October 23, 2004
We took off from Phoenix at noon yesterday and halfway down the freeway to Phoenix, Mike Pelligati realized we didn't have a fog machine for the saloon scenes in Tombstone. Jeff called his wife on his cell, and she did a map quest of a Halloween Party store in Gilbert, but when we got out there they were closed because of a power outage.
So we drove on to Tucson, and after a Mexican food stop at El Indio ($27, Sue account,) we went over to a Party store at Craycroft and Broadway Roads and bought a fogger, fake blood (two kinds, thick and thin) and a fake skin wound for the Milt Joyce shot in the hand by Doc Holliday scene we wanted to shoot ($36, Mike paid).
We had big plans and I read the scripts aloud as we drove on down to Tombstone and we planned out our shot list.
Got to Tombstone at five, met John Martin who was the promoter for the one-night-only-event at the Oriental Saloon. I walked Mike and Jeff around the town and showed them where the events we would be shooting actually happened and we looked at what we could actually use (not much).
At six we met Dave Daiss, who drove over from his ranch in Sonoita, and the four of us had dinner at the Lamplighter in the Tombstone Boarding House ($67, salmon dinner and a glass of wine, I bought).
We had a comped room at the Holiday Inn Express just out of town (near the site of historic Watervale) up on the hill and the only place for miles around that cell phones could get a signal. In fact we couldn't get a signal in the lobby, only outside in the parking lot, so the three of us walked around the parking lot in the dark talking to our wives. Funny sight).
As we went to our rooms, we noticed the rec room was crammed with lodgers watching (what else?) Tombstone.
We got up town at eight in the morning Saturday and interviewed and gave screen tests to about 30 members of the local Vigilantes group. Got some funny, good stuff for future True West moments and also as a reference tool for future Classic Gunfights.
At about 11 we commandeered the historic Crystal Palace Saloon to re-enact the black and blue plaid shirt shooting. The fogger worked perfectly and gave the room an excellent patina of haze and authenticity.
Got some really strong scenes (the actor, Warren, from Minnesota, portraying Tom Waters was excellent). Unfortunately one of the owners came in and kicked us out, saying we were driving away customers and she had two bartenders standing around, so after a bribe of $50 and a promise of a mention (Hey, you Maniacs, go to the Crystal Palace in Tombstone and say, "Drinks all around! True West magazine sent me in to get drunk and blow my paycheck in here. Yeeehhaaaaaa!!!" Or words to that effect. Thanks.)
The party in the Oriental came off big time at 7 p.m. and it was a zoo on the corner. They had a big Cox Cable truck set up on the street showing (what else?) Tombstone, so we really couldn't shoot the nighttime shots we wanted. So after filming Peter Sherayko, the guest of honor at the Oriental hoedown, we decided to come back another time when we could control the environment and the street a tad better, so we drove home, getting in at two in the morning.
"The first rule in pitching horseshoes, is to remove the horse."
—Old Vaquero Saying?
Sunday, October 24, 2004
Friday, October 22, 2004
October 22, 2004
Got a call from Jeff Hildebrandt at the Westerns Channel and he has ordered another batch of True West Moments. I told him '’d come up with some new angles and he suggested that I put it out here, because, as he puts it, the people who read this are "pretty darn creative."
One of the bits we're thinking of doing is in all of the old Westerns where the cowboys come riding into town, they invariably dismount in front of the saloon, throw their reins over the hitching rail and go inside. As one of the TW Maniacs mentioned to me recently, "How long do you think those horses would actually stay tied that way?"
This afternoon a video crew and I are driving down to Tombstone to film that exact experiment on Allen Street. Dave Daiss is bringing over some horses from Sonoita and we're going to video them riding up and tying off in front of Big Nosed Kate's and then I'm going to start counting, "One thousand one, one thousand two. . ." and we'll tape this a couple of times to see what happens. That should be fun, especially with a bunch of tourists in loud pants walking around.
Another bit we may do is to tabulate just how many Wyatt Earps and Doc Hollidays there are in town. Everyone wants to dress up and walk the streets, but hardly anyone wants to be anyone else besides Wyatt and Doc. So, it might be zany to walk down the boardwalk with the camera and say, "Great outfit, who are you?" And after a dozen hits of "Why ah'm Wyatt Earp," I turn to the camera and say, "Tombstone, the town with only two men." Or, something like that.
We are also going to be shooting a bunch of gunfights (the black and blue plaid shirt shooting for example) around Fifth and Allen, the deadliest intersection in the West. And of course tomorrow night, Sir John Martin is going to be opening the Oriental Saloon for one night. That should yield some interesting images.
Got any ideas for True West Moments? Just go to the top of the page and click on contact me. Thanks, and I’ll give you credit if we use one of your ideas.
"The best audience is intelligent, well-educated, and a little drunk."
—Alben Barkley?
Got a call from Jeff Hildebrandt at the Westerns Channel and he has ordered another batch of True West Moments. I told him '’d come up with some new angles and he suggested that I put it out here, because, as he puts it, the people who read this are "pretty darn creative."
One of the bits we're thinking of doing is in all of the old Westerns where the cowboys come riding into town, they invariably dismount in front of the saloon, throw their reins over the hitching rail and go inside. As one of the TW Maniacs mentioned to me recently, "How long do you think those horses would actually stay tied that way?"
This afternoon a video crew and I are driving down to Tombstone to film that exact experiment on Allen Street. Dave Daiss is bringing over some horses from Sonoita and we're going to video them riding up and tying off in front of Big Nosed Kate's and then I'm going to start counting, "One thousand one, one thousand two. . ." and we'll tape this a couple of times to see what happens. That should be fun, especially with a bunch of tourists in loud pants walking around.
