Cowboy Culture Sermon

Cowboy Culture: From Black and White to Technicolor 6 July 2014 Prelude: “El Paso” by Marty Robbins Introduction, by Dave Cauffman This morning we look at how we were shaped by all those cowboy movies and TV shows we grew up with. It should be fun, with nostalgic songs and ballads that celebrate the romance of the west: wide-open, starry skies, and love discovered and lost. Preparing this took me way back, 60 years, to my childhood, when I was allowed to go watch Disney programs on our neighbor’s 11 inch black and white television. We would act out the roles we saw in the westerns, taking turns being the good guy, who always won, and the bad guy, who always died an elaborate and acrobatic death, from which he instantly recovered. We were all immortal then. Rev. Dennis will trace our path from those innocent and formative years to our more nuanced current situation. Song: “Home on the Range” by Brewster M. Higley Story For All Ages: “First Grade Cowboy” from Tenggren’s Cowboys and Indians by Kathryn and Byrun Jackson, pictures by Gustaf Tenggren, read by Rev. Dennis Reynolds Song: “Red River Valley” Offertory: “Streets Of Laredo” Sermon: Cowboy Culture: From Black and White to Technicolor, by Rev. Dennis Reynolds When Dave and I first sat down to plan this service I told him excitedly that I would like to share with the children something from my much loved childhood Cowboy book. There it was in my boxes of as-yet unpacked books. Opening it, I felt a warm connection to the visual images within. Yet, when I read the stories that had once been loved so dearly, I was appalled by how racist and sexist and violent most of them are. I had a hard time finding one to share here this morning. Much of the legacy of what was America in the 1950's, when I first encountered that book, are things I gladly throw on the rubbish heap of history. Most of the stories in this book are interesting and discomforting historical artifacts. The book's very first tale is about how the young protagonist Little Jon's grandfather had “wupped the Injuns.” He then laid claim to a huge amount of rangeland as “his” home. The stories continue with more negative stereotypes about native people, including Little Jon's best friend Little Bear. Susie, Jon's little sister, and their mother have some heroic moments, but through much of the book “the little ladies” are kept in their place. The same is true for the Chinese ranch cook who is portrayed as a negative stereotypical, somewhat bumbling servant. Some of the animals are portrayed more sympathetically than are the minorities. The good news is that we have come a long way since that book was published. In looking backward we can recognize how far we have travelled from those thrilling days of yesterday. When Dave and I were young, you could see by our outfits that we were both Cowboys. In those years I wanted, more than anything, to be a cowboy. As you notice from my slide, I had a hat and fancy cowboy outfit at an early age. I also had, like any good buckaroo, a toy six-gun. You may not have noticed it, for lacking a holster, I have my six-shooter in my pants pocket. My first cowboy hero was Hopalong Cassidy, who I remember as kind of a cowboy father figure. That's because the actor William Boyd began to portray the character in 1935 and by the time he did the TV show, he had been doing the role for a couple of decades. Every Saturday morning Cassidy rode his white horse, Topper, into my living room. William Boyd's duded-up character, unlike earlier cowboy heroes, traded the typical white hat for an all black wardrobe with a dramatic white neckerchief scarf and white-handled six guns. 2 The cinema and TV Hopalong was a very different character than the fictional cowboy that the writer Clarence Mulford had created for his early 20th century novels. The original Hopalong got his name because a gunshot wound to the leg had left him with a permanent limp. He was a dirty, unkempt, rude character who would do whatever was needed to prevail over the bad guys. By the 1950's the cinema and movie versions of good guys were impeccably clean. I always wondered how they could ride all day, ford rivers, tussle with bad guys in the dust and always emerge sparking clean, with well-pressed creases in their trousers. Good guys were always good guys. In post World War 2 Cold War America there was little room for ambiguity. Those with the wrong political leanings were blacklisted and writers were careful to keep their story lines positive. The cowboy character was a perfect vehicle for the promotion of an idealized rugged and resourceful individual who upheld traditional values through prompt decisive action, often with guns a’ blazing. The stories and situations in those black and white TV shows appearing on television portrayed values in Black and White dualistic morality tales. Good guys and yes, the leads were almost always guys, were forces for good who would certainly prevail over the forces of evil, be they the natives who attacked them or the rustlers and outlaws, who were almost always dirty and unkempt, who stole their cattle or horses or were rude to their women. The way to settle a dispute was often a six-gun, or even better, two six guns. Hopalong and characters like him could always draw faster and shoot straighter than the bad guys. They taught young Americans that best things one could be was quick on the draw and a straight shooter. Fancy Easterner kinds of ways, including things like contemplation and reflection and too much book-learning were not given much value. Action is what won the day and usually, though from time to time our heroes said they regretted it, that meant there would be a shootout. This was true in battling the bad guys on TV and in battling those evil commies in Korea. 3 The Hopalong films, serialized on Saturday TV, were just the beginning for me. I loved Roy Rogers as much as Hoppy, especially when he didn't sing, but my hero amongst heroes was the Lone Ranger. This guy wore a white hat and had the same white pearl- handled guns. And Hopalong's horse Topper couldn't hold a candle to Silver. At the beginning of each episode the television narrator would call out: “A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty 'Hi-ho, Silver, away!' The Lone Ranger!” His mask gave the Ranger an air of mystery and by donning such a mask I could look just like him. The Lone Ranger was not alone. Riding along side him was his trusted Indian companion Tonto on his paint horse, Scout. The appearance of Tonto was a step forward from previous portrayals of Native Americans. Yet, some Native Americans have seen Tonto as a derogatory stereotype. He was, at least, played by a real native, Jay Silverheels, who was an Ontario born Mohawk. Unfortunately though, many of us who were indoctrinated by years of episodes of the Lone Ranger had to deconstruct the image he created in order to build a more honest portrayal of Native Americans. Though I played for hours at being the Lone Ranger, none of my friends would ever play Tonto, so I played Lone Ranger alone, with only an invisible sidekick. There were truly some very negative messages about race and gender in those cowboy dramas. Most significant were the notions that categorized people into preconceived roles, including dualistic notions about who was good and who was evil, and notions of us vs. them. “We” are good; “they” are the evil enemy. Another repeated message was “Vengeance is mine, sayeth any man with a six-gun.” Gun culture and cowboy culture were woven together. By the late 1950's the type of weaponry expanded with TVs the Rifleman and the Rebel, whose main character, Johnny Yuma, blasted his opponents with a sawed-off shotgun. In the 1960's, the tale of lone riders gave way to family westerns, with Bonanza leading the way. 4 This was a family drama more than a shoot-em-up and even though Ben and Hoss and Pa and Little Joe wore guns, they were seldom fired. The status of women and the Chinese cook were still shaped by narrow roles. Notions of them vs. us prevailed. At the end of that decade things got very very colorful and the dominant color was red, blood red. Sam Peckinpah directed the epic western “The Wild Bunch.” Its stars William Holden, Robert Ryan, Ernest Borgnine, and Warren Oates had appeared in many a western, but this one was different. It was much more violent and the violence was graphically depicted in slow motion. The cold war had heated up and had burst into flames in Vietnam; real violence was reported on the nightly news and American boys were dying in the jungle. Here at home protests and exposés made it hard to accept that our government's motives were totally positive. The critic Roger Ebert reported on a news conference about the “Wild Bunch.” Critical reviewers and reporters “let Peckinpah and his co-stars have it with both barrels.” "I have only one question," said the lady from the Reader's Digest.

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