Gunsmoke Actor James Arness Dies at 88

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James Arness of 'Gunsmoke' fame dead at 88

By FRAZIER MOORE
AP Television Writer

It takes a special kind of lawman to carry on for 20 years in the Wild West of TV.

Matt Dillon, the mythical marshal of Dodge City, stood tall - all 6 feet, 6 inches of him - on "Gunsmoke" from 1955 to 1975. He outlasted dozens of other Western heroes while making history on TV's longest-running dramatic series, a record that held until NBC's "Law & Order" tied the CBS Western's record in 2010.

Through all those gunslinging years, James Arness, who died Friday, kept Marshal Dillon righteous, peace-seeking and, most of all, believable.

Fickle viewers can kill a TV hero as surely as a bullet from an outlaw's six-gun. But Arness knew how to maintain order not only in circa-1870s Dodge City, but also among the TV audience, whose itchy fingers on their channel changers he knew how to calm.

In an era when TV actors typically chewed the scenery, Arness had a credible, commanding presence by hardly uttering a word. A typical scene found a dozen cowboys riding up to the town jail intent on busting out a prisoner pal.

Dillon faces them all down.

"The first move anybody makes," he says, with a slight shake of his head, "I cut you in two."

Arness' defiant but rueful delivery is so understated, he makes Clint Eastwood seem like a loudmouth.

No wonder "Gunsmoke" wore so well. And became the last word on a programming craze that some seasons found as many as 30 Westerns on the air. When "Gunsmoke" went off in 1975, it was the only Western left.

By the end of his career, Arness, who was 88 when he died at his home in the Brentwood section of Los Angeles, seemed almost indistinguishable from Matt Dillon in the audience's mind.


Full story: http://www.wave3.com/story/14836761/jam ... dead-at-88

[Smiles]

Matt Dillon seemed cold to me, and yes, even way back then (I was 12), oddly non-sexual even when addressing women ... that slut from the saloon got precisely nowhere with goody-two-shoes Matt.

But the airwaves were loaded with other cowboys, ones who were downright edgy compared to Marshall Matt. This dude for instance scared the shit out of me, but fascinated as well (now that I think on it, Boone looks rather like an aging leather/SM dude from the Castro, circa 1975) . . . he never paid the price for blithely assassinating bad guys in cold blood, with relish ... and back in the days the networks didn't give a damn either, this being the era of blatant non PCism. Paladin was the blackest of heroes (with the weirdest of names ... and no last one) and some years ago my old man stole his moniker for his own business card: 'Have Wheels Will Travel' ~ substituting a Toyota Vigo for a chess piece.





I vividly remember however being sexually aroused by Rowdy Yates. A very young Clint Eastwood on the happy trails with lottsa cows and the obligatory riding-into-the-nearest-town-and-drinking-the-paycheck-away-in-the-swinging-door-saloon. Rowdy wasn't meant to be the star, but he eclipsed the actual one (a man who's name is long forgotten) by a long shot and got my little-boy mojo working. Rowdy wasn't edgy, but he sure was a-drawling ... slow-talkin', slow-walkin', and bore a decent package in those Texas jeans ... though back in the early 60's no one knew what a 'package' was. I did.





Oozy sexuality was Steve's game. Sawed off Winchester indeed! Josh Randall worked that gun better than a Dallas cheerleader works a dildo, oops, I mean a baton. . . and here was another cowboy who never gave a mass killing a second thought, then, streets full of black&white blood, he strode off into the arms of a crinoline-ed maiden living in a dusty sod house down the dusty road a bit in the middle of sage brush territory with her 11 year old savvy son who was supposed to be protecting her against the likes of Josh. Well screw that! She said, falling into his arms as little johnny was sent off in search of water: " ... it's just 9 miles down the road Honey, take yer time ... "
And screw me!! I was in awe of Steve Mcqueen in his murder-and-seduction routine.

Check out those bullets!





There were two Maverick brothers, but no one remembers anyone except James Garner. I'm surprised The Other Brother never killed him, as Brett always ended up with some hussy, and The Other Bro minded the horses ... and often slept with them. Brett was cool, TOG was pathetic, I felt sorry for him.