The Wildest Western Artist In History? Well, You Know, As In The History Business. . .

 April 13, 2026

   One of the things I don't want to lose is my rock and roll tendencies. I hate to admit it, but sometimes, when I'm doing True West history, I get tagged as a little too mainstream for my own tastes.

Daily Whip Outs:

"The 47 First Loves of A Soiled Dove"

   On the other hand, I have to concede I can seem to some a little too stodgy:

      Ask my kids and their kids.

      Honestly, I see myself more in the Rough and Rowdy Ways genre (to borrow a phrase from Dylan's world tour). You know, like this.

Daily Whip Outs: "Honkytonk Mahem"

     Speaking of mayhem, this puppy won a prize two nights ago.

   This book—cover designed by Dan The Man Harshberger—is in the National Cowboy Hall of Fame gift shop because one of the songs, “Burnin’ Vein,” won a Wrangler Award for music composition.  On Saturday night Bones (Alan Birkelbach), Karla K. Morton, and Michael Martin Murphy received Wrangler Awards. Speaking for the group, Michael Martin Murphy dropped this little bombshell during his acceptance speech.

“[This book] was illustrated by the wildest Western artist in history, Bob Boze Bell.”

—Michael Martin Murphy

Dating Myself

 April 12, 2026

   Rebecca Edwards and I are working on the next doubletruck for The Tombstone Epitaph and I'm featuring my sketching encounter with the legendary Zonie, Gail Gardner, back in 1985.

My Gail Gardner sketches, 1985

    Rebecca said she couldn't use the jpeg of my sketches (too small) and she wanted to know if I have anything higher res, so I went out into the garage to look for a box of Arizona Highways I bought in 1985 just so I could grab the original article in cases just like this one.

   Couldn't find it. What I did find was a ton of photos from the past which I am having a hell of a time dating. On one, it's very obvious, on the others, well, you'll see. . .

Dating Myself

   I remember taking this photo when we were walking down a side street in Opodepe, Mexico and I looked over and saw this cat sunning himself in an open window.

Window Dressing, Opodepe, Mexico

(circa 1990)

   The reason I say, circa, is because Deena was maybe ten when her school in Cave Creek did an exchange with the school in Opodepe, Mexico and we went down there for a very enlightening exchange program. While there we hiked up to a bacanora still high on the side of a mountain and I took this photo of the entire village in the distance.

Opodepe looking northeast

   Two of my best friends, long gone and I miss them every day.

Edmundo Mell and Charlie Waters

at Boots Nightclub in Phoenix

(maybe 1983?)

The Generation at The Doll House

on Speedway Blvd. in Tucson, circa 1966

(me on drums)

Thomas Bell at Sagunto in Spain, circa 2003

(it is a giant fort that was besieged by Alexander the Great and it is at least ten times larger than the Alamo)

   Other times, the date on a photo I find is carved into my head—in stone.

O.K. Corral Centennial fight location

 October 26, 1981, 2:20 p.m.

(waiting for the exact time, 2:30 to start)

"The past is a foreign country. They do things differently there."

—Old Vaquero Saying

Profiles In Pendejo-ism & Publishing House Doubles Down

 April 11, 2026

   Did some reworking today.

Daily Whip Out: "The Lone Sentry"

   Here's another angle for exploration:

Profiles In Pendejoism

   In the Wild West, so many men did so many pendejo things it's not even funny.

   Well, maybe it's a little bit funny.

Paramount Is Getting Back Into Print

   Why? “Stories that originate on the page have a unique power to build immersive worlds, create compelling characters and forge deeper connections with fans,” a Paramount spokesman said in a statement. “With the launch of Paramount Global Publishing, we’re expanding the reach of our most beloved franchises while also introducing original stories to audiences around the world.”

Notes to Self

   For all my own ridiculousness I was dealt a pretty strong hand.

   Just because you wrote it down doesn't make it true.

   One of the things that needs to be filmed in the remake of "Tombstone" is the end of the story where Wyatt and Josie are trying to figure out how to cash in on his life story and they have the ear of Tom Mix and William S. Hart and they still can't get a commercial story going.

   So, don't worry. Wyatt Earp couldn't figure it out either. His last words were, "Suppose, suppose. . ."

