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R.B.: The Colt 45 was nicknamed the Peacemaker. Sometimes you need a standoff to have a stand-down. G.R.: You mean like the Cuban Missile Mess in October. Just remember what the initials of Mutually Assured Destruction spell. Without a Gort or a Klaatu, nothing can stop the Mad Men of this world from blowing up the earth and all of us on it. R.B.: How about ten thousand Paladins – each armed with an equalizer . er, handgun. G.R.: As long as it’s set to stun. R.B.: You can do that? G.R.: Not yet. But some day. (raising glass) To the future. (finishing drink) R.B.: If only we had a crystal ball . G.R. (examining glass in light): But at least we’ve got this crystal glass. (looking at clock) Gotta go. Sorry we didn’t have more time to solve all the problems of Western Civilization. R.B.: You can take care of civilization. I’ve got enough trouble just trying to handle this Western. Gwyn’s voice on intercom: Richard . Mister Boone . a Johnny-somebody to see you. R.B.: Speaking of Westerns . G.R.: Oh. Is that Johnny Western, the song-writer? Didn’t he write the Paladin theme song? R.B.: Yes, with a little help from Paladin himself. I want to see him about adding some lyrics. (rummaging in desk drawer) I need to find them first. (to Gwyn) Gwyn. Give me a few minutes. Gwyn’s voice on intercom (coldly): You’re the boss, Mister Boone. G.R.: She doesn’t sound too pleased. R.B.: She wants to be in show business. G.R. (exiting): As the Bride of Frankenstein? Maybe I can talk her out of it. R.B.(calling after him): Good luck! R.B.(finding notes in drawer): Aha! Voice on intercom (garbled): “Your baby . .” R.B.: What, again? Is that you Hugh Mann? 1 Voice on intercom (garbled): “In danger . .” R.B.: My baby in danger? What baby? What danger? Voice on intercom (garbled): “Charlie Mann’s Son . .” R.B.: Are you talking about yourself? Or Jack Ganelon? Voice on intercom (garbled): “threatens . .” R.B.: Charlie Mann’s Son threatens? Threatens who? Clare? Peter? Voice on intercom (garbled): “Your baby . .” R.B.: That’s nonsense. Gene is right. You’re a hallucination. Go away. (garbled “danger”) Go away, I say! Gwyn’s voice on intercom: Are you telling me to send Johnny away? R.B.: No, no. Sorry. Send him right in. Gwyn’s voice on intercom: You won’t shoot him, will you? R.B.: Very funny. JOHNNY WESTERN (As R.B. composes himself, a man in a cowboy hat carrying a guitar enters from stage right. It’s Johnny Western, the actor/song-writer. He strides confidently over to Richard Boone and shakes his hand energetically.) J.W.: What a pleasure it is to see you again, Mister Boone. R.B.: Sure, sure. Have a seat. Can I get you a drink? J.W.: Tang, eh? R.B.: Not bad with a little vodka. Gene Rodenberry called it a “Gemini” ‘cause it’ll make you see double. J.W.: Gene’s a writer for your show, isn’t he? Quite an imagination. R.B.: Yeh. And now he’s into science fiction. (motioning to glass) Want to give it a try? J.W.: No. Thank you anyway. I know you’ve got a shooting session. R.B.: You mean filming . 2 J.W.: Yes, of course. Though in your case they’re usually the same. R.B.: Actually, my days as a gunslinger are probably numbered. J.W.: They’re not going to kill you off, are they? R.B. (laughing): I hope not. I’d prefer they send this old horse to a stud farm. J.W.: What? R.B.: Just a joke. The truth is: it appears “Have Gun” is just about finished. J.W.: No. They can’t. They wouldn’t. R.B.: All good things must come to an end. That’s an old English proverb, attributed to Chaucer, I believe. J.W.: But, but . What will you do? R.B.: Continue acting, directing. And maybe this. (pulls out script) J.W.: You’re writing a novel. Wow. That’s great. R.B.: I suppose it would be great if it was a novel. But it’s a screenplay. About Paladin. J.W.: A movie then. And you’ll need music, of course. (pulls up his guitar) R.B. (laughing): My, aren’t we anxious to keep the residuals coming. J.W. (laughing): Yes. But they’re yours too. And Sam’s. R.B.: But you wrote the original “Ballad of Paladin.” Ever resent sharing your fame and fortune with the editors? J.W.: Oh, no. Not at all. It’s been the best thing that ever happened to me. Opened so many doors. Before “Have Gun,” I was just a two-bit actor struggling to make a buck. Then you gave me a break on that episode in ’58. R.B.: I believe it was called “The Return of Doctor Thackeray.” J.W.: You remember. June Lockhart was in it. What a classy lady. R.B.: Now she’s a “lassie” lady, playing Timmy’s mother in “Lassie” for three years now. J.W.: But back in ’58 she played Doctor Phyllis Thackeray. 