The Gay Nineties

October 31, 2011

Back from the Old Pueblo, Dragoon, Amerind Museum, Sunsites, Pearce, Gleeson, Tombstone, Bisbee, Naco and Saint David.

Had a book signing in the O.K. Corral. Met some great people. Sold a ton of books and even three posters. Johnny One Dog gifted me a six pack of homemade root beer. Ben Traywick came by and said hello. Invited me down to his studio-store. Went down after the book signing and looked at a couple photos, one of Kaloma and another of Sadie Marcus which he believes was lifted to create the nude photo of the third Mrs. Earp.

Had the following exchange with a Tombstonian on Allen Street:

T: "Are you attending the Spicer Hearing tonight?"

BBB: "No. I'm meeting my family in Bisbee."

"Why are you staying there?"

"My family likes it down there. You don't like Bisbee?"

"No, it's just faggots, hippies and antique stores."

"Well, those are three things I love."

Spent Friday night at the Inn at Castle Rock in Tombstone Canyon (in Bisbee). Had dinner at Cafe Roka by myself. Ate at the bar. Tony crowd in there. Best restaurant outside of Tucson and Phoenix. Kathy, Thomas Charles and Pattarapan joined me late in the evening (they got off work at five and drove down, arriving about 10:30 at night).

On Saturday, we stayed in "The Bird House" perched on the steep hill behind Va-Voom in downtown Bisbee. Two bedroom house. Got it through Bisbee Realty, $100 a night. Entire town booked up for Halloween. Barely got that.

Started Saturday night at the Gay Nineties Saloon in Naco. T. Charles and Pattarpan went across the border to get some Mexican food (literally), then brought it back to tailgate at the Gay Nineties. The bar has our award (Best name for a redneck bar in a border town) at the front door. Photo tomorrow.

Ended up at a Halloween costume party in front of The Copper Queen. Entire town there in flamboyant costumes dancing on the pavement to "Painted Black" by the Stones. Haven't danced that much since my ambulance ride to Kingman Regional in 2008.

"Hit him again. I like that little move he makes."
—A certain Kingman Fire Department paramedic who shall remain nameless

An Open Message to The Arizona Bicentennial Committee

October 27, 2011

Heading for Tombstone tomorrow and getting extra books and posters to take along. Driving over to Tri Star at lunch time and then meeting Dan The Man Harshberger at two for a design conference at his studio. Also, working on logistics for the following weekend's Wild West Days in Cave Creek. Big parade (I'll be firing off a gun with the mayor) and then a big dinner at Cartwright's next door. Busy couple of weeks.

An Open Message to The Arizona Statehood Bicentennial Committee
You have a challenge before you. How do you tell the vast, confusing, violent and ridiculous story of Arizona over the past 200 years with zero budget? We know how you feel, we didn't get paid either. In addition, you will be unappreciated and what you come up with will be recycled pap. Don't fret too much. We got the same criticism 100 years before you.

Since we have studied history at length, we know a couple things about how you will handle our period (1912-2012):

• You will undoubtedly laugh at our hairdos as we laughed at the hairdos of the past.

Yes, that's Texas Ranger Samuel Walker, as in The Walker Colt (from the spectacular photo collection of Mike Gumby). This hairdo side bubble was quite popular in the 1840s and you see it on many photographs. Of course, we had some bubbles of our own:

So, we are pretty certain you will be laughing at our hair styles. We also know you will be laughing at our head gear, just as we laughed at our forefather's head gear:

These boys thought they looked pretty groovy. Sometimes, it seems like we never learn:

Yes, we have been downright goofy with our fashion, but what about our beliefs? Well, we know you will laugh at our hard fought ideals, just as we laughed at the ideals of the past (A man's word is his bond? What a joke!). We believed a lot of things that will seem goofy to you. Gee, I wonder what someone in our past has to say about this?

"To believe is to be strong. Doubt cramps energy. Belief is power."
—Frederick William Robertson

Route 66 Ghost Towns

October 26, 2011

Rained last night and the desert smells great this morning. Finishing up copy for our Tenth Annual Best of the West where we honor those who keep the traditions alive. If you know any of these people, tell them they should be pretty dog gone happy in the next couple of weeks: Jay Dusard, Josh Hay, Michael Wallis, Baxter Black, Richard Wheeler, S. C Gwynne, BJ, Thom Ross, Gary Ernest Smith, Gib Singleton, General Palmer, Brian Lebel, Don Ensley, Patricia Wolf, Sharon Little, Chad Little, Randy Rogers, Rich Bachman, Bob Giles, Juni Fisher, Rex Rideout and Buck Brannaman.

Finished a study this morning before I came into work.

I call this "Once We Moved Like The Wind." Today, of course, we're just windy.

Also reflected on my youthful fascination with old west ghost towns. What me and my fellow frontier fans sought out fifty years ago (alleged ghost towns) has given way to the ghosts of crumbling curios and cafes, which were gleaming new when I was growing up on Route 66.