"We remember Wyatt Earp not for who he was, but for what he means."

—Thom Ross

The Pendejo Project

 April 10, 2026

   What does my favorite state look like to me metaphorically? 

Daily Revised Whip Out:

"Arizona Statehood Panorama" 

(Ed Mell meets Maynard Dixon on acid)

  Got a new project pending. . .

Daily Whip Outs:

"A Gaggle of Pendejos"

"Who, me?"

   Yes, you.

The Pendejo Project

   Let's face it, gringo pendejos need love too.

Dos Gringo Pendejos from Bakersfield

      Or, hell, they can even be from kingman.

Especially from Kingman!

This Just In From Mad Coyote Joe

   In honor of our Pendejo Project I made a wing marinade, chipotle, soy, sesame oil, fresh garlic, lime juice, rice vinegar! I have oak grilled them on the Chimmenea (very Pendejo) I give you. . .

Wings Pendejo!

“The past is never done with you.”

—Old Vaquero Saying

Red Head Redemption Plus Mickey Free's MoFo Mammoth Jack & Bob Dylan's Poetic Ode to The Western

 April 9, 2026

   I've been roaming around this planet long enough now to come to this conclusion, regarding creating artwork: The trick my friend, is to find the sweet spot between holding on and letting go.

Moon Setting Over The Seven Sisters

at Sunrise

   One stellar sphere goes down, another one comes up.

Sometimes, deep in a honkytonk, you will find redemption.

Daily Whip Out: "Red Head Redemption"

   On the other hand, well, you know where this is going.

Daily Scratchboard Whip Out: "The Mistress"

   On the other hand, some of my friends met their match in those smoky barrooms.

Daily Whip Out: "A Tall Formidable Girl"

   Here's a story idea: What if The Hulk was a giant jackass?

"Mickey's Mean MoFo Mammoth Jack"

   This is an excellent music video and I recognize almost all the movie snippets they used. Can you?

Bob Dylan Westerns Tribute

   It has been called "logrolling" when one author praises another author's books—expecting one in return—but I have to say, when I have needed quotes for my books nobody has been as original and creative as this guy.

"Saddle up for a ride into the Boze Zone—where truth really is stranger than fiction."

—Paul Andrew Hutton

Stan Jones Ranger

 April 8, 2026

   More backstory on the genesis of Ghost Riders In The Sky.

Ranger Tales

  Stanley "Slick" Davis Jones was born in Douglas, Arizona in 1914. His father was a doctor and one of the first settlers in Cochise County.

   Of course, the before mentioned version of how Ghost Riders came into being, from the top of a windmill, is not the only accepted version. In another genesis of the song, when Stanley was about 12 he supposedly heard a story from an old Apache who described the spirits of cowboy who had lost their way and who were doomed to ride eternally across the sky, chasing a herd they would never catch. The eventual song he wrote took a long time, and a significant detour, before it was "penned."

The best book on the life of Jones

   When his father died, his mother moved the family to Los Angeles. He went to college at Berkeley where he earned a master's degree in zoology. During this time Jones competed in rodeos to make money. After a stint in the Navy, he worked as a miner, a fire fighter and a park ranger. It was in this last gig, after the war, when he was working for the National Park Service in Death Valley, California where he got his big break. Hollywood scouts were looking at film locations around Death Valley and when they asked their guide to give them a sample of "campfire music," Jones played a song he had just written called "Ghost Riders In The Sky." The song was recorded in 1948 (some say '49). The Hollywood boys were impressed and Jones was then assigned as technical advisor on the film The Walking Hills and there he met the legendary John Ford who hired him to write music for The Searchers and Rio Grande. In fact Jones has a bit part in the latter.

Stan Jones movie credit on Rio Grande

   Jones eventually wrote 100 Western songs and my friends in the Western Writers of America named three of his songs as being among the Top 100 Western songs of all time.

   Someone recently asked me what Uno's full name is and so I told them on the condition they not spread it around because the boy is a little sensitive to the moniker.

