Kitty Russell of 'Gunsmoke.' and

A m a n d a Blake, w h o plays her, are both enigmas

From Natchez to Louisville I’ve traveled around.

Some trouble, some heartache in ‘most ev’ry town.

Then I came to Dodge City at the end of the line.

And here I met my man but he can never be mine. . .- “The Long Branch Blues”

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Men have a way of confusing

hThese lines of resignation to a man ess fate-lines mournful enough inrint to wring a tear from the mostalloused-embody all of Woman’sternal woes. When sung by the pro-rietress of the Long Branch saloond-uh-dance hall in Old Dodge, theords cause the eyes of listeners to

eak like frontier plumbing. The pro-rietress, as all faithful Gunsmokeiewers know, is Kitty Russell.Kitty is red-haired, beautiful, ex-

uisitely clothed, earthy, knowing,omfortable for a man to be with-nd yet, beneath the cool self-assur-nce, she is an enigma. Significantly,hese are qualities shared by Amandalake, who has portrayed this fasci-ating woman of the Old West sinceunsmoke began on CBS-TV five

ears ago.“Without Amanda it wouldn’t beunsmoke and that’s a fact,” saysilburn Stone, the Kansas-born

rouper who plays Doc and is thelosest to Amanda of any of the Gun-moke people-just as Doc Adams inunsmoke is Kitty’s special confidant.nce a month Milburn, Dennis (Ches-

er) Weaver and Amanda venture toairs and rodeos in the hinterlandsith a song-and-patter act in which

hey remain steadfastly in character.manda belts out her “Long Branchlues” and brings down the house.

Amanda Blake, an actress of some re-serve, with Kitty Russell, the worldlywoman of Dodge. So now, after sev-eral unhappy incidents, Amanda begsoff from the inevitable cocktail partyafter the act. It’s a tribute, of sorts, tothe believability of Amanda’s por-trayal (in which, as Stone points out,“she must walk a tightrope betweenschoolmarm sweetness and barroomtoughness”) and to the intriguing un-certainty of the character. From thevery outset, on radio and then on TV,Kitty Russell has been the one citizenin Dodge whose character outline hasbeen deliberately blurred. She has ac-cordingly become all things to allmen.

“When I first started,” said Amandagleefully, “a reporter asked me whatKitty was, anyway? I said, ‘Why, she’sa tramp.’ I thought it was commonknowledge. But CBS screamed. I al-most lost my job.”

To any discussion of her televisionalter ego, Amanda brings not only theactress’s familiarity but a curiouswarmth and compassion. Her affinityfor the character, in fact, hovers closeto the mystic. It is as though, inex-plicably, in another time, in anotherlife, and with other morals, AmandaBlake once really was Kitty Russell.

“There was a man-isn’t continued

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Amanda Blake/continued

there always?” Amanda said, properirony in her voice as she describedKitty’s past. “He loved her and he lefther and then they put a label on her.Kitty isn’t the type to take in washing.Somehow I have the idea-don’t askme how I got it-that Kitty came fromNew Orleans. Let’s just say that Ithink seaport cities are more feminine,that they bring out the womanlyjungle instint. So she drifted, andshe’d drift out of Dodge if ‘it weren’tfor Matt Dillon.”

Will wedding bells ring for Kitty andMatt? (Or, with a nod to the reincar-nation theory, did they ever ring?)“No.” said Amanda, smiling ruefullyas Kitty herself might have smiled.“She’d love Matt to say, ‘Kitty, let’sbuy a hunk o’ land and raise somebeans and kids.’ But then we’d haveI Love Lucy Out West.”

Where does Kitty Russell end and

own ash trays. Also shell down two or

Amanda Blake begin? The Gunsmokeproducer, Norman Macdonnell, repliedalmost wistfully:

three Scotch-and-waters before din-

“Sometimes I won-der.” By design and not for the pub-

ner. Like Kitty, she’s a sympathetic

licity camera, Amanda’s bedroom, forinstance, might be Kitty’s boudoir. It

listener. A good ribald story will stir a

is furnished & flamboyant cow-towndecor, with old picture frames on the

laugh out of her that rattles the walls.

walls and heavy velours drapes. Anornate chandelier, strictly 1870, hangs

Amanda lives alone-the second of

in the adjoining bathroom. “I like tothink that Kitty would feel at home

her two short-lived marriages ended

here,” Amanda murmured.Like Kitty, Amanda i s independent,

affluent and self-possessed. In thecompany of men she unhesitatinglylights her own cigarets-she’s a two-oack-a-dav smoker-and finds her

in divorce four years ago-in a three-room ranch house on a middle-classstreet shaded bv acacias in Van Nuys,Cal., in the San Fernando Valley. Itseems an unlikely house for a TV starwhose annual income from Gunsmokeand from personal appearances maywell approach $75,000.