I say "alleged" ghost towns because in the case of the ghost towns I grew up with in Mohave County, Oatman, Gold Road, Cerbat, Chloride and White Hills, what we were actually looking at had expired a mere twenty years before (we thought we were looking at buildings and mines from the 1880s). Still, the idea that something that was brand new, when I was growing up, is now fading, or gone is quite amazing, shocking AND humbling.

Hats off to fellow Kingmanite, Jim Hinckley who continues to champion the Mother Road. This is his latest book and it is a good one. In spite of the gloom of the ghost town aspect of Route 66, Jim assures me there are still some good ol' mom and pop cafes along the route, but I have to say, on my recent road trip to New Mexico I was saddened by all the little towns I visited where not one cafe remains.

I'm afraid, we are where the oldtimers, like Wyatt Earp, were in the 1920s when their world was disappearing right before their eyes.

Speaking of irony, love this from a post by James Allder, on this site:

On the evening of September 29th, 2008, a gunfight exploded within a nightclub located in Ciudad, Juarez, in the Mexican State of Chihuahua. According to an article posted the following day at elpasotimes.com, four men were killed in a shootout occurring shortly after midnight. The participants wore western style clothing and cowboy boots, and investigators found a total of fourteen bullet casings at the scene.

The name of the nightclub: “The OK Corral.”

"Everything you love will be taken away."
—Slaid Cleaves

Cubism At The O.K. Corral

October 25, 2011

In honor of Picasso's birthday today (in 1881) and the fact that it's 24 hours before the Gunfight Behind The O.K. Corral, I went home for lunch and whipped out this little ditty, which I call. . .

"Cubism At The O.K. Corral"

"You sons of bitches have been looking for modernism and now you can have it!"
—Picasso, allegedly to Ike Clanton, who was mocking the Impressionists, among others

O.K. Corral, Larry McMurtry & Quanah Parker

October 25, 2011

Just realized that Pablo Picasso was born on this date in 1881, which means he was born the day before the Gunfight Behind The O.K. Corral. There's a Cubist painting waiting to happen at lunchtime today, if I ever heard of one. Ha.

And speaking of the O.K. Corral I will be signing my books there this Saturday from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Meanwhile, Larry McMurtry and his partner Diana Ossana have reportedly turned in their first draft of a screenplay for the Quanah Parker story based on the book Empire of the Summer Moon. Warner Brothers is the studio and the director is going to be Scott Cooper who did Crazy Heart, the Jeff Bridges playing Kris Kristoferson movie that was a hit last year.

We are going to be doing a major feature on the Commanche phenom that has resulted from the S.C. Gwynne book. We will be interviewing Sam for the issue and I have been talking to him via email. Here is our latest exchange:

On Oct 24, 2011, at 7:28 PM, Bob Boze Bell wrote:

Sam,
How in hell are they going to handle the Commanche brutality? I can't imagine Hollywood towing the line on the raw history. That is the real power of the book to me, that you didn't flinch, didn't tone it down, didn't sugar coat it. I hope to hell they can retain some essence of that.

—BBB

"I can't imagine how they are going to do it. I really can't. Nor can I imagine how you can compress this story into a 2-hour movie. But I guess that is why you hire OSCAR-WINNING SCREENWRITERS LIKE Larry McMurtry AND DIANA OSSANA to write it. Steve Harrigan wrote a screenplay (UNPRODUCED) about Quanah years ago that actually had a few brilliant sections. But as far as I remember it didn't get into the violence and captive abuse much.
"Somehow you have to suggest it without actually showing it. 'Last of the Mohicans' did it pretty well, I thought."

—S.C. Gwynne

True that. Well, I wish them luck. It's a great book and they hired the best in the biz, so we'll see. It would a great boost for Westerns and history.

"The truth is more important than the facts."
—Frank Lloyd Wright

Larry McMurtry and New Wyatt Earp Photo?

October 24, 2011

Finalizing details on a big Tombstone book signing this coming Saturday in the O.K. Corral. Tim Fattig is setting it up. In addition to me signing books in the corral, there will be a funeral for the cowboys going down Allen Street at noon. Loooks like a crowd from here is going along, including our production manager Robert Ray and one of our account reps, Shannon Schwind.

Speaking of Tombstone, the LA Times ran a piece this past weekend on an alleged new photo album with photos of Wyatt Earp as a youth, two of his wives, Calamity Jane and others. Compelling, but very suspicious to me. The idea of having Calamity Jane in an Earp photo album would be like Mundo having a photo of Justin Beber in his family album. No. Wait. That is not a good example.

Here's the link to the alleged Wyatt Earp Photo Album article.

As you may know I have had numerous True West business partners in the past dozen years. The one who has been here the longest is Dave Daiss. A former neighbor and the owner of the True West Building, Dave is a true maniac when it comes to celebrating all things Western. Here he is, front and center, at last week's Helldorado Days in Tombstone:

Love the hat Dave. Photo is by Bradley Risk.

When I first met Kathy in the mid-seventies, she was an eighth grade math teacher at Moon Mountain Elementary School in Phoenix. Last Saturday night she invited four of her former-fellow teachers and their spouses for a dinner party at our house. One of the teachers, George Metro, didn't cotton to me at first and, in fact, got upset when I put my hand around Kathy's waist at our first meeting (Kathy wanted me to meet her fellow teachers and so, after work on a Friday we met at a restaurant at Metro Center). George was quite protective of her (he still is!) as she had just been widowed and anyway, Who was this underground cartoonist-rock drummer who was being "familiar" with his sister? (they are not related, but you know what I mean).