Uno Moco Seco

(One Dry Booger)

Past Imperfect: A Vain van Gogh Comparison

 April 7, 2026

   According to the old vaqueros it is the bane of existence to compare yourself to anyone, other than, perhaps your former self. And, speaking of my former self, my muse, Kathy Sue, cooked up a tour of van Gogh Country back in 2015. We met in Amsterdam and toured the famous  Rijks Museum, then we took the train to Nuenen (Vincent's hometown), then on to Brussells, Paris, Arles, Sainte-Maries, San Remy, then back to Paris and out to Auvers-Sur-Oise where Vincent was shot by a Buffalo Bill wannabe. The Ds decided to come along as well. That would be Dan & Darlene Harshberger.

   What we saw and experienced was life changing for me.

BBB at San Remy Insane Asylum

(with my hero, Vincent)

   According to Google search, van Gogh created some 2,000 artworks in his short life and that is broken down as 1,100 drawings and sketches and 900 paintings (although one source claims the actual number is 864 paintings). And, of course, legend says he only sold one painting in his lifetime and that would be this one.

"The Red Vineyard"

   Which van Gogh reportedly sold for 400 francs to a fellow painter and collector, Anna Boch. Today, 400 francs is worth about $500 US dollars. And here's a recent painting I sold at a certain museum for that same exact number.

"An In-din On An Indian In In-din Country"

   So, I think it's safe to day I have outsold van Gogh during our respective lifetimes.

“Comparison is the thief of joy.”

—Old Vaquero Saying

Love In The Time of Houlihans

 April 6, 2026

   Wrote this up for a couple former Zonies I know who had an anniversary yesterday.

Love In The Time of Houlihans

   A long time ago, in another century, two young lovers met at a Houlihan's in the small town of Phoenix, Arizona. Now Houlihan's was old school.  You had to mail in your reservation and if you were accepted you would take a stagecoach to the restaurant and the waitress would let you in if you knew the password (mine was jackalope all lower case). If you wanted to know the specials, well, that was what the telegraph was for. Nobody complained about the service because there was none in those primitive days.

Steve and Kristina Randolph

at the Grand Canyon, circa 1986

   Anyway, this handsome young couple fell in love but there was one problem: the groom, a young strapping buck, worshipped an outlaw by the name of Billy the Kid. This set the youngster off on a bad path and I don't want to name all the hanky panky bank jobs he pulled, but let's just say, when he proposed to the pretty girl he met at Houlihan's the Arizona Department of Public Safety, The Arizona Rangers and Arizona Public Service pooled together all their resources to buy the young newlyweds a one-way ticket to Wyoming.

   I'd like to say their time there was delightful but the two somehow thought it was a good idea to get into the restaurant business. Somehow, they survived that and several other calamities and here we are forty years later and they are still a couple.  As anyone who has been married for more than ten minutes knows, someone in the relationship deserves sainthood and it would be beneath me to name that person but her name rhymes with Kristina Randolph.

   Happy 40th anniversary you two love birds and if you happen to make it to your 50th I'll personally mail in an order of green chile burgers to Houlihan's in your honor.

An Actual Telegraph Board Menu

from Houlihan's

More Mule Appreciation Plus Marsh Cracks Us Up!

 April 6, 2026

   When it comes to mammoth jacks, Mickey's mule is hard to beat.

Daily Whip Out: 

"Standing Tall: Mickey's Mammoth Mule Tú"

    Talking about this guy never gets old. . .

Great Storytellers I Have Known

   When it comes to great storytellers much can be said for Yavapai County, home of Gail Gardner and up the road a piece, this guy:

Ashfork's Favorite Son Marshall Trimble

  Yes, Marshall Trimble has been Arizona's official state historian for the past 35 years. And, although he retired this year from True West, where he wrote the very popular column Ask The Marshall for the past 25 years, Marsh—as we affectionately call him—has kept us in stitches for decades. For example, I thought my school was small, but Marsh informed me his school was so small they had driver's ed and sex ed in the same car! Damn, that's pretty small.

   Marsh also has many stories about the folks from his home town, for example, he likes to say "you know you're in a small town when you dial a wrong telephone number and wind up talking to someone for 30 minutes anyway, or when yhou move across town and don't have to leave a forwarding address. In a small town, when you have an emergency, all you have to do is step out on the front porch and hollar, '911,' and first responders arrive immediately. A small town is where everybody knows who the father of the pups is, and everybody whose checks are good and whose husbands aren't." 