Another bit we may do is to tabulate just how many Wyatt Earps and Doc Hollidays there are in town. Everyone wants to dress up and walk the streets, but hardly anyone wants to be anyone else besides Wyatt and Doc. So, it might be zany to walk down the boardwalk with the camera and say, "Great outfit, who are you?" And after a dozen hits of "Why ah'm Wyatt Earp," I turn to the camera and say, "Tombstone, the town with only two men." Or, something like that.
We are also going to be shooting a bunch of gunfights (the black and blue plaid shirt shooting for example) around Fifth and Allen, the deadliest intersection in the West. And of course tomorrow night, Sir John Martin is going to be opening the Oriental Saloon for one night. That should yield some interesting images.
Got any ideas for True West Moments? Just go to the top of the page and click on contact me. Thanks, and I’ll give you credit if we use one of your ideas.
"The best audience is intelligent, well-educated, and a little drunk."
—Alben Barkley?
Thursday, October 21, 2004
October 21, 2004
We got a drenching today. Really rained hard, starting about 11 this morning. The Tom Cat called from Flag and said it's really snowing up there. Major snowstorm. He's hunkering in.
Our video shooter, Mike Pelligati, is coming in from Utah from a shoot up there, and he got caught in the storm. He was supposed to be in here by six, but his wife just called (7:44 p.m.) and said he's still trying to get home. We were supposed to go to Tombstone in the morning but I told him we could go down later.
Worked on several projects, called the Former Texas Rangers Foundation. Trying to mend a bridge there, our relationship was fire bombed by a certain convicted felon who pretty much pooped on everything. Made some headway. I understand their position completely.
At lunch I went over to Mad Coyote Joe's house and visited with him. He's pretty drugged up, but seemed in good spirits. We laughed about his condition and the slim alternatives. I brought him a get well card from the staff and a couple of True Wests to read on his many visits to the porcelain ravine. He's a tough guy (ex iron-worker) and I imagine it will take more than a 12 inch intestine that went totally septic, to stop him.
Talked to Alan Huffines in Texas about an article we want to do on the history of cowboy gear. He's quite the expert.We also talked about a screenwriting seminar where the director of the Alamo (Alan was one of the historical consultants on the film) was asked about the future of the historical epic and he responded, "I think I killed it."
At 5:30 I had a speech at the Buffalo Chip Saloon for the Cave Creek Merchants Association. It's for the Cave Creek Wild West Days, November 3-5, and as soon as I got in there I knew it was going to be a tough room. Lots of noise, band warming up, too many civilians (patrons who were there for the music not the speech), and the PA was muddy. When the director went up to make an announcement you couldn't even understand him. Now this is where I don't understand Bill Kurtis at the WHA speech. I have been doing these for twenty years, I assume Bill has been doing these kind of talks for 30. I immediately scratched any idea of doing a regular speech, because it's not going to work at all. I went to plane B, and this is my nuclear reactor, got to get their attention plan. Of course it involves Led Zeppelin.
Paul introduced me (it sounded like this: "Wha-ba-we-cha-ba-bo-be-da-Cave Creek-ba-dah-shanda-ba-didon-Bob Boze Bell!" So I went up and grabbed the mike and announced that I would be doing a song off of Led Zeppelin's third album, something called "Whole Lotta Love." (funny looks, because they heard "ba-bo-be, cha-wha-Led Zeppelin!") I twirled the mike, a la Roger Daltry, then crouched down and let fly with, “Waaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy Down Insiiiiiiiii-iiiiiiiide. . .Woman-woman-woman-woman-woman. . .You-ah Neeeeeee-ad. . .Loooooooooooooooooove.” It seemed to work. I got their attention, went into a short speil about Cave Creek being a wild town (hoots) and badder than Tombstone (hollars), come out to the Cave Creek Wild West Days! Goodnight!”
Got home at seven. Mighty wet out.
"Just because your voice reaches halfway around the world doesn’t mean you are wiser than when it reached only to the end of the bar."
—Edward R. Morroww
We got a drenching today. Really rained hard, starting about 11 this morning. The Tom Cat called from Flag and said it's really snowing up there. Major snowstorm. He's hunkering in.
Our video shooter, Mike Pelligati, is coming in from Utah from a shoot up there, and he got caught in the storm. He was supposed to be in here by six, but his wife just called (7:44 p.m.) and said he's still trying to get home. We were supposed to go to Tombstone in the morning but I told him we could go down later.
Worked on several projects, called the Former Texas Rangers Foundation. Trying to mend a bridge there, our relationship was fire bombed by a certain convicted felon who pretty much pooped on everything. Made some headway. I understand their position completely.
At lunch I went over to Mad Coyote Joe's house and visited with him. He's pretty drugged up, but seemed in good spirits. We laughed about his condition and the slim alternatives. I brought him a get well card from the staff and a couple of True Wests to read on his many visits to the porcelain ravine. He's a tough guy (ex iron-worker) and I imagine it will take more than a 12 inch intestine that went totally septic, to stop him.
Talked to Alan Huffines in Texas about an article we want to do on the history of cowboy gear. He's quite the expert.We also talked about a screenwriting seminar where the director of the Alamo (Alan was one of the historical consultants on the film) was asked about the future of the historical epic and he responded, "I think I killed it."
At 5:30 I had a speech at the Buffalo Chip Saloon for the Cave Creek Merchants Association. It's for the Cave Creek Wild West Days, November 3-5, and as soon as I got in there I knew it was going to be a tough room. Lots of noise, band warming up, too many civilians (patrons who were there for the music not the speech), and the PA was muddy. When the director went up to make an announcement you couldn't even understand him. Now this is where I don't understand Bill Kurtis at the WHA speech. I have been doing these for twenty years, I assume Bill has been doing these kind of talks for 30. I immediately scratched any idea of doing a regular speech, because it's not going to work at all. I went to plane B, and this is my nuclear reactor, got to get their attention plan. Of course it involves Led Zeppelin.