Anyway, George showed up on Saturday evening and gifted me his very own Hopalong Cassidy dinner plate, which he swears he ate off all the while growing up. Here it is:

Not a bad peace offering, eh?

And, speaking of Western icons, Kathy bought me Larry McMurtry's new memoir "Hollywood," which contains scattershot memories and references to many of his movie projects. One of those projects was Honkytonk Sue, a feminist cowgirl "who goes around beating up cowboys in country and western bars," as McMurtry puts it. I created Sue in Tucson in 1977 for an assignment from National Lampoon, but cranked it out to run in the Phoenix New Times in the spare bedroom of our house on West MacKenzie in Phoenix (ironically at about the time I was meeting George Metro and the other Moon Mountain gang at Metro Center).

Here's what McMurtry says about me in the memoir: "Just as films get made for complicated reasons they often don't get made for reasons just as strange. There is, for example, a script of mine called Honkytonk Sue—it surely rests in some archive somewhere. Honkytonk Sue was initially a comic strip by the brilliant Arizona cartoonist Bob Boze Bell; he has even done a graphic novel version of Lonesome Dove."

I can answer one of Larry's questions: the scripts for Honkytonk Sue are sitting in a vault at Columbia Pictures (there are six, three by McMurtry and his writing partner at the time, Leslie Marmon Silko and three more by Jerry Leischling and Arlene Sarner). A producer called me in the nineties and wanted to buy the rights. i sent him to Columbia and according to the producer they had a price tag on the rights at $750,000 which I'm guessing is probably the amount paid for the six scripts)

As for the other assertions, I am from Arizona, I am a cartoonist, I did create Honkytonk Sue but I did not do a graphic novel version of Lonesome Dove. Not sure where he got that, but I am flattered by the praise from the big dog in the Western literary world.

While I am proud of the compliments Larry paid me, I am very aware of my short comings (just ask George Metro). I had a cryptic message sent to me by someone in New Mexico. When I was in Albuquerque a couple weeks ago, I motored down Central Avenue to gander at the fading neon, on my way to meet the Distinguished Professor at the Range Cafe. As I got near the University I saw a billboard with grafitti scrawled along the bottom. It said:

"Your ego is not your amigo."
—Old Vaquero Saying

The Beatles vs. Steel Panther

October 21, 2011

I've been mulling our conversations here concerning the innocence of the early Westerns vs. the crassness of society today. Or, put more succinctly, the reality of any time vs. the sugar coated version we seem to seek and enjoy.

For example, for the raw reality part, here's an excerpt from Empire of the Summer Moon: "It is impossible to read Rachel Plummer's memoir without making moral judgements about the Commanches. The torture-killing of a defenseless seven-week-old infant, by committee decision no less, is an act of almost demonic immorality by any modern standard. The systematic gang rape of women captives seem to border on criminal perversion, if not some very advanced form of evil."

First of all, that a writer is even admitting this in today's politically correct climate is refreshing to say the least, but it is ultimately depressing if you have any hope that people will ever love one another, like in the song.

And, speaking of songs, last night was the annual Art Walk on Main Street in Scottsdale and Shannon Schwind and I went down to man a True West magazine table and meet and greet all the art patrons. It was a great night. Very nice people came by and we talked about all things western.

On the way home (it's a 45-minute-drive back out to Cave Creek) I was scanning the radio dial and happened on a heavy metal group called Steel Panther, who sound like a cross between Van Halen and Metalica. Here's a taste of the lyrics:

I did 17 girls in a row last night
I can't get 'em out of my head.
I hit the team tomato on a dollar bill
I'm cleaning six girls off my face
Yes I did

The very next day I told the guys
But they said that's all lies
Gotta admit I was a little beat
Stix and Lexxi wouldn't believe

I did 17—17 girls in a row!
Dirty hoes!

I rocked 17 girls in a grocery store and never lost my erection!
No!
They had the saying aisle 3
and my love in sec-sex-section.
Stinking!

When I told the boys in the band they said
'Michael Starr, you're outta your crazy head! '
I don't lie about the girls I screw
So jealous 'cause you know it's true

Believe it or not, it actually gets more crass in the next verse (in a church!) but I'll spare you those lyrics. I have a hunch the song and the lyrics are a joke, or a put on, but still, I wonder if even the Commanches would consider this around the bend?

Anyway, it made me long for an older version of Rock n' roll, that didn't seem so nasty, although, I have a hunch a bunch of my parent's friends thought my guys were crass beyond belief. . .

"She was just seventeen, if you know what I mean. . ."
—The Beatles

The Beatles vs. Steel Panther

October 21, 2011

I've been mulling our conversations here concerning the innocence of the early Westerns vs. the crassness of society today. Or, put more succinctly, the reality of any time vs. the sugar coated version we seem to seek and enjoy.

