HAVE SIX-GUN, WILL DELIGHT : HOW A NEW ENGLAND BOY CAME WEST TO GET HIS PIECE OF THE COWBOY DREAM.

Byline: Carol Bidwell Daily News Staff Writer

Sitting in darkened movie theaters among spilled boxes of popcorn and sticky candy wrappers, watching Gene Autry and Roy Rogers gallop after the bad guys, Patrick Bousquet decided he wanted to be a cowboy.

It was quite a goal for a Massachusetts boy whose father was a furniture mover, who lived far from the wild, wild West - and even farther from Hollywood, where those screen chases were played out.

And like so many childhood dreams, Bousquet's was never realized.

But the Simi Valley man, now 61, did manage to carve himself a brief niche as a stuntman at Corriganville, a Santa Susana movie ranch that served as a backdrop for hundreds of movies and TV shows and the site of weekend western stunt shows for audiences during the 1950s and 1960s.

``I played everything from a parson to a storekeeper to a blacksmith to an undertaker to a deputy to Wyatt Earp,'' said Bousquet, a retired Simi Valley Unified School District maintenance worker. ``In the gunfight at the OK Corral, I also played Morgan Earp; I played Sam Bass and Billy the Kid. I got to play many parts because I could handle a six-gun. I got hung and whips (lashed) around my neck. I fell off buildings, through windows.''

The movie ranch, which during its heyday rivaled Knott's Berry Farm in attendance, closed in 1966, and the western town burned in brush fires that swept through in 1969 and 1971.

With the Rancho Simi Open Space Conservation Agency planning to reopen parts of the ranch as soon as this summer, Bousquet hopes he can round up other former stuntmen to generate enthusiasm for the reconstruction of the town.

``If they could get all the movie studios to contribute - they all used the property over the years - they could raise enough money to restore the Corriganville town,'' he said. ``They'd need large contributors and somebody to head the effort, but I think they could do it. And they should. After all, Corriganville's certainly a part of Hollywood history.''

Rick Johnson, senior administrative assistant for the Rancho Simi Recreation and Park District, which is part of the Open Space Agency, estimates rebuilding the town would cost $4.5 million to $5.5 million.

``Right now, that's only a dream,'' said Johnson, who recalls visiting the stunt ranch as a boy. ``But it'd sure be fun.''

The making of a cowboy

Those Saturday afternoons spent at the movies with Roy and Gene, Tom Mix and Hopalong Cassidy helped fuel Bousquet's enthusiasm years later for life as a Corriganville stuntman - and also helped develop a strong moral code right out of Zane Grey and Luke Short western novels.

As a child in 1940, Bousquet remembers being sick in bed, listening to the Tom Mix radio show, when the announcer interrupted to say that the western star had been killed in an auto accident.

``I felt real disappointed that a hero had died,'' Bousquet said. ``Every kid had a hero. In those days, right won out over wrong. Women were put on a pedestal. Cowboys were true heroes, and kids looked up to them.''

That hero worship was fueled by Saturday serials that always ended at a critical point in the action - the hero stuck in quicksand with only his horse to save him, or on top of a train with a low-hanging tunnel approaching. Kids were on pins and needles until next Saturday, when they could see how the hero got out of his latest fix - and he always did, because he was the good guy.

As he got older, the cowboy wanna-be would race through his homework so he could go riding. Tumbling was his favorite subject in gym class. And an interest in firearms led to his own gun collection, including a fast-draw rig like the movie cowboys used.

After a stint in the Air Force in Cheyenne, Wyo., he came to California in 1957 and got a job as an expediter (the guy who made sure workers had all the parts they needed for a project) for Douglas Aircraft in Los Angeles. A year later, he heard about a riding stunt school and signed up for six weeks.

Although he had no definite aspirations, ``in the back of my mind I thought, `Maybe someday I can use this.' ''

Salvation Army stuntman

It was an antiques dealer friend who suggested in June 1960 that Bousquet seek work at the movie ranch after learning that he could do stunts and quick draws. She sent him to see Mack McCord, the stuntman who loaded blanks into the guns used in the live shows, and McCord invited him to demonstrate his skills for Ray ``Crash'' Corrigan, the 1930s stuntman and 1940s movie cowboy who had purchased the movie ranch in the mid-'30s.

Corrigan told him to show up that weekend with his own gun and costume. His pay: $10 a day.

At last, he would be a real cowboy, even though he was dressed in weathered castoffs from the Salvation Army thrift store.

``I was pretty excited. But the first day, I saw all these people and I thought, `Holy Toledo, can I really do this?' I was scared I was gonna goof, scared I was really gonna flub.''

