The Freewheelin’ Matt Dillon

Last night at work, I indulged in yet four more broadcasts from the box set The Ultimate Gunsmoke Collection, which is rapidly becoming one of my favorite CD sets from Radio Spirits. Included in the line-up was one of my all-time favorite Gunsmoke episodes: “Bloody Hands” (from April 2, 1955).

As the show opens, we listen in as Doc and Chester express some concern as to Matt’s whereabouts—but Matt soon arrives back in Dodge, riding in a wagon being driven by a man unknown to Doc and Chester. It seems that Matt went after an outlaw named Jack Brand (Lawrence Dobkin) and his gang, and the marshal was forced to borrow the mode of transportation for the return trip:

CHESTER: Where’s the others? I thought he had three men with him…
(pause)
BRAND: Well, tell him, Marshal—tell him where they are…
MATT: They’re in the wagon, Chester…under that canvas…
CHESTER: Ohhhhh…
DOC: Are they all dead, Matt? All three of them?
MATT: They’re all dead, Doc…
BRAND: Bloodiest marshal I ever saw…it’s just a wagon load of meat to him…
MATT: That’s enough, Brand…
BRAND: It ain’t hardly enough—I’ve never seen such killin’…
CHESTER: Wh-wh-what happened, Mister Dillon?
MATT: It doesn’t matter…they put up a fight and I had to take ‘em…
BRAND: Well, I’ll tell him what happened…your lawman here hid hisself in the grass and just waited for us to come out of that cabin…and then he yelled, so naturally we headed for cover—who wouldn’t? He just laid there and cut loose with a shotgun…tore up two of the boys that way…then he stood up and cut down Hank Smith with his six-shooter…
CHESTER: How come you got out of it, Brand?
BRAND: I jumped back in the cabin and I give up…we weren’t puttin’ up a fight! He spooked us, yellin’ like that—make any man jump…
DOC: Why, I suppose you’re tryin’ to say that you wouldn’t have shot…
BRAND: We tried to shoot him—who wouldn’t? Any man’s got a right to defend hisself…
DOC (laughing): Well, I never heard of…resisting arrest called self-defense…
BRAND: I never heard of no marshal shootin’ down ev’rybody on the landscape…
MATT: Lock him up, Chester…
CHESTER: Get goin’, Brand…
BRAND: Why, he actually think he was killin’ hogs, not men…
CHESTER: Shut up and keep goin’…
(As Chester leads him off, we hear Brand muttering: “Bloodiest marshal I ever seen…”)
DOC: Say, how come you brought the bodies back, Matt—why didn’t you just bury them out there?
MATT: I wanted more witnesses than just me to identify ‘em. Doc…might save trouble when Brand goes to trial…
DOC: Say, you were mighty lucky…takin’ four outlaws that way, Matt…
MATT (wearily) Yeah…
DOC: And you killed three out of…oh, say, wait ‘til people ‘round here hear about this…
MATT: Brand’s right, Doc…it’s a lot of killin’…an awful lot…
(pause)
DOC: Aw, now you don’t…don’t get to thinkin’ about it too much now, Matt…it’s your job…you did it, and…so it’s over…
MATT: It’s over? Wait ‘til tomorrow, or the next day—it’ll be somebody else…there’s always another man to kill…

Brand’s comments about Matt have really unnerved him; later, Chester ends up waking Dillon up from a nightmare that causes Matt to cry out in his sleep “Don’t make me kill you!” It’s not until a confederate of Brand’s, Joe Stanger (John Dehner), also begins to needle him (Stanger was trying to help Brand escape) and goad him into a gunfight that Matt convinces himself he can’t cut it as a lawman because he has no stomach for the violence…so he dashes off a telegram to Washington, resigning his position.

The second half of the show finds Matt more relaxed than he has ever been; he even takes Kitty fishing as he has promised so many times in the past. But his idyllic vacation at the fishing hole comes to an abrupt halt when Chester comes riding up with disturbing news:

CHESTER: …Mister Dillon—Joe Stanger’s in town…
MATT: Oh? Well, that doesn’t matter to me, Chester…
CHESTER: But—you don’t understand…
MATT: Understand what?
CHESTER: What I came to tell ya…Stanger’s at the Alfraganza…a while ago he had words with one of the girls there, and she slapped him, and he pulled out his gun, and he killed her…
(pause)
MATT: What???
KITTY: Who was the girl, Chester?
CHESTER: Kate Hopkins…
KITTY: Oh…no…
CHESTER: That’s who it was, Miss Kitty…and then the bartender tried to stop him, and Stanger shot him, too…I hear he’s gonna die…I grabbed a horse off the hitch rail and come right down to tell you—you gotta stop him, Mister Dillon…
MATT: I’m not marshal anymore here, Chester—I quit…
CHESTER: No! That don’t matter…
MATT: It does to me…
CHESTER (upset): You mean you’re gonna let Joe Stanger walk ‘round Dodge and shoot ev’rybody that gets in his way, includin’ women???
MATT (loud and angry): I’m through killin’!!! (pause) I told you that…
CHESTER: Who’s gonna stop him, then? You’re the only man around here that’ll go up agin him, and you know it!!!
MATT: That may be true…but I’m still not gonna do it…
CHESTER: Wait…Mister Dillon…wait a minute, I…I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about all this lately, and…there’s somethin’ you been overlookin’…
MATT: Oh…?
CHESTER: Men like Stanger…and Brand…they gotta be stopped…I’d do it, if I could—but I can’t, I ain’t good enough…most men ain’t…but you are…it’s kinda…too bad for you, that you are, but…that’s the way it is…and there’s nothin’ you can do about it…not now…it’s too late…it’s way too late…
(SFX: Chester getting on his horse, then a long pause)
MATT: Give me your gun, Chester…
CHESTER: Yes, sir…want my holster?
MATT: I’ll carry it in my belt…(SFX: getting on horse) oh, Kitty—Chester’ll help you carry the fish back…
KITTY: Sure, Matt…sure…

“Bloody Hands” is one of the most powerful half-hours of radio that I have ever listened to—and Parley Baer’s performance as Chester in the show’s final minutes just may be his finest hour as an actor. The episode, penned by head Gunsmoke writer John Meston, later made a successful transition to the television version (February 26, 1957), with Dobkin reprising his role as the outlaw Brand.

I followed this episode—although it’s really kind of hard to follow it, if you know what I mean—with “The Gypsum Hills Feud” (4/16/55), in which Matt & Chester find themselves involved in a blood feud between two mountain families (this one has a particularly satisfying wrap-up), with Vivi Janiss, Vic Perrin and John Dehner in support. Then Dehner takes center stage in “The Man Who Would Be Marshal” (3/18/56) as a retired military officer who’s interested in Matt’s job (he should have made arrangements to appear in “Bloody Hands,” don’t you think?). Matt gives him a week to decide as to whether or not the profession of lawman suits him—but the man almost ends up dead in a gunfight, and he announces to Matt that “there’s action out in California—I’ll write you a letter when I get there.”

Finally, I closed things out for the evening with “Man Hunter” (5/27/56), another episode featuring the talents of Dehner and Dobkin; Dehner as a deputy sheriff on the hunt for Dobkin, who plays a man who—although he’s been a model citizen of Dodge for the past three years—is wanted for a murder he committed twelve years ago. Again, the theme of “duty vs. friendship” is explored in typically interesting Gunsmoke fashion with a fine script by Meston.

I have tentatively penciled in a salute of what I plan to call “April Fools” beginning the first of the month; a thirty-day look at some of OTR’s greatest comedians and comedy shows, much in the mold of January’s “Twenty Days Well-Calculated to Keep You in Suspense.” I do hope you’ll join me.

Like Lay’s Potato Chips…

…I just can’t seem to stop with just one Gunsmoke episode. I checked out four of them again last night, thanks to what I like to call the “eye of the hurricane.” (You see, tomorrow marks the start of Savannah’s city-sanctioned drunk—a.k.a. St. Patrick’s Day celebration—and things are relatively calm for the time being.) This quartet of episodes was penned by scribe John Meston, and there was nary a bad one in the bunch.

“Matt For Murder” (7/26/54) is the first of these outstanding episodes, its plot features Dodge City’s marshal accused of murdering a man named Lou Price by Price's former partner, Red Samples (Vic Perrin). What makes this entry fun is Meston’s taking historical license by having famed Abilene lawman Wild Bill Hickok (John Dehner) journey to Dodge to arrest his old friend Matt Dillon. (Matt’s friendship with Wild Bill is also briefly referred to in “Westbound,” which was discussed in yesterday’s post.) This intermingling of historical figures with Gunsmoke’s cast of characters was not uncommon on the radio western; the premiere episode (4/26/52) has Matt encountering a young William Bonney (a.k.a. “Billy the Kid”) and an additional episode on the Ultimate Gunsmoke Collection CD set is titled “Doc Holliday” (7/19/52), with Harry Bartell as the titular character.

