I miss the Western movies and TV shows I grew up with. You know the ones. The bad guy rides into town and tries to steal the best ranch in the country. Or, the good guy rides into town to see a bad guy besmirch the local sweetheart and order his cohorts to do a whole list of bad things. Mr. Evil has trouble keeping his meanest bad guy from shooting anyone for quite awhile. Eventually though, he proves that he is truly the bad guy, because he shoots the mean one, or a deputy (who was working for him, undercover), himself.
The good guy tries to rally the citizens, fails, then feels duty bound to lead them to victory, although they are not too sure about him, because he is a stranger. Many of the local citizens feel he is the bad guy. Luckily he is quite good looking, can play a guitar and sing. The local, beautiful young lady, daughter of the ill fated ranch owner, falls for him and persuades the rest of the community to help him out.
Those of us who were lucky enough to grow up with Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, Gene Autry, John Wayne, Rex Allen, Hoppy, Eddie Dean and other silver screen cowboys still remember those heroes.
We kids knew immediately who the bad guys were. They had a sneer, a bad attitude, were generally either unkempt or much too slick and well dressed, generally with a thin mustache, and they owned the local bar/gambling hall. However, the bad guy wants to own the ranch owned by the beauty queen’s father as well. They were a bad lot. You could see right away they were evil clear though and the hero had to eventually fight them, have a showdown and throw them all in jail.
Fortunately the hero was an amazing pistol shot. He could either shoot the gun out of the bad guys hand or wound him in the shoulder. The bad guy would occasionally make a decent shot, but usually, even when using a rock or a tree to rest their rifle on, they missed. The good guy, no matter the distance, with just his trusty six shooter, could almost always out shoot the bad guy.
It was really tough to be the good guy. They had to be smart enough to figure out who the bad guy was, then plan ahead and trap him. He was athletic enough to jump on his horse as it was running, then catch the bad guy and whip him, but only after being beat up by one or two of the bad guy’s evil gang members.
Oh, and he had to know the country like the back of his hand, especially the shortcuts. Although he was a stranger in the area, he, or a local character knew every shortcut in the country.
The hero was a great judge of horseflesh. His horse had to be absolutely beautiful with great stamina and strength to carry the hero, a silver mounted saddle, ornate breast collar and bridle with silver on its reins, to victory.
Gene had a special trick. Champion’s bit was made of two pistols, fully loaded, apparently as accurate as the one in his holster, and easy to remove from Champion’s headstall. He’d wound a bad guy or two and quickly put the guns back on the headstall. Gene had to quickly tie up the wounded bad guys, then catch another one by jumping off Champion and whipping him.
The hero’s horse was the fastest in the whole wide world, yet calm enough to let him carry a guitar and sing, with an orchestra hidden somewhere in the sagebrush accompanying him.
The bad guys’ horses were amazingly slow. It was obvious they didn’t know a good horse. They’d be half a mile ahead of the hero and the hero’s horse could catch ’em. The hero jumped from their horse, knocked the bad guy off his and had a good rousing fight. Occasionally our hero would lose, but only early in the movie. No wonder we all wanted to have a Trigger, Champion, Topper, Buttermilk or Koko of our own.
After the hero rallied the citizens, figured everything out, saved the fair maiden and jailed the bad guy and his gang, there was a scene with him riding off into the sunset. Usually alone, as the fair maiden waved sadly from her front porch, but now and then she rode beside him as they sang a song together.
Many people think the hero kissed his horse and rode off into the sunset, but it was Trigger who kissed Roy, not the other way around.
RIDE EASY PARDS … Vic