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The close of the century brought America more than the dawn of a new millennium. The final decade of the 1900s witnessed an entire era passing away or what is more appropriate, "riding off into the sunset." By December of 1999, the last of the silver screen cowboys had slipped away to live only in the youthful recesses of our minds. The King of the Cowboys, Roy Rogers passed away in 1998 only to be followed within a week by one of his leading ladies, Penny Edwards.

As 1999, drew to a close, "America’s Favorite Cowboy," Gene Autry passed away. And then, shortly after Christmas, the last of the silver screen cowboys died. Clayton Moore, known to millions around the world as, "The Lone Ranger," was stricken suddenly by a heart attack and died at a hospital near his home in Calabasas, California.

Gone from the American scene were the men and women who had inspired generations of children to higher codes of conduct. Uncomplicated symbols of truth, honesty, and justice that had taught us that there was no right way to do a wrong thing, faded from life as had their images on the silver screen and the flickering tube.

Faraway, one can almost hear the distant sounds of thundering hoof beats pounding out a rhythm to "Happy Trails" or the stirring cadence of the "Overture of William Tell." Above the ring of horses and music trails a receding but still hardy, "Hi Yo Silver." Sadly, these are heroes of old that won’t be, "Back in the Saddle Again."

Clayton Moore was one of the good guys. He was, off the screen, very much like his on screen persona. My years as a director in the film and television industry gave me an opportunity to get to know many of the western heroes of my youth. I was on the set when Roy Rogers portrayed himself on screen for the last time, rounding up a gang of auto rustlers in "Happy Trails," for an episode of the hit television series, The Fall Guy. And, I was fortunate enough to direct Gene Autry in his final acting piece, on a television network special, America – A Call to Greatness, with Charlton Heston. But, I have to say that some of my warmest memories come from my association with the man who was to most Americans, the Lone Ranger.

I first met Clayton Moore in the early 70s. I was in a hotel lobby in Houston when I heard that resonant voice of his asking a question of the desk manager. I recognized him immediately and struck up a conversation. From this simple chance encounter to his final years, we remained close friends. Never once, in nearly thirty years, did I ever see him disappoint a fan or lose his own personally honed integrity. On the contrary, he was the model that many fans, who had grown up with the Lone Ranger, had come to admire.

Clay (as his friends knew him) went through some very difficult times at the start of the series. When he signed on to do the role of the Lone Ranger for television he had to sign a rather extensive contract prohibiting him from making personal appearances without his mask. This was a major concession to ask of an actor who had become quite popular with theatre going audiences as the lead in many of the Republic Pictures’ serials.

Moore’s character as a leading archeologist in Perils of Nyoka, became the model for Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Whether he was Jesse James or Zorro, he had already developed a following and was working steadily. Now, he was being asked to subvert his own identity into that of the masked man of the plains.

During the first year of production, George W. Trendle (one of the Lone Ranger creators) constantly monitored the productions, frequently calling Clay and asking him to "lower" his voice. Trendle wanted Clay to do an imitation of the program’s earlier radio Lone Ranger, Brace Beemer. Clay felt that while Brace’s inflection was wonderful for radio, it would be wrong for film or television.

"I never had problems taking direction," said Clay, "but, Mr. Trendle wanted the on screen character to be overdone or over acted. I knew that if I did that, the series would fail. But, if you listen to the first year of production and the following years, you’ll hear and see a difference in the way the character is portrayed."

"I suspected he was going to replace me," stated Clay. "Before the season ended, my mask kept getting larger and larger."

The actor was right. After the first year of production, George W. Trendle decided to let Clay go in favor of hiring a taller actor with a "deeper" voice, whom he felt, looked more the role.

Trendle had hired Clayton Moore, based upon the actor’s performance as Zorro in the famous Republic Serial, The Ghost of Zorro. Now, Trendle had viewed another serial, Captain Africa, with John Hart. In this Columbia cliffhanger, Hart portrayed a "Phantom" type of masked hero. Standing six foot three, John towered several inches over Clay. So, in true Hollywood fashion, Clay was out and John was in. But, this was not to last.

In a single season, Clay had brought a visual quality to the Lone Ranger than no other actor had been able to do. Neither Lee Powell, the first "screen" Lone Ranger nor Bob Livingston, the second, had the on screen "presence" that Clayton Moore brought to the series. As Brace Beemer had been to radio, Clayton Moore was to film and television.

John Hart faced a similar problem that his predecessors had and the fans were objecting. By comparison with Clay’s more natural and mature portrayal, John was seen as wooden, stiff, and uninteresting. Also missing, was the wonderful chemistry that Clay and Jay Silverheels (Tonto) had developed. The fans saw the difference and they were unhappy.