Meston’s sharp dialogue includes a sly reference foreshadowing Hickok’s demise:

MATT: How is Abilene these days?
HICKOK: Well, I’m still sheriff there…guess I will be ‘til somebody gets around to shootin’ me…
CHESTER; Aw…nobody’s gonna shoot you, Mr. Hickok…
HICKOK: They keep tryin’, Chester…
MATT (chuckling): They keep missin’, too…don’t they, Bill…?
HICKOK: Well, so far…maybe that’s just because nobody’s tried to shoot me in the back yet…

Fans of Frontier Gentleman will no doubt recall an episode titled “Aces and Eights” (4/20/58) which centers on the events of Hickok’s shooting—and has its main character, J.B. Kendall, as a participant in that fateful card game. (Kendall was, of course, played by actor Dehner…who plays Hickok here…okay, maybe I should stop now before someone’s head explodes…)

The rehearsal sessions for Gunsmoke were fondly remembered by the cast and crew as “Dirty Saturdays,” in which the participants freely clowned and cut up during the proceedings before reverting to professionalism for the final transcribed product. A few of these rehearsals survive in recorded form, most notably “The New Hotel,” which can be heard on the 5-CD set Too Hot For Radio. During rehearsal readings, Dehner used to try and distract Bill Conrad by playing this meek, mousy character who would call out—at anytime and anyplace—“Hello, Marshal!” And Conrad would invariably respond: “Hello, John…” Both actors do this bit in “Matt For Murder,” (it’s just before Matt and Chester encounter Hickok at the train station) and because I was completely unprepared for it, I nearly spit out a mouthful of water I was drinking at the time. I’m convinced that the “John” character is the same “John Bomby” Matt talks to in “Christmas Story” (12/20/52), though when I floated this theory balloon in #oldradio chat one night, I didn’t get many takers.

The second episode I listened to was “Matt Gets It” (10/2/54), which has the distinction of being adapted as the premiere episode of the television version of Gunsmoke. Producer-director Charles Marquis Warren chose it for the first show because “It was shocking in those days to have your hero shot down.” That’s the plot in a nutshell: Dillon is injured by a gunman (Perrin) who is much faster than he. Now—this may be Monday-morning-quarterbacking, but I don’t think I would have gone with this episode as the TV debut; “Matt Gets It” plays much better after you’ve got a few Gunsmokes tucked under your belt. Had I watched the show’s lawman hero get gunned down in the first episode, my first thought would have been: “Not much of a lawman, is he?”

The radio version is far superior—and one of the reasons this is so is this classic moment of Chester’s reaction to Matt’s shooting:

CHESTER: Grat hit him, first shot…I could tell…Mister Dillon still got one off…I don’t know why he had to miss him…
DOC: Well, of course he missed him, Chester…Matt was out on his feet when he fired that shot…
CHESTER: He dropped his gun ‘fore he fell…
DOC: And who wouldn’t, with two bullets in his arm?
CHESTER (after a pause): Is it ruined, Doc? His arm?
DOC: No…no, it’s not ruined…it’ll be stiff for a while…but…
CHESTER: Doc?
DOC: Mm-hmm?
CHESTER: I’d-a tried to kill Graf is I’d-a had my gun out—I was gonna pick up Mister Dillon’s and do it, but Grat kicked it away from me…
DOC: It’s a good thing he did, too…
CHESTER: …I wanted to kill him…
DOC: I know…I know how you felt…
CHESTER: It’s a terrible thing, watchin’ a man like Mister Dillon get shot that way, Doc…
DOC: Of course it is, Chester…but killing Grat won’t help him now…
CHESTER (his voice rising in anger): Well, if Mister Dillon dies, I’ll kill him…I’ll get me a shotgun and I’ll kill him! I’ll blow him in half and then we’ll see how doggone fast he is…

Because the radio Gunsmoke has taken the time to establish the idolatry Chester has for Matt, that’s why “Matt Gets It” works so well. In fact, the friendship between the two men is just one of the many things I admire about the radio version, Chester Proudfoot being one of OTR’s most memorable characterizations. It’s important to note that Chester wasn’t Matt’s deputy (as he was on the TV show), but more of a helper/hanger-on; he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed (actor Parley Baer characterized him as “a dependable non-thinker”) but he made up for his lack of smarts with an incredibly fierce loyalty.

The other outstanding feature of this entry is Vic Perrin’s performance as Dan Grat, the gunslinger who puts Dillon temporarily out of commission. Perrin was one of Gunsmoke’s “repertory company” regulars, who was also multi-talented enough to pen five of the show’s radio scripts. I’m sure there were occasions when Perrin played a good guy on the show, but his portrayal of villains stand out in my mind—they always seemed to have this…haughtiness about them, as if they were insulted by the very idea of someone like Matt daring to challenge them. Perrin also appeared on programs like Dragnet, One Man’s Family, and Fort Laramie—but he’s probably best-remembered as “the control voice” on TV’s The Outer Limits (1963-65).

“Kitty Caught” (10/16/54) is yet another 24-karat Gunsmoke gem, in which our favorite dance hall gal is taken hostage by a pair of bank robbing brothers (Dehner, Larry Dobkin) who threaten to kill her if Matt goes after them. It’s a powerful episode that finds Matt resorting to cold-blooded murder to save Kitty, plus there’s a nail-biting scene where Matt and Chester—who are stationed just a ways outside the cabin where she is being held by the two brothers—are desperately trying not to make any noise so that she won’t be harmed…and then we hear the unmistakable sound of a rattlesnake…

Finally, I wrapped up my evening of pure audio pleasure with “Chester’s Murder” (1/15/55), yet another variation of Gunsmoke’s recurring “duty vs. friendship” theme. This time, Matt’s loyal helper has been accused of murdering a man (James Nusser) he had a disagreement with in a saloon earlier in the evening, and Dillon is forced to place his devoted friend under house arrest. Vic Perrin is in the cast—so you can pretty much guess who the bad guy is in this one—along with Lawrence Dobkin, who plays Sam Noonan, a character who would later become partners with Kitty in the Long Branch Saloon, thus establishing her role as businesswoman on the television series.

“I’m that man…Matt Dillon, United States marshal…”

As I continue to fight the Dreaded Pre-Spring Head Cold (which, in new developments, I have successfully passed on to my father, sister and niece—call me contagious!) I fed my Gunsmoke jones at work last night with some more episodes from Radio Spirits’ The Ultimate Gunsmoke Collection. First off the bat: “Westbound,” originally broadcast January 3, 1953. This one was a first-time listen for me, and I was really entertained by it: Matt and Chester arrive in Abilene to take Jack Daggett (Sam Edwards) back to Dodge—but encounter interference from both Daggett’s brothers (Barney Phillips, Larry Dobkin) and the rather uncooperative Abilene populace. My favorite is a timid hotel clerk played by John Dehner, who attempts to be the gracious host while at the same time wishing Dillon would find some other hotel room to keep his prisoner in:

CLERK: Thank heavens, gentlemen, you’re leaving…
MATT (with heavy sarcasm): Yeah, we’re leavin’…and I wanna thank you for your wonderful hospitality…I’ll be glad to recommend your hotel to anybody who plans to stop over in Abilene…
CLERK (meekly): Oh…I…hardly know what to say, Marshal…you simply don’t understand…you don’t know these Daggett brothers (quickly) no…no offense personally, Jack…I have to live in this town, and…
MATT: Come on, Jack…you boys run quite a bluff, you’ve got everybody in town jumpin’ sideways…
DAGGETT: You’d be smart if you did, Dillon…
(SFX: door open)
CLERK (calling after them): Good luck, gentlemen…eh…best of luck to…to all of you…!!!
MATT (chuckling): All of us…well, that’s hedgin’ his bet…

In the booklet that accompanies the CD set, OTR historian Anthony Tollin comments that “Westbound” shares many similarities with the 1952 film classic High Noon (in fact, a famous article in Time magazine once described the show as “the High Noon of broadcasting”). I certainly won’t quibble with this comparison, but in listening to the episode I couldn’t help but notice that it shares more kinship with two other classic Westerns: 3:10 to Yuma (1957) and Last Train From Gun Hill (1959). (The Gun Hill connection is not entirely coincidental; Gunsmoke scribe Les Crutchfield, who wrote “Westbound,” receives story credit on the John Sturges-directed film.)