Paul introduced me (it sounded like this: "Wha-ba-we-cha-ba-bo-be-da-Cave Creek-ba-dah-shanda-ba-didon-Bob Boze Bell!" So I went up and grabbed the mike and announced that I would be doing a song off of Led Zeppelin's third album, something called "Whole Lotta Love." (funny looks, because they heard "ba-bo-be, cha-wha-Led Zeppelin!") I twirled the mike, a la Roger Daltry, then crouched down and let fly with, “Waaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy Down Insiiiiiiiii-iiiiiiiide. . .Woman-woman-woman-woman-woman. . .You-ah Neeeeeee-ad. . .Loooooooooooooooooove.” It seemed to work. I got their attention, went into a short speil about Cave Creek being a wild town (hoots) and badder than Tombstone (hollars), come out to the Cave Creek Wild West Days! Goodnight!”
Got home at seven. Mighty wet out.
"Just because your voice reaches halfway around the world doesn’t mean you are wiser than when it reached only to the end of the bar."
—Edward R. Morroww
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
October 20, 2004
Vegas wasn't all sleaze. On Saturday afternoon, Kathy and I walked up the Strip to a branch of the Guggenheim Hermitage Museum which is housed in the Venetian Resort. An artshow, "The Pursuit of Pleasure" ($24 for two, cash) had original paintings by Degas, Picasso, Rodin, Titian and my hero, Diego Valazquez. The show was wonderful, although it was housed in a particularly small space (especially when you walk through the rest of the casino and witness the mega-opulent, high ceilings and rococo-meets-deco trimmings). Another unfortunate Vegas attribute rubs off on the walls: when you are looking at a wonderful Valazquez painting called Luncheon, which Diego painted when he was 19 (ca 1617-18), a guy in the foreground is giving a thumbs up, in fact he’s looking right out at us and in the Vegas environment it seems jarringly modern, almost as if the guy is saying, “Hey Babe, nice rack!” Another painting shows a bawdy woman with her left breast peeking from behind a loose blouse, and once again, in the Vegas surroundings it takes on a seediness you wouldn’t expect. Of course this may be my own personal baggage (given the fact I saw too much naked ego at a history conference mere hours before).
This area of the Strip has all of the new instant landmarks like the pyramids, Paris, France, New York, New York, all jammed together. This prompted Thom Ross to quip, "Imagine some poor Las Vegas kid in geography class. 'So where is the Eiffel Tower?' 'Right next to New York, New York.'"
From the Venetian, we walked across the street and took in the Monet show at the Bellagio ($22 for two, cash). Once again they make you walk all the way through the casino, even past the Keno section, until you get to the "art gallery", which, once again, was in a particularly small space by Vegas standards, almost like it's in the tin shed out back.
The Monet stuff was spectacular, especially Grainstack (Sunset), 1891, which was, and is, undeniably genius. Maybe there's hope for Vegas yet.
Of course, after this much culture we were ready for the 99 CENT MARGARITAS!!!! which were really bad (in plastic cups, mostly Slurpy surup). And when did Subway get into casinos? That was jarring.
By four, we were back on the road heading for Kingman. Stayed at the former Holiday House, now the Knight Inn ($45 cash) and ate at the Dambar Steakhouse ($37, cash, includes tip). Ran into an old Kingman High classmate, LeRoy Butler, who owns the True Value Hardware Store (yes, the one where Timothy McVeigh worked). He was there with his entire family, many grandkids. He bought us a beer.
Got back to Cave Creek at about ten on Sunday morning. I felt like I had seen and heard and learned a ton from our decadent trip to see the underbelly of academia.
I got a great quote from Tom Carpenter, who says he stole it out of a recent Farmer's Alamanac:
"Radical historians now tell the story of Thanksgiving from the point of view of the turkey."
—Malcolm Cooley
Vegas wasn't all sleaze. On Saturday afternoon, Kathy and I walked up the Strip to a branch of the Guggenheim Hermitage Museum which is housed in the Venetian Resort. An artshow, "The Pursuit of Pleasure" ($24 for two, cash) had original paintings by Degas, Picasso, Rodin, Titian and my hero, Diego Valazquez. The show was wonderful, although it was housed in a particularly small space (especially when you walk through the rest of the casino and witness the mega-opulent, high ceilings and rococo-meets-deco trimmings). Another unfortunate Vegas attribute rubs off on the walls: when you are looking at a wonderful Valazquez painting called Luncheon, which Diego painted when he was 19 (ca 1617-18), a guy in the foreground is giving a thumbs up, in fact he’s looking right out at us and in the Vegas environment it seems jarringly modern, almost as if the guy is saying, “Hey Babe, nice rack!” Another painting shows a bawdy woman with her left breast peeking from behind a loose blouse, and once again, in the Vegas surroundings it takes on a seediness you wouldn’t expect. Of course this may be my own personal baggage (given the fact I saw too much naked ego at a history conference mere hours before).
This area of the Strip has all of the new instant landmarks like the pyramids, Paris, France, New York, New York, all jammed together. This prompted Thom Ross to quip, "Imagine some poor Las Vegas kid in geography class. 'So where is the Eiffel Tower?' 'Right next to New York, New York.'"
From the Venetian, we walked across the street and took in the Monet show at the Bellagio ($22 for two, cash). Once again they make you walk all the way through the casino, even past the Keno section, until you get to the "art gallery", which, once again, was in a particularly small space by Vegas standards, almost like it's in the tin shed out back.
The Monet stuff was spectacular, especially Grainstack (Sunset), 1891, which was, and is, undeniably genius. Maybe there's hope for Vegas yet.
Of course, after this much culture we were ready for the 99 CENT MARGARITAS!!!! which were really bad (in plastic cups, mostly Slurpy surup). And when did Subway get into casinos? That was jarring.
