Cowboy Medal Winners Hang Out In Front Yard

 December 21, 2024

   A certain grandson asked his grandpa if he wanted a cowboy medal and, well, what cowboy doesn't want one, so young Fenton made me one. 

Cowboy Medal Winners Hang

Out In Front Yard

Here's the back story

    We were both working on art projects in my studio today, when out of the blue, Fenton asked me if I wanted a Cowboy Medal. When I said I certainly did, he asked for a photo of cowboys from a book and a pair of scissors.

   He quickly found a cowboy photo from a book I provided him and then he drew the cowboy in the photo and then asked for scissors and scotch tape. 

   Here we are at the presentation ceremony in the front yard. It was a total honor but it did take this old cowboy five minutes to get up off my knee.

"What d'ya want a medal, or something?"

—Old Schoolyard Taunt

Yard Sale Art vs. Pedro Paramo's Monastery Plazas

 December 20, 2024

   From my sketchbook archives, here's a page of monastery plaza sketches I did in Lima, Peru when Kathy and I ventured to South America to visit our son, Thomas Charles, who was in the Peace Corp in a mountain village named Yanque.

Daily Whip Outs "Monastery Plazas"

(September 1, 2008)

   Meanwhile, speaking of all points south. . .

Great hats, so-so Story

(Manuel Garcia-Rulfo from "Lincoln Lawyer")

   There is a new show on Netlix from Mexico and it has the coolest collection of hats I have seen in a long time. Unfortunately, the story doesn't quite work for me and I found myself mystified because I really wanted to dig the show. So my son Tomas ordered the book—Pedro Paramo—and I found out that the film is based on a revered Mexican book by Juan Rulfo.

"Almost 70 years after its publication, the novel's impact continues to resonate, making it one of the most significant works in Mexican literature. Directing this film adaptation has been an exciting challenge and a deeply personal journey that has led me to explore my own connections to the ghosts of previous generations of my family, just as Juan Preciado did when he arrived in Comala in search of his father, a man named Pedro Páramo."

—Rodrigo Prieto, the director

   Closer to home. . .

Mick Davis Hallway

   Mick Davis sure has good taste in art. Those are all Triple B works of art he bought at a yard sale and I must admit they look better here than in my yard.

"Where your fear is, there is your task."

—Carl Jung

Good Manners Meets Skibidi Toilet Training

 December 19, 2024

   So, it's my birthday (78) and my zany wife got me a couple very zany presents, one of which is a T-Shirt that says "Studio." The inside joke here is one time I asked her where she was going and she said, "Jazzercize" and I quipped that it was a good thing she had on a T-shirt that said, "Jazzercize" so she would know where she is and so she got me a payback custom T-shirt to remind me of where I am most days.

Studio Shirt at Studio Door

(she also got me a book on 1001 movie posters)

   Meanwhile, on my morning walk I had a couple new members along for my Step Entourage and here we are halfway up the hill towards Morningstar.

Harper, Uno and Fenton Out for A Stroll

   Just prior to this photo being taken, we met my neighbor Todd who was out walking his two dogs, Nammi (short for Tsunami) and Jelly and when I introduced my grandkids to Todd he said "Nice to meet you" and as we walked on, I told Harper and Fenton that after you meet someone for the first time and then get ready to leave you need to say, "It was nice to meet you." It is polite and shows good manners.

   So, not long after the above photo was taken we were walking back to the house when we met a couple of our other neighbors to the south of us, Mike and Sheri, who were out with their dogs in a golf cart. I introduced Harper and Fenton to them and we chatted for a few moments and then as we parted, Harper said without any prompting from me, "It was nice to meet you," and I beamed. I was so proud of her! I turned and said to Fenton, "What do you say, Fenton?" 

   He replied, "Skibidi Toilet."

"Someone who is obsessing over some unimportant thing."

—Gen Alpha slang, definition of Skibidi Toilet

How to Properly Telegraph A Joke

 December l8, 2024

   Some 35 years ago I took my daughter Deena to a sports bar in Glendale where the Phoenix Cardinals had a TV show and I was to be interviewed about a recent scandalous incident where the Bidwill family fired the Cardinal's head coach and we, the End Zonies, wore bags over our heads during the next game as a humorous protest. Cardinals management was reportedly not amused.

The End Zonies, The Paper Bag Incident

Sun Devil Stadium, 1989

   The owner's son, Michael Bidwill, told me what we had done was not cool and when I tried to laugh it off with we "were just having fun with it," he proceeded to take me to school with an anecdote about how hip his college was because in their basketball arena when a visiting school was shooting free throws, they would bust out newspapers and pretend to be bored with the game and a wall of newspapers would greet the shooter and this would flummox the visiting athletes and they would miss their free throws.

   "THAT is how you support your team!" Michael said, pointing his finger in my face before banning us from Sun Devil Stadium for life. I thought this was lame as hell (the joke, not the ban, which we deserved) and never thought about it again until last night when Tommy, Harper and I attended a Cactus Shadows high school basketball game and the cheerleaders from the visiting team—Queen Creek—busted out, you guessed it, newspapers. . .