I followed “Westbound” with “Word of Honor” (1/10/53), which provides a nice showcase for Howard McNear as his Doc Adams character is abducted to treat a dying man. Upon his return to Dodge, he refuses to identify his kidnappers because he gave them his word of honor as a physician. This show was followed by “The Cast” (12/12/53), another Doc-oriented episode, only in this one he doesn’t quite sound like his usual self. There is, of course, an explanation for this: veteran voice actor Paul Frees substitutes for McNear for this one-time-only broadcast. It’s quite jarring to hear Frees imitate McNear, to be sure—but you get used to it after a minute or two. In this show, Doc’s life is threatened by a widowed husband (Tom Tully) after his wife dies during surgery. This plot of simple folk distrusting doctors and modern medicine would get quite a workout on Gunsmoke, showing up again in the episodes “Cow Doctor” (5/28/55) and “The Surgery” (2/23/58), to name a few examples.

(While I’m on the subject of Paul Frees—I got a postcard from Bear Manor Media announcing their soon-to-be-released publication of Welcome, Foolish Mortals…The Life and Voices of Paul Frees, written by none other than the man behind the panda, publisher Ben Ohmart. I’m a little financially strapped right now, but I plan to snag a copy come next payday—as a cartoonist friend of mine used to say, “Paul Frees is everywhere!”)

“The Cast” also allows Gunsmoke fans to hear the program’s first sponsor: Post Toasties (“heap good corn flakes”) backed with Sugar Krinkles (“the sugar rice treat that’s just right sweet”). I’m not certain how long Post’s association with the show lasted, but you can pretty much tell that it was doomed from the get-go; the commercials are completely incongruous with Gunsmoke’s gritty realism, sounding instead more appropriate for sponsorship of something like The Lone Ranger.

I wrapped up my mini-Gunsmoke festival with a broadcast originally heard July 5, 1954: “Hack Prine,” the first episode sponsored by the program’s better-known bread-and-butter, L&M/Chesterfield. “Hack Prine” isn’t necessarily the best show, but I think it’s probably the most representative—I would choose this entry if I wanted to introduce a novice listener to the joys of the program. All of the regulars are in place here, and the plot—an old gunfighter friend of Matt’s has been hired by one of Dillon’s enemies to kill him—encompasses an oft-recurring Gunsmoke theme, that of duty vs. friendship. (Tollin notes in the booklet that “Hack Prine” was also adapted as the pilot for the television version.) Four regular members of the show’s “repertory company”—Dobkin, Dehner, Vic Perrin, and Harry Bartell—are also in the supporting cast of this episode as well.

“…the first man they look for, and the last they want to meet…”

I came back from my two-day sabbatical with a nasty head cold, so I haven’t really felt like whipping up something new for the blog today. (Yesterday’s post about The Sealed Book was written before I left.) But on the trip up there, I took along my copy of Radio Spirits’ The Ultimate Gunsmoke Collection to listen to—because I work nights, it’s kind of hard for me to get back into any kind of regular schedule so I often find myself wide awake at 4:00 a.m. I just slap a CD in my Walkman, and spend some quality OTR time until someone else in the family decides to get up.

If you haven’t purchased a copy of this set, by the way—I give it a big thumbs-up, since it contains many of the classic and seminal episodes of what must truly be radio’s finest dramatic hour. While I was away, I listened to three episodes written by John Meston, who was the most prolific of all the Gunsmoke scribes, contributing 183 of the 413 radio scripts and 196 of the 635 television shows. Many fans believe that the television show was made palatable only because so many of Meston’s radio scripts were adapted for the tube. (I don’t dislike the Gunsmoke TV series, but I really do believe it pales in comparison to the radio version; the booklet accompanying the Radio Spirits set has a quote from sound man Bill James: “Even after all these years I have never been able to watch even one episode of the TV version. To me, those performers are nothing but imposters.”)

One of the shows I listened to is a long-time favorite of mine, and one of the first episodes I remember hearing: “Home Surgery,” originally broadcast September 13, 1952. Matt (William Conrad) and Chester (Parley Baer) are on their way back to Dodge when a young woman named Tara Hantree (Sammie Hill) meets up with them and asks them for help; her father (John Dehner) was thrown from a horse and has seriously hurt his leg. At the Hantrees’, Matt realizes that Hantree has a bad case of gangrene:

CHESTER: It’s that bad, is it?
MATT: Yeah…blood poisoning, Chester…soon as it reaches his heart he’s done for…
CHESTER: Well—isn’t there any way to stop it?
MATT: Yeah, sure…cut his leg off…
CHESTER: Oh… (Pause) too bad Doc isn’t here…
MATT: Yeah…
CHESTER: Would that stop it, Mister Dillon? Cutting his leg off, I mean…?
MATT: I don’t know, Chester…I don’t know…it may be too late anyway…I…
CHESTER: Well, I sure wish we could do something for him…I don’t take to just sittin’ ‘round and waitin’ for a man to die…
MATT: Well, nobody does…
CHESTER: It isn’t right somehow…that poor fella…and Tara…why, Mister Dillon, that girl’ll go crazy out here all alone…
MATT (angrily): All right, Chester…what do you want me to do about it? I’m not a doctor, so shut up…
CHESTER: Well, I… (After a long pause) Mister Dillon…you could do it…I know you could!
MATT: Do what?
CHESTER: Be a doctor…long enough to save Mr. Hantree’s life…
MATT: Are you out of your head?
CHESTER: No, sir…
MATT: Then what are you talking like that for? The most I ever did was doctor a horse for the colic…that’s fine trainin’ for this, isn’t it?
CHESTER: I know…but I couldn’t do it…I just plain don’t have the spirit…but you do…
MATT: Oh, why didn’t I leave you back in Dodge…
CHESTER: It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, Mister Dillon…’cause you would never just stand by and let a man die…
(pause)
MATT: Let’s go talk to him, Chester…
CHESTER: Yes sir, Mister Dillon…

I’d like to be able to tell you that there’s a rosy “Little House on the Prairie” ending to this—but there isn’t. Matt amputates Hantree’s leg, but is unable to save the man’s life. It’s a gritty, well-told tale, one of those Gunsmokes that remains in the memory.

The second episode I checked out was “The Overland Trail” (10/31/52), which reminds me a lot of the movie Stagecoach. Matt, Chester and a prisoner named Jim Beaudry (Lawrence Dobkin) are stranded without horses and hop a stage headed for a nearby fort where they hope to pick up fresh horses and continue on to Dodge. While on the stagecoach, Beaudry informs Matt that one (Lou Krugman) of the passengers is wanted in California for armed robbery, and Matt faces the dilemma of having to decide how far he can trust his prisoner. Included in the cast are Vic Perrin, James Nusser, Ralph Moody, and Junius Matthews.

Finally, I listened to a true Gunsmoke classic, “The Cabin” (12/27/52), in which Matt seeks shelter from a severe blizzard in the home of a young woman (Vivi Janiss) whose father has been killed by a pair of drifters—and are determined to kill again. John Dehner and Harry Bartell play Hack and Alvy, two seriously disturbed individuals with no sense of conscience whatsoever—and you get goose bumps just listening to their fine performances. The episode wraps with Matt realizing he can’t offer the help the abused woman needs:

BELLE: Tell me something, Marshal…
MATT: Hmm?
BELLE: Tell me the truth, now…
MATT: Wha…why, sure, Belle…what is it?
BELLE: Are you married?
(pause)
MATT: I’d make a poor husband, Belle…for any woman…
BELLE: Why?
MATT: Well…in my profession it’s…it’s too chancy…
BELLE (sighing) Thank you, Marshal…thanks for puttin’ it that way…
MATT: Now, Belle…I…I didn’t mean…
BELLE: Forget it…I’m leavin’ this place, Marshal…
MATT: What?
BELLE: Soon as you go, I’ll…pack what I need and clearin’ off…
MATT: Well…where will you go?
BELLE: I’ve got three horses…I’ll ride up to Hayes City and sell ‘em…
MATT: Then what?
BELLE: I’ll buy some pretty clothes and…then I’ll find a place…won’t be hard…after this…

I love Meston’s subtlety in suggesting that Belle will soon be trafficking in the life of what my father colorfully refers to as a “camp follower.” It’s just one of the many reasons why I find the radio Gunsmoke superior—Matt and Kitty (Georgia Ellis) had a far more serious relationship on radio than that squeaky-clean chasteness they enjoyed on TV for twenty-some years. It’s also interesting to note that “The Cabin,” a pull-no-punches bleak and realistic story, followed Meston’s “Christmas Story” (12/20/52) which is a much lighter change-of-pace tale.