   We co-wrote this book which was a hoot-and-a-half:

  This next one applies to my recent meltdown over being snubbed in the art world.

   The math is Brutal! Ay Yi Yi. But there it is in black and white.

"In the end, you miss all the shots you didn't take."

—Old Vaquero Saying

The Backstory to A Mighty Mammoth Jack

 April 5, 2026

   It's time for another installment of On the Border with Boze.

Sierra Madre Mule Train

Mule Smarts

   A military pack train picks its way higher and higher towards the summit of the Sierra Madres when a sudden stop at the top, ricochets down the line and five mules collide on a narrow turn, sending a heavily packed mule towards the abyss and certain death. 

A Pack Mule Hangs On For Dear Life

   Spreading out flat and reaching out with his front hooves, the mule calmly grabs an outcropping of rocks while his handler and the other muleteers look on in horror. Slowly and with some determination, the mule reaches forward and hooks his hoof on a sturdy rock and starts to pull himself back up from his precarious position. Then, slowly but surely he gains the ledge, and with a toe hold he leverages it to gain access back up on the ledge. Once free of the precipice, the mule climbs back up on the trail, shakes himself off, and continues on as if nothing had happened.

   A nearby civilian scout mutters to no one in particular, "I want one of those!"

The Mighty Mule Tú

   And that is how Mickey Free came to ride a mammoth Jack, eighteen hands high.

   One of the eye witnesses to this incredible and perhaps even true story was this guy:

The Lead Packer

"About half of what I say you should take with a grain of salt, but the rest is just honest to goodness BS."

—Tom Horn, lead packer and BSer extraordinaire

Legendary Zonie Storytellers

 April 4, 2026

   Here's a new whip out because I just couldn't leave well enough alone. . .

"Reworked Daily Whip Out:

"The Birth of Ghost Riders"

Songwriter Stan Jones recalls being just a lad sitting atop a windmill outside of Douglas, Arizona in 1924 when a big storm blew in and an old cowpoke, Capp Watts, was working on the windmill with him and said, “Don’t be afraid, it is only the clouds stampeding and the Ghost Riders will get them rounded up soon and everything will be alright.” From this experience Jones wrote ”Ghost Riders In The Sky.”

The Day I Met Gail Gardner

  Thanks to the late, great editor of Arizona Highways, Don Dedera, I met one of the best tellers of tall tales in Arizona history. Don gave me my first illustration assignment for Arizona Highways in February of 1985 for a story on everyone's favorite home town. I traveled to Prescott to meet and draw several Prescott living legends, among them Budge Rufner and Gail Gardner. 

My Gail Gardner sketches

February, 1985

   When I got to his house in downtown Prescott (a block east of the Hassayampa Hotel on Gurley), Gail was in a wheel-chair in the living room with a hand-knitted afghan on his lap and chain-smoking. As soon as I came in he started with the stories and the whole time I was there, it was just one story after another, and they were all good. At one point, his caretaker leaned in from the kitchen, and yelled, "Gail, he's here to draw you, not interview you!" He didn't give a rip, and he never even slowed down. He just loved to spin tall tales. And, he never stopped smoking. When I joked he wouldn't live very long if he kept that up (he was in his nineties!) he just laughed and lit another one. As I continued drawing him he told many stories complete with outrageously funny locations, which I jotted down in the corners of my sketchbook, above; including "Fart-Knocker Flats," "Skin-Chin Canyon" and "Freeze-Ass Ridge." There were more, but I couldn't write them down fast enough. When I asked him how a place got the name "Fart-Knocker Flats," he laughed, gave the location, and said, "These flats had big, round rocks all over the place and when you'd come ridin' hell bent out on to those flats, your horse would stumble and it would knock the farts plumb out of you." Even his asides were hilarious and I could have listened to him all day long. Here's the kicker: not once did I think of him as a BS-er. True, the stories were laced with tall tales, but he somehow rose above that.

Daily Whip Out:

"Gail Gardner at Fart Knocker Flats"

   "Nobody's had more fun than I've had."

—Gail Gardner's parting comment to me

In Defense of My Finger Painting And A Story That Needs to Be Told

 April 3, 2026

   A little clean up on aisle three. Or, more accurately, a little context on yesterday's post about my angst over the museum snafus.

