Billy Curtis, God rest his soul, was a fucking legend. Not just a midget legend, mind you, but a legend in his own right, four-foot-two stature be damned. Over a fifty-year career, Curtis appeared in dozens of movies and TV shows, including such classics as Gunsmoke, 77 Sunset Strip, Star Trek, and Get Smart. He played midgets, clowns, midget clowns, and the occasional alien. He was rarely more than a glorified cameo or on deep background, but he always made the best of his limited exposure.
Christ Almighty, the man even appeared in 1968’s Planet of the Apes as a “child ape”! And don’t get me started on his star turn as Mayor McCheese. Or as a bit player in the all-midget Western, 1938’s The Terror of Tiny Town. And now, thanks to my research, I was able to dig up information on 1973’s Little Cigars, where an all-midget gang goes on a murderous crime spree. They say it’s a comedy. I don’t care if the out-of-print DVD costs me $500, I’m ordering that fucker as soon as humanly possible. [Editor’s Note: Available on Amazon for streaming and a new DVD on eBay for $26.64 with free shipping]
To watch on YouTube, click here
Naturally, given Billy’s love of the Western genre, he would eventually end up working with Clint Eastwood. Sure, Clint blew an opportunity by not stunt-casting him as a criminal kingpin, bloodthirsty lord of a ranching empire, or even Jesse James himself, but it’s enough that he has numerous big scenes. And dialogue! Here, he is Mordecai: a joke prior to The Stranger’s appearance, but ever after, a big goddamn deal. A man in full, towering over bigger, fatter, and more disciplined townsfolk. At the tender age of 64, Curtis saved the best for almost last, screeching and leaping all over the screen with the energy of a precocious child. At one point, the town of Lago’s mascot. Now, both the sheriff and mayor. Reforms are coming, and you’d better believe they involve kissing his little ass.
The scene in which The Stranger (Eastwood) bestows both titles on Mordecai is legendary to be sure, and one of the few times in cinema history where a midget emerged triumphant. Sure, few might actually take Mordecai seriously, but when you’re backed by a squinting madman, you’ll pay attention, at least as long as that same madman sticks around. “I’m the sheriff?”, he squeaks. “I’m the sheriff! I’m not a runt anymore, I’m the sheriff! And the mayor!” In an instant, the quiet, embarrassed midget becomes a giant, and he’s not going to hide under tables and porches any longer. Instead, he’s about to get all up in your business. And if you doubted him, take a look at him standing proud as a peacock before the Lago faithful as they prepare for drills. Top hat, bullets strapped across his chest like he’s a pint-sized Pancho Villa, Mordecai is an image of the new West. Sure, the ultimate DEI hire, but without elections, he’s in for life. Deal with it.
Then comes the scene of target practice. Mordecai, beautifully atop an out-of-control stagecoach, hat in hand, roaring with fevered delight as the citizens of Lago take aim at the stuffed dummies trailing behind. A lifetime of humiliation all in the rearview mirror, with a future so bright Lago may never be the same. Hell, why not Governor? Senator? At minimum, Mordecai has ensured for himself an unprecedented level of ass, for if there’s anything the women of the West respond to, it’s a little extra coin in a man’s pocket and a shiny new star affixed to your vest. It’s very likely his first order of business as mayor will be to declare that a tryst in the barn is the first and most solemn duty of every lady within city limits. It’s the law, ma’am. Comply or pack your bags.
Billy Curtis defied any number of odds, the most glaring of which was that he lived to the ripe old age of 79. Moreover, he died not by his own hand, but via the most cliched manner of all, your basic heart attack. With a good 9 in 10 Hollywood midgets meeting gruesome and untimely ends (a midget over 40 was almost unheard of), to think of Billy passing on while gardening, or playing cards, or seducing some young starlet, brings a smile to the face and a tear to the eye. By all accounts, a fun-filled, glorious life, brimming with love, success, and piles of money. A chin-up, chest-out kind of life for a change. And I’d like to think that by granting Billy a role with authority – barking, finger-wagging authority – Eastwood ensured a happy ending, instead of the usual shotgun and depression headline that defined the era. Rest in peace, wee one.
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