John Meston was once quoted as saying—in relation to Gunsmoke’s long radio/TV run—“If I had known it would last this long, I would never have created the darn thing.” May we all be eternally grateful for his short-sightedness.

“The saga of fighting men who rode the rim of empire…”

Fortunately, I was able to rebound from the embarrassment that was Dr. Sixgun by checking out an episode of Fort Laramie, a woefully neglected western that enjoyed an ever-so brief run over CBS from January 22-October 28, 1956. To this day, I remain puzzled as to why this show wasn’t a bigger success; its pedigree contained much of the talent behind Gunsmoke: producer-director Norman Macdonnell; writers John Meston, John Dunkel, and Les Crutchfield; and sound patterns wizards Bill James, Ray Kemper, and Tom Hanley. True, Fort Laramie was far less intense than the better-known Gunsmoke, but in Dunning’s words, “focused as much on atmosphere and mood as on violence and action.” Future Perry Mason star Raymond Burr, as Lee Quince, “captain of cavalry,” headed up an excellent cast that featured Jack Moyles (as Major Daggett), Vic Perrin (Sergeant Ken Goerss), and Harry Bartell (Lieutenant Sieberts).

The label on this CD gives the episode title as “The Galvanized Yankee,” but it’s actually “Still Waters,” an AFRS rebroadcast of a program originally heard October 14, 1956. It’s a light-hearted show, in which complaints about the quality of the fort’s dress parade band seem to be falling on (tone) deaf ears until the Major decides to step in. The explanation for the band’s awfulness is that their instruments aren’t up to snuff, but any chance of obtaining replacements has been temporarily scotched by the arrival of a bluenose named Mrs. Feamster (Jeanette Nolan), who’s embarked on a crusade to remove beer and wine from the canteen run by the fort’s sutler. (The profits from those sales go to the purchase of new instruments, and with no beer and wine, no…well, you get the idea.) The highlight of this episode (written by frequent Gunsmoke scribe Kathleen Hite) is Burr’s painfully off-key rendition of “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon.” The Gunsmoke connection is furthered by the presence of both Sam Edwards and Howard McNear (who appeared in several Laramie episodes as Pliney, the sutler) in the supporting cast.

Fort Laramie is the third component of what I like to call old-time radio’s “Holy Trinity” of Westerns (the other two being Gunsmoke and Frontier Gentleman). Though its run was brief, all forty episodes (forty-one if you include the 7/25/55 audition, which stars John Dehner) are extant today, entertaining a new generation of listeners with “specially transcribed tales of the dark and tragic ground of the wild frontier.”

Farewell, Mr. Bartell

Charlie Summers sent the subscribers of The Old-Time Radio Digest a short message this a.m., one of those e-mails you never, ever like receiving.

Veteran radio character actor Harry Bartell passed away February 26, 2004—he was ninety years old.

I never got to meet Harry in person, one of my favorite radio actors and one of the most distinctive voices of that long-ago Golden Age. But every now and then I would get an opportunity to chat with him on mIRC’s #oldradio on Thursday nights. I will never forget the time that Charlie im’d me and asked me if I knew who “Harverly” (his screen name) was—when I told him I didn’t have a clue, he announced proudly that it was Harry. I nearly fell out of my chair, I was in such awe.

Every time Harry dropped in for a chat session, I found it difficult not to gush—and it seemed like every time he participated, I had just heard him on something either that day or the day before. I once told him that his performance on the classic Escape episode “A Shipment of Mute Fate” (3/28/48) was my absolute favorite of all the times it had been broadcast, and he thanked me profusely, declaring it one of his favorite shows as well.

What I loved and admired best about Harry’s work is that it was so effectively understated—case in point, a Gunsmoke episode called “Doc Holliday” (7/19/52), which I had only recently heard after purchasing a CD set of that show. Harry plays the title character, and delivers the goods with a wry, laid-back take on the famed gunslinger, completely blowing away the likes of Victor Mature, Val Kilmer, and anyone else I may have left out. Everything he did, from Dragnet to Escape to Fort Laramie, was performed in a quietly effective manner—you never once got the impression when listening to him of someone saying “Hey, look at me—I’m acting!”

I’m not a religious man by any means—I approach any concept of organized religion with a cynical squint and a healthy skepticism. But I’d like to think that somewhere out in the great beyond, Harry’s been reunited with the likes of Bill Conrad, Parley Baer, Howard McNear, John Dehner, and all the other departed Gunsmoke radio players and that that group are enjoying themselves in endless “Dirty Saturdays” for eternity. That he’s met up with Jack Webb and Ben Alexander to outline a story that is true, but that the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Maybe even Raymond Burr and the gang from Fort Laramie will hook up with Harry, too.

R.I.P., Mr. Bartell – you will be missed. 

”These are stories of the future, adventures in which you’ll live in a million could-be years on a thousand may-be worlds…”

In the entry for the classic science fiction series X-Minus One in John Dunning’s invaluable On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio, the radio historian writes that “the most interesting dramatic radio of the 1955 season was produced by two genre series, Gunsmoke, a western, and this space opera.” I’m inclined to agree with Dunning’s assertion, and I’ve often found it interesting that I discovered the delights of “this space opera” and—well, “this horse opera,” at the same time.

Let’s take the WABAC machine to 1983, when a young college student (that would be me, by the way) discovers that the library at Marshall University has a small collection of old-time radio shows on reel-to-reel tape. Still being an OTR novice at the time (I had a small—very small—collection), I did what anyone in my position would do—I went at those tapes like the kid in the proverbial candy store. As production director at the campus radio station, I was allowed access to the production studios on the weekend and I took every one of those tapes and dubbed off copies for myself—I just wish I had managed to hang onto them. A March 14, 1956 episode of X-Minus One, “Tunnel Under the World,” still continues to resonate with me today. Based on a story by Frederick Pohl, it’s about an experiment conducted by an ad agency that it so monstrous it…well, I can’t do the program justice by describing it. I heartily recommend that you seek that particular one out, because the ending will knock your socks off.

Since radio is often referred to as “the theater of the mind,” I’ve always believed that both it and the genre of science fiction are a match made in heaven. Both depend heavily on the power of the individual’s imagination; indeed, when sci-fi is presented either on television or the silver screen, I’m in awe for maybe five seconds, and then I start wondering what kind of special effects or, as Arch Oboler once humorously described such visual trickery, “paper mache” it took to put the production together. My imagination makes anything more frightening than the efforts of a special effects wizard. I suppose you could attempt something like “Tunnel Under the World” on TV or in the movies with an assist from George Lucas’ bankbook—but why would you want to?

X-Minus One, which debuted over NBC Radio on April 24, 1955, was an extension of an equally fine NBC science fiction anthology, Dimension X (1950-51). X-1’s first 15 broadcasts were adapted from this earlier series, after which it blazed trails with newer “transcribed tales of new dimensions in time and space.” Two highly respected sci-fi magazines, Astounding Science Fiction and Galaxy, supplied the material for the series’ stories, with an occasional original—usually penned by either George Lefferts or Ernest Kinoy, two NBC staffers—tossed in for good measure. X-Minus One transcended the usual radio kiddie fare like Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers in favor of adult, literate tales from the likes of the finest science fiction writers: Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, Robert A. Heinlein, etc. Happy endings were often nudged out by meatier wrap-ups that allowed the “bad guys” to emerge triumphant, like the unforgettable “Mars is Heaven,” an adaptation of Bradbury’s classic short story.

As with Gunsmoke, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a really bad X-1; even the weaker entries manage to avoid the pitfall of being dull. The series maintained a consistently high batting average, with classics like “The Cold Equation,” “Junkyard,” “Hallucination Orbit,” and “The Seventh Victim.” “A Gun For Dinosaur,” “The Skulking Permit,” and “Lulungameena” are also among my personal favorites. I treated myself to a triple helping of 1957 shows last night at work—since the length of X-1 shrank during its later run to accommodate a five-minute network newscast, it was possible to squeeze in three programs on one CD. First, “Volpa” (8/29/57), a bizarre comic entry about a scientist (Nelson Olmsted) who creates a species of flying mutants and convinces them that they hail from another planet in order to play an elaborate practical joke on the world.

Following that was “Saucer of Loneliness” (9/5/57), a quiet, understated piece based on a story by Theodore Sturgeon, in which a woman (Lydia Bruce) finds herself badgered and harassed by government officials and the press after coming into contact with a flying saucer. (I had previously heard this one on Victor Ives’ syndicated The Golden Age of Radio Theater, so it was kind of like “old home week.”) The final show, and my favorite of the three, is “Death Wish” (10/10/57), in which the crew of a spaceship that has been shot out of the solar system tries to solve its problem by computer—which provides them an ingenious (and deliciously ironic) solution.

