'Gunsmoke': Hollywood’s greatest western series—ever.

When people think of westerns, black and white images of gun-slinging, whiskey-drinking, train-robbing cowboys probably come to mind. They think of a one-two-three plot where the bad guys tote their pride, duel with the marshal, then submit to the mercies of the good guys. Simple, predictable, and outdated.

And even though my favorite western has all those things, the Old Hollywood dramatization reveals the core of American values in those bygone days.

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Man for the job

When I talk about my favorite western, I usually refer to the epic TV show Gunsmoke. I say epic because the show ran for 20 years and focused on one town and one man. That one town was Dodge City; that one man was U.S. Marshal Matt Dillon.

Marshal Dillon, played by the hefty and handsome James Arness, is the quintessential American hero: tall (6-foot-7, mind you), confident, stern, calm, gallant. And who has a keen, blue-eyed stare that makes the women blush and the bullies cry. He’s the Wyatt Earp of INSP TV.

But how does a show, about just one man in one town, with a common plot line stay on air that long?

Because it’s what we want. We want to see the bad fall and the good triumph.

One may be amazed at the sheer endurance of Dillon’s character. Even though he faces death and endless bouts of evil people, he does not give up or cave in. He makes his comebacks, even if his friend has to die and the killer gets away. The show deals with the stress and emotion of those quick decisions—and the guilt of them afterward.

Romance of values

Beneath the apparent good versus evil, there’s another theme throughout all of Gunsmoke that speaks beyond that of pure entertainment.

It’s the nonexistent romance between Dillon and Miss Kitty Russell—the beautiful, strong, no-nonsense co-owner of the Long Branch Saloon. With her bouffant and husky voice, she’s the only woman robust enough to handle Dillon.

So, not only do we have a character whose endurance lasts through gun fights, but a character who reveals self-control on a more intimate level. Some argue that this dehumanizes the already superhuman Dillon. However, it reveals a sacrifice and self-control necessary for the marshal to have.

As the song goes, “He never hung his hat up at Kitty's place.”

To marry Miss Kitty would be a conflict of interest with pending disappointment. There’s always the chance Dillon’s six-shooter won’t fire at the dire moment.

In their unusual romance, a certain look in the eye, a hand touch, or smile is enough. In a day and age where Game of Thrones and Fifty Shades of Grey are the talked-about entertainment, many have forgotten that showing a final kiss or even just a hand touch can represent all that needs to be said or never said. It’s classy and leaves it up to the viewer to put the best romance in their heads.

One of my favorite scenes that illustrates this is the episode where Miss Kitty runs away in frustration with Dillon. She ends up hooking up with a seemingly nice, handsome stranger who turns out to be an angry, controlling brute. When he threatens to hurt Miss Kitty and kill an innocent man, Dillon shows up in the nick of time. In her shame, Miss Kitty looks at Matt across the dead body of her attacker.

With tears in her eyes, all she can say is, “Matt…I…I…”

Dillon smiles, “I know, Kitty.” He walks away, and she’s left standing in her saloon, alone.

“I, what?” we ask in desperation. I thank you? I hope we can have dinner? I love you?

We will never know. And that’s ok. As the saying goes, some things are better left unsaid.

Sometimes, I find it difficult to relate this old-fashioned TV show to people my own age. But I tell them—even in all its trivialness—that this western represents values: standing up for honor and what is right; putting others before yourself; the triumph of good and its endurance. They transcend time.

And that is why Gunsmoke is my favorite western.