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Cowboy State Daily is Wyoming’s largest newspaper with Wyoming’s most experienced journalists. 

<title>Bonus Video 1: Friday, April 11, 2025 | Cowboy State Daily</title>

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Headshot of Cowboy State Daily reporter, Dale Killingbeck

Dale Killingbeck

Wyoming Life

He was a strategist and leader at the July 26, 1865, Battle of Platte Bridge when a young lieutenant named Caspar Collins was killed by Native warriors.

A fort and city went on to be named after the fallen soldier. 

But after the campaign from 1866-1868 to stop settlement and incursion into tribal lands in central Wyoming, Red Cloud had a war, Indian agency, town, tobacco brand, mountain in Colorado, comic book villain and more named for him.

Jeffrey Means, University of Wyoming Department of History chair and an expert on Great Plains Indian culture, told Cowboy State Daily that Red Cloud definitely ranks near the top of significant Native American leaders.

“He’s on the top of the Lakota Mount Rushmore for sure,” he said. “His legacy of just being that guy that’s always trying to make things better for his people translated into having schools named after him and even a town. These kinds of things are part of that respect.”

However, when Red Cloud returned to Casper about 30 years after his famous win at Platte Bridge and the Red Buttes, he was no longer a conqueror but under escort from lawmen and facing potential jail time for illegally taking game out of season.

Means said the incident in 1894 is interesting because at that point in Red Cloud’s life he was going blind.

“Him out on a hunting trip is pretty amazing,” he said. “Maybe he was just there to get off the reservation because he didn’t like it there.”

An article in the Argus-Leader newspaper in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, on June 2, 1894, reported that Red Cloud, then 68, and 50 others had stopped in Oelrichs, South Dakota, to trade with merchants before heading west into Wyoming for the Shoshone Reservation.

“They plan to go on a hunting expedition,” the newspaper reported.

When the group rode into Natrona County, reports that they were illegally taking game out of season filtered into town.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Arrest"}]

Alfred James Mokler, publisher of the Natrona County Tribune from June 1897 to October 1914, wrote in his history of Natrona County published in 1923 that the chief was broken in health.

He also noted that Natrona County and Casper residents “decided” Indians needed to comply with the same laws as everyone else and that the “wholesale slaughter” of game needed to stop. 

Mokler’s account states the chief and his band were camped about 30 miles west of the city in the Pine Mountains. On June 10, a Natrona County Sheriff’s deputy and Casper town marshal were sent with warrants to arrest Red Cloud, his son Jack Red Cloud, and Dreaming Bear for killing game out of season.

“When the authorities came upon them, the Indians had broken camp and all of them except the big chief and his son were traveling in a westerly direction,” Mokler wrote. “There was an abundance of antelope meat and pelts in the chief’s wagon.”

The chief, his son and Dreaming Bear were shown the warrants and the Natives on the road were signalled to return and soon everyone was back in camp. Red Cloud and the others agreed to return to Casper but only if they could bring their guns.

Mokler’s account states that the trio spent the rest of the weekend in jail while Red Cloud’s wife sat outside mourning and armed Natives went through town scowling. 

At a hearing Monday morning, the prosecuting attorney argued for a conviction and heavy fines. The Indians countered they did not know the law, were without food and hungry.

Both Mockler and a man who visited the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota in July 1894, who likely heard about it from accounts of Natives, concur on what happened next.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Fines And Freedom"}]

Mockler wrote that the three men were fined $20 each by the judge. But given Red Cloud’s status and promise they would not kill any more game, they were let go without having to pay. The group then went to the Wind River Indian Reservation and, after the visit, came back through Casper and had again killed game along the way.

The three were arrested again and brought before the judge for trial. After initially refusing to pay the fine and with some of the Indians “making dire threats against the people of the town,” they asked the sheriff if he would take Red Cloud’s team, wagon and harness in exchange for the fines.

Mockler wrote that the sheriff agreed and made a bill of sale. The Natives returned to Pine Ridge.

In a story published in the Kansas City Weekly Journal on July 26, 1894, Charles A. Finlay was quoted as visiting Pine Ridge when the annual allotment of $100,000 was being distributed to the tribes. He reported Red Cloud “got into a little trouble.”

“It seems that he and his son have insisted from time to time on invading Wyoming and killing game there,” he wrote.

