LOS ANGELES — For decades, the simmering hostility between two of Hollywood’s most formidable screen tough guys, Robert Ryan and Robert Mitchum, has been the stuff of industry legend, a whispered feud passed down through studio corridors and late-night tell-alls. Now, newly surfaced accounts and a comprehensive review of the actors’ lives and letters have laid bare the explosive truth behind the animosity that culminated on the set of the 1951 film noir “The Racket.” It was never a clash of egos over billing or a rivalry for the same roles.
It was a fundamental, irreconcilable war of values between a man who saw acting as a moral crusade and a man who saw it as little more than a paycheck.
Robert Ryan, born Robert Bushnell Ryan on November 11, 1909, in Chicago, Illinois, was a product of privilege and discipline. His father, a successful builder, provided a comfortable childhood that belied the intense, often tortured characters Ryan would later embody on screen. At Dartmouth College, Ryan excelled as an athlete, particularly in boxing, a skill that would lend visceral authenticity to his later roles as pugilists and brawlers.
He earned a degree in English in 1932, but his path to stardom was anything but direct.
He drifted through a series of jobs, from ranch hand to a worker for the Works Progress Administration, before finding his calling in the theater. His journey to Hollywood was not immediate, but his passion for the craft ultimately led him to train at the Max Reinhardt Workshop in Los Angeles. There, he honed the skills that would make him one of the most compelling actors of his generation.
By 1940, he had secured his first significant film role, but it was not until the mid-1940s that Ryan began to see widespread recognition for his talent and resilience.
The breakthrough came in 1947 with his standout role in the film “Crossfire.” In this gripping film noir, Ryan portrayed a bigoted ex-soldier, a performance that earned him an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor. The role highlighted his willingness to take on morally complex, often disturbing characters.
Ryan’s ability to infuse his roles with intensity and internal conflict made him a powerful presence on screen. Yet, despite being cast frequently as villains or emotionally troubled characters, Ryan’s real-life principles could not have been more different from the men he portrayed.
Offscreen, Robert Ryan was known for his deep commitment to progressive political beliefs. At a time when Hollywood was rife with conservative ideologies and the blacklist was ruining careers, Ryan was vocal in his support of civil rights, nuclear disarmament, and anti-racism. He was a staunch opponent of the House Un-American Activities Committee, or HUAC, and never hesitated to express his political views, even at the risk of being blacklisted himself.
His public stance was not just political; it was deeply personal. Ryan’s activism was grounded in his belief in justice and equality, and he used his status in Hollywood to amplify the voices of the marginalized.
His progressive ideals were reflected in the roles he chose, often portraying characters who challenged societal norms and fought for what was right. Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, Ryan’s career flourished. He appeared in a range of films, from intense war dramas to westerns, tackling diverse roles that showcased his versatility.
In 1949, his portrayal of an aging boxer in “The Set-Up” resonated deeply with audiences as the character’s existential despair mirrored Ryan’s own experiences with the pressure of a high-profile career. He continued to challenge himself in films such as “Bad Day at Black Rock” in 1955 and “Billy Budd” in 1962, where he portrayed morally complex characters that confronted societal injustices head-on.
In addition to his work in film, Ryan was also a devoted theater actor with several successful Broadway appearances, notably in “Long Day’s Journey into Night,” which further cemented his dramatic range and passion for the stage. On March 11, 1939, Robert Ryan married Jessica Cadwalader, a woman whose intellectual depth and progressive ideals matched his own. Jessica, the daughter of a prominent Philadelphia family, was well educated and engaged in social causes, making her a true partner for Ryan, both personally and professionally.
Their marriage lasted over three decades, a testament to their mutual respect and shared dedication to education, social justice, and the arts.
Together, they raised three children: Timothy, Cheyenne, and Lisa. The Ryan family home was filled with intellectual stimulation, and their dedication to progressive causes was reflected in the environment they created for their children. Their marriage was not just based on love; it was also built on a foundation of shared values and purpose.
In 1951, Robert and Jessica Ryan’s commitment to progressive values extended to the world of education. The couple, along with a small group of like-minded parents, founded the Oakwood School in their backyard in Los Angeles. The school was created as an alternative to traditional educational models, emphasizing creativity, individuality, and social responsibility.
The Ryans believed in fostering not only intellectual development but also emotional and social growth in children. The Oakwood School represented a broader shift in mid-20th-century America toward progressive, humanistic approaches to learning. Robert and Jessica’s efforts to establish this educational model were a reflection of their broader commitment to improving society one child at a time.
Throughout their marriage, the Ryans lived in a historic residence in New York City: The Dakota, an iconic building with a rich cultural history. The Dakota was home to many prominent artists, musicians, and actors, providing the Ryans with access to Manhattan’s vibrant cultural life.
