When factories first began to send their pall of smoke over the cities, and farmlands in...

[first lines] Narrator:
When factories first began to send their pall of smoke over the cities, and farmlands in the east offered only the barest living, Americans turned their faces toward the west. They poured into the new territories by thousands; bringing their household goods, fording the might rivers, and climbing the mountains. Fighting Indians and outlaws, praying, toiling, dying. It was a hard land, a hostile land. Only the strong survived. A new American breed, the Pioneer. In this forge, created on this anvil, was hammered out a man who became a legend; a man who hated thievery and oppression. His face masked, his true name, unknown, he thundered across the west on a silver white stallion. Appearing out of nowhere to strike down injustice or outlawry, and then vanishing as mysteriously as he came. His sign was the silver bullet. His name was the Lone Ranger