Newspaper Circulation Gets Unexpected Boost

from Queen Creek cheerleaders

   My granddaughter, Harper, asked me if we had this joke when I went to high school and I told her we did but instead of newspapers each properly dressed Cheer representative was issued a tiny telegraph module and when the visiting players were attempting to make free throws (underhanded by the way!) the Cheer representative would pretend to be feverishly sending a telegraph tapping at their keys furiously. 

A good representation of our Cheer Representatives when I was playing basketball at Mucous. Note the fake "telegraph module".

   I am proud to say, not one visiting team ever made more than two free throws in a row, ever.

   And, that, my friend is how you properly telegraph a joke.

"History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme."

—Mark Twain

Heatwave In The Rearview

 December 17, 1014

   They drank, they danced and they laughed. Oh, how they laughed. I can hear them still. Here for those of you who didn't know them, are a few of the regulars from the heyday of the Heatwave Cafe.

Sue Dancin' With The Handsome Stranger

"Man, that guy was smooth."

—Ina Mae Odle

Donna Jean returns with drinks

(Sue's best friend)

Meanwhile, out on the dancefloor. . .

Miss Bee "Boppahlula" Bensen

(Cuttin' a rug!)

(1951-2019)

   Bee Bensen, nee Banegas, the irrepressible and indomitable rodeo queen, who was one of the last female links to the original pro rodeo circuit, died on Wednesday in Queen Creek, Arizona.

   Her death in an assited living facility was confirmed by her step-daughter, Frannie Tutti Banegas (she kept her mother's maiden name).

Down Wickiup Way

Uncle Guy

(1924-1991)

Milly

(She could cut a rug!)

(1912-1983)

Itty Bitty Tatas Man

(1939-2002)

Mister Hell On Horses

Emmett Kroger

(1907-1965)

Los Mexicanos Hilarios

(the comedy group often appeared 

at the Heatwave. They were from Jalisco)

From the peanut gallery. . .

   

Ellie Fancher

(1936-2002)

Jay Dusardo, the mayor of Cattletrack

And the A-1 Beer Distributor

(1931-1999)

Chata Alvarado

(1937-2024)

Chata's Concern

Seri Witch

(1762-????)

   Yes, as you no doubt know more seniors are living longer than ever and guess what lobby is bigger than the NRA or the AFLCIO combined? Yes, the American Association of Retired Persons—AARP—is humungous. Some have compared it to a certain Italian crime organization.

"AARP is similar to the Mafia but more concerned with dietary fiber."

—Dave Barry

Visiting Artists In Residence

 December 16, 2024

   After Tommy and his family landed at Sky Harbor at three yesterday, we went straight to Marisco's Playa Hermosa for a double order of Molcajete!

Molcajete, Baby!

 To my right is Tommy's best friend Bill and his fiance Kat next to him.

Molcajete, In A Bowl of Red

(we also got a bowl of green)

    It took them 33 hours to get to our house last night, but this morning I have two grandkids in my studio. They both asked me if they could work on scratchboards and that, alone, is my Christmas present. It doesn't get any better than that! 

  Here is Fenton, working on a piece he told me is "Storm of the Dead."

    Just wait until you see his masterpiece, said Grandpa Ha Ha. Meanwhile. . .

Harper works on labeling in studio

"Why is everything in your studio Old School, Grandpa?"

—Harper

The Torturous Graveyard Journey of The Historian's Family

December 14, 2024

   To be a proper historian is to torture your family by making them visit a whole bunch of graveyards they have very little interest in. 

Evidently someone is

buried in this graveyard that is tangental

to the Jesse James story*

The guy who would know, Mark Lee Gardner, standing at the grave of John Newman Edwards outside some obscure town in Missouri*

   Occasionally there is the side benefit of a pretty sky, but that's about it for enjoyment.

Storm Over Robert Ford's lonely Grave*

   Still, we persist.

"You will enjoy visiting graveyards

or I'll put you in one!"

—Historian's Tiresome Mantra

    There is a lonely grave just west of Datil, New Mexico and I look for it every time I travel through that country. It's off to the south side of the road and appears to be a family plot with a tall, proud headstone.

Flashback Whip Out: "The Lonely Grave"

(August 26, 2009)

The actual gravestone is more ornate with tall columns, but I wanted to emulate the old fashioned headstones I have seen and sketched at the Quemado cemetery, which is also in the same area. To me it speaks to the temporary nature of people on the desert. First we are dwarfed by it, and then we are swallowed by it (that's why the grave is tilting, on its way to being reclaimed by the earth).

"You will never become a popular painter. You are too much of an individual for that."
—Robert Henri

* Clell Miller is buried in the Muddy Fork Cemetery outside Kearny, Missouri

* John Newman Edwards is buried outside of the town of Dover, Missouri

* Robert Ford is buried in Richmond Cemetery, in Richmond, Missouri

Fallen Angels, Loco Ojos And Rough Riders: The Eyes Have It!