Like its predecessor, Dimension X, X-1 suffered from an extensive shuffling of its timeslot while on NBC’s schedule, which made it difficult to secure an audience beyond that of its devoted cult following. Yet in the tradition of shows like Escape, it overcame this handicap by showcasing some of the finest radio drama ever broadcast. The program ended its run on January 9. 1958, but the radio renaissance of the 1970s allowed X-Minus One a reprieve: transcriptions from the 1955-58 series were brought back in a test run beginning June 24, 1973. Alas, a resurgence in radio drama was not to be—its scheduling was even more erratic (once a month, sometimes on Saturdays, sometimes Sundays), proving that those who do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it. It came to a sad end on March 22, 1975, but fortunately for both sci-fi and OTR fans, X-1’s entire run has been preserved today—to give a generation of new listeners an opportunity to start another “countdown for blast-off…”

”…they’re an elemental force, a gigantic catastrophe…an act of God…”

Day 19 of “Twenty Days Well-Calculated to Keep You in Suspense.”

Present Tense

A condemned axe murderer (Vincent Price) who is being transported to the death house seizes an opportunity to escape his fate as a result of a train wreck. He returns home, and finds that the individual whose murder he’s been convicted of—his wife (Ellen Morgan)—is alive and well and carrying on with her lover (Joe de Santis). He kills them both, and in doing so finds himself on the same train…only to escape, and kill again…is he trapped in some sort of time warp?

“Present Tense,” broadcast on Suspense March 3, 1957, brings Vincent Price back to a role that he had previously essayed on Escape January 31, 1950. (The script’s author, James Poe, also adapted “Three Skeleton Key,” which Price performed on the same series March 17, 1950.) It’s an interesting story, even a bit humorous, since Price gets to “ham” it up as only he can, but the ending’s a bit predictable, particularly if you’re familiar with Ambrose Bierce’s classic “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” (which was also performed on both Escape and Suspense).

The supporting cast of “Present Tense” includes two interesting radio veterans: Jack Kruschen, a well-known character actor who gave memorable performances in films like The Apartment (1960; he was nominated for Best Supporting Actor in that year’s Oscar race) and Cape Fear (1962). Kruschen made the rounds on many of the shows of Radio’s Golden Age, particularly Dragnet and Gunsmoke, and even had a regular gig on Broadway’s My Beat (1949-54) as Sergeant Muggavan. Talented voice man Daws Butler also appears here in two separate roles; he played frequent bit parts on Suspense but is probably best remembered as the voice of many of the cartoon characters in the Hanna-Barbera stable (Yogi Bear, Huckleberry Hound, Quick Draw McGraw, etc.), proving he was just as versatile as his colleagues Paul Frees and June Foray when it came to dramatic parts.

By the time of this broadcast, Gunsmoke announcer George Walsh (“They satisfy…the most…”) was doing double duty on this program as well—he had a memorable bassy, foreboding quality to his intonation of “…and nowwwwww…another tale well-calculated to keep you in…” When the production of Suspense moved from Hollywood to New York (beginning August 30, 1959), Walsh could still be heard during the show’s opening and commercial breaks, but the episode title and cast fell to Stuart Metz, who took over full announcing chores on June 25, 1961 until the series left the air.

Leiningen vs. the Ants

An army of flesh-eating ants are working their way across the jungle, threatening to invade and devour the plantation of wealthy owner Leiningen (William Conrad). Leiningen has other ideas—but can he really hope to defeat millions and millions of hungry Army ants?

Considered by many to be radio’s ultimate adventure tale, “Leiningen vs. the Ants” was adapted for this August 25, 1957 Suspense broadcast by writer Robert Ryf from the short story of the same name by Carl Stephenson. (It would be again showcased on Suspense a second time—sans Conrad—on November 29, 1959.) I remember an assignment in a high school English class whereupon we had to do a verbal report on a short story, taking care not to reveal the ending in the hopes that our fellow classmates’ interest would be piqued as to read these tales in their copious free time. (I can’t recall which story I did my report on, but a friend of mine chose Stephenson’s classic tale, and I felt a teensy bit smug since I knew its outcome, having listened to it on Escape. I’d like to say that my classmates, envious of my knowledge and power, demanded that I reveal the ending—but in order for me to do so I would have to provide irrefutable evidence that they cared.)

Like the previously mentioned “Three Skeleton Key,” “Leiningen vs. the Ants” is a story I associate with Escape, so I must reiterate that it’s a bit like cheating, including it in this box set. I will say, however, that Conrad’s performance in this broadcast is especially good, in fact, he played the title role on three different occasions (in an adaptation by writer Les Crutchfield) on the series “designed to free you from the four walls of today.” Conrad was unfortunately overlooked when the story hit the silver screen in 1954 as The Naked Jungle (he played the Commissioner—a part performed by Ben Wright in this 8/25/57 broadcast); the lead role ended up going to Charlton Heston (“Get your feelers off of me, you damn dirty ant!”). “Leiningen vs. the Ants” was also “borrowed” for a plot line in an episode of MacGyver (“Trumbo’s World,” 11/10/85), but my advice to you is to stick with the radio version. You’ll thank me later.

”You’re about to experience…one of the most terrifying half-hours in your entire life…”

Day 18 of “Twenty Days Well-Calculated to Keep You in Suspense.”

The Waxwork

A down-and-out reporter looking for a story to sell to a newspaper agrees to spend a night in the “Murderer’s Den” exhibit of the local wax museum. An unnerving experience, to be sure—especially when he swears he can see one of the exhibits moving…

Certainly one of the most audacious of all the Suspense broadcasts, “The Waxwork,” from May 1, 1956, is literally a one-man tour-de-force: William Conrad plays all the characters in this show, including the narrator. Despite the fact that he doesn’t possess the versatility of a Paul Frees or Ben Wright (Conrad once joked that he was “the man of a thousand voice”) he still manages to pull it off; his scene where he discovers one of the wax figures moving is an incredible bit of radio acting, you could cut the hysteria present in his booming voice with a knife. On a personal note, William Conrad—for me, anyway—remains the only Matt Dillon on Gunsmoke, miles and away superior to that TV guy…you know, the one that plays the “intellectual carrot” in The Thing From Another World (1951). If you’ve ever been curious as to how the famous TV western might have looked had Conrad been chosen for the role, you should check out a little-known gem called The Ride Back (1957), which was released on DVD just last year. The script for the movie was written by Suspense director-producer Antony Ellis, and was originally broadcast as a Gunsmoke episode June 28, 1952. (Sadly, this is one of a handful of Gunsmokes that has not survived for us to enjoy today.)

“The Waxwork” was an encore performance of a Suspense episode originally heard March 20, 1947 starring Claude Rains, and was broadcast a third time with Herbert Marshall as the lead on May 1, 1959. The script was adapted by Mel Dinelli from a 1933 story written by Alfred M. Burrage, and is definitely a must-hear for any fan of the show.

Three Skeleton Key

Jean (Vincent Price), Louis (John Dehner), and Auguste (Ben Wright) are in charge of a maintaining a lighthouse, and one night they witness a derelict ship break up on the nearby reefs. The ship may be devoid of any human life, but the three men soon discover that the passengers have disembarked and are headed toward the lighthouse—an invading army of millions and millions of hungry rats!

“Three Skeleton Key,” was a long-time favorite horror tale of many listeners during the Golden Age of Radio, and it remains so for modern-day fans today. It was broadcast on Suspense on November 11, 1956 (with an encore on October 19, 1958) and it marked one of the early episodes directed and produced by the newly-hired William N. Robson, or as he was billed, “the master of mystery and adventure.” Robson sought to reestablish the show’s former prestige, and with the signing on of several new sponsors (Fitch Shampoo, Kent Cigarettes, Four-Way Cold Tablets)—allowing CBS to increase the show’s budget slightly—he was able to bring back an occasional big-name to guest star, as witnessed by the presence here of horror movie icon Vincent Price.

