Director Jon Alpert talks about meeting Vernon Sager, getting frostbite while filming in South Dakota and his childhood cowboy dreams.

How did you meet Vern Sager and his family?

I was working for the Today show, filming a story in which we followed a homeless Native American from the mean streets of New York back to his home on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. He told me that there were white cowboys on the reservation who leased land from the tribe. Interesting, I thought. The first two cowboys I approached ran me off their ranches. Vernon shrugged his shoulders and said, “Follow me.” Off we went to feed cattle. Ever since then, I’ve been part of Vern’s family, and his family part of mine.

What led you to make THE LAST COWBOY?

I always wanted to be a cowboy. Meeting Vernon was like meeting Mickey Mantle, Bobby Hull and Hopalong Cassidy—all my childhood heroes—rolled into one. But the reality of cowboy life became apparent the first 110-degree day that I met Vernon. I have never met a man that worked harder, and I wanted to show the world what life in the saddle was really like.

What impact do you hope this film will have?

I hope this film will honor the cowboys and Indians who shaped our history and shaped our culture. And I want to help preserve a way of life that is vanishing.

What has the audience response been so far to the film?

So far the audiences who have seen sneak previews have come to love and respect Vernon. Some viewers have even managed to get themselves out to Porcupine, and have shown up on Vernon’s doorstep.

What were the challenges of filming a subject over such a long period of time?

Both Vernon and I got a lot older during the course of this film [23 years]. Luckily for me, the cameras got smaller and lighter. The first camera I used was a 25-pound Blunderbuss with a separate ten-pound camera control unit attached to a 30-pound video deck. I hung the camera control unit and the deck from the pommel of the saddle and rode off with Vern. In the winter it was minus 20 degrees with a 30-mile-per-hour wind. But I couldn’t feel the lens with gloves on so I took them off. I must have gotten frostbite. Now when it gets below 40 degrees, my hands turn black.

Tell us more about the interview process used in the film. How did you gain access to the subjects, and gain their trust?

There are no motels in Porcupine, so I lived in Vernon’s house. I was a lousy rider (I’ve since broken almost every bone in my body riding horses in NEW JERSEY) but I gamely rode everywhere Vernon went, ate the prairie oysters, roped wild horses and did the things cowboys do. And it was obvious that I respected Vernon and Carol, and that was appreciated. And we became friends.

How did Vern Sager and his family react to THE LAST COWBOY?

They liked it. His daughter said there was some trepidation about revealing some of the domestic details at the end of the film. But she said, “We can handle it, because I thought that the only way you could have ended the film was with my father dying. This is a lot better.”

The independent film business is a difficult one. What keeps you motivated?

Well, I was driving a taxicab before this. I was a lousy driver. so this is a lot better. And I don’t take kindly to a bit in my mouth so it’s better that I’m independent. And it is an honor, and a thrill, and a welcomed responsibility to capture something like Vernon’s life. To freeze time—and then share it with millions of other Americans

Why did you choose to present your film on public television?

This is a film that belongs to public television and helps PBS fulfill its commitment to the public. And PBS gives us the opportunity to present the film without commercials, at the right length, in everybody’s home. I’m glad you guys wanted it.

What were some interesting events that occurred during the making the of your film?

After filming Vernon I decided I needed to get my own horse. I did, and began a string of medical disasters that put me on a first-name basis with everybody at the local emergency room: Broken ankle, ribs, back.

The worst wreck occurred on my neighbor’s property in New Jersey. I was breaking a young mare and was lazy about getting up in the saddle. Instead of positioning myself by the horse’s head, like Vern taught me, I hopped on from the side. But the horse walked forward—and I found myself sitting behind the saddle. On the back of a very unhappy runaway horse. I knew I was going to fall off, so I decide to bail off early before we reached full speed. I imagined I would hit the ground gracefully and roll to a gentle stop. But I smacked into the pavement like a school bus dropped from an airplane, and lay there in the driveway, unable to breathe, unable to move any part of my body.

The tenant farmer’s wife had witnessed the accident and came rushing to my side. She bent over me and said “Jon. I have two words for you.” “What?” I whispered, thinking she’s asking, “need help?” Her face twisted into a Wicked Witch of the North’s snarl. She shouted “Christopher Reeves!” and cackled herself back to the house and left me lying in a heap.

My other neighbor came by. Loaded me in the back of their pickup, and took me to my friends at the emergency room.

What are your three favorite films?

High Noon. High Noon. High Noon.

If you weren’t a filmmaker, what kind of work do you think you’d be doing?

I’m lucky because I can’t do anything else well. I’ve worked in factories, schools, kitchens, forests—and have not found anything I can do well except this.

What do you think is the most inspirational food for making independent film?

Patsy’s Pizza, Carol Stoudt’s beer, Guss’s Pickles and Ben and Jerry’s New York Super Chunk Fudge. I dream of these foods while I’m in foxholes in Iraq or at round-ups in South Dakota. And they lead me back home like a beacon in the night.

What advice do you have for aspiring filmmakers?

Time. Passion. Access. If you have those three things you can make a good film.

If you could have one motto, what would it be?

If this were easy, everyone would be doing it.