For example, for the raw reality part, here's an excerpt from Empire of the Summer Moon: "It is impossible to read Rachel Plummer's memoir without making moral judgements about the Commanches. The torture-killing of a defenseless seven-week-old infant, by committee decision no less, is an act of almost demonic immorality by any modern standard. The systematic gang rape of women captives seem to border on criminal perversion, if not some very advanced form of evil."

First of all, that a writer is even admitting this in today's politically correct climate is refreshing to say the least, but it is ultimately depressing if you have any hope that people will ever love one another, like in the song.

And, speaking of songs, last night was the annual Art Walk on Main Street in Scottsdale and Shannon Schwind and I went down to man a True West magazine table and meet and greet all the art patrons. It was a great night. Very nice people came by and we talked about all things western.

On the way home (it's a 45-minute-drive back out to Cave Creek) I was scanning the radio dial and happened on a heavy metal group called Steel Panther, who sound like a cross between Van Halen and Metalica. Here's a taste of the lyrics:

I did 17 girls in a row last night
I can't get 'em out of my head.
I hit the team tomato on a dollar bill
I'm cleaning six girls off my face
Yes I did

The very next day I told the guys
But they said that's all lies
Gotta admit I was a little beat
Stix and Lexxi wouldn't believe

I did 17—17 girls in a row!
Dirty hoes!

I rocked 17 girls in a grocery store and never lost my erection!
No!
They had the saying aisle 3
and my love in sec-sex-section.
Stinking!

When I told the boys in the band they said
'Michael Starr, you're outta your crazy head! '
I don't lie about the girls I screw
So jealous 'cause you know it's true

Believe it or not, it actually gets more crass in the next verse (in a church!) but I'll spare you those lyrics. I have a hunch the song and the lyrics are a joke, or a put on, but still, I wonder if even the Commanches would consider this around the bend?

Anyway, it made me long for an older version of Rock n' roll, that didn't seem so nasty, although, I have a hunch a bunch of my parent's friends thought my guys were crass beyond belief. . .

"She was just seventeen, if you know what i mean. . ."

—The Beatles

Old Trails & The Not So Gentle Tamers

October 21, 2011

I have been asked to come up with an image for one of the Arizona Centennial Commisions celebrating Arizona statehood (1912-2012). I submitted several ideas including "Old Trails" which illustrates probably the biggest change I have witnessed living here (1955-2012):

We had an "Old Trails Garage" in Kingman when I was growing up and it catered to cars breaking down on Route 66, which basically followed the old miner, scout and Indian trails (essentially Beale). But, in my lifetime Route 66 has also gone the way of old trails and today you can see typically short patches of the original roadway, with weeds growing up through the crumbling asphalt. Yes, that is a In-din riding in the clouds above the Dodge Rambler, rippling on the horizon, both relics of another era—my innocent youth!

Next up, I got the idea to do a twist on a painting I seem to remember called "The Gentle Tamers" which was a nod to the school marms and housewives who tamed the west gently and without violence. Well, that's not the women I grew up with! My grandmother and aunts were tough cookies. So, I thought, why not do a painting celebrating "The Not So Gentle Tamers":

Yes, that's a beheaded rattlesnake in her hand. I remember my grandmother beheading four chickens for dinner by placing their scrawny necks under her shoe on the back porch and quickly popping their heads off and letting them run around the yard until they collapsed, before frying them up for Dinner (yes, in those faraway days, the lunch time meal was dinner, supper was the evening meal).

"I don't know if I did the best I could. I am who I am and I did what I did."
—A Certain Kingman woman who does not want to be quoted

Git Along Little Memories

October 19, 2011

Looking back on my trip to Ruidoso and the 22nd Annual Lincoln County Cowboy Symposium I had a profound realization: people who love the Old West really don't much care for the modern world. They hate the crassness of it, the ambiguity and the shallowness. Many are desperate to escape it. I know this is not anything new, but being in Ruidoso and meeting the people really brought it home for me.

For one thing, the majority of attendees, I would guess 95%, were dressed Western. Good hats and boots on the men, blinged out Navajo jewelry and fringe jackets for the ladies. At other festivals, say Festival of the West, West Fest or Santa Clarita I would guess the vast majority of attendees are civilians in shorts, jogging shoes, sweats, in other words, modern garb. But at Ruidoso it was really pronounced just how Western every one was.

So, I get the attraction to the Old West, but was the reality of that time any better than now?

I'm reading Empire of the Summer Moon, and I think it's safe to say that the past, as we celebrate it at festivals and in popular entertainment, is sugar coated with much of the nasty stuff taken out of it. The book brings back the horror of those times: dying alone, dying without the right medicine, dying because someone is carving out your intestines and feeding them into your mouth (a favorite Commanche past time). That stuff gets soft focus and the other attributes, courage, loyalty, horseback fun, take center stage. Call it selective memory, something I think we're all good at.

I was reading a fine piece in The New Yorker on the driving force behind the new John Carter movie (based on John Carter From Mars, the Edgar Rice Burroughs book) that we love and crave innocence: according to Andrew Stanton, the force behind Finding Nemo and Wall-E, puppies and children always work in movies for that very reason.

