An edgy plot. An awesome cast. Need I say more?

Edmond O'Brien was in the film, for godsakes - sure, maybe past his prime but you don't just flip by an Edmond O'Brien film on a Saturday morning. And, not that I want to let the cat out of the bag here, but he played a very convincing megalomaniac.  The last time I can recall seeing such a compelling portrayal of a megalomaniac was in Jurassic Park when the Tyrannosaurous Rex got in the fight with the Megalomaniac while the kids were hiding in the trees.  Edmond O'Brien's portrayal of that dinosaur as an ex-Confederate officer was an inspirational stretch.

Of course, let's not make light of Vito Scotti's performance.  Unless I'm wrong, Scotti played virtually every ethnic Italian or Mexican in virtually every 1950s and 1960s television show that I watched.  And in Rio Concho he had the very critical role of the "Bandit Chief." His stellar performance in Rio Concho was highlighted in the scene when he and his fellow banditos tried to get the drop on the good guys - alas, it didn't end well for the poor Bandit Chief. 

Then there was the character of Bloodshirt, the evil Apache Chief. A very nicely nuanced performance by someone named Rodolfo Acosta. Also, there was the deeply moving performance by Wende Wagner as Sally, the Apache Girl, who ran around in a very, very short skirt and tried to kill all the white guys in the film before she eventually saved them. 

Now, if none of the above persuades you that Rio Concho was worth watching on Saturday morning, let me bring out the big guns of persuasion.

Number 32

Jim Brown.  Yes, that Jim Brown. The Cleveland Browns' all-everything running back, gave up professional football to play Sgt. Franklyn in this film. Jim Brown was my football idol as a kid, and his role as Sgt. Franklyn hit the big screen only a few years before what I thought was his 1967 Academy Award performance as Robert Jefferson in the "Dirty Dozen."  You can see him practicing some of his stunning moves for the WWII epic in Rio Concho, except for the fact that he's using 19th Century rifles instead of 20th Century machine guns and grenades, but, if you use your imagination you can almost see him dropping the hand grenades into the Nazi smokestakes. 

Isn't That Tony Franciosa?

At some point my wife's derisive comments about Rio Concho stopped. She seemed a bit mesmerized by something on the screen: the handsome Mexican good-guy/bad guy played by Tony Franciosa, a 1950s/1960s heartthrob.  Seems that my wife's heart throbbed quite a bit for him when she was younger. So, when she saw that Tony Franciosa was on screen, all of a sudden it was "Isn't that Tony Franciosa?"

Oh, excuuuuse me - Jim Brown and the whole Rio Concho storyline weren't good enough for her, but now, all of a sudden, it's Tony Franciosa and maybe the film isn't such crap?  And let's not forget that both Mr. Franciosa and Mr. Scotti were Italian, same as my wife, so it's possible that there was some bias going on there, but, to be fair, I don't think she came in to the living room until Scotti, the Bandit Chief, was shot and killed while trying to rob the good guys.

Okay, so the Tony Franciosa thing aside, Rio Concho was hoisted by two mega-stars. The first was Stuart Whitman. Let me put it this way, there wasn't a television show or movie made in the 1950s or 1960s in which Stuart Whitman didn't have a role.  In Rio Concho he was apparently some Captain who negligently allowed some bad guys to steal some rifles that they were going to sell to the Apaches, and then Captain Haven volunteered to go after them.  Like I said, I turned on the movie somewhere in the middle, so don't hold me to that, but I think it's pretty close.

Still, I've saved the best for last. 

Starring in Rio Concho was the great Richard Boone in the role of Major James "Jim" Lassiter.  I like the fact that they explain that James Lassister was also known as "Jim" on the International Movie Database website. A lot of folks might not have caught that subtle point.