Several other newspapers also had stories on Red Cloud’s arrest and fines. The Sioux chief’s notoriety from Red Cloud’s War had not faded. 

During that war the chief led efforts focused on preventing travel on the Bozeman Trail and white settlement in the Powder River area of Wyoming and southeast Montana. The Natives’ victory in the Fetterman Fight against troops from Fort Phil Kearny near what is now Sheridan in December 1866 claimed 81 soldiers’ lives.

Red Cloud’s efforts leading the Lakota, Cheyenne and Northern Arapaho resistance forced the U.S. back to a negotiation table at the Treaty of Fort Laramie in 1868 and the removal of forts from the Powder River area. Native control of the region held until the wars of 1876 at Rosebud and Little Big Horn.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Promise Made"}]

Means said what is not as well known is that Red Cloud kept his word that he would never take up a weapon against the U.S. again. He made that promise during negotiations for the Great Sioux Reservation that occurred at Fort Laramie in 1868.

“His method of fighting from then on was taking trips to Washington to talk with Congress or the president, or the secretary of the interior about conditions on the reservation and what the nation needed for supplies,” he said.

In 1895, Red Cloud’s influence in Washington apparently had its impact. A story in the Cheyenne Daily-Sun Leader on Nov. 26 reported that Wyoming Gov. William Richards received communication from a Col. George, who was an attorney in Washington, requesting the state return the fines and costs paid by Red Cloud and others in Casper after their arrests the previous year.

The request was made due to a court decision in another case involving a Bannock native named Race Horse who took an elk. A judge ruled that the Indians had the right to hunt game. 

The governor replied that the case cited by George was under appeal “and that his request could not at present be considered.”

The case ultimately went to the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled that states had the authority to regulate hunting.

Red Cloud’s promise not to fight also meant he did not take part in the Battle of Rosebud or at Custer’s Last Stand, Means said. But one thing he advocated for was to put cattle on the Great Sioux Reservation, which would allow the Sioux to maintain their lifestyle similar to the years they enjoyed before bison were killed off by the whites.

“A lot of Native leaders wanted to do this,” Means said. “They wanted to harvest cattle, just like they harvested bison … that way they could maintain their cultural structure, their political, social, and economic structure."

Means said the U.S. government was not interested in allowing that to happen.

The chief was one of the last of the Lakota to accept his allotment of acreage that came out of the Sioux bill of 1889, which broke apart the Great Sioux Reservation and took away 11 million acres. It was then that the smaller reservations were established, including Pine Ridge where Red Cloud lived.

“He fought that for a long, long time,” Means said.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Spokesman For His People"}]

The historian said that during the early 1890s Red Cloud never became a proponent or advocate for the ghost dance. 

However, after the Battle of Wounded Knee, newspapers quoted the chief as advocating for change in the federal government’s Indian department.

“Red Cloud blames the Indian troubles largely on the Indian department,” the Rapid City (S.D.) Journal reported on Jan. 11, 1891. “Red Cloud gives us to understand that these agents and officers of various grades are looking out for themselves well, making no end of money and letting the Indians starve.”

As he aged, Red Cloud continued to advocate for his people, and though he and his wife lived alone he was surrounded by family and other Natives would seek him out and he was invited to events off the reservation.

“Oftentimes what he did is he had his grandchildren help him,” Means said. “They would hold his hand and lead him around because he really couldn’t see as he got older.”

In 1903, newspapers across the country had stories predicting the chief’s death was near and that he was in a teepee. But the chief rallied and went on to live six more years.

At his death on Dec. 10, 1909, the Omaha (Neb.) Daily Bee published a story Dec. 14 from the Pine Ridge Agency that quoted a Col. William McCune, who reportedly knew the chief for many years and characterized him as the “greatest Indian of the 19th century.”

“We all loved him and none more so than Colonel Cody, ‘Buffalo Bill,’ who knew him most intimately. It was always the pleasure and desire of Colonel Cody to present Red Cloud with some substantial remembrance twice a year,” McCune said. “And that duty was entrusted to me. The old chief was grateful for it, because he was a poor man.”