   For starters it has never been my goal to be a fine artist. I have always self-identified as a cartoonist, and an illustrator second. And to the last point, I have always maintained that I illustrate my books to defend myself from even worse illustrators.

   All that said, I do have my defenders.

And The Defense Never Rests

   "Wow, I'm shocked about those two paintings at the museums. The people there obviously have no artistic sense. I have many of your paintings, and treasure them - I look at them everyday on my walls. I consider your books with their illustrations and unique layout to be the most engaging way to learn history that I've ever seen. In fact, that is how it should be taught to schoolkids. Your work on the magazine, your time on the radio, and your personal appearances have always been something to look forward to because you are always interesting and entertaining. It really pains me to think you're becoming discouraged, because you're a fantastic artist, author, and speaker! And besides all that, you're a wonderful human being!"

—Gold Lady

Lauren Kormylo (AKA Gold Lady) is a jeweler and longtime art collector, and she came out to a garage sale I had a couple years ago, with her husband, Tom, and her stepson, Thomas, to go through the Triple B Art Garage Sale, and she patiently went through five different stashes and three Kristi Jacobs' packets and chose these six pieces.

The Kromylo's Major Haul

I don't want to imply they stole anything, but, in fact, she lifted some very pricey artwork at a heavily reduced price because a.) she's a True West Maniac, and b.) she bought my stuff when nobody else would (besides Craig Schepp).

My Secret Weapon

   As I also mentioned yesterday, I can only beat myself up so much and then a part of my noggin' kicks in that was hard wired into my brain pan by this person.

Bobbi Guess at The Diamond Bar Ranch

   Yes, when I was growing up my mother, above, told me over and over that I could accomplish anything I put my little mind to and that simple nugget is hard wired into my brain and it has saved me so many times it's not even funny, including yesterday. I know this sounds corny but it is my secret super power! Or, as my therapist wife likes to put it, "What a great coping mechanism."

   Either way, I'll take it. Besides, I believe most success is getting knocked down five times and getting up six.

   Here are a couple snippets of story ideas that I am noodling at the present time:

   He floated into Bacanora on a whispy column of dust but the deeds and damage he accomplished in such a short time are still debated today.

Daily Whip Out: "Pendejo Judgement Day"

   She ruled her tribe with a strong heart. A white captive would forever be grateful.

Daily Whip Out:

"Aespaneo Queen of The Mojaves"

"Write down the advice from those that love you even though you don’t like it at the time.”

—Old Vaquero Saying

A Critical Critique of BBB Stand By For Brutality

 April 2, 2026

   Sometimes I am forced to evaluate where I have been and, to be honest, it can get a little brutal.

Daily Whip Outs: "A Painful Landscape"

   Once in a while the past catches up to me and I just have to face the music. This is a tough one to swallow. I have spent the better part of five decades trying to be a successful cartoonist, author, historian and fine artist and the results are so damn spotty it's not even funny. Well, perhaps a little funny if abject humiliation makes you laugh out loud. 

"He who sips from many cups, drinks of none."

—Old Vaquero Saying

   I just received a credit of $350 on a painting I donated to a certain museum that was valued at $500-$750 and the painting I donated to another museum received zero bids and it was of the Cave Creek Mountains!

Daily Whip Out:

"Sunset On The Cave Creek Mountains"

   Son of a bitch, that smarts! What the hell am I doing? Might as well make a joke out of it all, although that might be simply redundant.

My Personal Appointment With Agony

    Full disclosure: what follows was a five paragraph diatrible, full of swear words you don't need to read, but Sweet Mama, to be so lame and not know it is such a drag. It's so damn painful to be so old and not realize it is just the very worst of the worse. Okay, now that I have acknowledged my incompetence, NOW what am I going to do?

   I'll think of something, because my mother told me I could do anything. Ha. There's my life, right there! My super power is my Infallable Positive Self Regard. No mortal can crack THAT!

"One of the most important decisions you will make is to be in a good mood when you wake up."

—Old Vaquero Saying

   Meanwhile, a little farther south of here. . .

“If you spit in the sky, it comes back.”

—Old Vaquero Saying

Daily Whip Out: "Los Jurados"