When I was about four or five and just becoming aware of my surroundings, images like this really impacted me:

True West Maniacs, Chuck and Lisa Gunn, came in our office yesterday and gifted me this sweet little record (yes, it's a record, with the B-side playing "Buster The Bronco Buster"). This style of imagery is from the late forties and early fifties and it really rings my chimes, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

So, if that imagery is so evocative why do we crave the truth in history, warts and all? Can both exist in the same mind? Perhaps, but not in the same movie, or book. Can they?

"Give me the truth, okay? Don't sugarcoat it. Don't give me a half truth."
—Duke basketball coach Mike Krzyzewski, in Esquire magazine

Oh, Mama! Sheri Riley Lands In Nebraska

October 19, 2011

Our intrepid sales rep Sheri Riley has landed somewhere in Nebraska. Based on this photo of her in Nebraska, can you tell where?

Hint:

"Rhymes with Oh, Mama!"
—Old Vaquero Saying

Oh, Mama! Sheri Riley Lands In Nebraska

October 19, 2011

Our intrepid sales rep Sheri Riley has landed somewhere in Nebraska. Based on this photo of her in Nebraska, can you tell where?

Hint:

"Rhymes with Oh, Mama!"

—Old Vaquero Saying

Empire of the Summer Moon: Commanches Art Hot!

October 18, 2011

Last weekend, I must have had ten different people come up to me at the 22nd Annual Lincoln County Cowboy Symposium and mention to me how much they enjoyed reading "Empire of the Summer Moon: The Story of Quanah Parker and the Rise and Fall of the Most Powerful Indian Tribe in American History."

When I got to Albuquerque, I mentioned this to Paul Hutton and he told me the back story. The author, S.C. Gwynne, who lives in Dallas and writes for the Dallas Morning News sent the unsold manuscript to a friend of Hutton's—a historian of some note in the Lone Star State (he wrote "Thunderstruck Under The Tailbone," for us, about a Texas father in the 1830s flabbergasted at his teenage daughter's sexual awakening). The noted historian read it and proclaimed it worthy but concluded it was too bad everyone already knew the story.

With a modest advance, Simon and Schuster bought the book, and having sold 250,000 copies, and counting, AND as a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, the book has been making waves ever since. I think it has been optioned as a movie as well.

Hutton gifted me a paperback of the book and I started reading it this morning. It is quite brutal, with gang rapes and mutilation, usually going on at the same time, and in front of the children of the women being raped. The amazing trick of the book is that one still feels compassion for the Commanches.

Get ready for another book, this one on the Apaches. Gee I wonder who might write that best seller?

"A story well told is never old."
—Old Vaquero Saying

Billy the Kid's Language Lesson

October 19, 2011

Sometimes we get delayed reactions to articles and features that ran months ago. Got this late last week on an article that ran in June:

The Language Lesson Taught By Billy the Kid
I liked your illustrated story of the Kid in “the Language Lesson” in a recent True West magazine. I have been fascinated by Billy the Kid since I was a boy growing up in New Mexico. There are so many books and articles about him. I know much is myth. But, I was wondering if the events in the “Language Lesson” are based on true accounts or if they are just good fiction? Was Billy being taken to Las Vegas in a stagecoach after an arrest? Was he left inside with a young woman? And, was he really ordered out of the coach in just his long underwear by three desparados?

I can easily believe that the three bandits would not have expected to be gunned down by a young boy wearing only his unionsuit and boots and having a hidden gun stored in his hat! I know this could have happened but just wondering if it did.


Thanks for an enjoyable magazine.

—R. E. Corlis

Randall,
As I believe I mentioned in my editorial of that issue, I saw the "gat in the hat" deal in the Socorro Courthouse (told by Elfego Baca of all people) and the rest is totally made up by me. I was riffing on the fact that Billy spent quite a bit of time at Anton Chico and Las Vegas and the idea of him riding a stage to go see a lawyer has some merit. As for the young lady, we know Billy "improved a bumpy ride" for more than one querida (girlfriend). Ha.

Glad you enjoyed it. I see it as the opening to a movie about the Kid in the last year of his life. Stay tuned.

—BBB

By the way, it was this graphic cinema that evoked the Sonoita cowboy remark, "What's with the Mexican comic strip?"

One of my quests for this past week's road trip across New Mexico was to see the land north of Anton Chico, which is where I placed the attempted stage coach robbery. I was relieved to see that my skyline for Anton Chico was quite accurate (whew!), but I made mental notes from there north about the long mesas and cottonwood choked streambeds of the upper Pecos, which of course traverses the famed Santa Fe Trail. All this for Part II of "The Language Lesson."

"El que tiene boca se equivoca." ("We all make mistakes")
—El Kid

Vincent Van Gogh Killed Because of Buffalo Bill?

October 16, 2011

Just got home from a week's worth of Kid Krazy road tripping to New Mexico. Came in from Mogollon, New Mexico this morning. Had breakfast at the Alma Cafe in Alma where Butch and Sundance worked under assumed names (on a ranch near Alma, not in the cafe). Had the huevos rancheros under my given name.

