CHEYENNE
(1955-1963)
Out
of the unknown came Clint Walker to play the soft-spoken, handsome
television cowboy, Cheyenne Bodie, who—for a man of impressive
stature—possessed sensitivity, compassion, and uncompromising ethics
to uphold the truth. He was not to be lied to and could defend
himself with a lightning-quick draw. Cheyenne may save a town from
self-destruction by calmly reasoning and presenting facts that both
sides can accept—those still alive—by the episode’s end. He will
end up getting whacked on the back of the head almost weekly with the
butt of a revolver. It is a wonder he could remember how to ride a
horse, let alone shoot straight. Some scripts called for the
well-built Walker to lose his shirt. I am not referring to money lost
in a poker game, either. The hero always escapes the clutches of
hateful people or defends someone in a similar predicament. Truth
overrules lies. In today’s Hollywood, one cannot always recognize
the good guy or that evil characters have become the central focus.
Though
standard fare for the era, television budgets made it obvious when
stock Warner Bros footage was inserted. The studio was not happy with
the first few episodes in which Cheyenne traveled with a comical
sidekick, L.Q. Jones. Roy Huggins was asked to better develop the
title character, distancing him from a Saturday morning cardboard
figure. There is a commonality between Cheyenne and his later Richard
Kimble character. Each could make a positive change in people’s lives.
Both characters moved from town to town being hired for a variety of
jobs. Each had no ties but often had admiring females. The two shows
were a timeless account of an individual correcting the wrongs within
his circle of influence. One person making a difference.
There
were few experiences Cheyenne was not equipped to handle, whether
defending or fighting the American Indian, acting as trail boss for a
cattle drive or a scout for the U.S. Cavalry. By far, he was most
often confronted by crooked, single-minded sheriffs or townspeople,
judges, or cattle-rustling outlaws who hate him because he throws a
wrench in their devious plans. It is a coordinated effort by a
deceptive leader in which he or she rules by coercive behavior. The
show can be frustrating week after week because these blind
individuals lack any sense, common or otherwise. In their
self-serving behavior, they accuse without allowing facts to be
presented. Truth is irrelevant. Jail him, run him out of town or
their favorite option, hang him before the mob changes their mind. It
is a timeless illustration of narrow-minded individuals intimidating
the innocent. These people will not agree to disagree, respect each
opinion, and remain friends. The person is simply an enemy.
The
ABC series was the first sixty-minute western and the grand-pappy of
the “adult” western, premiering a week before the thirty-minute
Gunsmoke. When watched today, most Cheyenne episodes are engaging
enough—thanks to Clint
Walker's straight-arrow charm—to
help the hour go by quickly. At least, via DVR. Eventually, the sun
set on the prime time show, but it continued to be a role model for
many youngsters in reruns. Walker has humbly stated that his
autograph line was the longest of other television western peers
during classic western hero conventions. Cheyenne remains an integral character to admire when truth, justice and common sense
prevailed.
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