If you flip through the channels late at night and stumble onto a black-and-white western, you probably expect a square-jawed lawman outdrawing a bandit in the dusty street. Standard stuff. But then you see James Garner. He’s leaning against a porch rail, looking slightly annoyed that someone wants to fight him, and he’s actively trying to talk his way out of the conflict. This was the magic of Maverick tv show episodes. It wasn't just another horse opera. It was a subversion of every trope the 1950s held dear.
The show premiered in 1957 on ABC, a time when television was absolutely drowning in leather vests and six-shooters. Most of those shows are unwatchable now. They’re stiff. They’re moralistic to a fault. Maverick was different because it was funny, cynical, and surprisingly smart. Bret Maverick, played with a perfect "who, me?" shrug by Garner, was a gambler who preferred the poker table to a showdown. He was a coward—or at least he claimed to be—which made him the most relatable hero on the screen.
The episodes that broke the western mold
When people talk about the best Maverick tv show episodes, they usually start with "Gun-Shy." This wasn't just a parody; it was a targeted assassination of Gunsmoke, the biggest show on TV at the time. In this episode, Bret rolls into town and encounters a Marshal named Mort Dooley. Dooley is a dead ringer for James Arness’s Matt Dillon, right down to the way he pauses and the somber weight of his "justice."
The brilliance here is that Bret isn't trying to be a hero. He’s just trying to find a hidden treasure while dodging a lawman who is obsessed with "cleaning up the town" in the most self-important way possible. It’s meta-humor before people even knew what that was. Roy Huggins, the creator, understood that the western genre was already becoming a cliché, and he decided to lean into the absurdity of it.
Then you have "Shady Deal at Sunny Acres." Ask any hardcore fan, and they’ll tell you this is the gold standard. Bret gets swindled out of his money by a crooked banker. Instead of kicking in the door with guns blazing, he spends the entire episode sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, whittling. He tells everyone he’s "working on it." While he sits there looking lazy, his brother Bart (played by Jack Kelly) and a team of recurring grifters are running a complex con in the background. It’s basically The Sting decades before The Sting existed.
Why Bret and Bart weren't your typical brothers
Television executives were terrified that James Garner couldn't carry the production schedule alone. The solution? Introduce a brother. Jack Kelly came on as Bart Maverick.
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Initially, the audience was skeptical. Who wants the "other" guy? But the writers were clever. They didn't make them clones. While Bret was the charming, somewhat reluctant schemer, Bart was often a bit more rugged, perhaps a bit more cynical, but just as likely to lose his shirt in a bad deal.
The chemistry worked because they weren't always together. In fact, many Maverick tv show episodes focused on one or the other. This created a "Maverick style" rather than just a star vehicle. You never knew which brother you’d get, but you knew you’d get a story where the protagonist would rather hide under a bed than stand in the middle of the street at noon.
Honestly, the show started losing its soul when Garner left after a contract dispute with Warner Bros. regarding a "force majeure" clause during a writers' strike. They tried to replace him with Roger Moore as cousin Beau Maverick. Moore was great—he was basically playing a prototype of 007 with a lariat—but the specific lightning-in-a-bottle chemistry of Garner's comedic timing was gone. Later, Robert Colbert was brought in as cousin Brent, literally dressed in Garner’s old costumes. It didn't stick. Fans knew.
The anatomy of a Maverick script
What made the writing so distinct? It was the "Maverick Code." Their Pappy (often quoted, eventually played by Garner in a hilarious bit of dual casting) supposedly taught them: "Early to bed, early to rise, work like a dog and advertise." No, wait. That wasn't it. It was more like: "In the wake of a silver dollar, there is little a Maverick won't do."
Except kill. That was the rule.
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Bret and Bart almost never killed anyone. In an era where The Rifleman was racking up a body count every Tuesday, the Mavericks used their brains. A typical episode involved:
- A high-stakes poker game where the "mark" thinks they’re winning.