Red Cloud and Mule deer 7 12 26

<title>Wyoming History: Chief Red Cloud Was Locked Up In Casper For Killing Wild Game | Cowboy State Daily</title>

In 1894, Chief Red Cloud and a band of 50 Indians came through Natrona County on the way to the Wind River Indian Reservation and killed some wild game for food. He was arrested and spent time in a Casper jail while his wife mourned outside.

Wyoming History: Chief Red Cloud Was Locked Up In Casper For Killing Wild Game

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily's business and tourism reporter, Renée Jean

Renée Jean

It’s often said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but it’s worth more than that at the Bone Daddy Outlaw Bar and Grill in Dubois, which has undergone a dramatic transformation since it was purchased last year by Ben Barto and his wife, Sherry.

Hanging in one corner of the bar is a picture that says it all, even if few might guess at all the layers of meaning it holds for its owner.

It is a photo of motorcycle handlebars looking out at a scenic vista. The words say simply, “Life Behind Bars.”

“I was in junior high when I had my first motorcycle,” Barto told Cowboy State Daily. “And I had a neighbor with a faster motorcycle. He always used to brag about how he would outrun the cops when he was speeding.”

The brag turned out to be just that — as Barto soon discovered.

“We were riding together one time and we decided we were going to take off and see who was faster,” he said. “No sooner did we get started than there was a highway patrolman coming at us.”

The patrolman flipped his lights on, and the neighbor who loved to brag about outrunning the law meekly pulled over to the side. 

Barto, who’d never made such a claim, kept right on going.

“So the cop chased me for a while, and I couldn’t take a corner very well,” he recalled. “I had to lay the bike over and he caught up to me.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"'He Was A Friend Of Mine'"}]

Barto knew this was bad in every possible way, but he didn’t know just how bad until he got a look at the officer’s face.

“He was a friend of mine,” Barto admitted.

It was a friend who was shocked to see just who he’d been chasing.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"It grew worse as the night went on."}]

“My uncle, who also happened to be a policeman and lived right across the street from me, was at the jailhouse that night,” Barto said. “And my folks were on vacation.”

While his uncle was disappointed in Barto, he decided not to throw the youth in jail, saying he knew his dad too well. He knew what would happen to Barto when his father found out his son had been arrested.

“He did issue me a ticket,” Barto said.

When Barto’s dad did come home, it didn’t take him long to hear through the grapevine what his son had been up to while he was away. 

“He took me to the jail and had my uncle take me downstairs to the jail,” Barto said. “He had me put in the jail and shut the door.”

For a moment, all was silent but for the echoing clang of the heavy door closing.

Then his uncle said words Barto has never forgotten.

“The way you’re going, you’re going to spend a lot of time behind bars,” he told him. 

And then he left Barto there to think it over for a while.

Barto decided then the only bars he ever wanted to live behind were the right kind — his motorcycle bars or, in this case, the bar he’s purchased in Dubois and is restoring. 

The photo is his reminder every day that he chooses the life he wants to live. That includes staying away from the wrong kinds of bars. 

“I haven’t outrun any cops since then,” Barto said with a chuckle.

Decades after that lesson in “life behind bars,” Barto has traded the threat of steel jail doors for steel blades married to custom-carved antler bone handles — a business he calls Bone Daddy Knives. 

The business has quietly been putting Dubois on the map for almost three decades, starting with a contract he picked up after a Montana gift rep died, leaving a shopkeeper with a demand and no knives.

Today, 2 miles inside the Wind River Indian Reservation, Barto buys about 25,000 pounds of antlers a year from local “shed heads,” or antler hunters. The best of the pieces become Bone Daddy knife handles, while the rest become part of the booming antler dog-chew trade.

He and his small crew turn out a couple thousand knives a year, each one a custom job, which sell well across the West.

Barto also at one time carved ornaments from bone antlers, as well as hat pins and figurines, which were sold at gift shops in Yellowstone National Park, Gardiner, West Yellowstone, Sturgis, as well as to larger chains such as Cabela’s, Sportsman’s Warehouse and Bass Pro Shops.

Barto jokes, like a lot of craftsmen, that making knives was something he once liked — back when it was still a hobby.

“Now it’s a business,” he said with a chuckle. “But when you’ve got a business that provides you the funds necessary to keep going in whatever adventure you want to go off into, I guess you still have to keep doing it.”

It’s all about the kind of bars Barto wants to live behind.