Robson was no stranger to the program, having directed a January 31, 1948 Suspense show, “Bet With Death.” He had a long, distinguished radio career helming such critically acclaimed series as The Man Behind the Gun and The CBS Radio Workshop. He’s best-known, however, as the director of Suspense’s sister series, Escape, which ran on CBS from July 7, 1947 to September 25, 1954. During Robson’s stint with Suspense, he often went to Escape’s well for inspiration and scripts (as did his predecessor Ellis), which explains the presence of “Three Skeleton Key,” which was first adapted by James Poe from the 1937 story by George Gustave Toudouze and broadcast November 15, 1949. It would become one of the most requested of the program’s many fine broadcasts (always referred to by fans as “the story about the rats”), and it was encored twice, on March 17, 1950 (which also starred Price) and August 9, 1953.

Which leads to a tiny quibble: “Three Skeleton Key” is one of my all-time favorite radio plays, and I’m always up to listen to a broadcast—but it’s a show that I identify more with Escape, not Suspense. (Of its three Escape appearances, I think the March 17, 1950 broadcast is the best.) I think the individuals putting together this CD box set would have been better served leaving it out and choosing a worthy replacement, less it spoil a future The Best of Escape collection (in case anyone from Radio Spirits is reading this, hint, hint).

That nit-pick aside, “Three Skeleton Key” remains even today one of the most spine-tingling horror dramas ever broadcast, and every aspect of the show, from the sound effects of the ravenous rats (achieved by crunching/chewing berry baskets and rubbing cork against glass) to the performances (Price, as usual, is nothing short of magnificent) comes together to make a show that forever remains in the memory. As director-producer Robson comments in his opening remarks before the play, “It is unconditionally guaranteed to chill your blood…unless you happen to love rats…”

”…each in his orbit of loneliness…”

Day 17 of “Twenty Days Well-Calculated to Keep You in Suspense.”

Kaleidoscope

Their spaceship blown to pieces, six surviving crew members—Hollis (William Conrad), Applegate (Stacy Harris), Stone (Parley Baer), Laspaire (Howard McNear), Stimson (Sam Edwards), and the ship’s captain (John Dehner)—are set helplessly adrift in space. The men communicate with one another via the headsets in their spacesuits in order to maintain their sanity in the face of their impending deaths.

Ray Bradbury’s classic 1949 science-fiction tale “Kaleidoscope” was adapted by Suspense director-producer Antony Ellis and presented on the program July 12, 1955. This wonderfully moving story is a testament to the talent and genius of the celebrated Bradbury, and in addition, provides irrefutable evidence of the power of the aural medium. To achieve the stunning effect of being stranded in space, the six actors performed in individual isolation booths—and special sound patterns were also developed to convey the illusion of flying debris and open space.

Conrad receives top-billing in the opening credits, and he’s joined on this broadcast by his fellow Gunsmoke co-stars Baer and McNear. In fact, all four members of the celebrated western’s acting ensemble are present and accounted for—Georgia Ellis has a small role at the episode’s poignant conclusion (with the part of her son being played by, coincidentally, her real-life son Jonathan). Dehner and Edwards were also part of Gunsmoke’s stock company, though Dehner later achieved stardom on Frontier Gentleman and Have Gun, Will Travel and Edwards was best known as boyfriend Dexter Franklin on the situation comedy Meet Corliss Archer. Harris was a regular on both the radio and TV Dragnet, and also starred as agent Jim Taylor on This is Your F.B.I. (1945-53).

The Cave

Young Dan Embry (Dick Beals) receives a flashlight for Christmas, prompting him and his friend George (Billy Chapin) to explore a nearby cave. To their surprise and delight, their venture in spelunking reveals a strange, magical world complete with pirates, buried treasure—and a damsel in distress in the form of a princess (Ellen Morgan) in desperate need of being rescued.

Director-producer Ellis revived his earlier December 24, 1950 Escape script—an unusual Christmas fantasy tale—for the December 20, 1955 broadcast of Suspense. It’s very entertaining, perfect for both children and adults, and features a hardy crew of radio veterans—Hans Conried, Ben Wright, Larry Dobkin, and Raymond Lawrence—as the bloodthirsty pirates, with the always reliable John Dehner providing the narration as the adult Dan. Conried, who provided the voice of Captain Hook in the 1953 Walt Disney classic Peter Pan, seems to be having the time of his life, helping himself to seconds and thirds of scenery du jour as the pirate Blackton.

Dick Beals’ high-pitched voice made him the ideal choice for children’s roles—he began his professional radio career in Detroit working on the programs that comprised the George W. Trendle/WXYZ triumvirate: The Lone Ranger, The Green Hornet, and Challenge of the Yukon. He moved to Hollywood in 1952 and secured work with CBS, with appearances on Escape and Gunsmoke. Beals’ most memorable turn on Suspense was a February 1, 1959 episode entitled “Return to Dust,” in which his unique vocal talents were employed to simulate that of a scientist who gets smaller and smaller after an experiment (in shrinking cancer cells) goes horribly awry.

”The story of the violence that moved west with young America…and the story of a man who moved with it…”

Happy new year to everyone! And what better way to kick off the first review of 2004 than with a glance at “Pucket’s New Year,” an episode of Gunsmoke first broadcast over CBS Radio January 1, 1956.

Marshal Matt Dillon (William Conrad) and deputy Chester (Parley Baer) are thirty miles outside of Dodge City—they’ve had to seek shelter in a sod hut for the past two days due to one of the fiercest blizzards in recent memory. On their way back to Dodge, they investigate the remains of a camp when they are taken by surprise by a grizzled buffalo hunter wielding a rifle:

PUCKET: Git your hands up! Both of ya!
CHESTER: Wha…???
MATT: You’d better do what the old man says, Chester…
CHESTER: He was hidin’ in the wagon…
PUCKET: Come over here! Closer!
(SFX: footsteps, clinking of spurs)
MATT: This your camp, mister?
PUCKET: Of course it’s my camp…now you two drop them guns…
MATT: Ah, we’ve got our hands up…isn’t that enough?
PUCKET: You do what I say…I ain’t takin’ no chances…I ain’t gonna get left here again…you’re gonna hitch up that team and you’re gonna take me into Dodge…you ain’t runnin’ off like Jed Larner…
MATT: Who’s Jed Larner?
PUCKET: He’s my skinner…
MATT: Well, why did he leave you?
PUCKET: Well…he seen that blizzard comin’ and he didn’t wanna take any chances…so he rode off…he’s probably been in Dodge all the time, warm and cozy…
MATT: Why didn’t you go with him?
PUCKET: I twisted my leg and my foot so’s I can’t ride a horse, that’s way…Larner figured drivin’ a wagon be too slow…
MATT: You mean he left you here to freeze?
PUCKET: Yeah, and I’ll kill him when I find him…and I’ll kill you if you don’t drive me to Dodge…

Matt and Chester identify themselves to the old man, who goes by the handle of Ira Pucket. (The role of Pucket is played by actor Ralph Moody, an actor whose speciality was portraying eccentric and slightly off-center old cusses, as he did often on both this program and Dragnet.) Pucket complains that he has no feeling in his injured foot and once in Dodge, Doc (Howard McNear) has to amputate part of it to save the man’s life. The surgery leaves Pucket dependent on crutches and then a cane, and the old man is bitter because his buffalo hunting days are over. He’s also itching for vengeance against the man who left him out on the plains to die.

Matt is kicking back at the Long Branch, having a beer with Kitty (Georgia Ellis) when he spots a man at the bar who matches the description of Jed Larner (James Nusser):

KITTY: Well, this is a great way to start the new year, Matt…
MATT: What do you mean, Kitty?
KITTY: Well, all last year I was hopin’ maybe I’d be in San Francisco by now…
MATT: Oh? You never told me…
KITTY: What would you have done about it?
MATT: Ah…nothin’, I guess…uh…why San Francisco?
KITTY: No blizzards, no dust…no cowboys…
MATT: Yeah, but they got fog…and all those sailors and miners aren’t any gentler than these cowboys…
KITTY: Well, I know…but imagine…goin’ to dinner in a carriage…eatin’ off a tablecloth… dancin’ on a hardwood floor…
MATT (laughing) You’re spoiled, Kitty…
KITTY: Now how could I got spoiled? Here? In Dodge City? Ha ha…

(snip)

