On Father’s Day, I was asked about the legacy of my dad, Clayton Moore, a man who portrayed The Lone Ranger for over five decades. It’s no small question for anyone, but answering it about someone with such a significant cultural impact was particularly daunting for me as his daughter.
I haven’t seen the Johnny Depp and Armie Hammer version of The Lone Ranger yet. I hope it captures the adventurous spirit of the original and brings the character’s message into the 21st century.
Recently, the Memphis Film Festival celebrated the 80th anniversary of the legendary western hero, and I was invited to join many other first and second-generation links to Hollywood’s cowboy heritage. My dad had attended the same festival exactly 30 years ago, and some of the same fans were there to greet me. They brought their copies of his autobiography, 8×10 glossies, and even costumed toddlers—complete with masks—to take pictures or give me a hug.
Just to set the scene, I have carved out my own path, far removed from the film industry’s spotlight. My ability to entertain fades quickly in front of any group larger than a Thanksgiving dinner, and my childhood shyness turns into sheer terror. While it’s often said that all the world’s a stage, I’ve always felt like a reluctant performer.
Nevertheless, there I was, sitting on a panel to answer questions from fans deeply passionate about my father’s portrayal of the Masked Man. The first question directed at me was, “Miss Moore,” (a nod to the Bible Belt’s formality), “what do you consider your father’s legacy to be?” The answer, along with a rush of emotions, came quickly.
Thirteen years after my father’s passing, I still receive fan letters from all over the world, not just from the United States. These letters come from policemen, firemen, and teachers who say they chose careers dedicated to helping others because they were inspired by my father’s example—not just as an actor, but as a person. What is his legacy? It’s the inspiration he provided and continues to provide: the idea of offering help without seeking recognition or fame, of aiding those in need. It’s a powerful legacy.
This is reflected in the Lone Ranger Creed, written by Fran Striker in 1933 as a guide for the radio show’s writers, essentially asking, “What would the Lone Ranger do?” The creed remains timeless, setting a high moral standard that few can achieve, and fewer still attempt. My father often said that playing the character made him a better person. It might sound a bit hokey, but if the love from his multi-generational fans is any measure of success, then I would say he achieved his goal.
It’s ironic that nearly 60 years after my father shook hundreds of tiny hands on Disneyland’s opening day, Disney now holds the fate of the character he portrayed. Perhaps it’s time for a little makeover in Frontierland…
Considered one of the 100 Most Interesting Items in The Smithsonian’s collection, the mask Clayton Moore wore has become an icon of Americana. Now, that’s what I call a legacy.