The knife business is bankrolling his transformation of the Outlaw Bar from a dive — where 

 in Cowboy State Daily noted people might be concerned for their safety — to an establishment where the opposite is true.

When he and Sherry bought the bar it was, to say the least, not exactly turnkey.

“This was just a dump when we bought it,” Barto said. “But they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Barto could immediately see the potential. His wife took a little more sweet-talking.

“She was going crazy,” Barto admitted. “She’s like, ‘At your age, you want to start another project?!’”

Barto took it slow. He’d take his wife to the bar now and again for drinks. And just about every time the occasion presented just the right moment to say something like, “Oh look dear, you know what we could do with this part of the building?” Or, “Could you imagine if we did this in this room?”

Barto held up the mirror often enough that his wife finally gave in and said, “Yeah, let’s go ahead and do it.”

The bar’s biggest potential, he realized, wasn’t just what he could do with an artist’s eye and aesthetic inside. It was its position on a main highway to Yellowstone and the Tetons, a high-traffic strip where lots of tourists, sportsmen and bikers are roaring through town looking for their next adventure.

Its other big advantage is a deep lot, stretching far enough behind the bar to create a parking lot. 

“There is no parking anywhere else in town,” Barto said. “All of the Outlaw’s customers have been complaining about it for years.”

So Barto started his work in the back of the bar, carving out what he hopes will become a signature beer garden and games yard, with expanded parking, turf, fencing and, eventually, a raised stage for large outdoor events.

“We still have room to go back another 100 feet and still have a space for a possible stage up on top for a big venue,” he said. 

Inside, the transformation is further along, and personal. 

He’s hung up some of his and his wife’s work, tracing the arc of their lives from the early Bartolo Collectibles days to the present Bone Daddy Knife days, as well as wildlife mounts from hunting trips and, of course, the poster that captures his life’s motto to live his life behind only the bars he chooses.

There is still much dirt yet to move and asphalt to pour, but Barto is already thinking big for this bar, five to 10 years down the road.

“We want to be the best cowboy biker sportsman bar in Wyoming,” he said. “And from what we’ve been hearing from all of the locals lately, this new makeover has created a vibe all its own. That’s what they’re calling it. They say this place has vibe now.”

The “vibe” was on full display during the Fourth of July weekend, Barto added, when the bar hosted the band Second Ride. 

“I have never seen the bar that busy in my entire life,” he said. “It was standing-room-only Friday night.”

During Dubois’ famous tank parade, announcers even gave Barto a shoutout for cleaning up and reinventing the bar.

Barto is clear that, aside from aesthetics, he’s also made it a priority to clear out questionable clientele.

On his first night as an owner, he spotted a drug dealer working the room and said he “86’d” her on the spot. 

“My main focus, other than cleaning that bar up, was cleaning up the reputation,” he said. “If there was somebody in there who was always raising hell, we 86’d them.”

Signs at every entrance now warn potential troublemakers that a new sheriff owns the bar. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Bone Daddy Needed A Bar"}]

If Bone Daddy Knives is the financial engine behind the bar, the Bone Daddy persona is its soul.

It was developed over a 20-some year period, when Barto served as mascot for the Beartooth Rally’s Iron Horse Rodeo in Red Lodge, Montana.

At first, his costume was simple: The widest brim black cowboy hat he could find and a mask. The next year he added an air-brushed skeleton T-shirt and pants. 

Of course, then, cool costume and all, Bone Daddy needed a more appropriate ride.

The $65,000 custom bike he built includes his own screaming Bone Daddy moon logo as well as other artwork. 

“That was quite the undertaking,” he admitted. “But it is a masterpiece of artwork.”

When Barto retired from the Ironhorse Circuit after a couple of decades, he brought his Bone Daddy logo with him. The rearing motorcycle with its cowboy skeletal rider happened to be an almost-perfect match for the rearing horse logo at the Outlaw, a similarity that wasn’t lost on Barto.

“So I just added Bone Daddy to the back of the horse,” he said. “That’s all I did to change their logo.”

Barto, in addition to all the other hats he wears, is also president of the Professional Biker Rodeo Association, which he plans to start revving up next year as he’s completing renovations.

“Bone Daddy had to have a bar,” he said with a chuckle. “Now the trick is to make it the kind of place people remember for the right reasons.”