KITTY: What’s the matter, Matt?
MATT: That man at the bar…he just turned around…
KITTY: Which man?
MATT: The one with the scar down his cheek…I’ll be back, Kitty…
(SFX: footsteps and clinking of spurs)
LARNER: Good evenin’, Marshal…
MATT: Evenin’…
LARNER: What are you starin’ at me for?
MATT: Your name Jed Larner?
LARNER: And if it is…?
MATT: How long you been in town, Larner?
LARNER: About an hour…somethin’ wrong, Marshal?
MATT: You remember the big blizzard we had?
LARNER: Hmm…who don’t?
MATT: We all do, I guess…especially Ira Pucket…
LARNER: What?
MATT: He didn’t die, Larner…
LARNER: Well…that’s fine…I went back, lookin’ for him…I wondered where he got to…
MATT: Ah, sure you did…
LARNER: Well, it’s true!
MATT: Pucket’s here in Dodge, Larner…
LARNER: He is?
MATT: …and if he finds you, he’ll kill you…but he isn’t gonna find you because you’re leavin’…right now…and don’t show up around here again…
LARNER: Now wait, Marshal…
MATT: I can’t arrest you—I can’t put you in jail—but I’ll tell you what I can do…
LARNER: What?
MATT: Suppose I just let everybody here know that you’re the man who ran off and left Ira Pucket to die…
LARNER: No…
MATT: You know somethin’…they’d tear you apart, Larner…they’d set you on fire…

Larner takes the hint and—well, I hesitate to say this, but—gets the hell out of Dodge. But Pucket witnesses Larner’s departure and confronts Matt:

PUCKET: Why’d you do it, Marshal?
MATT: To save you from hanging…
PUCKET: Well, I rather hang than live this way…I wasn’t born to become a helpless old man…the least you coulda done was let me fight my own battle like I always did out on the plains…you took my manhood away from me, Marshal!
MATT: You’re livin’ in town now, Ira…among people…why don’t you get used to it?
PUCKET: All right…all right…all right, I will! I’ll live like you town people…
MATT: Fine…then why don’t you start by getting yourself a job?
PUCKET: I’m-a goin’ to…I sure am…and it’s gonna pay me a lot of money, too…
MATT: What do you mean by that?
PUCKET: You’ll find out, Marshal…when it’s too late…

Pucket’s job that will “pay him a lot of money” turns out to be an attempt to rob the bank in Dodge, which is quickly foiled when Chester takes off with the old man’s “getaway” horse-and-wagon and Matt stops him as he’s going out the front:

PUCKET: You think you outsmarted me, don’t ya?
MATT: Give it up, Pucket…you’re licked…
PUCKET: Yeah, well, I…oh…oh, I can’t shoot ya, Marshal…here…here, take the gun…eh, I’m nothin’ but a helpless old fool…can’t even rob a bank proper…
MATT: I’m not sure you really wanted to, Pucket…
PUCKET: What?
MATT: All you wanted was to prove something about that…manhood you think has been taken away from you…but you sure picked a foolish way to do it…
PUCKET: Yeah, I guess I did…
CHESTER: My goodness, I thought he wouldn’t never gonna give up, Mister Dillon…
MATT: He didn’t have much choice, Chester…
CHESTER: I went in the back way and told the people in the bank to keep out of the way…you want me to take him to jail?
PUCKET: Oh, no…no…no, I can’t stand jail…no, please, Marshal…
MATT: Lock him up, Chester…I’ll return this money and have a talk with Mr. Bodkin…

With all this talk about Pucket’s “manhood” you’d think it was more than just his foot that was amputated…fortunately for the addled old coot, Matt has managed to smooth things over and has even obtained for Pucket a manly, virile job—riding “messenger” on the town’s stage. Pucket brightens at this prospect, declaring “it’ll sure be a good way to start the new year.”

“Pucket’s New Year” was penned by writer John Meston, a former CBS Radio story editor who left his job to freelance writing Gunsmoke scripts beginning in the show’s second year. He would prove to be one of the best and most prolific of the series’ writers; his work described by star Conrad as “seasoned and highlighted by red streaks of magnificent violence.” The gritty realism of Meston’s scripts is what set Gunsmoke apart from its imitators; Meston wasn’t afraid to highlight how violent the West really was and he held the traditional radio western guitar-thumping hero in total disdain, writing in a letter to the New York Tribune: “I spit in his milk, and you’ll have to go elsewhere to find somebody to pour out the lead for his golden bullets.” When Gunsmoke made the eventual switch to television, Meston became the show’s head writer—proving to be the TV version’s greatest asset.

One thing I’ve always loved about Gunsmoke was its commercials for Chesterfield/L&M cigarettes—I’m not a smoker, but there's something about announcer George Walsh’s pitching for the product (“They satisfy…the most…”) that's enough to make me a three-pack-a-day man. One of the commercials on this broadcast is done by the one-and-only Jack Webb (Chesterfield also sponsored Dragnet at one time), who is curiously allowed to tout his NBC television series Dragnet on CBS Radio. I'm reminded of Fred Allen's observation that “NBC does not recognize Hell or the Columbia Broadcasting System,” so perhaps they had a more lenient policy over at the Eye.

“Around Dodge City, and into territory on west, there’s just one way to handle the killers and the spoilers: that’s with a U.S. Marshal, and the smell of…”

I was in my sophomore year of college in 1983—attending Marshall University—and Sunday afternoons would find me in the college library, reading books on OTR. The library, in particular, had a copy of what was then referred to as the “bible” of old-time radio, John Dunning’s Tune in Yesterday. I had to spend time in the library reading this book because it was in the reference section, and they wouldn’t let you check those books out. (For one brief moment in my life, I had seriously considered “liberating” this from their stacks—but I remember hearing a voice in my head saying something about the weed of crime bearing bitter fruit, and so I stayed on the straight-and-narrow.) While thumbing through the card catalog, I discovered that the library had a few OTR shows on reel-to-reel tape—which could be checked out, and so I borrowed some of those and took them to the campus radio station (I was a broadcast major at the time) to make copies for myself.

One of the reel-to-reel tapes had some Western shows on it, and I saw that a few Gunsmoke episodes had been included. Now, while I was aware that Gunsmoke had been on radio before television, I had never heard one of the radio shows before. So I gave one a listen; a broadcast from April 15, 1956 called “The Executioner.” A young gunfighter named Tom Cleg (Sam Edwards) goads Abe Curry (John Dehner) into a gunfight, and his surviving brother Morgan (Lawrence Dobkin) makes a plea to Marshal Matt Dillon (William Conrad) for justice. The only problem is, under the law, Abe drew first, and there’s not much Dillon can do about it. Morgan is finally able to goad Cleg into a similar gunfight—only Morgan is unarmed—and Dillon is forced into killing the young gunfighter, in effect becoming the titular individual.

To an individual whose only exposure to old-time radio westerns was The Lone Ranger, this was pretty powerful stuff. With the passage of time and my listening to more and more of the radio Gunsmoke, I slowly became convinced that not only was the show the gold standard by which OTR drama should be measured, but that it sort of made the TV program come off…well, a little second-best.

The roots of Gunsmoke start in 1949, when CBS president William Paley—who was a fan of the private-eye series The Adventures of Philip Marlowe—asked CBS programming about developing a series about a “Philip Marlowe in the old West.” Two Gunsmoke audition programs (featuring a character named Mark Dillon) were prepared, one with Rye Billsbury (6/11/49) and the other with Howard Culver (7/15/49), both of which still exist today. Culver was considered the best candidate for the role, but unfortunately was contractually obligated to another western appearing on Mutual at the time called Straight Arrow.

The Gunsmoke project soon fell into the hands of producer Norman Macdonnell and writer John Meston, who continued to negotiate with the network about the possibility of adding what they termed an “adult Western” to the CBS schedule. Macdonnell had taken over the directing chores from William N. Robson on Escape by this time, and on December 22, 1950 he aired a story written by John Meston entitled “Wild Jack Rhett.” Several months later, the duo tried again with the story “Pagosa,” which aired on Romance August 6, 1951. It wasn’t until the untimely cancellation of a Robson program called Operation Underground on April 19, 1952 that the network decided to give Macdonnell and Meston’s concept a try. They had one week to put what eventually became Gunsmoke on the air, and the first episode—“Billy the Kid”—debuted April 26, 1952.

Chosen to play the part of Marshal Matt Dillon was veteran radio actor William Conrad—although the CBS brass wasn’t too crazy about the idea at first. Not due to any animosity towards the actor; it was just by that time Conrad had become “the hardest working man in the radio business”—appearing on such shows as Escape, Suspense, The Whistler, etc. But after auditioning hundreds of actors, there was no getting around it: Conrad was the ideal actor for the part.