Her investments include blue-chipstocks, Los Angeles real estate andpart ownership in three bowling alleys.Her only car is a 1959 Olds stationwagon, which she drives prudently,having yet to get a speeding ticket.

With an eye on the tax form, Aman-da’s business manager beseeches herto live on a grander scale. However,Amanda, who rarely entertains, stub-bornly remains in her small but com-fortably furnished quarters. On herliving room walls are two bleak paint-ings-one of a boxcar in a prairierailroad station, the other a misty im-pression that could be a boat adrift onthe r iver Styx-banging next tothree happily colorful silk screens ofToulouse-Lautrec works. She con-ceded that this side-by-side exhibitof opposites may well reflect her ownhighs and lows of mood.

Amanda Blake never dates. Whenmen ask, she says, “I’m sorry, but Idon’t date.” Or, “I have other plans.”Translated, this almost invariablymeans she is visiting Fran and WalterSande-he’s a character actor-whohave become, in a sense, her secondparents.

prefers her life as it is.Looking back on a two-year mar-

riage, one of her ex-husbands said, “Inever did figure out what makesAmanda tick.” The enigma of Amandais only partly explained when she says,“I don’t want to be a big star, a "cor-

Why does a beautiful, outgoingwoman remain aloof from men? “Itisn’t cynicism,” theorizes MilburnStone. “It’s just that she’s been burnedtwice.” Amanda says flatly that she

poration. I just want to be a workingactress.” She buys few clothes and,despite her flaming red hair, she de-fiantly wears red, or a color related toit, every day. She buys paintings, shereads, she watches TV until she fallsasleep in her chair. At 5:30 she is upfor work. She insists that she is nevertouched by loneliness.

Amanda’s womanly affection flowsout to the Sandes and their l9-year-old daughter Diane, to her own pets-a black poodle and two Siamese cats-and any other animals the neighborsdeposit with her. Weekends she ridesher own quarter horse, although herfear of falling off a horse remains un-conquerable. This particular fear in-stigated one of her rare outbursts onthe Gunsmoke set, five years ago.

It began with the directions in ascript: “Kitty comes down the streetriding a horse sidesaddle.” NormanMacdonnell recalled, “She roared intomy office, waving the script, scream-ing that she’s afraid of horses. It waspure, redheaded terror. When I final-ly calmed her down she said, ‘Tellme, Norman, do you know a good rid-ing instructor?’ She’s been on horsesever since.”

A streak of claustrophobia compelsAmanda to sit only in an aisle seat intheaters and on the outside in a res-taurant booth. She has an unconscion-able fear of elevators. And she refusesto board an airplane without her luckypiece, a toy tiger. Recently, whilechanging planes, she misplaced thetoy. “I had the airport in a turmoil,”she said. “Not until they tracked thattiger down and had it kown back tome would I get on the plane.”

W i t h h e r customary three-inchheels, Amanda stands 5 feet 10 (JimArness, who plays Matt, still towersover her at 6 feet 6) ; and she weighs aslender 116, about 25 pounds less thanin her days at MGM, beginning in

1950. It was there that Beverly LouiseNeill, the name she was born with inBuffalo some 30-odd years ago, gaveway-reluctantly o n h e r p a r t - t oAmanda Blake. And thereafter shewas trumpeted as a "young GreerGarson,” a comparison which to thisday brings a wince of displeasure.Later she was at Columbia. “Amanda,”said an associate from that period,“was a difficult, temperamental dame.”Amanda’s version: “I was unhappy do-ing dismal pictures.”

About this time Amanda, graduallyslimming down, began popping up onTV. Red Skelton liked her immediate-ly and today, at least once a year, sheis a guest on his show. “Mandy is themost underrated straight-woman inHollywood,” Skelton said. ‘Besides,she breaks up at my nonsense fasterthan any actress I know.”

Laughter comes easily, and otheremotions also reside just below thesurface. Amanda is intensely senti-mental. Once the Gunsmoke cast paida nostalgic visit to Dodge City, Kan.“I had the strangest feeling that I was-well, home,” said Amanda.

“I saw the site of the old LongBranch. I saw Boot Hill. And then Imet the real lawman at Dodge, a bigman with kind piercing eyes. He said,‘Here, Kitty,’ and he gave me a bou-quet of Kansas prairie grass and sun-flowers.

“I"I cried.”

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