Anyway, need I say more when it comes to Richard Boone? I mean, we're talking about Paladin himself from the "Have Gun Will Travel" television show that mesmerized many a young boy from 1957 until 1963 when it was shamefully pulled from the airwaves. It wasn't until 1972, when Boone made it back as Heck Ramsey in the eponymous television show, only to be cancelled, unceremoniously, in 1974. (Hey, I've always wanted to use the word "eponymous" in a sentence.  Guess I can now cross that off my Bucket List). And let's not forget that Richard Boone stole the 1960 John Wayne epic, "The Alamo," with his stirring performance of Sam Houston! Oh my, John Wayne . . . the Duke . . . please, don't get me started on him, truly a Saturday morning, wife-waiting, channel stopper of a star if ever there was one.

In shocking disproportion to her adoration of Tony Franciosa, my wife cringed when she saw Richard Boone. She doesn't' like him.  She harbors some incredibly bizarre animosity towards him because of his edgy performances as Heck Ramsey, which she was apparently forced to watch years ago when her brother called dibs on the family television for that hour.  I dunno, like what, Flipper or Lassie were on at that same hour?  Whatever -- my wife has a Richard Boone / Heck Ramsey phobia.  I do not think there is a known cure.  Shocked, absolutely shocked at her distaste for such an American acting icon as Richard Boone, I pointed to him when he was on screen and asked my wife how she could mock Paladin?  At which point, to add fuel to my fire of outrage, I started singing the theme song from "Have Gun Will Travel" -- Paladin, Paladin, where do you roam?

Channelling Homer Simpson

Amidst much eye rolling, my wife shook her head at me and challenged me to sing some additional verses. It was a cruel, heartless mocking because after some 28 years of marriage, she knows that, alas, I can't remember much beyond the opening fragment of the theme song - which might explain my Homer Simpson like renditions of so many 1950s and 1960s television theme songs that include frequent resort to such verses as "Paladin, Paladin, where do you roam? A knight without honor something, something, something, something. Paladin, Paladin, Paladin, something, something something, something, Paladin . . ."

It was at this point that my wife went for the low blow. "Why don't you sing "Sugarfoot," while you're at it."

Cruelties of cruelties!  Among my all-time favorite theme songs of television years gone by is the powerful almost anthem-like Sugarfoot, which, oh sadness of sadnesses, I am woefully unable to recall much more than "Sugarfoot, Sugarfoot, something, something, something, Sugarfoot. Sugarfoot, Sugarfoot . . ." According to my wife, her friend Jackie can sing the entire song. I also think her buddy Pat can too.  Oh big deal! So two women friends of my wife can sing Sugarfoot.  Like what?  I'm supposed to feel inadequate about that? Okay, so I do -- so what? At least I like Richard Boone. It's not like I wasted an hour in the Sixties watching some damn fish -- yeah, I know, dolphins aren't fishes.

Warning: Plot Spoiler Alert!!!

Having successfully mocked me for the umpteenth time, my wife returned to her getting-ready-to-go-out preparations and left me crestfallen and defeated on the couch. How I managed to watch the end of Rio Concho is merely a testament to some amazing inner strength that I was able to summon up, but it still left me drained for the remainder of that Saturday. And there, on the couch, as I watched Stuart Whitman get stabbed in the leg by an Apache spear and then dragged around behind a horse along with Richard Boone and James Brown, who all then managed to escape and blow up the wagon with the gunpowder that, in turn, melted the stolen cases of rifles and then spread the flames throughout the Confederate camp where Edmond O'Brien stood before the burning shell of his half-built Southern mansion - there on the couch, I resolved to set things right, in the future, for all put-upon, Saturday-waiting husbands.

Gentlemen, I have done it!  Eureka!!

I simply ask that you find a place to sit down before reading further because this may be too much for you to handle standing up. 

Below, I have located some of my -- dare I say, our -- favorite theme songs from the great television shows of our Baby Boomer youth.  No more Homer Simpsonesque renditions of theme-song fragments. Salvation is nigh.