite from “Geez, Mr. Wayne, I hate to bother you but can I get a picture with you?” or “Will you sign this for my kid?” or “You’re my husband’s favorite person” or “My son looks up to you.” Up there he could relax, explore, pick berries and go swimming. It was great for him.

John Wayne took his final cruise on board Wild Goose in April, 1979, just weeks before his death. According to the boat’s captain, Bert Minshall, Wayne was particularly weak during the trip, but still managed to play backgammon, gin rummy and reminisce with his old friend. Before his death, on June 11, while putting his affairs in order, he sold the boat, something he repeatedly vowed that he would never do when he was healthy.

Ethan Wayne: [That year] was a very strange time for me. I was 17 years old, and I wasn’t a great student. He wasn’t doing well physically. My parents had already split up and there were financial issues, so my school work faded. I drove him to the hospital one night, up to the [Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center]. He went in and he never came out.

Power & Motoryacht: After he passed, how soon did you go boating again?

Ethan Wayne: I didn’t go boating for a while. But I think in ’87 I bought a small Tiara and started going back to the places that we went, like Catalina Island, to White’s Cove. We’d go over there and we’d hike and swim, basically the same thing he would do. And if I go over there today, I bump into generations of people who were there when I was a kid that are sharing it with their kids and their grandkids.

Power & Motoryacht: Do you own a boat now or are you traveling to those islands another way?

Ethan Wayne: I have the last boat Ed Monk Sr. designed—he died during its construction. It’s a 56-foot steel trawler. The hull was built by a place called Marine Iron up in the Pacific Northwest by a company called Nordlund, which still builds boats today. It belongs to a neighbor of my father’s, a guy named Jay Hilgren, who was always down in Mexico or up in the Pacific Northwest like my father was. It’s just a smaller boat, classic looking.

Power & Motoryacht: Do you feel like taking your nieces and nephews and continuing to boat in the places—like Catalina Island—you went growing up is a way to stay connected to your father?

Ethan Wayne: It is. You get back there in White’s Cove, and the sun starts setting and the wind settles down, and everything glasses off, and you’re floating and there’s a little motion and there’s birds around—it just takes me back to very happy times in my childhood. It was a place where my dad was just relaxed. He could just enjoy himself, especially if he had someone with him on the boat who he enjoyed; they’d play cards, they’d swim, have a drink at night, get some exercise in the morning. It’s just a great life.

Power & Motoryacht: What was the most important lesson he taught you out on the water?

Ethan Wayne: I don’t know if it was a lesson but just learning by example. I always wanted to please him, and I was certainly handy with the little boats, like docking the Whaler when there’s not much room. Sometimes he’d yell, “Let Ethan do it!” if it was taking someone else too long. Because, you know, I lived it. I loved when I was able to do something that pleased him. When I drove that little boat, and I could see the little gleam in his eyes that said the kid did it—that was it. He liked that stuff. And I liked it because he liked it.

Power & Motoryacht: I’m curious. Of the boaters that you did encounter, did you find them to be more respectful of your father’s space, maybe more so than the Southern California crowd?

Ethan Wayne: Well, I think just in that time period people were more respectful. You had to get a camera and put film in it to snap photos. So it was harder to get pictures; you couldn’t record. People had a little more privacy and they could be more relaxed and have fun with their friends.

Power & Motoryacht: What’s your favorite John Wayne performance?

Ethan Wayne: Sands of Ioa Jima is a terrific film, very inspirational. I enjoy it, except that he gets killed in it. Another movie called McQ; I don’t think a lot of people remember it. But again, I was with my dad up in Seattle and Washington State, a place called Ocean Shores. It had a big beach and he drove a Trans Am in it. I just had a ball being there with him, it’s not that I like that movie so much.

Today, Wild Goose is owned by Hornblower Cruises & Events, as a rental yacht for private events in Newport Beach. Last year, the Lido House Hhotel unveiled a 5-foot-long diorama of Wild Goose as a statement piece in the hotel’s lobby, showcasing the legendary boat in fine detail.