Two of the Gunsmoke regulars also appeared in the very first show; although the character that listeners would come to know as Chester Wesley Proudfoot—Dillon’s loyal deputy—was called “Townsman” in the first show. (It was Conrad who dubbed the character “Chester” after complaining that he “couldn’t very well call the guy ‘Townsman.’” The actor playing the part of Chester, Parley Baer, filled in the rest of Chester’s unique moniker while ad-libbing one day.) The character of Doc—played by actor Howard McNear—also had his surname provided by Conrad; the medico, who demonstrated in the first episode a ghoulish glee at collecting a fee for a murdered man, prompted Conrad to dub him “Dr. Charles Adams,” in a subtle in-joke reference to the famed macabre cartoonist of the same name. (When the western was transplanted to TV, Chester's last name inexplicably became "Goode," while Doc's first name was changed to "Galen.") The fourth member of Gunsmoke’s acting ensemble, Kitty Russell, was introduced to the show several weeks later, although the actress who played the role, Georgia Ellis, was in the first show, playing the wife of the murdered man. Contrary to the rather chaste relationship that Dillon and Kitty enjoyed during the TV program’s 20-year run, Kitty was a traditional dance hall girl—and not in the Roy Rogers sense, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. Macdonnell himself commented in a 1953 interview with Time magazine: “Kitty is just someone Matt has to visit every once in a while. We never say it, but Kitty is a prostitute, plain and simple.”

Listening to Gunsmoke is truly an experience for someone only familiar with the television show. The series often deals with incredibly mature subject matter; there are no happy endings on Gunsmoke—no clear good versus evil, and the scripts crackle with an authentic realism not present in many of the shows still on the air at that time. Meston once described the Dillon character: “Life and his enemies have left him looking a little beat-up. There’d have to be something wrong with him or he wouldn’t have signed on as a United States marshal in the heyday of Dodge City, Kansas.”

“Christmas Story,” a holiday Gunsmoke broadcast from December 20, 1952, is a kindler, gentler episode from the series—and yet, it still contains traces of the gritty realism that was the show’s hallmark. Dillon is returning to Dodge after escorting a prisoner to Oklahoma when his horse steps in a prairie dog hole and breaks his legs, necessitating that the marshal shoot the animal. (You won’t see that sort of thing on Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer, I’ll bet.) It’s a forty-mile trek back to Dodge, but on the way Dillon meets a stranger named Amos Cowley (Lawrence Dobkin) who offers to give him a lift on the back of his horse—provided the old, thin mount can carry both men, that is. On the journey to Dodge, Cowley asks Dillon to tell him about the town, and the marshal provides several interesting anecdotes, most of which occurred last Christmas Eve. Matt tells a story about encountering the town’s handyman, John Bomby (John Dehner)—who has some earth-shattering news:

BOMBY: Oh…hello, Marshal…

MATT: Well…hi John…

BOMBY: Lovely night for a Christmas Eve, isn’t it…?

MATT: Yeah, it certainly is, John…pretty fine night…

BOMBY: Peace on Earth…goodwill to men (giggles)…eh, Mister Dillon?

MATT: Well, that’s the way it should be, John…

BOMBY: Yeah…you know, Marshal, this is going to be quite a night for me…yes, sir…

MATT: Oh? Is that so?

BOMBY: Oh, yes sir…tonight, I’m asking Mrs. McNish to become Mrs. Bomby…

MATT: What?

BOMBY: Mm-hmm…

MATT: Why, John…I didn’t know that…

BOMBY: I know it’s been a mighty fast secret, but I’m…I’m popping the question tonight…

MATT: Well, I wish you a lot of luck, John…hey, I’ll tell you what…come by the Texas Trail later, and we’ll have a drink on it…

BOMBY: I will…I really will, Marshal…you’re good and kind, Marshal…good and kind…Merry Christmas, Marshal Dillon…Merry Christmas…

MATT (laughing) Well, the same to you, John…

During the trek back to Dodge, Dillon and Cowley are forced to make several stops along the way so as not to tire out Cowley’s horse—Cowley explains that the horse is around eight-years-old, “eats like a pig and looks like a four-legged mizzen mast.” Cowley also begins to leak out some personal information; he was once a seaman, but he also seems to be rather touchy on the subject of the sea, as if he’s harboring a secret. Matt then tells him about how he, Chester, Doc and Kitty spent last year’s Christmas Eve; getting together at the Texas Trail for drinks, he and Chester bringing a bottle of whiskey by to Mr. Hightower (Harry Bartell), the train depot’s clerk—culminating with ringing in Christmas at Doc’s place:

MATT (narrating): We rode on, and I thought about last year—about Kitty, Doc and Chester and me—going over to Doc’s place after Doc got tired of tending bar at the Texas Trail…it was about a quarter to midnight, and we stood around…sang Christmas carols (a chorus of “The First Noel” can be heard in the background)…I…I remember how it sounded that night…how it looked…the glow in the stove in the middle of the room…and, uh…the frosty windows…yeah, it was Christmas Eve, all right…

(The four of them finish “The First Noel”…then laughter)

DOC: Hey, that was fine, that was just fine…hey now, what do you say we…

(SFX: clock striking twelve midnight)

CHESTER: Hey…

KITTY: Listen…

DOC: Aw…Merry Christmas…

KITTY: Merry Christmas…

CHESTER: Merry Christmas…

MATT: Merry Christmas…

DOC: I feel sentimental…that’s exactly how I feel, I feel sentimental…

CHESTER: I know what you mean, Doc…I surely know…

KITTY: Okay, Doc…bring ‘em out!

(SFX: music)

MATT (narrating): …and I remember how Doc scuttled over to the bureau and brought out some packages…the presents weren’t much, but it didn’t matter what they were…and when we finished opening them, it was Chester who said what we were all thinking…

CHESTER: I just…I-I-I just want to say…Miss Kitty…Doc…you, Mister Dillon…I-I just want to say that this is the best doggone Christmas I ever had…and that’s what I’m gonna say…

It is nightfall, and it quickly becomes apparent that Dillon and Cowley won’t make it in time for Matt to celebrate Chistmas Eve in Dodge. Cowley tries to talk Matt into taking his horse, but Dillon will have none of it. So, the two men decide to make camp for the night:

MATT (narrating): We made a fire, and then shared what we had for supper…he seemed to soften up after that, and we talked for a couple of three hours…it was like he was starved for news of people, everyday things—and just plain company…and that’s how we spent Christmas Eve together, out on the plain…and then when the fire was dying down, and it was about ready for sleep…he said:

COWLEY: Marshal?

MATT: Yeah?

COWLEY: I want to tell you something…I’ve been meanin’ to tell it for a long time…do you mind?

MATT: Well, of course I don’t mind…

COWLEY: Well, then I’ll tell you…a few years ago, I was skipper of a little schooner…used to sail up and down the East Coast, you know, Boston, New York…

MATT: Yeah…

COWLEY: Well, one night…we hit dirty weather off New Jersey…real dirty…blew us off-course and we piled up on the rocks and knocked the bottom out…

MATT: Ah, that’s too bad…

COWLEY: …there was eighteen passengers aboard, Marshal…four of ‘em was kids…never saw ‘em again…

MATT: Oh…

COWLEY: …and my own…my own wife and my kid went down, too…

MATT: I’m…I’m sorry…

COWLEY: Well, now…somethin’ must have happened to me after that…I didn’t want nothin’ to do with…with ships or the sea…and I started to drift out this way…I couldn’t forget though, you know? And I didn’t want to be near folks…especially kids…to remind me, you know?

MATT: Yeah…

COWLEY: Well, that’s how come I’ve been slewin’ around ever since…

MATT: Sure, I understand…

COWLEY: …just kinda wanted to get it off my chest…

MATT: Sure…

COWLEY (after a pause) Marshal…I’d like to ride into Dodge with you tomorrow…you think I might meet some of them folks you was tellin’ about?

MATT: Why…I don’t see why not…

COWLEY: That’d be all right…maybe I wouldn’t need to drift no more…maybe I could…drop anchor, do you know…

MATT: Yeah…you might at that…

COWLEY: Yes…well…good night…

MATT: Good night…

COWLEY: Merry Christmas…Marshal…

MATT: Merry Christmas, Mr. Cowley…

The popularity of Gunsmoke was such that creating a television version of the western was pretty much a no-brainer; unfortunately, none of the original cast members made the transition to the tube. In particular, Conrad—who was vocally perfect in the Dillon role—was a little on the rotund side, and essentially had to make do narrating both Rocky and Bullwinkle and The Fugitive until he got his small screen break with the detective series Cannon. Parley Baer later appeared as “Darby” on The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet and Howard McNear, of course, can be seen as “Howard the Barber” on the endlessly-rerun The Andy Griffith Show.

For anyone interested in checking out what a fine dramatic series the radio Gunsmoke could be, I would heartily recommend that the newly initiated listener start with the 1976 audio documentary The Story of Gunsmoke. It is available from many OTR dealers; the copy I purchased from Steve Kelez at Radio Showcase years ago had some exceptionally fine audio.