By four, we were back on the road heading for Kingman. Stayed at the former Holiday House, now the Knight Inn ($45 cash) and ate at the Dambar Steakhouse ($37, cash, includes tip). Ran into an old Kingman High classmate, LeRoy Butler, who owns the True Value Hardware Store (yes, the one where Timothy McVeigh worked). He was there with his entire family, many grandkids. He bought us a beer.
Got back to Cave Creek at about ten on Sunday morning. I felt like I had seen and heard and learned a ton from our decadent trip to see the underbelly of academia.
I got a great quote from Tom Carpenter, who says he stole it out of a recent Farmer's Alamanac:
"Radical historians now tell the story of Thanksgiving from the point of view of the turkey."
—Malcolm Cooley
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Bonus Blog, October 19, 2004
As promised, here's the Mountain Man toast (which I got from a former WHA president). And here's what the former pres said:
"The chief objection to the traditional installation, I am certain, is directed at the Green River knife mounted on a plaque that reads: '[incoming President's name] / Head Harr-lifter of the Western History Association / [dates].'"
"The toast itself, accompanied by goofy hand gestures, is inoffensive:"
Here's to the chiles whats come afore,
And here's to the pilgrims whats come arter!
May your trails be free of griz
An' your packs full o' plews
And fat buffler in your pot.
WAUGH!!!
"Silly of course, but fun, and hardly worthy of protest."
Well, that's easy for you to say, as a member of the Waugh family, I'm deeply offended!
"You can never step in the same river twice."
—Heraclitus (although you can't say the same thing about manure.)
As promised, here's the Mountain Man toast (which I got from a former WHA president). And here's what the former pres said:
"The chief objection to the traditional installation, I am certain, is directed at the Green River knife mounted on a plaque that reads: '[incoming President's name] / Head Harr-lifter of the Western History Association / [dates].'"
"The toast itself, accompanied by goofy hand gestures, is inoffensive:"
Here's to the chiles whats come afore,
And here's to the pilgrims whats come arter!
May your trails be free of griz
An' your packs full o' plews
And fat buffler in your pot.
WAUGH!!!
"Silly of course, but fun, and hardly worthy of protest."
Well, that's easy for you to say, as a member of the Waugh family, I'm deeply offended!
"You can never step in the same river twice."
—Heraclitus (although you can't say the same thing about manure.)
October 19, 2004
Oops, squared. As Will Shetterly has pointed out, it’s the Papago, not the Pima, who were derisively tagged "the bean eaters." And speaking of losing all credibility, I just returned from a walk with a current ASU student and she is livid about my remarks in yesterday's blog. And, for the record, not that I would cave in to such a childish display of school envy, but (always wait for the "but" and then disregard everything that came before it) I get to sleep with her and I really want this sexist tradition to continue.
Kathy Radina (Masters in Counseling degree, 1983 from ASU, currently a continuing education student at ASU West) wants me to divulge that I (Robert Bell, five years, Fine Arts College, no degree, U of A, 1965-2004) think I’m funny, when I’m really not that funny.
"Don’t jump on a man unless he's down."
—Finley Dunnea
Oops, squared. As Will Shetterly has pointed out, it’s the Papago, not the Pima, who were derisively tagged "the bean eaters." And speaking of losing all credibility, I just returned from a walk with a current ASU student and she is livid about my remarks in yesterday's blog. And, for the record, not that I would cave in to such a childish display of school envy, but (always wait for the "but" and then disregard everything that came before it) I get to sleep with her and I really want this sexist tradition to continue.
Kathy Radina (Masters in Counseling degree, 1983 from ASU, currently a continuing education student at ASU West) wants me to divulge that I (Robert Bell, five years, Fine Arts College, no degree, U of A, 1965-2004) think I’m funny, when I’m really not that funny.
"Don’t jump on a man unless he's down."
—Finley Dunnea
Monday, October 18, 2004
October 18, 2004
Ooops, myself. Yesterday I left out part of the pronunciation of Tonoho O'odham. It is actually pronounced Tone-oh-hoe-Oh-od-ham, certainly a mouthful for any anglo, but especially one from Kingman who has trouble with the word indigenous (literally: Indian-genius)
Hey, we've got a new reader's poll up. Please go fill it out. Thanks.
More news from the Vegas Venting. From behind the scenes a strange scenario has begun to emerge that may help explain some of the more bizarre behavior at the Friday night banquet. According to my sources it involves a hated school and, of course mountain men.
And don't forget good, old-fashioned American scalp hunting.
Evidently, there is this tradition among the Western History Association tribe of giving a big, ol' nasty looking Green River knife to the incoming president along with the recitation of something called "The Mountain Man Oath." Even among its practitioners and longtime adherents, the oath is conceded as being "hokey" but they are quick to add it’s "harmless."
And don’t forget "humorous." A word that strikes terror into the hearts of the humorless.
The incoming president, Peter Iverson (from crappy Arizona State University) is on record as being embarrassed by the Mountain Man Oath. He thinks the oath is racist and he allegedly demanded that the tradition be stopped with him. He also allegedly had a speech in his pocket, in case the dreaded scalp hunting knife of the dreaded Anglo-Europeans was unsheathed in his general direction.
There was even a rumored plot that involved unlikely conspirators; Robert Utley and Patty Limerick (who caused her own waves back in 1992 at this very gathering with the publication of her book, Legacy of Conquest which ironically started the march towards the kind of scholarship the banquet terrorists espouse, but unfortunately for them, Patty had recently said, "In 1992 I was a young Turk and today I’m just an old turkey," and it was rumored that she was planning, in fact, to grab the knife and present it, blade first, towards Iverson, from the crappy school in Tempe).
Of course this is just rumor and I know none of the people on the other side and it would be ridiculous on my part to make snap judgements about students at a crappy school like ASU, so I won’t go there.
Or, at least, very far, there.