From Alma, Kathy and I motored up through Luna and Alpine into the heart of the burned out footprint of the Wallow Fire. Must say, Nutrioso is one lucky town. The fire burned all around it but spared the town. Amazing. In spite of the burned out ridges, pale yellow from new growth streaked the slopes. Gave it all a surprising beauty.

Got home just in time to see "Sixty Minutes," and a report that one of my fave artists, Vincent Van Gogh did not shoot himself. He was hanging out with a couple sixteen year old French kids who were playing cowboy and emulating Buffalo Bill, who had just appeared in France the year before (1889). One of these boys accidently shot Vincent and stumbled to his room and told the authorities not to blame anyone (they also asked him if he had attempted suicide and he replied that he probably had).

Not sure I believe it, but I love the connection to Buffalo Bill.

"Bob Boze Bell is the Vincent Van Gogh of Western art."

—Buck Taylor, who also says I have the "ear for it."

not

Paul Hutton Redux

October 14, 2011

Holed up in Santa Fe in a cozy, old school hotel just off the plaza. Kathy is with me. Sat on the porch last night, drinking Santa Fe Ale and solving life. Great to see her and catch up on our hectic lives. Told her about my many adventures traveling along the Pecos River for the past several days.

Found a wonderful B&B-hotel down a backstreet in Taos two days ago. it's Mabel Dodge Luhan's old house. Absolutely the most incredible adobe I have ever seen. Going back when i get a chance. Met a local, Archie, on Wednesday night in Albuquerque who grew up just to the north of Taos, and he regaled me with all the fist fights he had with rival families. He told me you couldn't walk down the road without having to fight. Love that stuff, although i'm glad I didn't grow up that way. Me, I grew up in the rough tourist town of Kingman where I suffered a few wedgies and the occasional cowboy verbal humiliation, but no one ever accosted me on the way to Hood's Market, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

Speaking of white guys who have it dicked, in about fifteen minutes I'm going down to Due West Art Gallery on San Francisco Street (catty corner from the old Herlow's Hotel where John Tunstall had his handshake from hell). Setting up the gallery for tonight's O.K. Corral art opening, featuring new Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp art by Thom Ross and myself. We're having a discussion at 6:30 tonight, open to the public, with Paul Andrew Hutton hosting. Going to be fun.

Speaking of the distinguished professor, he and I had breakfast at the Range Restaurant in Albuquerque yesterday (he bought). Great green chile on their patented huevos rancheros. Talked about several projects, inlcuding our elusive Mickey Free. Paul recently had dinner with a famous movie director (I swear he knows everyone) who told him: "Think of tanks and ground troops. Tanks are the story and characters are the soldiers. The tanks—the story—always comes first." This apt metaphor totally revived Hutton and he has big plans for this mongrel mutt we have been coddling and noodling for the past seven years.

Afterwards, Paul and I went to the UNM campus, where Paul works, to meet with a young student of his who wants to write for True West. Found out Paul's students love him (he has more students in his classes than anyone in the department), thus completely negating my snotty posting from the other day.

"You are just jealous of Paul Hutton's success."

—That voice in my head that I hate so much

Guess Who Is Speaking In Kit Carson's House?

October 12, 2011

Been off the grid for the last three days, traveling up the Pecos River from Roswell to Fort Sumner where I spent the night with my Uncle Bud and Jean Linn who have three farms along the river. Great visiting with them and getting caught up on Guess history. My Aunt Jean is the last of the Guess girls. Yesterday i followed the river up through Puerto de Luna to Santa Rosa, then jogging over to Anton Chico, up through the villages of Pueblo, Ribera, San Miguel, Rowe, the stage stop near Pecos, the town. These are all stops Billy the Kid most likely made as he gravitated between Fort Sumner and Las Vegas, New Mexico.

Landed at Due West Gallery on San Francisco Street near the Santa Fe plaza around noon. Unloaded my paintings for the big show that premiers Friday.

This morning I had breakfast with Johnny Boggs and Thom Ross at Harry's on Old Las Vegas highway. Great food. Left the boys at nine and drove the back way to Taos, through Chimayo, Truchas and Las Trampas and Talpa. The drive was spectacular with the trees turning bright yellow and orange and the little adobes tucked along the creek bottoms glistening in the fall air.

At Rancho de Chamayo I got a cell phone call from Paul Andrew Hutton who wanted me to give him contact info on Drew Gomber and Steve Sederwall because two friends of his were headed to Lincoln today. I had to pull over (shaky signal in the canyons) and call Carole at the office to email the info to Paul. As I sped on trying to make up for lost time, I was glad to finally be out of range of Professor Hutton. in fact, I turned my phone off.

Got into Taos at about noon. Drove right to Kit Carson's house and museum, parked and walked into the funky adobe complex where the most famous scout in the West lived for a time. And as I walked in the door, who's big, fat face is on a giant video screen yacking about Kit Carson?

Paul Andrew Hutton.

"Will that guy ever shut up?"

