The golden age of the television Western was over. Gunsmoke still limped on but the Warner Brothers' classics had ridden off into the sunset and Bret Maverick was a fond (though oft resurrected) memory. Into this void rode a James Dean clone, a stale Robin Hood plot attached to the name of a famous robber, and a theme song that sticks in the brain with the tenacity of skunk oil. The drawing behind the opening title is more memorable than the stories. But "the lasting fame, the lasting shame of the man with the hungry gun" lives on.
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