He remembers nothing about that first show, except that he got through it - and eventually got over his stage fright to be a mainstay of the stunt show, falling off horses and from the roof of buildings, being tossed through windows, throwing punches, shooting from the hip and dying in the dust as the taped voice of Crash Corrigan narrated the action for the audience that stood in the dusty western street.

Stars who filmed on the ranch often showed up to take part in some of the live shows. Bousquet remembers working with Nick Adams (``The Rebel''), Peter Brown (``The Lawman''), Dale Robertson (``Tales of Wells Fargo'') and others. The star always played Wyatt Earp in the daily ``Gunfight at the OK Corral'' show, usually fitting perfectly into the scenario.

Then there was the time Bousquet, playing one of the bad guys, found himself drawing down against the day's guest star: Bozo the Clown, who played Wyatt Earp in clown makeup and costume, red fright wig and bulbous red nose.

Anything but the fall guy

In their off hours, the stuntmen - wearing elbow and knee pads underneath their jeans and shirts - would rehearse fights and falls to make sure what looked so dangerous to visitors was well-planned and safe.

``You had to know how you were going to land and roll,'' he said. ``You had to land relaxed. If you landed stiffened up, you were going to break a bone. It was too easy to get hurt. We did lots of rehearsal.''

The most dangerous stunt - and one Bousquet refused to do - was a fall from the roof of the second story of the livery stable.

``The stuntman would roll down the roof and either fall onto the first-floor roof or into a wagon filled with hay,'' Bousquet recalled. ``They asked me to do it, but I wouldn't take a roof fall like that for $10.''

Despite rehearsal and planning, things occasionally went wrong.

In one show, Bousquet played a townsman walking along the western street with a lady when they were confronted by a whip-wielding rival, portrayed by his friend, Trae Mellman.

``Trae tripped me with his whip and I fell down,'' Bousquet said. ``As I got up, he was cracking the whip over my head and the end of it just caught my forehead. I heard the crowd gasp. I put up my hand and there was blood. Well, I knew I couldn't stop. We were in the middle of a show. So I said, `You're going to die for that. No man hits me with a whip and gets away with it.' He threw his whip down and pulled his gun and I pulled my gun and shot him dead.''

By this time, blood was running down his face, and the crowd surrounded him, worried. Realizing he hadn't been hurt badly, Bousquet carried it off with a grin. `` `Looked real, didn't it?' I said.'' A bandage staunched the bleeding.

``Trae felt real bad about it, but it could have happened to anybody. The good Lord was looking after me that day.''

No pretty boy

When he wasn't diving through windows, falling off horses or practicing his quick draw, Bousquet often played guitar and sang in Corriganville musical shows.

He left the movie ranch in 1963 over a misunderstanding with Corrigan; the difficulty was ironed out and he was offered his job back, but he refused to return without a raise.

His appetite whetted by a brief appearance as an extra in a Rex Allen TV pilot filmed at Corriganville, Bousquet for a time considered trying to make a living as an actor. He made the rounds of agents' offices and the studios and was politely ignored, except for one agent, who took a quick look at him and told him, ``I only handle pretty boys.''

``I said, `Thank you,' and walked out. That's Hollywood. I said the heck with it and went to work for North American.''

Over the years, Bousquet worked as a property control officer for North American on aerospace projects and as a real estate and auto salesman; he retired in 1992 after working for 18 years as a maintenance man for the Simi Valley Unified School District. Married twice, he and his second wife, Mina, are parents of 11 children ranging in age from 12 to 30.

Although his cowboy years are long past, Bousquet still collects western Americana - boots, guns, photographs, books, branding irons, hats and clothing - as well as items relating to the Civil War and to World War I and II aviation.

And when he isn't researching and writing free-lance magazine articles about antiques and the Old West, he frequently speaks to local groups about his Corriganville experiences and leads school and Scout groups on tours of the old ranch, pointing out the hanging tree and where the sheriff's office stood.

He admits to a fondness for the old ranch, which has shrunk to less than 200 acres and plays host only about once a year to movie companies.

``Because of Corriganville, I got to meet some pretty neat people, like Gene Autry, Jim Davis, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans,'' Bousquet said. ``It was a fun time, a good experience. It'd be nice if we could have it back again.''

CAPTION(S):

3 Photos

Photo: (1--Cover--Color) The COWBOY WAY

The jingle of spurs, the rolling tumbleweeds made a stuntman fall for the wild, wild West

(2) Patrick Bousquet, 61, fondly remembers his days in the stunt shows at Corriganville during the 1960s, and he hopes the Santa Susana property can someday be restored.

(3) Stuntman Ray ``Crash'' Corrigan purchased the ranch in 1935.

Phil McCarten/Daily News