—Every student Hutton has ever had

Mel Tillis, Texas Playboys & Wanda Nevada

October 9, 2011

Well, the 22nd Annual Lincoln County Cowboy Symposium is officially over and we had a great time. Met some mighty fine folks from all over the west. Sold a Billy the kid book to a woman named Judy Judy. She married into the last name. Her husband's father said, "Are you really going to ruin this girl's life?" They've been married 28 years.

Mel Tillis appeared in concert on Thursday night. Packed house, $50 to $75 a seat. Other groups included The Saddle Cats (great name), The Texas Playboys & Fiddles, Bisquits O'Brien, The Flying J Wranglers,

Ran into Kevin Hogge who is on the Billy the Kid ride, which starts tomorrow. Also Rick Tucker, an old time performer who is all over YouTbue. Authors Rayzor Dent ("Vaulted Eagles"), Don Bullis, Ollie Reed, harmonica maestro Lonnie Joe Howell, Hawkeye Hensen (three time World Champion Saddle Bronc Rider). Bobby Adams (Relentless Productions) of Hobbs, New Mexico who wants to fly me out for a speech in the spring. Lutz Lager (the "sanger" I told you about from Koln Germany who traveled for 22 hours to get here and he's also a True West subscriber).

Sold a bunch of books, and loaded out at two. Going to a dinner party at one of the organizer's house tonight. Lincoln in the morning, as the Billy Drive Across NM continues all this week. Heading for Fort Sumner tomorrow, Puerto de Luna, Anton Chico and Lamy, then landing in Santa Fe Friday night at due West Art Gallery for the art opening.

Watching Wanda Nevada (1979) on the Westerns Channel at the condo we're staying at in Ruidoso. A wacky Western that had some potential (Peter Fonda wears some great duds), but it's a mess of a story. It was filmed in Prescott, great scenes in the Palace Saloon. Henry Fonda, Peter's dad, makes an uncredited appearance as a gold miner in the Grand Canyon. The music played in this sequence is "My Darling Clementine" which is a sly reference to the movie of the same name starring Henry as Wyatt Earp. I actually saw the sneak preview of the movie at Christown and Peter and Brooke Shields sat right behind us. When the lights came up Peter headed down the back stairs with Kathy and I right behind him. I said something, and he replied, "Sometimes it's more fun to make pictures than to be in them."

Could have been good, but it missed. I heard scuttlebutt that massive amounts of cocaine were on the set, but with the roaring success of Easy Rider, I wonder if something else was involved?

"Pride is at the bottom of all great mistakes."

—John Ruskin

A Cowboy Festival That Knows How to Do It Right!

October 9, 2011

A spectacular day in Ruidoso, New Mexico at the 22nd Annual Cowboy Symposium. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is dressed cowboy. Virtually all the guys in cowboy hats, boots. All kinds of hats, including buckaroo style from Nevada. All the women are blinged out with Navajo jackets, jewelry, short-waisted fringe jobs. Really stylin'. Of course, lots of Texans from Dallas, Austin, Lubbock and El Paso. And of course from all over New Mexico. Even from Phoenix.

It's held at the Ruidoso Downs Race Track where they have the Billy the Kid Casino. Mr. Bonney would most certainly get a kick out of that. I have a hunch he rode right up through this area with the Coe brothers and if one of them would have said, "You know Billy, someday there's gonna be a giant gambling casino and race track right over there with your name on it," everyone would have laughed and asked what he was smokin'.

One couple came all the way from Germany. Flew to Dallas and then drove (22 hours total trip!). This is their sixth year! Met some great people, sold some books (could have sold more if I had brought more stock). Just the nicest people and they love the West. I spoke in the Cowboy Tent at 12:30 and the crowd was spirited and fun. A Texan from Hico asked me what I thought of Brushy Bill and I paused and attempted to give him some slack, finally settling on, "Well for one thing, if you believe it, you're full of. . ." Got a big, rolicking laugh, even from the guy who asked it. Afterwards he came up to me and we talked for some time about crazy myths and history.

The music was especially good, with a wide variety of Western music in two tents. We were right behind the main entrance stage and I enjoyed every group that played. Songs were as divergent as "All MY Exes Live In Texas" to "Lay Lady Lay" by Bob Dylan. Sue Lambert and I grooved all day to the tunes.

Going back tomorrow at 8:30 for the chuckwagon breakfast. Speaking at 10:30 this time. Will try not to swear this time.

"Poor New Mexico, so far from heaven, so close to Texas."

—Old Vaquero Saying

Snowing In Heber

October 7, 2011

Had a rental car snafu with Enterprise. We had a SUV requested for over a month so I could deliver my paintings to Santa Fe, and the day I was supposed to pick it up (yesterday) they told us they didn't have the vehicle. Carole had to scramble and finally got me a mini-van at Hertz down on Shea and Scottsdale Road. Consequently didn't hit the road until 9:30 this morning, which is about three hours later than I like.

The sky was clear when I left, but topping the shoulder of the Four Peaks range at Sunflower I noticed very dramatic clouds moving across the plateau above Payson. Hit snow flurries at Heber and heavy snow at Overgaard. Dramatic skies and rain mixed with sleet all the way to Socorro, New Mexico. Stopped for a coffee and sando before getting gas. Big mistake. Got soaked filling up with gas. Rained all the way to Nogal, finally cleared up. Made it to Ruidoso in just over eight hours.

