A Hat

I am not sure that this episode had any poetic value but I am sure that the story was entertaining to watch. It begins in a town out side Dodge while Clint Sorils is trying to eat. In the other bar room a ranch owner, Red Conniston, and his cowhands are having a wild drunken time. Soril is trying to ignore the rowdy bunch until a stray bullet goes through the wall and then through his hat. Now the large man is upset.

Soril goes next door demanding money for his hat. With Red in a far drunken state, Clint knocks the crap out of him. From behind a man shoot Soril in the back. Soril spins around and is able to shoot and kill the man which happens to be one of the twin sons of Red. Clint leaves heading toward Dodge.

Now the remaining son, Jed Conniston, is set to revenge the death of his twin brother. He wants to be the first person that is given the chance of killing Clint before the rest of the cowhands ride into Dodge. With the townsfolk wanting Clint out of town it will be up to Matt to protect the rights of the man that is gravely injured plus also protect the town from Red's cowhands.

A very well written script that produce an entertaining watch for viewers. Gene Evans was excellent as the larger than life Clint Sorils and Chill Wills always seems to do well in any western part. There was one aspect of the show that seemed out of place as there was a lawyer called Martin Brewer, that was played by the fine actor HM Wynant. The part seemed odd right from the start and even more weird and unnecessary at the conclusion. The story and acting was strong enough to counter-act any problems to make for an entertaining watch.

One of the best episodes I have seen in a while. Doesn't drag on like a lot of the one hour episodes do. Action from start to finish and a surprise ending

"Gunsmoke" A Hat (1967)

This episode contains some of the most beautiful poetry and moving philosophy I have ever heard in a TV episode of any kind, written by Ron Bishop. Bishop wrote a number of episodes for Gunsmoke and other similar shows. The character of Sorils, gunfighter, crude and stubborn man, describes a "Divine Experience" up in the mountains. The philosophy of Gunsmoke and Ron Bishop comes through continuously, even given the "owning" philosophy of men towards women in those days. This episode has moved me like no other. I wish I could meet the writer, Ron Bishop, and thank him for imparting such a beautiful piece of wisdom and life to us all in a simple hour-long TV show. This episode is like reading a prayer book, over and over again, in five small lines. This episode shows that all men, and women, have something they hold dear in their hearts. Something. Some days. Even if it is just five small days.

Story line: Clint Sorils (Gene Evans), a gunfighter, has been shot over a stray bullet through his hat, is lying in bed with little hope of recovery. Some of the townspeople don't want him in town and send an emissary, Mr. Brewer, to tell Matt Dillon that they don't want him in town. Here is some of the dialogue (paraphrased in part):

Brewer: "Clint Sorils is a gunfighter."

Dillon: "That's probably what he will be remembered for. A lot of people probably forget that it was him and men like him that opened up this country, hunting, trapping."

But Sorils took a gun and killed a man.

In self-defense, yes...

Why jeopardize the health of a town for a crude mountain of filth like that?

Mr. Brewer, he has the legal right to be here. ...

Very simple Mr. Brewer. Just tell them he stays. In the first place, he can't be moved. We don't even know if he's going to live. In the second place, on the outside he may be a mountain of filth, inside he's a man."

Later, in the company of Miss Kitty, Sorils begins to recall his beloved squaw Amy and the finer times in his life, as a religious experience. He begins to recite a story of "five days of silence" in the mountains, with "no need" to talk, and sheep whose feet are "like prayer books" and the great happiness he felt at the time.

"Five days. I recall five days when no one talked. No need. Mountains pushing God higher. Elk. Moose low to the willow. Mountain sheep climbing and looking back, as if they had prayer books on their feet. (Hesh maomi) Don't lie. Don't quit. (wheezes) Amy. Amy. (I know you?) You couldn't die. But the hardest piece of day mo. Not you Amy. Oh Amy.

Remember our first Spring? And that meadow we has? Furs all around and that meadow. And the snows just gone now. And us lying there and all the time close swallows and even a sky fox. A girl don't need no more than that, does she? And there was a time I shot the supper grouse. The hen had chicks. I didn't know. Chicks. I always liked young-uns. Always... liked 'em. We never had no young-uns Amy. Why? A woman always will have them.

Amy. Oh Amy. You're the best squaw a man ever owned."

I'm surprised the other reviews didn't mention the fact that the twins were evidently raised apart; Ben by their father, and Jed by the boys' Native American mother.

The father only considered the son he raised, Ben, the one who was killed, to be his son.

Jed actually had more in common with Sorils than he did with his father, because Sorils had lived with a tribe, too.

I have been binging on Gunsmoke for two weeks and of the color episodes this is by far the best. Truly enjoyable from the acting to the story telling. A must watch episode.