The one season with Hart was a disaster. Clayton was quickly reunited with the role (and a pay raise) and new episodes hurriedly shot. To save time, many exteriors were filmed on crowded sets with fake boulders and trees. But, the fans didn’t seem to care. Their Lone Ranger was back once more. The remaining episodes with Hart were canned, never to reappear for over 25 years. Clay owned the role until the series left the air. From that day forward, no one questioned his ability to play the masked man of the plains.

After a long run, the series left the air but the producers still wanted Clay to make appearances because it was good for the show’s reruns. So, with the "always in mask clause" still in effect, the actor obliged.

In the early 50s, oilman, Jack Wrather bought the property and brought the Lone Ranger to the big screen in an "A" grade feature carrying the same name as the character. It was an instant box office success and a second feature followed. At the same time, a new full color television series was produced to take advantage of the Lone Ranger’s increasing popularity.

Clay toured the world as the Lone Ranger, meeting with dignitaries, kings and presidents. As with his earlier contracts with Trendle, Clayton could still not appear without his mask. The television series wrapped in 1958 and the reruns never stopped. It was once said that the sun never set on the Lone Ranger. Somewhere, everyday in the United States, an episode was playing. As a result, new generations of children were growing up with the masked Ranger and by extension; Clay’s personal appearances never let up.

Unlike many actors who felt that personal appearances were "beneath them," Clayton Moore was an exception. He loved it. Of course, Clay had a big advantage over many actors who couldn’t speak without pre-written dialogue. Moore could talk on his feet. He could speak extemporaneously and his fans loved it. Whether it was an appearance with President Nixon to raise awareness for buying savings stamps or opening a new shopping mall, Clayton was there, enjoying the company of a young fan as much as that of a president.

Once, after a heartwarming tour to England where Clayton Moore drew record crowds, Clay made a decision. Although, he had been offered other roles when he left the series, he decided that the Lone Ranger would be his last one. The Wrather Corporation loved it since Clay was making them money. So, with their blessing, he continued on. In the early 70s, Clayton Moore and his close friend Jay Silverheels filmed a series of delightful and very successful commercials. Even though it had been decades since he had portrayed the character on film, Clay still looked the role.

Suddenly, in the late 70s, it all changed. Without notice, a new Long Ranger film was mounted with new stars. Clay was abruptly instructed to cease all personal appearances with his mask. What hurt Clay was that this information came in a very impersonal way from a corporate attorney, and not from Jack Wrather, his friend and the president of the company.

With equal speed the national press and major networks took up the cause. From 60 Minutes to Johnny Carson, the Hollywood community set about to right a wrong. Talk radio informed fans of the unfairness and the fans rose to the challenge. The end result was that the new film, in spite of the Lone Ranger’s popularity, failed dismally at the box office. Audiences stayed away in droves and as a result, the film came and went.

Today, when people try to recall the actor that took on the Lone Ranger role, they rightfully ask, "Who was that, masked man?" No one knows (for the record it was Clinton Spilsburry).

In the end, the litigation was dropped and Jack Wrather conceded the mask issue. His wife, Bonita "Granville" Wrather sent a note to the attorneys, which read: "Please be advised that the Wrather Corporation hereby grants to Clayton Moore the rights to wear the Lone Ranger mask. Jack died three weeks later.

A nation of fans was relieved to see Clay reappear with his mask in place. During the time of litigation, Clay, still true to the character, continued making personal appearances while wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. He hated those glasses! Now, in 1984 he could take them off and don the mask once more. It had been a matter of principle and principle had won.

This is probably a good time to clear up a story that has circulated for years. During the late seventies and early eighties rumors were passed around that Clayton Moore actually believed that he was the Lone Ranger and if caught without his mask, he would suddenly cover his face with his hands and run away. This was quite simply, not true.

Clay always knew who he was. He recognized that the Lone Ranger was a fictional character but one that was important to the American people. It never mattered to him whether he was photographed with or without a mask. However, due to his contracts, he was unable to appear publicly without his mask unless he was appearing as actor, Clayton Moore, which he some times did.

The myth that Clay somehow suffered from role identity was cruel. It began with his litigation battles, which started during the filming of the 70s Lone Ranger film disaster. Needless to say, it wasn’t Clay’s side of the litigation that started the rumors.

Clayton was always conscious of his position as a role model for the young and during his life, he modified his personal habits to fit that model. He didn’t smoke, seldom drank, and never in the nearly 30 years I knew him, used profanity. Its not that he was critical of someone for smoking or having a drink, it’s just something he didn’t do.

In 1980, Clay made a personal appearance at the Houston Astrodome. My daughter, Lesley, who was six at the time, wanted to go see him and Silver. Clay suggested that she come by after the performance. As luck would have it, we were tied up in traffic and arrived an hour and a half late. But, waiting there dressed in blue and wearing his white hat was Clay. As Lesley approached, Clay reached over and lifted her up, placing her on the white stallion. For over a half-hour he rode her around the arena.

