David R. Greenland - Michael Landon: The Career and Artistry of a Television Genius

I was fortunate to experience much of televisions golden age firsthand, when the majority of programming consisted of Westerns. At one point there were more than three dozen on the air, but I faithfully watched only three: Gunsmoke, The Rifleman, and, most of all, Bonanza, in part because, like the Cartwright boys, I was one of three brothers. All of us enjoyed the antics and heroics of Dan Blockers Hoss, as most viewers did, but what we young buckaroos wanted most was to see Michael Landons Little Joe spring into action.

There is a famous saying: Dont meet your heroes youll only be disappointed. I prefer to believe that did not apply to Michael Landon. To quote from a memoir I wrote the day after his untimely passing in 1991, Michael Landon was the only celebrity I ever wanted to meet. Although I have been a fan since the tender age of nine, or thereabouts, this desire occurred not in the youthful days of exaggerated hero worship, but several years later, when I noticed that a Bonanza episode written and/or directed by him was something special.

While I do not remember the first time I saw Michael Landon, I know the exact date he first moved me: January 28, 1962. In The Storm, episode #85 of Bonanza, Joe Cartwright plans to marry a young woman who, in keeping with one of the shows traditions, dies before the final credits roll. Rather than walk stoically into the sunset like any other TV cowboy would have done, Joe does not hide his grief. As an actor, Landon was not afraid to reveal his characters vulnerability, and the effect was both admirable and striking. We are not afraid to show our feelings, producer David Dortort said later that season. We have made more people cry than anybody in the business. And more often than not, it was Landon who made the audience feel, particularly after he began to write and direct.

My wife and I never missed an episode of Little House on the Prairie, Highway to Heaven, or anything else in which Landon was involved, and it was no secret among friends, relatives, and even a few casual acquaintances, that I considered him the most creative person in the television industry. One morning in 1979, driving to an appointment in Beverly Hills, the friend I was riding with pointed out a handsome estate and said, Remember all those Bill Cosby records we used to listen to? That was his place once. He paused for effect before adding, Thats where your hero Michael Landon lives now. Want to stop and say hello? Yeah, right, I replied. Besides, hes probably out shooting in Simi Valley.

In 1990, when the telefilm Where Pigeons Go to Die was in production, I received a business-related call from a woman in Kansas who, though unaware of my high regard for Landon, said, Guess who I saw today? Michael Landon! Hes here making a movie. I dont suppose you talked to him, I ventured. No, he was too busy, she replied. And he seemed to be tired. I remembered that final remark a few months later, when my wife informed me that a friend had actually met Michael and Cindy Landon while skiing in Utah shortly after Christmas, but that he didnt look well. Everyone knows the rest of the story.

I wrote letters of appreciation to Michael Landon on a couple of occasions after the broadcast of his Bonanza landmark Forever in 1972, and the poignant Little House episode Remember Me in 1975 never expecting a reply. The man, I knew, was simply too busy. At least the letters were never returned, so I like to think he may have read them eventually.

After poring through a substantial archive of printed material, viewing nearly all of his appearances prior to Bonanza, and studying virtually everything he wrote and wrote/directed, I feel almost as if I had met Michael Landon. He certainly made his mark, leaving behind an unforgettable visual bounty for all of us that will doubtlessly never be equaled.

David R. Greenland

August 2014