- A beautiful woman (often played by Diane Brewster as the recurring swindler Samantha Crawford) who is much smarter than the lead character.
- A convoluted plan that goes wrong in the second act.
- A resolution where the Maverick leaves town with exactly as much money as he started with, or perhaps just enough for a stagecoach ticket.
It was a show about the struggle of the individual against the system, but the individual was a bit of a shyster. This made it feel modern. It feels like Better Call Saul or Succession in a way—where the "hero" is deeply flawed but you’re rooting for them because the people they’re conning are so much worse.
Behind the scenes of the gambling legends
The production of these Maverick tv show episodes was notoriously frantic. Warner Bros. was a factory. They were churning out Cheyenne, Sugarfoot, and Maverick all at once. Because Maverick was so script-heavy and relied on dialogue rather than just fistfights, it was harder to produce.
Garner famously did many of his own stunts until his knees gave out. But more importantly, he fought for the tone. He knew that if Bret Maverick ever became "too" heroic, the show would die. He had to stay a bit of a loser. He had to lose the girl. He had to lose the pot.
The episode "Duel at Sundown" is a fantastic example of this tension. It features a very young, very intense Clint Eastwood as a hotheaded gunslinger. It’s a clash of two different worlds. You have the future of the "Man with No Name" grit facing off against the relaxed, comedic deconstruction of the genre. Bret Maverick survives that episode not by being faster, but by being craftier.
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The lasting legacy of the Maverick name
It’s easy to dismiss old TV as "comfort food," but Maverick was genuinely subversive. It questioned the necessity of violence. It mocked the idea of the "code of the West."
When the show was revived in the 70s as Young Maverick or in the 80s as Bret Maverick, it proved that the character was bigger than the era. Even the 1994 film with Mel Gibson (and a brilliant cameo by Garner) understood the core tenet: a Maverick is a man who lives by his wits in a world that wants him to use his fists.
If you're diving into these episodes for the first time, don't look for chronological order. It doesn't really matter. Look for the writers' names. If you see Marion Hargrove or Roy Huggins on the credits, you're in for a good time. These were the men who brought a "New Yorker" sensibility to the wild west.
How to watch Maverick like an expert
If you really want to appreciate why this show changed television, follow these steps:
- Start with "Gun-Shy" (Season 2, Episode 14). It’s the ultimate parody. If you don’t find this funny, the show probably isn't for you.
- Watch for the "Pappy-isms." Bret and Bart constantly quote their father. It’s a great running gag that builds a mythology for a character we don't even meet for years.
- Pay attention to the women. Unlike other westerns where women were just damsels or schoolteachers, Maverick featured female con artists who frequently outsmarted the leads. Samantha Crawford is the best example—she’s Bret’s equal in every way.
- Look at the poker logic. Most movies get poker wrong. Maverick actually understood the psychology of the game—the bluff, the "tell," and the fact that the person with the best cards isn't always the one who wins the pot.
The show eventually faded as the 1960s brought in a different kind of television, but the DNA of the "reluctant hero" who talks his way out of trouble lives on in characters like Han Solo or Indiana Jones. Bret Maverick walked so they could run (or more accurately, he sat in a rocking chair so they could run).
Whether you're watching for the nostalgia or the surprisingly sharp wit, these episodes remain a masterclass in how to subvert a genre without hating it. It’s a love letter to the West written by someone who knows the West was probably a lot more about card games and bad whiskey than glorious battles at high noon.
Next Steps for the Classic TV Enthusiast:
- Locate the original pilot: Search for "War of the Silver Kings." It sets the tone for the entire series and introduces the recurring theme of Bret being forced into heroism against his will.
- Track down the Garner-Eastwood showdown: Watch "Duel at Sundown" to see the fascinating contrast between the traditional "tough guy" western archetype and the Maverick style.
- Explore the Huggins connection: If you enjoy the "con man with a heart of gold" vibe, look into other shows created by Roy Huggins, such as The Rockford Files, which is essentially Bret Maverick in a Firebird.