While Bill Kurtis was regaling us with his sensitivity towards “Honeys” with big racks, the ASU undergraduate terrorists, were downstairs getting worked up. Too cheap to buy tickets to the banquet, they were going to come up and storm the bastille and save the day, during the dessert portion of the program (which is free), if and when the knife might appear.
But the politically incorrect blade did not appear. Instead, a painting by the sensitive artist Thom Ross (see yesterday’s posting) was given to the outgoing president.
But you see, the terrorists had worked themselves into a frenzy. They were going to demand a seat on the bus for Rosa Parks even if there wasn't a bus to be had. So they jumped on the "Sweetheart" comment and the insensitivity towards Swedish-Native-Americans and the rest passes for history.
Footnote, ibid.; and ARCA, 48. For the record Bob Boze Bell is not a member of the Western History Association and he has never even seen nor read the Mountain Man Oath but you can be damn sure that as soon as he gets the oath, he will print it right here so we can all decide if it is in fact, racist.
"The goal of all inanimate objects is to resist man and ultimately defeat him."
—Russel Baker
Ooops, myself. Yesterday I left out part of the pronunciation of Tonoho O'odham. It is actually pronounced Tone-oh-hoe-Oh-od-ham, certainly a mouthful for any anglo, but especially one from Kingman who has trouble with the word indigenous (literally: Indian-genius)
Hey, we've got a new reader's poll up. Please go fill it out. Thanks.
More news from the Vegas Venting. From behind the scenes a strange scenario has begun to emerge that may help explain some of the more bizarre behavior at the Friday night banquet. According to my sources it involves a hated school and, of course mountain men.
And don't forget good, old-fashioned American scalp hunting.
Evidently, there is this tradition among the Western History Association tribe of giving a big, ol' nasty looking Green River knife to the incoming president along with the recitation of something called "The Mountain Man Oath." Even among its practitioners and longtime adherents, the oath is conceded as being "hokey" but they are quick to add it’s "harmless."
And don’t forget "humorous." A word that strikes terror into the hearts of the humorless.
The incoming president, Peter Iverson (from crappy Arizona State University) is on record as being embarrassed by the Mountain Man Oath. He thinks the oath is racist and he allegedly demanded that the tradition be stopped with him. He also allegedly had a speech in his pocket, in case the dreaded scalp hunting knife of the dreaded Anglo-Europeans was unsheathed in his general direction.
There was even a rumored plot that involved unlikely conspirators; Robert Utley and Patty Limerick (who caused her own waves back in 1992 at this very gathering with the publication of her book, Legacy of Conquest which ironically started the march towards the kind of scholarship the banquet terrorists espouse, but unfortunately for them, Patty had recently said, "In 1992 I was a young Turk and today I’m just an old turkey," and it was rumored that she was planning, in fact, to grab the knife and present it, blade first, towards Iverson, from the crappy school in Tempe).
Of course this is just rumor and I know none of the people on the other side and it would be ridiculous on my part to make snap judgements about students at a crappy school like ASU, so I won’t go there.
Or, at least, very far, there.
While Bill Kurtis was regaling us with his sensitivity towards “Honeys” with big racks, the ASU undergraduate terrorists, were downstairs getting worked up. Too cheap to buy tickets to the banquet, they were going to come up and storm the bastille and save the day, during the dessert portion of the program (which is free), if and when the knife might appear.
But the politically incorrect blade did not appear. Instead, a painting by the sensitive artist Thom Ross (see yesterday’s posting) was given to the outgoing president.
But you see, the terrorists had worked themselves into a frenzy. They were going to demand a seat on the bus for Rosa Parks even if there wasn't a bus to be had. So they jumped on the "Sweetheart" comment and the insensitivity towards Swedish-Native-Americans and the rest passes for history.
Footnote, ibid.; and ARCA, 48. For the record Bob Boze Bell is not a member of the Western History Association and he has never even seen nor read the Mountain Man Oath but you can be damn sure that as soon as he gets the oath, he will print it right here so we can all decide if it is in fact, racist.
"The goal of all inanimate objects is to resist man and ultimately defeat him."
—Russel Baker
Sunday, October 17, 2004
October 17, 2004
As is often the case when history strikes, I had no clue of what was happening when it was happening. I didn't see the bared fangs, the cocked guns, the inflamed egos and the politically correct self-righteous indignation. Or, it's more accurate to say I saw it but didn't realize the import until it was almost over.
Now I realize how Addie Bourland felt at her sewing machine shop across the street from Fly's Boarding House in Tombstone. Now I get the confusion on Division Street in Northfield, and the conflicting accounts at Coffeyville and the Little Big Horn. I also get why no one can agree on who won the presidential debates.
It was Friday night, closing in on 9 p.m. and we were in the banquet room high atop the Riviera Hotel & Casino, in the Penthouse, with spectacular views of all the high rise hotels on the Strip. There must have been 800 of us seated at big, round banquet tables with a long dais running the length of the room on the north wall. Paul Hutton looked beatific at the podium, making necessary announcements and glib side remarks. He was guiding the evening with an even keel, his 17 years of experience and his quick wit making him a calming and delightful master of ceremonies.
After diner, Paul and the outgoing president, Iris Engstrand, walked to the east end of the room where they turned on a second microphone and began to hand out plaques and awards. One of the winners was Eric V. Meeks who won the Bolton-Kinnaird Award for the best article on Borderlands history. Iris read the title of the article, "The Tonohono O’odham, Wage Labor, and Resistant Adaptation, 1900-1930" and as might be expected she tripped over the pronunciation of Tonohono O’odham ( a tribe in central Arizona who used to be called the Pima but since that was a derisive title, meaning "bean eaters" put on them by their enemies, they changed their name to their current handle which is pronounced Tone-oh-ode-ham).
Another category went to Pekka Hamalainen for the piece "The Rise and Fall of Plains Indian Horse Cultures." He wasn't in attendance and Iris quipped that at least he wasn't there to hear her mangle his name.