Bone Daddy Outlaw Saloon 7 12 26

<title>Longtime Knifemaker Transforming Dubois' Outlaw Bar From Dive Into Destination | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Dubois craftsman Ben Barto owns Bone Daddy Knives, a hobby turned big business that’s now bankrolling a transformation of Dubois' Outlaw Bar and giving the once-seedy watering hole a new vibe. “This was just a dump when we bought it,” Barto said.

Longtime Knifemaker Transforming Dubois' Outlaw Bar From Dive Into Destination

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily's Feature Reporter, Andrew Rossi.

Andrew Rossi

Entertainment

Howard Winchel “Hawk” Koch is a Hollywood legend. His credits include everything from “Chinatown” and “Marathon Man” to both of the “Wayne’s World" films.

Koch was the president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences and the Producers Guild of America, and 

 Robert Redford and Edward Norton among his close friends.

Those were among the stories and self-reflections he shared, for one night only, at the Shell Bar.

Koch was invited to entertain Shell residents with an evening presentation on what he’s learned after decades working behind the scenes in the film industry. The small but engaged crowd hung onto every word of wisdom and anecdote, many of which he included in his 2019 memoir: “Magic Time: My Life in Hollywood.”

[{"type":"text","text":"“I can’t get you an Oscar, but I can get you my book,” he said."}]

Koch had been to Wyoming several times, but it was his first visit to Shell. He said he was amazed by the scenery and immediately felt at home among the ranchers and strangers in the audience.

“The people have been so lovely, and I can’t get enough of the views,” he told Cowboy State Daily. “I’ve made so many movies (in California), but also in New Mexico, Utah, and Colorado. To me, we’re all cowboys.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"First Time In The Saddle"}]

Koch started his Shell presentation by sharing his first experience on a movie set. It was in Durango, Colorado, when he was 

“My dad was making a movie up there,” he said. “I was a shy little kid who used to take my mother's dress and put it around my face so nobody would see me. After a 20-minute drive, I saw teepees. I saw cowboys and Indians, and this shy kid started running through the set.”

He didn’t know he was on the set of “Across the Wide Missouri,” released in 1951. 

A “Native American” approached the young Koch, put him on his lap, and told him “stories of many moons.” He was actually being entertained by Ricardo Montalbán.

Then, a cowboy rode up and asked Koch if he’d ever been on a horse. He hadn’t, so the cowboy set Koch in front of him and took him for a ride around the movie set.

Later that night, Koch’s father, Howard Winchel Koch, got to tell his wife their son had gotten his first horse ride with Clark Gable.

From that day, Koch loved the movies. As a result, he’s never worked a day in his life.

“It’s magical,” he said. “I love movies, and hopefully some of you do, too. I loved being on any movie set and in any movie theater. It’s magical for me.”

That was the partial inspiration for the title of Koch’s memoir, “Magic Time.” The other source was a direct quote from the legendary Jack Lemmon.

“I got to work with Jack Lemmon a couple of times, including ‘The Odd Couple,’” he said. “What I learned is that Jack could be talking to you, and if he heard ‘Roll camera,’ he would say, ‘Magic time,’ out loud, and would totally get into character. He could be talking about anything, and he’d get right back into character.”

Now, whenever Koch needs to concentrate, he repeats Lemmon’s line in his head.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"'The Primal Scream'"}]

The first movie Koch worked on was 1966’s “This Property Is Condemned,” starring Natalie Wood and Redford, in one of his earliest films.

Koch, then 19, quickly made a big impression by quickly getting Wood out of her trailer.

“One of the first things I had to do was go get Natalie Wood from basecamp,” he said. “I knocked on her door and said, ‘We’re ready for you.’ She said, ‘Oh, I'll be out in a little while.’”

In an unexpected wave of inspiration, Koch told Wood that the cinematographer James Wong Howe had said to him, “The light is perfect.” That promptly got Wood out of her trailer and onto the set.

Since Wood “never got out of her trailer on the first ask,” Koch impressed his peers by doing just that. He had a comically cynical explanation.

“(Actors) are narcissistic and they like the way they look on camera,” he said. “I used that line on every actor for over 60 years.”

That film started Koch’s lifelong friendship with Redford. He recalled a road trip he took with the young actor, driving from Los Angeles to land the actor had “just bought” in Utah.