Sue Lambert and I are staying in a condo compliments of the Cowboy Symposium. Sue was here for today and they had very good crowds. I'm speaking tomorrow at 12:30 p.m. in the Cowboy USA Roundup Tent.

"I'll see you there."

—BBB

Out of Pocket For 10 Days

October 7, 2011
Had a computer snafu on posting here and will catch up today. Many posts from the road in New Mexico. Stay tuned.

Castel Rock Rider & Alamo Poacher

October 6, 2011

Long day yesterday, going over our design issues. Had an intense meeting with production and editorial for about two hours in the morning, then ordered out for subs and had a full staff meeting to argue about all of the above. Lots of outrageous comments made, but nobody left or got angry. Very productive.

Had our sixth or seventh historic dinner at Cartwright's last night. This one about the Alamo. Cribbed and poached from Paul Andrew Hutton, Bill Groneman, Thom Ross, Gary Foreman and others from our various Alamo issues. I owe them each a free dinner. Got home at about 8:30, a long day. Didn't have time to post a blog.

Got some much needed rain this morning. Much cooler. First day to wear a sweatshirt since 1978. Well, okay, that's slightly an exaggeration but you get my drift.

Our Number One Museum of 2011 is the Buffalo Bill Museum & Grave west of Denver. Check out their banner which is unfurled every morning at the entrance:

Did three more True West Moments this morning for the Arizona Republic. Went home for lunch and whipped out a little study I call "Castle Rock Rider."

My father, and step-mother Shirley Bridges Bell, had a little ranchito under Castle Rock west of Kingman and it is a prominent peak in the area. Me and my kids hiked up there several times when they were youngsters.

This patina-laden frame-within-a-frame approach is something i have been noodling for several years now. Kind of works here, no? I'm never sure where these are going to go, but I keep going at it. Gee, I wonder what ol' Isaac has to say about this"

"If I have ever made any valuable discoveries, it has been owing more to patient attention than to any other talent."
—Isaac Newton

Go See Blackthorn So I Can Tell You The Ending They Should Have Used

October 4, 2011

Attended the Scottsdale Film Festival this last weekend. In addition to seing John Sayles' Amigo, and another one called Battleship (in English), I saw Blackthorn on the big screen. Saw it on my computer two weeks ago and wanted to see how it played out with a real audience. I missed Butch (Sam Shepard) fleecing a rich American of his watch (too small of a detail on my computer), and the horseback riding sequences were even better on the big screen. Always a good sign, the audience clapped at the end. Ran into a horse training couple from Cave Creek (the famale gave the Battleship flick an F) and they loved Blackthorn. She said, "I gave my first A to this one!" (we were given mini-ballots to rank the movies).

Anyway, I'm dying to tell you the scene they cut from the movie that would have made it a classic. But I don't want to tell you until you've seen it. So get to seein', will ya?

"The ending will leave you wondering. Mmmmmmm."
—BBB

Texas Frontier Style vs. John Sayles Amigo

October 3. 2011

Kathy and I attended the Scottsdale Film Festival on Saturday and saw Amigo the new John Sayles film about the Philippine American War. It was quite good and thought provoking (he claims water boarding began in this 1890s war). After the film he took questions and someone asked him about his film Lone Star and he told the story of writing a Roger Corman film about fleshing eating fish (Piranha?). He said they couldn't film in California because of a drought (no rivers with water) so they went to Texas. In addition to the screenwriting gig, he also got a small part in the movie, and on his day off he visited the Alamo. He was turned off by the John Wayne paintings from the 1960 movie and the Daughters' of the Texas Revolution telling a slanted story, so he wrote Lone Star to deal with all the parts of the Alamo story that the official history leaves out (that the Americans wanted to have slaves but the Mexican constitution did not allow for it. They had just kicked out the Spanish, etc.). There's more, but the last line of Lone Star is "Forget the Alamo."

Speaking of Texas, an excellent editorial in the latest issue of Texas Monthly, about "frontier style," as in politics, as in Rick Perry vs. George W. Bush vs. LBJ. For starters, they all share a "swagger and a smirk." Frontier style is a mode derived from "our defining experience—the bloody, multigenerational westward expansion of (mostly) Anglo-American settlers across a vast and violent continent. The leading edge of this expansion, that ragged line of white society, was naturally more rough, more optimistic, and less restrained than anything to be found in the drawing rooms of Virginia, and it supplied the young country with a powerful sense of identity."

This place we inhabit "attracted a certain kind of settler, one who wanted to be left more or less alone and was willing to pay for this solitude with his blood."

"This is the basic idea of the frontier style: every man is more or less for himself, a good neighbor is one who needs no help, and efforts by the government to interfere are not to be trusted."

A historian notes: "a worship of action and accomplishment, a disdain for weakness or incompetence, and a thread of belligerance."

"Son, it is very rude to ask a man where he is from. If he is from Texas, you will find out, and if he's not, don't embarrass him."
—John Randolph, from the booklet "Texas Brags"