If you grew up watching westerns, you know Gunsmoke wasn't exactly known for being "cuddly." It was gritty. It was dusty. People died over a card game or a misunderstood look in the Long Branch Saloon. But then there’s P.S. Murry Christmas, an episode from the 17th season that aired in late December 1971. Honestly, it’s one of those rare moments where the show stepped away from the gunfights to punch you right in the gut with actual, messy human emotion.
Most holiday specials feel like they were written by a greeting card company. Not this one.
The story centers on seven orphans and a cynical, hard-drinking old woman named Emma Grundy, played by the legendary Jeanette Nolan. If you haven't seen Nolan’s work, she was basically the queen of playing tough-as-nails pioneer women who looked like they could chew through a horseshoe. In this episode, she's transporting these kids across the prairie to a new home, but she isn't doing it out of the goodness of her heart. She’s doing it because it’s her job, and she’s doing it with a chip on her shoulder the size of Kansas.
What actually happens in P.S. Murry Christmas
The plot kicks off when the group gets stranded. Naturally, because it's Gunsmoke, things go sideways. They end up seeking shelter at a line shack, which is where they run into Titus Spangler. Jack Elam plays Titus. If you know Elam, you know that face—the wandering eye, the frantic energy. He’s a character actor who usually played villains, but here, he’s a lovable, slightly sketchy guy who just wants to give these kids a "real" Christmas.
It’s a weird pairing. You’ve got the stern, joyless Emma and the chaotic, festive Titus.
They’re stuck. It’s freezing. The kids are hungry. Titus decides he’s going to make a celebration happen out of thin air, using whatever junk he can find in the shack. He calls it a "Murry Christmas" because he’s not exactly a scholar, and that misspelling becomes the heart of the whole episode. It’s about making something out of nothing. It's about the effort, not the polish.
Marshall Matt Dillon (James Arness) and Festus (Ken Curtis) eventually show up, but they aren't the stars here. Usually, Matt is the guy who fixes everything with a Colt .45. In P.S. Murry Christmas, he’s mostly just a witness to the humanity of the situation. He takes a backseat to the kids and the transformative power of a little bit of kindness in a harsh world.
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Why the 1971 context matters
By 1971, Gunsmoke had been on the air for sixteen years. The audience knew these characters like family. Watching Festus interact with orphans wasn’t just a "very special episode" trope; it felt like watching your uncle try to cheer up some lonely kids. The show was transitioning from the half-hour black-and-white grit of the 50s into the hour-long, color-saturated dramas of the 70s.
Television was changing. The Vietnam War was raging, and the country was fractured. P.S. Murry Christmas offered a brand of sentimentality that wasn't cheap. It acknowledged that life is hard and people are often mean, but for one night, you can choose to be different.
The episode was directed by Herb Wallerstein. He didn’t lean into the schmaltz as much as he could have. He let the silence of the prairie do a lot of the heavy lifting. When you watch it now, the pacing feels slow compared to modern TV, but that’s the point. You feel the cold. You feel the isolation of those kids who have no one but a grumpy woman and a crazy old man to look after them.
Breaking down the performance of Jeanette Nolan and Jack Elam
The chemistry between Nolan and Elam is what saves this from being a boring holiday slog. Nolan plays Emma Grundy with zero sentimentality for the first forty minutes. She’s harsh. She tells the kids to be quiet. She treats the journey like a military march. This makes her eventual softening feel earned. It’s not a magical "Grinch" moment where her heart grows three sizes; it’s a tired woman finally letting her guard down because she sees the light in Titus’s eyes.
And Jack Elam? This might be his best performance. He’s usually the guy getting shot by John Wayne. Here, he’s the soul of the story. His "Murry Christmas" isn't just a mistake in spelling; it’s a manifesto. He’s a man who has clearly failed at a lot of things in life, but he’s not going to fail at this one night for these children.
Realism in the Old West holiday
One thing Gunsmoke usually got right was the lack of resources. In P.S. Murry Christmas, they aren't decorating a ten-foot spruce with glass ornaments. They are using scraps of fabric and carved wood. It reminds the viewer that the holiday isn't about the stuff. It's about the "P.S."—the postscript, the little extra bit of effort you give when you have nothing left.
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Historical records of the 1870s and 80s in places like Dodge City show that Christmas was often a quiet affair. Maybe some extra dried fruit in the porridge if you were lucky. The show captures that scarcity perfectly. It doesn't pretend the West was a winter wonderland. It was a place where a snowstorm could kill you.
Common misconceptions about the episode
Some folks remember this as a "Festus episode." While Ken Curtis is great in it, he’s really more of a supporting player. The weight is carried by the guest stars. Others think it’s the only Gunsmoke Christmas episode. It’s actually one of the few, but because it’s so distinct, it’s the one that sticks in the collective memory.
Another mistake people make is thinking the episode is titled "A Merry Christmas." The "Murry" is intentional. It’s a plot point based on Titus’s illiteracy and his genuine, flawed attempt to do something "fancy" for the kids.
How to watch it today
If you’re looking for this specific slice of TV history, it’s Season 17, Episode 15. You can usually find it on streaming services that carry the full Gunsmoke run, like Paramount+ or Pluto TV. It’s also a staple on MeTV during the holidays.
Watching it in high definition is a bit of a trip. The colors are incredibly vibrant—those 70s film stocks made the reds and greens of the meager decorations pop against the brown and grey of the shack. It’s visually striking in a way the earlier seasons weren't.
The legacy of the "Murry Christmas" message
What can we actually take away from this fifty-year-old piece of television?
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Life is often Emma Grundy. It's a long, cold walk toward a destination you didn't choose, surrounded by responsibilities you didn't ask for. But every now and then, a Titus Spangler shows up. Someone who doesn't care if they look ridiculous or if they spell the holiday wrong.
The "P.S." in the title is the most important part. A postscript is something added after the main message is finished. The "main message" for these orphans was that they were alone and unwanted. The "postscript"—the P.S. Murry Christmas—was the reminder that they were worth celebrating anyway.
Practical ways to revisit Gunsmoke classics
If you're diving back into the series after watching this episode, don't just stick to the holiday stuff. To get the full context of why the show worked, you should look for:
- The Cabin (Season 8, Episode 21): This shows the darker side of being stranded in a shack. It’s the perfect tonal opposite to the Christmas episode.
- Seven Hours to Dawn (Season 11, Episode 1): A great look at Matt Dillon’s leadership under pressure.
- The many faces of Jeanette Nolan: Look for her other appearances on the show. She played multiple different characters over the years, proving her incredible range.
The best way to appreciate P.S. Murry Christmas is to watch it after a particularly long, stressful day. It’s a slow burn. It’s a reminder that even in the toughest environments, a little bit of misplaced, misspelled kindness goes a very long way. It’s not just "another Western." It’s a character study on what happens when the law of the gun is replaced by the law of the heart, even if it’s only for a few hours in a drafty line shack.
Start by tracking down the DVD or streaming link for Season 17. Skip the flashy modern specials for one night. See if the story of Titus and Emma doesn't stick with you longer than the big-budget stuff. It usually does.