Ethan Wayne: The owner, Robert Olson, wanted the hotel to reflect the history of the area. And one thing he wanted to do was build this large-scale model of Wild Goose the way it used to look when my father owned it. The boat is still in the harbor, it’s owned by Hornblower, but you wouldn’t recognize it because they added two more stories on the boat, two decks higher than it used to be, so it really doesn’t have the same profile at all—and it’s obviously not maintained like it was in private hands. Bob built the model for the centerpiece of his hotel, with a drawing from the Navy of the original minesweeper hung on the wall with some photos of my dad around it. It’s just a really nice tribute, and it’s really nice to see the boat in the shape that it was in when my father owned it.

John, Ethan and Patrick Wayne in 1965. When not aboard the boat, Ethan spent part of his childhood on set with his dad.

Despite a rough-and-tumble exterior portrayed on screen, John Wayne was a devoted family man who always wanted to be around his kids.

Power & Motoryacht: Do you have any mementos from your time aboard?

Ethan Wayne: I’ve got a bunch of my dad’s clothes. He had these weird shoes from the ‘70s, these Wallabee-type shoes [laughs]. He would buy a pair of dress shoes, and he would stick the Sperry Topsider sole to the bottom so he could turn them into boat shoes. We still have those. People thought they were elevator shoes [to mask his height]. After he died, they’d tell me “Wow, I guess he wasn’t really that tall, huh?” And I’d go “No, he was huge.” Those aren’t elevator shoes, those are boat soles!

Power & Motoryacht: What was John Wayne like around his fans? Did he ever get a break from the spotlight?

Ethan Wayne: It was just constant. A lot of people felt a very personal connection to him. Whether it was the way he behaved on screen or off screen, but those values he represented—the military loved the guy. He supported them, but he was an actor, he was an artist; he wasn’t a war hero, and he wasn’t really a cowboy. But he was a terrific artist, and he portrayed them well. And I think they appreciated it. So, we have many stories of guys finding their way to the house. One I just happen to remember: A couple guys absconded with a little row boat from a beach across the bay. They rowed over; they just wanted to look at the house. And then they held onto the dock. We didn’t have security or anything. But my dad grabbed his Colt Python [.357 Magnum revolver] and put it in his pocket and walked out holding my hand and said, “What are you doing?” And they responded “We’re so sorry, we heard you lived here and we just wanted to come look at the house.” “Well who are you?” “We’re here, we’re doing this, we’re serving in this branch.” And he goes, “Well get up here and have a drink with me!”

He gave a lot of himself to the public. These were a couple of guys who were serving their country. Those types of situations: He couldn’t help but give of his time to these guys because he knew it meant something to them. And it meant something to him that they liked him. If he ran into a situation like that, he’d give his time. That’s your time; that’s giving a piece of your life to somebody. We’re all busy, right? We all have busy lives. But when you’re John Wayne, I mean, it’s just another level. If we meet 10 people a day, he’s encountering 100. If three or four of those people remember you, 100 percent of the people he encounters remember him. So, if they see him again, he’s gotta listen to “I met you in 1969, we were at that thing—do you remember?” Nobody forgets. Even as a little kid, I would think, “Wow, how come I can’t remember all of these people and they remember me?” It’s not until you get a little bit older until you realize there’s a huge John Wayne billboard behind your head.

Power & Motoryacht: I’ve read somewhere that he disciplined his kids with some of his classic movie lines. Is that true?

Ethan Wayne: I didn’t come to John Wayne through film. He was my dad. So, I loved him, but I loved him in a different way, I think, then people who love him from film. But he still had a great and quick wit, and he had a terrific sense of humor. Sometimes he would call me Big Stuff, but I think he called my brothers Big Stuff too when they were kids. I don’t know why. When I was a little boy it was John Ethan, and then at a certain point it just became Ethan—again, I don’t know why. He’d call you Shit Heel or other things too, but not as regularly.

PODCAST: Listen to the full interview with Ethan Wayne below