Bill Kurtis, of CBS and Cold Case fame, was the keynote speaker and he was introduced with some fanfare, by Paul, who extolled Kurtis's 30 plus years of broadcasting experience. Bill got up and began regaling us with stories of his stellar career (he is credited with breaking the Agent Orange story, thus saving many lives). However, it became rather obvious that he had no prepared remarks, and unlike our editor, RG, Bill was just riffing out the windows ("Over there," he said pointing at the Hilton out the window, "I was on the 17th floor doing an interview with Mohammed Ali and he said to me, 'If I jumped from here, then would they believe me?' and then I knew how serious he was and how deeply he cared about being a Muslim."). Unfortunately Bill looked out the west window (ironic, no?) and saw something that reminded him of doing a story on a sex club (The Paradisio?), which elicited this remark, or close to it: "So we’re doing this story on this sex club and this waitress comes up to me in her birthday suit, and says to me, 'Mr. Kurtis, I’d really like to get into graduate school,' and I said, 'Honey, you can graduate right now if you want to!'" And I’m hearing this and I'm thinking to myself, "Bill, I never graduated from college but is that really an appropriate remark to make to a room full of female Phds?”
I noticed several people get up but I thought they were going to the bathroom. Of a sudden, Bill gets a startled look and gazes over our heads to the back of the room and says, "It looks like some people got past security," and we all turned, and witnessed a glum looking group of people filing in and lining up against the back wall. Bill made a quip about the dessert buffet afterwards and I thought it must be people from another conference crashing our party and anxious to get at the dessert trays.
Bill finished his remarks and Paul Hutton put a nice cap on the remarks and evening and we all got up to leave. Suddenly, a discombobulated voice comes over the PA, "We protest the sexist remarks made by the speaker and also the insensitive mispronunciation of indigenous people's names." There was more, but we couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Groups of people milled about and it was like being at a rock fight on a playground, I was looking around to see where and why it was happening. I finally saw a woman who had apparently commandeered the awards microphone. She finished and got down. A knot of mostly women were behind us cheering her on.
We looked at each other and several said, "What just happened?" No one could figure it out. Kathy in her direct way, walked over to the knot of women and said, "What exactly are you upset about?"
They reiterated their position that Bill Kurtis had made totally sexist and inappropriate comments about women and that there was a lack of sensitivity about pronouncing Native American names. Most people left, but many, like ourselves began to try and figure out what just happened. We compared notes, but the more we drank the less we knew.
Meanwhile, Thom Ross, the artist comes over and starts riffing on the seriousness of the scene and the charges: “Okay, you want sexist remarks, how about this? John Wilkes Booth got his man. The guy who got Garfield got his man, the guy who got McKinnley got his man, Lee Harvery Oswald got his man, John Hinckley got his man, but Squeaky Fromm and that other woman they missed. She couldn’t even hit Gerald Ford! They’re 0 for 2.” Several people, including Kathy looked at him quizzically, “What is your point Thom?” Thom shrugged. “It may be a sexist comment, but men are better shots.”
I was suddenly very glad that Thom wasn’t the keynote speaker. Hey, no matter how bad it is, it can always be worse, eh?
Now here’s the kicker to the evening. The person they thought was Native American—Pekka Hamalainen—is actually Swedish. Ooops.
“There will be a rain dance Friday night, weather permitting.”
—George Carlin?
As is often the case when history strikes, I had no clue of what was happening when it was happening. I didn't see the bared fangs, the cocked guns, the inflamed egos and the politically correct self-righteous indignation. Or, it's more accurate to say I saw it but didn't realize the import until it was almost over.
Now I realize how Addie Bourland felt at her sewing machine shop across the street from Fly's Boarding House in Tombstone. Now I get the confusion on Division Street in Northfield, and the conflicting accounts at Coffeyville and the Little Big Horn. I also get why no one can agree on who won the presidential debates.
It was Friday night, closing in on 9 p.m. and we were in the banquet room high atop the Riviera Hotel & Casino, in the Penthouse, with spectacular views of all the high rise hotels on the Strip. There must have been 800 of us seated at big, round banquet tables with a long dais running the length of the room on the north wall. Paul Hutton looked beatific at the podium, making necessary announcements and glib side remarks. He was guiding the evening with an even keel, his 17 years of experience and his quick wit making him a calming and delightful master of ceremonies.
After diner, Paul and the outgoing president, Iris Engstrand, walked to the east end of the room where they turned on a second microphone and began to hand out plaques and awards. One of the winners was Eric V. Meeks who won the Bolton-Kinnaird Award for the best article on Borderlands history. Iris read the title of the article, "The Tonohono O’odham, Wage Labor, and Resistant Adaptation, 1900-1930" and as might be expected she tripped over the pronunciation of Tonohono O’odham ( a tribe in central Arizona who used to be called the Pima but since that was a derisive title, meaning "bean eaters" put on them by their enemies, they changed their name to their current handle which is pronounced Tone-oh-ode-ham).
Another category went to Pekka Hamalainen for the piece "The Rise and Fall of Plains Indian Horse Cultures." He wasn't in attendance and Iris quipped that at least he wasn't there to hear her mangle his name.
Bill Kurtis, of CBS and Cold Case fame, was the keynote speaker and he was introduced with some fanfare, by Paul, who extolled Kurtis's 30 plus years of broadcasting experience. Bill got up and began regaling us with stories of his stellar career (he is credited with breaking the Agent Orange story, thus saving many lives). However, it became rather obvious that he had no prepared remarks, and unlike our editor, RG, Bill was just riffing out the windows ("Over there," he said pointing at the Hilton out the window, "I was on the 17th floor doing an interview with Mohammed Ali and he said to me, 'If I jumped from here, then would they believe me?' and then I knew how serious he was and how deeply he cared about being a Muslim."). Unfortunately Bill looked out the west window (ironic, no?) and saw something that reminded him of doing a story on a sex club (The Paradisio?), which elicited this remark, or close to it: "So we’re doing this story on this sex club and this waitress comes up to me in her birthday suit, and says to me, 'Mr. Kurtis, I’d really like to get into graduate school,' and I said, 'Honey, you can graduate right now if you want to!'" And I’m hearing this and I'm thinking to myself, "Bill, I never graduated from college but is that really an appropriate remark to make to a room full of female Phds?”
