The most fun I've ever had

I enjoy celebrating July 4th. I am very grateful for Independence Day and what it represents. I am thankful for our country and the freedoms we have, even in these days of disturbing challenge in our society.

When I was a kid July 4 was always a special day for our extended family. We would regularly gather to have a cook out with hot dogs, hamburgers, watermelon and, my most favorite thing, homemade ice cream! Many a time I had to turn the crank by hand until the mixture was frozen, but the outcome was well worth it.

All the fireworks were for Mom's birthday!

It was also a very special day because it was my mother’s birthday. She was born in 1919 and departed this life in 2018. She is now 101 years old in heaven. She told us that as a little girl her dad explained that all of the fireworks were for her birthday!

All these family memories are special, but there is one particular July 4 that stands out in my mind. It was 1968 when I was 16 years old, the summer between my junior and senior years of high school. That day marks the summer when I had the most fun I’ve ever had. It was the day that I got my first and, as it turned out, my last pay check as a bareback bronc rider at the Canadian, Texas, rodeo.

My dad, known by the nickname, “Fiddle,” grew up as a cowboy with two lifelong friends, Blackie Williams and J.R. Akridge, with whom he shared a passion for the rodeo sport. Blackie’s son, Jim, who was a year younger than me, was one of my best friends. He and I had some interest in rodeo, too. So, that summer his dad and mine, along with J.R., took us under their wings and coached us.

Near the little town where we lived was the Barby Ranch, and at that time, they were in the rodeo business, providing livestock for many rodeos in the area. Almost every weekend there would be a contest within driving distance in one of the towns in the Texas or Oklahoma panhandles, or in southwest Kansas. The Barby Ranch provided the stock for many of those, and Jim and I would follow them and enter. Our dads would often come along, but sometimes it would be just Jim and me.

The "safe" rodeo event we were allowed to enter

The only event that our “coaches” would let us participate in was the Bareback Bronc contest. They deemed bull riding and saddle bronc riding too dangerous. The danger of bull riding is self-explanatory. (By the way, there's a saying that there are two things about bull riders. "You've either been hurt or you're gonna be.") The danger in riding a bucking horse with a saddle was getting hung up in the equipment which compounded the risk of injury. Now barebacks were still dangerous, the greatest of which was just hitting the ground after getting thrown off. The only piece of equipment in this is event is what is called a “rigging,” basically a strap of leather cinched to a horse with a handle on it. There were no stirrups, halter, bridle or anything else to help control the bucking horse. The horse could run, buck and go anywhere in the arena it wanted. All you can do is hold onto the handle of the riggin’ with one hand (the other hand cannot even touch the horse during the ride) and hope to last 8 seconds.

J.R. made a riggin' for me

Dad’s friend, J.R., had a hobby as a leather craftsman and made me a riggin’ and chaps for my rodeo adventures. Unfortunately I don’t have the chaps anymore, but I still have the riggin’ that he made. It is pictured here and what it looks like on a horse below. It was a very gracious gift from him and I am glad I’ve hung on to it all these years.

Riders were judged not only for finishing the 8 second ride, but also by their riding style, which could earn up to 50 points. The more you could spur the horse in the shoulders, kicking your legs out wide between jumps, and making the ride look as wild as you could, the better. For each event there was usually a first, second and third place rider who split the entry fees and any added money from sponsors.

Back in those days the entry fee for us at those rodeos was $20. After Jim and I would pay our fee we would reach in a hat and pull out a piece of paper on which was written the name of the horse that we would ride for that event. It was literally the “luck of the draw.” Some horses were great bucking horses that kicked high and gave the rider a lot of style points—if you could get in rhythm with them and last the 8 seconds. Others would stop, spin, run, pivot, jerk and do all sorts of other nasty moves to get the rider off their back. It was difficult to get in sync with that kind of horse, though if you did, you could often win some money. Riders not only were judged, but the horses were too, up to 50 points. So, a perfect rider—50 points—and a perfect bucking horse—50 points—would yield a 100 point ride, something that rarely, if ever, happens.

I entered several rodeos that summer and drew a lot of different horses, had a lot of different kinds of rides, and never got hurt. But neither did I ever get a pay check because I bucked off before the 8 seconds—except on July 4, 1968, at that rodeo in Canadian, Texas.

It was a great setting that day. The stadium seats were full. There were American flags everywhere. It was beautiful weather during the afternoon and evening. After the rodeo there was a fireworks display. A lot of contestants entered. I drew a good bucking horse.

I remember cinching on my riggin’, getting down on the horse’s back in the chute, securing a tight grip on the handle, getting my legs in place on his shoulders, leaning back and calling to the gate keepers, “Let’s go!” The horse had hardly made a move in the chute, but when the the gate swung open, he immediately exploded out and went into a straight, rhythmic, high kicking buck down the arena. I quickly got in rhythm with him, laid back my head and spurred with abandon. The 8 second whistle blew and I reached down to grab the riggin’ with my other hand while a "pick up man" on a saddle horse came up beside me. I reached over and he pulled me off and let me down gently to the ground! The crowd was cheering, the other cowboys were shouting their congratulations for my really fine ride, my dad said it was one the best he had ever seen me do. I was elated, and knew that I would be "in the money!”

"I got a 'goose egg.'"

Then, I looked up at the scoreboard and heard the announcer call out my score:

"O"

A big “goose egg.”

I got no points.

The reason was because the judge that day was very persnickety. One of the rules in bare back bronc riding is to keep your spurs locked on the shoulders of the horse for one jump of his buck before you started spurring. Well, this judge thought that I failed to do that and, though I had the ride of my life, he disqualified me. I wasn’t the only one. I think that day, out of all the riders, all but two were disqualified for the same reason. Those two therefore took home first and second place winnings while the rest of us split 3rd place.

A few days later I got my “winning” check in the mail for a grand sum of $1.17!

Though I felt like I spent a lot of money in entry fees that summer ($20 was a lot back then for a 16 year old kid!), and only won $1.17, I can say that it was the most fun I ever had. There is no greater adrenaline rush than sitting down on the back of a 1500 lb. animal over which you have no control other than trying to hang on to a leather handle to make it for 8 seconds on its back before it threw you off. I have heard people in the sport describe how rodeo “gets in your blood,” and I can understand a little how addicting it could be.

That summer ended my rodeo “career.” I’ve never been on a bareback bronc since. Other pursuits in life took precedence over any more rodeo experience.

I look back with a smile on those times riding up and down the roads with my good friend, Jim, entering small town rodeos, being coached and encouraged by my dad, Blackie and J.R., enjoying the thrill of the ride—and proud of the whopping $1.17 I won on that July 4th many years ago.