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Wagons Roll - Memories of the Best of the Westerns
- Wagon Train
By Anne Moore
Recently, I had the good fortune to come across Owen Wister’s seminal Western novel, ‘The Virginian’, first published in 1902, and the definitive source for all Westerns thereafter. Once more, I was a child of the 50’s, reliving the opening up of the American West in the 19th century, traveling in two time zones as I submerged myself in the range, ranch, prairies, Panhandle, cowboys and heroes that I loved. It was 1860 and 1960 merged into one for me.
Thinking back, it is possible that I was genetically programmed to embrace the television Western. From the age of seven, I was given the task by my grandfather and father, of going to the library for them and selecting “a couple of good Westerns, look for Zane Grey.” That was my weekly mission. At the time, I never read the books, but the enthusiasm they engendered in the men folk must have sown the seeds of my passionate devotion. My mother enjoyed a “cowboy film” and took me to the cinema twice a week, so I fell in love with Jeff Chandler at an early age.
The same cinema sometimes showed Westerns suitable for children, or as we called them “cowboys and Indians”, at their Saturday afternoon matinees. In the aftermath of such performances, strangers or visitors to our streets would be well aware that such a film had been screened, due to the reenactments taking place. Anyone who had a cowboy hat, a six shooter, holster or fringed waistcoat could be observed clattering over the cobbles, riding a broom with a bit of old rope or a dad’s tie serving for reigns, and talking in broad American accents.
I personally owned all of these items, apart from the broom, which I had to borrow from my mother, and including a fringed skirt, as close to Annie Oakley’s as made no odds, or at least I imagined it was. All that were missing were the vast open prairies, the mountains and the cows. We created the latter by cajoling family dogs into participation, while the rest were supplied by our active and versatile imaginations. So I was primed, by the age of 10, in 1959, to become the most devoted, adoring fan of ‘Wagon Train’ et al.
And it was ‘Wagon Train’ that represented for me all that was good, happy, exciting and adventurous for a little girl in a Belfast Catholic ghetto. The program went out on BBC Northern Ireland between 8.00p.m. and 9.00p.m. on a Monday evening, which meant I was allowed to stay up late to watch it. My grandfather, totally blind by this time, was led to our house to listen, as he and grandma had no television, preferring the radio. We sat in total absorption, immersed in the stories of those brave, ordinary and extraordinary people who dared to load a conestoga wagon and strike out for the Wild West. As they traveled from St. Joseph to Sacramento during the 1860’s, I learned the difference between good and bad people from this epic series.
Wagon Master, Major Seth Adams, played by Ward Bond, reminded me of my wise and brave grandfather. Scout Fling McCullough (Robert Horton), was like my dad. I knew that no matter what terrors, wickedness or evil deeds occurred, these two, together with Frank McGrath as Charlie Wooster, the cook, would ensure that righteousness would triumph. Basically, the ‘goodies’ would defeat the ‘baddies’ and the moral message was that good could often redeem evil, or at least, the wicked would get their just desserts! There was something very comforting in that idea.
The events, scenery, characters and heroism, all combined to capture the essence of the majestic country and the unfolding of the American Dream. Though ‘Wagon Train’ was filmed in black and white from 1958 to 1962, when it extended in length from 52 to 90 minute episodes, and was shot in color, the power of the stories, the quality of acting, and the realism of location brought it vibrantly to life for me. I preferred the black and white version, as my imagination provided all the color needed.
Like all good drama, this TV Western drew it sources from real life dilemmas, history and great literature, which possibly explains its universal appeal for so long. It ran from 1957 through to 1965, with changes in casts, big names, and sadly, the death of Ward Bond, in the saddle, on location in Texas, in 1960. I truly mourned his loss, as my dreams usually included singing for Major Adams after we settled the horses and grouped the wagons for the night; or making him a special stew, helped by Charlie, or brushing his hat, if he let me. When he died and Chris Hale (John McIntire) took over his job as Wagon Master, I was resentful at first, but gradually realized he was a good sort and I could trust him.
That was the power of ‘Wagon Train’ for me. These central characters were like family and friends I knew I could depend on. By 1965 when the wagons rolled across our screens for the last time, I had grown up and become more sophisticated, maybe, and at 16, had other interests. I had also experienced several other great TV Westerns, and developed crushes on Little Joe Cartwright (Michael Landon) in ‘Bonanza’, Rowdy Yates in ‘Rawhide’ (the great Clint Eastwood), and fallen totally in love with ‘The Virginian’, James Drury.
On hearing the theme music, seeing the man in black on his beautiful horse, and entering the portals of the Shiloh ranch, I was transported to Medicine Bow, waiting for him to return my adoring love. I fantasized dire situations from which he would rescue me, and we would ride off into the sunset. On reading Wister’s novel, I was disillusioned to learn what a nasty piece of work Trampas really was; but I had no problem identifying with the feisty teacher the Virginian courted and won. I was glad to discover that Wister’s hero, on whom the TV version was modeled, was equally as handsome and exciting as James Drury.
But as I said, I developed other interests by that stage, as we entered the age of Aquarius and the Beatles seduced me, particularly John Lennon. The demise of the TV Western might suggest that the world had become more sophisticated, so viewers and consumers no longer related to the morality or heroism of the past it portrayed. Possibly the genre became too ‘dated’ and could not match the cultural changes that began to emerge at this time. So many earth-changing events claimed the collective unconscious; the simplicity of the world of the Wild West no longer held us in thrall, as the frontiers were extending and the moon beckoned.
So, for many reasons, the Western genre disappeared from TV in the 1970s, but not before it had delivered thousands of hours of entertainment and created millions of fans. Of them all, ‘Wagon Train’ stands out as the best and most authentic, never mind the thought that certain aspects of history might have undergone imaginative amendment. If we agree that true drama requires a willing suspension of disbelief, then this program did it for me, transporting me body and soul to the glories of the West. If only life was quite so simple now, but who knows, those conestoga wagons might just be lined up at the Pearly Gates, waiting for brave pioneers. I am taking the lead wagon, just behind the Wagon Master, so I must go and finish sewing this new sunbonnet. “Wagons…….Roll!”
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My Friends, Major Seth Adams, Scout Flint McCullough, and Charlie, the Cook.
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