I noticed several people get up but I thought they were going to the bathroom. Of a sudden, Bill gets a startled look and gazes over our heads to the back of the room and says, "It looks like some people got past security," and we all turned, and witnessed a glum looking group of people filing in and lining up against the back wall. Bill made a quip about the dessert buffet afterwards and I thought it must be people from another conference crashing our party and anxious to get at the dessert trays.
Bill finished his remarks and Paul Hutton put a nice cap on the remarks and evening and we all got up to leave. Suddenly, a discombobulated voice comes over the PA, "We protest the sexist remarks made by the speaker and also the insensitive mispronunciation of indigenous people's names." There was more, but we couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Groups of people milled about and it was like being at a rock fight on a playground, I was looking around to see where and why it was happening. I finally saw a woman who had apparently commandeered the awards microphone. She finished and got down. A knot of mostly women were behind us cheering her on.
We looked at each other and several said, "What just happened?" No one could figure it out. Kathy in her direct way, walked over to the knot of women and said, "What exactly are you upset about?"
They reiterated their position that Bill Kurtis had made totally sexist and inappropriate comments about women and that there was a lack of sensitivity about pronouncing Native American names. Most people left, but many, like ourselves began to try and figure out what just happened. We compared notes, but the more we drank the less we knew.
Meanwhile, Thom Ross, the artist comes over and starts riffing on the seriousness of the scene and the charges: “Okay, you want sexist remarks, how about this? John Wilkes Booth got his man. The guy who got Garfield got his man, the guy who got McKinnley got his man, Lee Harvery Oswald got his man, John Hinckley got his man, but Squeaky Fromm and that other woman they missed. She couldn’t even hit Gerald Ford! They’re 0 for 2.” Several people, including Kathy looked at him quizzically, “What is your point Thom?” Thom shrugged. “It may be a sexist comment, but men are better shots.”
I was suddenly very glad that Thom wasn’t the keynote speaker. Hey, no matter how bad it is, it can always be worse, eh?
Now here’s the kicker to the evening. The person they thought was Native American—Pekka Hamalainen—is actually Swedish. Ooops.
“There will be a rain dance Friday night, weather permitting.”
—George Carlin?
October 16, 2004
We held our roundtable discussion in the Capri 101 room. Appearing with me were, the chair, Paul Hutton; the very zany artist Thom Ross (more on him later); our very own Johnny D. Boggs; Paul Hedren of the national park service; and William Heath of Mount Saint Mary's College.
Our topic, Beyond the Academy: Bringing the West to the Public.
I thought it went well. However, after all of us had talked too long and taken several soft ball questions, the youngest person in the room (a young man who looked to be in his mid to late twenties) raised his hand and chided us, telling us he was disappointed in the roundtable because we didn't talk about writing on the internet. We sat there like old men without a clue. And the session was over. Kathy later asked me why I didn't engage him and I said, "Because I had already yakked too much." But I knew instinctively this is where the session should have begun. As I told the gathering during my ten minute dissertation, when I took over the magazine, the problem with our younger writers is that they were all in their sixties (our first reader’s poll showed the average age at 67!). We bemoan not knowing how to attract young people to the field and here is one and we don't know what to say to him. Ouch!
It gets worse.
Keep in mind I am an outsider. I have never been to a Western History Association Conference. I have never looked academia in the face. Frankly, it is a chilling sight. For one thing I heard over and over how the new history being taught at the University level boils everything down to three things: race, class and gender.
"I hate narrative history," was how one student described the issue to me. Let's see, that would include exactly every single thing I love about history. This same student told me they want to get past all of the old school hokum (I assume that means all the racist, misogynist, capitalist propaganda) and "analyze" history, presumably so they can rectify all of the wrongs done to them, especially to their race, their class and their gender.
I also heard on more than one occasion that these same firebrands were incensed that an anglo, from the Arizona Historical Society, had the temerity to give a talk on Apache lifeways.
While I understand the desire to be a bit territorial about "our" history (often Billy the Kid expert Fred Nolan, who is English, is bashed with the admonition, "Why don’t you stay home and write about your own country."), isn't it in fact racist to criticize someone on their ability to talk intelligently about a subject based on their race?
Coming next: Showdown at the Kurtis Sexist Corral.
"I come from a stupid family. During the Civil War my great uncle fought for
the west!"
—Rodney DangerfieldT
We held our roundtable discussion in the Capri 101 room. Appearing with me were, the chair, Paul Hutton; the very zany artist Thom Ross (more on him later); our very own Johnny D. Boggs; Paul Hedren of the national park service; and William Heath of Mount Saint Mary's College.
Our topic, Beyond the Academy: Bringing the West to the Public.
I thought it went well. However, after all of us had talked too long and taken several soft ball questions, the youngest person in the room (a young man who looked to be in his mid to late twenties) raised his hand and chided us, telling us he was disappointed in the roundtable because we didn't talk about writing on the internet. We sat there like old men without a clue. And the session was over. Kathy later asked me why I didn't engage him and I said, "Because I had already yakked too much." But I knew instinctively this is where the session should have begun. As I told the gathering during my ten minute dissertation, when I took over the magazine, the problem with our younger writers is that they were all in their sixties (our first reader’s poll showed the average age at 67!). We bemoan not knowing how to attract young people to the field and here is one and we don't know what to say to him. Ouch!