The Ryans’ life in the Dakota was marked by intellectual and creative stimulation consistent with their values. In a twist of fate, the Ryans eventually sold their apartment to John Lennon and Yoko Ono. This connection, though indirect, tied them to a pivotal moment in cultural history.
The Dakota would later become tragically famous as the site of John Lennon’s assassination in 1980, adding a layer of poignancy to the building’s legacy. The end of Robert and Jessica Ryan’s partnership came in 1972 with Jessica’s passing from cancer. Her death left Robert with a profound sense of loss, both emotionally and intellectually.
Jessica had been not only his wife but also his closest companion in life and activism. The two had shared a dedication to social justice and education, and her passing left a void that would never be filled. Jessica’s influence, however, continued to resonate in Robert’s life, in the lives of their children, and in the many educational and social initiatives they had fostered together.
Her death marked a significant turning point in Robert’s life, but his work and the values they had shared remained a testament to their enduring partnership. It was against this backdrop of moral seriousness and personal loss that the feud with Robert Mitchum took on its full, bitter meaning.
Though Robert Ryan’s career is remembered for his dedication to socially relevant roles, it was also marked by a significant personal conflict with another Hollywood icon, Robert Mitchum. The two actors, despite their similarities on screen as tough, brooding characters, had starkly different off-screen personalities. Ryan was a principled, politically active man, while Mitchum was known for his irreverent attitude and disdain for the Hollywood system.
Their feud was rooted in a clash of values rather than professional jealousy. Ryan, deeply committed to his craft and his convictions, found Mitchum’s laid-back, often mocking demeanor infuriating.
Their relationship came to a head during the filming of “The Racket” in 1951, where Ryan, frustrated by Mitchum’s lack of seriousness, reportedly complained about Mitchum’s unprofessional behavior. Mitchum, in turn, mocked Ryan’s earnestness, creating an atmosphere of tension that was felt on and off set. The animosity between Robert Ryan and Robert Mitchum went beyond petty disagreements.
It was a fundamental clash of ideologies. Ryan was a man of deep conviction, dedicating himself to social causes, education, and political activism. Mitchum, by contrast, viewed acting as little more than a job and often mocked the seriousness with which Ryan approached his work.
Their differing perspectives on life, work, and Hollywood created an unbridgeable gap. For Ryan, acting was a moral pursuit, a way to challenge societal wrongs, while Mitchum was more concerned with maintaining his bad-boy persona. The tension between them was palpable to anyone who witnessed their interactions, and it was clear that the two could not be further apart in terms of their views on both life and their craft.
Ryan’s final years were marked by a continuation of his remarkable work ethic and his commitment to moral and social causes. He continued to work throughout the 1960s and early 1970s, appearing in a variety of roles that reflected his values.
His final film role in “The Iceman Cometh” in 1973 was a powerful portrayal of a former anarchist, reflecting his ability to dive deep into complex, morally conflicted characters. Sadly, Ryan was diagnosed with terminal cancer during this time, and he faced the illness with the same quiet dignity that characterized his on-screen presence. His passing on July 11, 1973, marked the end of a remarkable career in film, stage, and television.
Despite his frequent portrayal of tough, morally ambiguous characters, those who knew Ryan personally described him as a soft-spoken, compassionate man who remained committed to his principles until the very end.
In his final days, Robert Ryan offered a rare glimpse into his inner thoughts, reflecting on the richness of his life and career. Despite the challenges he had faced both professionally and personally, Ryan expressed a deep sense of gratitude. “I’ve been lucky as hell with my career and my family,” he said with a quiet smile.
This simple yet profound statement encapsulated his life. Ryan was a man who, despite his often harsh on-screen persona, was deeply appreciative of the people who had stood by him and the opportunities he had been given. His death was a loss to the world of cinema, but his legacy lived on in the films he left behind, his activism, and the enduring values he passed on to his children.
Robert Ryan’s career was defined by his ability to portray morally complex characters, often confronting societal issues with honesty and integrity. While he was frequently cast as villains, in reality, he was a deeply principled individual dedicated to his craft and to causes larger than himself. Ryan’s involvement in social and political issues, his commitment to education, and his dedication to family shaped the man he was offscreen.
His legacy continues to live on through his films, his activism, and the family he left behind. Robert Ryan may have been a man of intense, often turbulent convictions, but his life was ultimately one of quiet grace, humility, and a commitment to justice. The hatred he felt for Mitchum was not born of vanity, but of a profound disgust for a man who, in Ryan’s eyes, stood for everything he opposed: cynicism, detachment, and a refusal to use his immense talent for anything beyond personal amusement.
Now, with the full context of Ryan’s life and values, the reason for that hatred is finally clear.