3 JUNE LOCKHART AND LASSIE R.B.: A character both smart and beautiful. The closest real love interest Paladin ever had. J.W.: The network execs didn’t want to ruin your TV eligible-bachelor status. R.B.: Yeh. I guess sex sells. And Paladin always had a new flame every week at the Carlton Hotel. J.W.: I was never so lucky. R.B.: You were very lucky as I recall. You drew on me and I only winged you. One of the few who survived a showdown with Paladin. J.W. (laughing): Yes, you’re right. But I was lucky in other ways. That part inspired me to compose “The Ballad of Paladin” as a thank-you tune for your help during my one and only appearance on “Have Gun.” R.B.: You could have had more roles. J.W.: And get shot again? Believe me, once was enough. Besides that hit single gave me the chance to be what I always wanted to be . R.B.: A singing cowboy. ROY ROGERS GENE AUTRY J.W.: Right. From as far back as I can remember I wanted to be Gene Autry -- dressed like him, sang like him. When I grew up I got to play with Roy Rogers and the Sons of the Pioneers. Then one day at a party I met my childhood hero, the real Gene Autry. And we hit it off and I worked for him on his TV show for a couple of years. That opened more doors for me including playing with Johnny Cash and then the movie this year. R.B.: “Night Rider.” And once again you played a young buck with an itchy trigger finger. J.W. (laughing): You’re right. I’ve been typecast. But fortunately I’ve kept my day job as a song-writer-performer. R.B.: “Have guitar, will travel” reads the card of a man . J.W. (sings): . Of a man named . Westerlund. R.B.: That’s right. Westerlund was your real name, wasn’t it? J.W.: I prefer to call it my “original” name. One day a DJ changed it at the last minute and I’ve been known as Johnny Western ever since. R.B.: So who are you? I mean, are you Westerlund or Western? J.W.: A strange question. They’re only names. I’m both. Or just Johnny. 4 R.B.: And you don’t think of yourself as two different people at the same time? J.W.: Not really. I suppose it’s a lot like you and Paladin. There’s the real person and then there’s the role. R.B.: Yes. But sometimes there might be just a fine line between the person and the persona. And if that line becomes blurred . J.W.: I think I know what you mean. Sometimes I imagine myself back on the prairie a hundred years ago, sitting by a crackling campfire, the smell of hickory in the air, cattle and horses all around, a full moon above, and a lone coyote howling in the distance. In that exact moment, a new song might pop into my head – maybe an old song lost for a century but now found again by a connection made to some long-dead cowhand, strumming his guitar at the end of a long day and a supper of beans and grits. R.B.: It sounds like you’re channeling. J.W.: Channeling? R.B.: Yeh. It’s what Bill Conrad said I’m doing with Paladin. J.W.: But Paladin’s a fictitious character, isn’t he? R.B.: It doesn’t matter, does it? I mean, how do you know you’re not connecting to some fictitious cowboy you created in your own mind. You put yourself in the mood by imagining you’re in the same environment as your character. I do the same thing with Paladin. Only I play dress-up. I put on this shirt, tie, mustache. Then I strap on my holster – like this . (puts on gunbelt). Now I look in the mirror and, just as you do, imagine what it must have been like in San Francisco and the Old West at the end of the last century.

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