Producer-director Norman Macdonnell (left) confers with William Conrad during a rehearsal for "Gunsmoke." |
“Gunsmoke”
Dramatic radio program; “adult Western”
CBS
30 min. episodes
Broadcast April 26, 1952 to June 18, 1961
Not all memorable sounds are musical. During the Golden Age
of Radio, a number of programs and a subculture of talent entertained, informed
and inspired the public. One of the best of these was “Gunsmoke.”
Very few people retain a living memory of that medium, but
from 1926 through Sept. 30, 1962, network radio was a real-time, (at least
until Bing Crosby pushed through pre-recorded programming in 1947) vital
cornucopia of drama, comedy, variety, news, music and public service. There
were niche shows that appealed to specialized audiences, and even prestige and
experimental efforts that the networks “sustained” (carried without commercials).
By and large, though, network radio was pitched by mutual
consent to the lowest common denominator, and censored rigorously . . . save
for some gruesome violence on horror shows such as “The Inner Sanctum” and
“Lights Out,” and not excluding the matter-of-fact retailing of then-popular
racist stereotypes of the day on such shows as “Amos & Andy,” “Life with
Luigi,” Asian villains galore, especially during World War II, and of course
the faithfully subordinate, monosyllabic Tonto.
Television killed radio, at precisely the point when it was
about to mature and diversify. The juvenile and wholesome tone of “old-time
radio” was disturbed by several darker shows that cropped up late in the era –
most significantly, “Gunsmoke.”
Producer-director Norman Macdonnell and writer John Mestin
wanted to bring gritty realism to the Western genre, which was previously the
domain of children’s programming. They devised a formula so successful that it
lasted a decade on radio and transferred to TV for a 20-year run as well.
“Gunsmoke” was set in frontier Dodge City , Kansas ,
and centered on the exploits of Marshal Matt Dillon. Although the typical story
arc of conflict and bloody resolution prevailed, Macdonnell and Mestin’s
conceptual framework enabled all manner of stories to be told, all kinds of
themes to be explored, and countless sharply-drawn characters to be delineated.
Later writers like Antony Ellis, Les Crutchfield, and Kathleen Hite kept up the
quality.
The choice to play Dillon was William Conrad. Perhaps better
remembered today for his TV work in the detective shows “Cannon” and “Jake and
the Fat Man,” Conrad was a stellar radio performer for decades. Although he
jokingly referred to himself as “The Man with a Thousand Voice,” he was adept
at accents and graced all manner of shows.
Conrad’s husky baritone allowed him to play leading men on radio, but he had a quality of vulnerability in his voice as well. His thoughtful, nuanced delivery personified the complexity and ambiguity found in the show itself. Dillon killed regularly in the course of his job, yet he was a man of conscience. As he said in each show’s intro, “It’s a chancy job, and it makes a man watchful . . . and a little lonely.” Pathos, and humor, were not excluded either. Still, week after week, we never forgot that Matt Dillon was a violent and haunted man.
Conrad’s husky baritone allowed him to play leading men on radio, but he had a quality of vulnerability in his voice as well. His thoughtful, nuanced delivery personified the complexity and ambiguity found in the show itself. Dillon killed regularly in the course of his job, yet he was a man of conscience. As he said in each show’s intro, “It’s a chancy job, and it makes a man watchful . . . and a little lonely.” Pathos, and humor, were not excluded either. Still, week after week, we never forgot that Matt Dillon was a violent and haunted man.
The regular cast of characters included Parley Baer as
Chester Proudfoot, Dillon’s deputy; Howard McNear (Floyd the barber later on TV’s
“The Andy Griffith Show”) as Doc; and Geogia Ellis as Miss Kitty, the saloon
proprietress. A host of top-notch supporting players handled a variety of roles
each week, including John Dehner, Harry Bartell, Larry Dobkin, Jack Kruschen,
Jeanette Nolan, and Vic Perrin.
Two of the highlights of the show were Rex Koury’s score, scored
eloquently and economically for guitar, trumpet and violins, and the best sound
effects in the business. So elevated was the approach to them that they were
referred to as “sound patterns” in the credits, and Tom Hanley, Ray and Bill
James Kemper provided them. Their quest for realism led them great lengths. You
can listen to characters’ footsteps change from wood to gravel to dirt as they “track”
through a scene; the aural landscape is meticulously if subtly laid out for the
listener.
Here's an exemplary episode to try: "The Square Triangle," from Nov. 14, 1952 --
Fortunately, these shows were preserved and are available
for free listening on the web. Such locations as http://archive.org/details/OTRR_Gunsmoke_Singles,
http://www.otr.net/?p=guns, http://otrarchive.blogspot.com/2009/04/gunsmoke.html
will give you pleasure by the hour. I must refer exceptionally curious
listeners to Denver writer and old-time radio expert John Dunning’s classic
1998 reference work, “On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio.” Dunning,
who enchanted me with his weekly broadcasts for decades, cannot be surpassed.
Network TV killed network radio. In contrast, narrative
radio in England
never died out, and the medium is mature and robust there (oh, yes, they still
have their share of dreck as well). What would Amrican radio sound like now if
the form hadn’t been dropped? There have been sporadic attempts to revive the
genre, such as “The CBS Radio Mystery Theater” and some National Public Radio
efforts, but unless some miracle occurs, you could do worse than realize the
possibilities for edgy and challenging content that “Gunsmoke” made manifest.