 December 13, 2024

   I enjoy doing eyes, squinting and caring, hardened and soft. They are indeed the windows to the soul.

Daily Whip Out: "As Hard As They Come"

Daily Whip Out: "Fallen Angel Eyes"

Daily Whip Out: "Sweet Bessie From Pike"

Daily Whip Out: "Los Ojos Locos"

(Crazy Eyes!)

Daily Whip Out: "Rough Rider"

"Ay Yi Yi!"

—Old Vaquero Exclamation

Last Fandango At The Heatwave Cafe, Part II

December 12, 2024

   At one time The Heatwave Cafe was the wildest and most dangerous honkytonk in all of the Southwest. Over a five decade period a dozen men were shot dead in the parking lot. Local authorities claim almost twice that many more men were targets of jealous rage, but the deadly dozen were caught with their pants down and the sheriff's office was quick to warn that it's just so much harder to run with your pants down around your ankles.

The original Heatwave Cafe

February, 1973

   Of course, with the advent of Country Swing it grew into a giant dancehall out on the desert between Wickiup and the Blake Ranch turnoff. The prettiest and wildest cowgirls got down with the rowdiest cowboys who ever rode bareback to school.

   One of those wild and crazy cowboys called the Heatwave his favorite bar and dancin' joint.

Granthum P. Hooker

alias The Doper Roper

   Generations of cow people frequented the famous watering hole.

A Famous Cowgirl's Mother 

at The Heatwave Cafe, circa 1927

   And that famous cowgirl is rumored to be attending the last fandango at the Heatwave Cafe.

Honkytonk Sue In The Corral of her mama's homestead

   Like any wild thing in her twenties, Sue sowed some major oats and, if you believe the rumors, she did some bad things and, if even half the rumors are true, she hurt some good people. The word on the Big Sandy is she aims to make amends. Of course, half the women in Mohave County hate her guts so the sparks may fly one last time. That is, if she even shows up.

"It wasn't god who created honkytonk angels."

—Kitty Wells, 1952

Old Rackensack And The Naming of Cave Creek

 December 11, 2024

   What's in a name? Plenty.

Sketchbook Daily Flashback Whip Out:

"Itchy (Trigger Finger) Mickey"

(December 31, 202)

So, exactly, how did Cave Creek get its name?

December 22, 1873

   Stationed at Camp McDowell, northeast of Phoenix, Arizona, a unit of the 5th Cavalry, led by Lt. Walter S. Schuyler, has been on the hunt since December 1, looking for bronco Apaches (Indians who have left the reservation).

Daily Whip Outs:" Apaches"

Under Schuyler’s command are 11 enlisted men, 25 mules carrying supplies and ammunition, numerous civilian packers and 14 Indian scouts led by Chief of Scouts Al Sieber.

Daily Whip Out: "Al Sieber Chief of Scouts"

   The party scouts east of the Verde River and north of the fort, finding nothing. Crossing to the west side of the river, the patrol heads southwest, and some of the Apache scouts climb New River Mesa to get a look at the surrounding area. They find fresh signs of Tonto Apache activity.

New River Mesa and Elephant Butte

   After a cold night on the mesa above Elephant Butte, the scouts track signs down Cave Creek to a cave on the west bank of the stream. The scouts locate 11 wickiups (brush huts) “cleverly concealed” and hugging the cliff wall.

The scouts report their find to Lt. Schuyler, but he is afraid the hostile Tonto Apaches have already spotted the troops. If his force attacks straight on, the Apaches may escape into the rough hillocks northwest of Black Mountain.

Schuyler decides to guide the troop train westward to the Agua Fria River, making it appear the soldiers haven’t seen the renegade enclave.

After a day in camp, the troops openly march eastward along Camp McDowell Road (south of the present-day Carefree Highway). Schuyler is gambling the Apache lookouts, who are surely watching, will assume the soldiers are heading back to the fort. He is correct.

   A few days before Christmas, Schuyler, Sieber and the Apache scouts quietly creep up alongside Cave Creek until they are opposite the Apache camp.

   Once the first rays of morning break across the sky, the ambush party opens fire from its rocky concealment, killing nine Tontos.

   An untold number of Indians flee in panic and escape, as the soldiers burn several tons of food.

   Or, is this the genesis of the town's name?

   An old Confederate deserter hailing from Missouri, Edward G. Cave (nicknamed "Old Rackensack"), prospected and mined in the Cave Creek area in the 1880s and ended up living in the cave that Cave Creek is named for after the turn of the century. The dates aren't clear but he appears to have died in or near the cave around 1912, depending on who you believe. Some have speculated he is the genesis of the town's name, although military maps show the area as Cave Creek in 1866 before "Old Rackensack" even came to the area (1870).

Daily Whip Out:

"E. G. Cave aka Old Rackensack"

"The problem with local history is the people who lived it don't want the truth, they want to be absolved of the truth."

—Old Cave Creek Saying