I am uncertain to this day, as to which was brighter…the sun or the smile on my daughter’s face. Such was the kindness of the man who had become known as, the Lone Ranger.

In 1978, Clay attended a film conference where I was hosting the celebrity guest panels. It was in the early afternoon on the third day of the conference and a number of the celebrities decided to slip quietly down to the hotel bar and have a drink. I sat next to Noel Neil (Lois Lane) on one side and CC Beck (creator of Captain Marvel) on the other. At the other end of the table sat Jackson Bostwick (who at the time was starring as Captain Marvel in Saturday Morning’s Shazam). Next to him were Kirk Alyn (the first film Superman) and a number of current action and western film and television stars.

Clay joined us at the table as the waitress was taking our orders. Jackson began by ordering a gin and tonic and the rest of us followed suit. Clay ordered last. He quietly leaned over and whispered to the waitress, "please bring me a milk."

Now, there are two things you have to understand about Clayton Moore. First of all, anyone who ever knew or spoke with Clay always felt that they were talking with the Lone Ranger. It’s not that he was confused. He wasn’t. But, he had that effect on fans and friends alike.

The second thing is that no matter how low Clayton ever spoke, his voice carried. As he whispered his order for milk, Jackson Bostwick looked over at me. I glanced at Superman who looked at Lois Lane who turned to the other seated cowboys for help. Suddenly, Jackson, having more courage than the rest of us, spoke up.

"Uh, yeah – that sounds good. Waitress, if you would, change my drink to milk, please."

And then, one by one, everyone around the table changed their drink. The National Dairy Association had a good day. Such was the influence of Clayton Moore.

Clay could get angry but seldom spoke badly of anyone. I recall that once when he was speaking at a film festival in Nashville, he was asked about a remark that had been made by his friend, Jay Silverheels. Jay had only recently appeared on Johnny Carson. During the appearance, Jay commented that he was such a good rider that he often had to hold "Scout" (his horse) back so that the Lone Ranger’s great horse, Silver, could take the lead.

"Don’t you think," asked a fan, "that Silverheels was slamming you?"

Clay’s blue eyes turned toward the questioner, "Listen," Clay intoned, "Jay was an excellent rider, a fine actor, and an even finer man. He was my friend. I’m proud to have worked with him during our years together on and off screen. If he says that he had to hold his horse back, you’d better believe him. Jay never lied."

The audience sat stunned for a moment. The man asking the question tried to sink lower into his seat to avoid the disapproving glare of others. Suddenly, the audience of about 800 broke into a standing ovation. Such was Clayton Moore…he was one of a kind.

Clay lost Sally, his wife of 46 years, in late 1986, shortly after he had won back his right to the mask. It was a loss that affected him deeply. In the years that followed, as he received an increasing number of special awards, he would often comment, "Sally, would have loved to have been here for this."

In 1987 Clayton Moore received the prestigious Hollywood Star on the Hollywood walk of fame. A few years later he was inducted into the Cowboy Hall of Fame and in 1994, received the Western Heritage Award at Gene Autry’s famous Western Heritage Museum.

When Clay received his "Star" a tour bus carrying fans all wearing masks, cheered as they rode by. Clay stepped up and looked down as his "Star" was uncovered. There, gleaming in the sun, as a permanent brass record of Hollywood history, read the inscription:

"Clayton Moore – The Lone Ranger"

For the first time on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Clay had become the only actor to be officially identified with his character.

In 1992, Clay met Clarita Petrone at a friend’s home. They had met previously, in 1952 and Clay still remembered the meeting. Clarita’s husband, like Clay’s wife, had passed away. The two found much in common, fell in love, and on January 18, 1992, married at his daughter’s home in Los Angeles.

Clay’s final years were peaceful ones. In the years that I had known Clay he was constantly working on his autobiography. Finally, in 1996 it was published to terrific reviews and received a wonderful reception from its readers. It was titled, I Was That Masked Man, and provided not only a marvelous narrative of Clay’s life, but an interesting perspective on the early film and television industry.

Clay was never too busy to take a call from a friend or to help out whenever he could. But, finally age was catching up with him. His mind was excellent to the end and when he went, it was sudden. I think that perhaps Clay would have wanted it that way. Clayton Moore died in December of 1999 pretty much as he had lived, with character and courage.

On January 1, 2000, I stood outside our home gazing at a beautiful sunset. I had been thinking of Clay when I was startled to hear the strains of the "Overture of William Tell," playing on a neighboring son’s tape deck. For Christmas, the child had received some recorded adventures of the Lone Ranger, and he and a friend were listening to them. As the sun sank into the twilight and as the music faded, I turned to walk back into the house.

"It’s the end of an era," I thought. And then, I heard a voice resounding over the neighboring child’s boom box. It was asking that often-heard question, "Say, who was that masked man?"

I walked on into the house. No need to wait. I already knew the answer. It was Clayton Moore, the Lone Ranger.