“I’m driving on a good road with no moon and a few stars when Redford says, “Pull off the main road.’ I asked why, and he said, ‘Just pull off the main road.’”

Koch obliged and drove down a dirt road until Redford grabbed the gear shift, put the car in park, and grabbed the keys.

“I am scared,” Koch said. “I'm looking for a knife. I'm looking for a gun. I don't know what's going on. He gets out of his side (of the car), and I get out of my side. We're both looking at each other over the hood of the car.”

Then, Redford started yelling at the top of his lungs. Koch called it “the primal scream.”

When he was done, Redford smiled, laughed, and threw the keys back to Koch.

[{"type":"text","text":"“Try it,” he said. “It'll de-stress you.”"}]

[{"type":"text","text":"Koch said that was “the night Robert Redford almost slit my throat.”"}]

Decades later, when Koch was president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, he was preparing to appear before thousands of people on stage at the Oscars. When he got a 15-minute warning, Koch followed his friend’s advice.

“I went outside the Dolby Theater and what did I do? I did a primal scream, and I came back in,” he said.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Have Fun"}]

Koch infused his anecdotes with wisdom that he hoped everyone in the Shell Bar, especially the younger folk, could take to heart.

“After 80 years of living, I've got a few ideas of maybe the things we all ought to do, and I'm sure most of you probably do the same things,” he said.

His experiences with Wood and Redford epitomized the idea to “have fun.” He was reminded of that during the production of “Wayne’s World.”

Koch brought his son, Robbie, to the set on the day they filmed the scene in which Mike Myers encounters Robert Patrick, making a cameo as the T-1000 from “Terminator 2.”

“It was a rehearsal,” Koch said “(Patrick) walks up to the car and says, ‘You were speeding.’ And Robbie, in front of the crews, the writer, the director, and Mike Myers goes, ‘Well, that’s not funny.’”

Myers, “to his credit,” asked Robbie why it wasn’t funny. Robbie pointed out that the T-1000 always carried a photo of John Conner, asking if anyone had seen him.

In the finished film, the T-1000 approaches Wayne with a Polaroid photo and asks Myers, “Have you seen this boy?” Wayne screams and speeds away.

[{"type":"text","text":"The boy in the Polaroid is Robbie, on set the same day as the shoot."}]

“Every time we’d go to a theater, it got a big laugh,” Koch said. “If you're not having fun in your life, find something else to do, because it goes by way too quickly. Way too quickly.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Have Courage"}]

To emphasize the point “have courage,” Koch told the story about how firing Robert De Niro and losing his marriage led to a moment that defined his life and career on the set of “Marathon Man.”

In September 1975, Koch was working on his first film as a full producer, the ill-fated film “Bogart Slept Here.” It was slated to star De Niro in his third film, right after his Oscar-nominated performance in “Taxi Driver,” but there was a problem.

“De Niro didn't know how to do comedy, especially at that time,” he said. “It was directed by Mike Nichols, and if anybody’s funny, it’s Mike Nichols. But after two weeks of rehearsal, De Niro wasn’t funny.”

At one point, De Niro did such an intense Bela Lugosi impression, telling the young actress playing his daughter that he “wanted to suck the chocolate syrup from your veins,” that she ran off the set, terrified and yelling, “That man’s not my daddy.”

Nichols eventually pulled Koch aside to say he would not work with De Niro.

“I won't tell you what he actually said about De Niro,” he said. “I could see the steam coming out of his ears.”

After two weeks of trying to recast the role, nobody wanted to replace De Niro. The studio killed the film, which was eventually resurrected and released as 1977’s “The Goodbye Girl.”

When Koch told his wife what happened, fearing his career was over, she kicked him out of their home and immediately sought a divorce.

Koch was despondent, crashing on a friend’s couch, when he got a call from Robert Evans at Paramount, best known for his work on “The Godfather.” Things weren’t going well on the set of “Marathon Man.”

“Evans said they’d been shooting for 10 days and they were 10 days behind,” Koch said. “I asked what the problem was, and he said, ‘How the hell do I know? Why do you think I'm calling you?’ So, I got on a plane and flew to New York.”

Hawk Koch, a Hollywood producer and former president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, stopped by the Shell Bar last week to talk about his work on movies such as "Chinatown," "Marathon Man," and "Wayne's World" and his encounters with legendary actors.

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