It gets worse.
Keep in mind I am an outsider. I have never been to a Western History Association Conference. I have never looked academia in the face. Frankly, it is a chilling sight. For one thing I heard over and over how the new history being taught at the University level boils everything down to three things: race, class and gender.
"I hate narrative history," was how one student described the issue to me. Let's see, that would include exactly every single thing I love about history. This same student told me they want to get past all of the old school hokum (I assume that means all the racist, misogynist, capitalist propaganda) and "analyze" history, presumably so they can rectify all of the wrongs done to them, especially to their race, their class and their gender.
I also heard on more than one occasion that these same firebrands were incensed that an anglo, from the Arizona Historical Society, had the temerity to give a talk on Apache lifeways.
While I understand the desire to be a bit territorial about "our" history (often Billy the Kid expert Fred Nolan, who is English, is bashed with the admonition, "Why don’t you stay home and write about your own country."), isn't it in fact racist to criticize someone on their ability to talk intelligently about a subject based on their race?
Coming next: Showdown at the Kurtis Sexist Corral.
"I come from a stupid family. During the Civil War my great uncle fought for
the west!"
—Rodney DangerfieldT
October 15, 2004
Vegas is Kingman with money. If someone approached a 1950's style travelling carnival and the Kingman city council and said, "Here's $2 billion dollars, go build something groovy," Las Vegas, Nevada is what you'd get.
I have a long history with Vegas. Vegas is where we arrived on the train from Iowa in 1954. Vegas is where we went for Luther League retreats. Vegas is where my parents went for fun (I spent many an hour sitting in the Fremont "waiting room," just off the casino, people watching). Vegas is where I went to see the dermatologist. Vegas is where I bought my drums (Ludwigs, zebra toms) and took drum lessons, Vegas is where I twisted on the same stage with Chubby Checker (at the Sahara,1962), and immediately after the show Rick Ridenour and I got in a cab and asked the cabbie to set us up with "two babes" and he looked in the rear view mirror at us sitting there in our matching-short-sleeved-white shirts, narrow ties and matching flattops (we were both 15) and said, "No, thanks." He dropped us off at Ripley's Believe It Or Not where they had bumper cars (not exactly the kind of ride we had in mind but, hey, it was definitely cheaper and the rides lasted much longer). Vegas is where I saw the Beatles (1964). Vegas is where we cruised (from the Blue Onion to the Union Pacific Train Station and back. Repeat all night).
You might think with all of that history I would have an affinity for Vegas, but I can't stand the place. Well, that's not exactly true. Whenever I first get there, it's very exciting in a testosterone, glandy store kind of way (NUDE BULL RIDING! • COLD BEER & DIRTY GIRLS!! • GIRLS OF YOUR CHOICE DIRECT TO YOU IN 15 MIN.! • 99 CENT MARGARITAS!!!) which, if you wear a cowboy hat is kind of major groovy. For about six hours. And then it starts to wear on me and after about the 12th hour I'm actually thinking, “You know, if Al Quaida used a dirty bomb on the Strip, it wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing.”
Kathy and I got to Vegas at four P.M on Thursday. I was excited. We were attending our first Western History Association Conference at the Riviera Hotel & Casino. I was on a round table discussion for Friday and we were booked for three nights. Little did I know, the stage was set, the battleground was being prepped for one of the most vicious, petty and ridiculous showdowns in all of history. Or, at least, history conferences
"The world is a madhouse, so it’s only right that it is patrolled by armed idiots."
—Brendan Behan{
Vegas is Kingman with money. If someone approached a 1950's style travelling carnival and the Kingman city council and said, "Here's $2 billion dollars, go build something groovy," Las Vegas, Nevada is what you'd get.
I have a long history with Vegas. Vegas is where we arrived on the train from Iowa in 1954. Vegas is where we went for Luther League retreats. Vegas is where my parents went for fun (I spent many an hour sitting in the Fremont "waiting room," just off the casino, people watching). Vegas is where I went to see the dermatologist. Vegas is where I bought my drums (Ludwigs, zebra toms) and took drum lessons, Vegas is where I twisted on the same stage with Chubby Checker (at the Sahara,1962), and immediately after the show Rick Ridenour and I got in a cab and asked the cabbie to set us up with "two babes" and he looked in the rear view mirror at us sitting there in our matching-short-sleeved-white shirts, narrow ties and matching flattops (we were both 15) and said, "No, thanks." He dropped us off at Ripley's Believe It Or Not where they had bumper cars (not exactly the kind of ride we had in mind but, hey, it was definitely cheaper and the rides lasted much longer). Vegas is where I saw the Beatles (1964). Vegas is where we cruised (from the Blue Onion to the Union Pacific Train Station and back. Repeat all night).
You might think with all of that history I would have an affinity for Vegas, but I can't stand the place. Well, that's not exactly true. Whenever I first get there, it's very exciting in a testosterone, glandy store kind of way (NUDE BULL RIDING! • COLD BEER & DIRTY GIRLS!! • GIRLS OF YOUR CHOICE DIRECT TO YOU IN 15 MIN.! • 99 CENT MARGARITAS!!!) which, if you wear a cowboy hat is kind of major groovy. For about six hours. And then it starts to wear on me and after about the 12th hour I'm actually thinking, “You know, if Al Quaida used a dirty bomb on the Strip, it wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing.”
Kathy and I got to Vegas at four P.M on Thursday. I was excited. We were attending our first Western History Association Conference at the Riviera Hotel & Casino. I was on a round table discussion for Friday and we were booked for three nights. Little did I know, the stage was set, the battleground was being prepped for one of the most vicious, petty and ridiculous showdowns in all of history. Or, at least, history conferences
"The world is a madhouse, so it’s only right that it is patrolled by armed idiots."
—Brendan Behan{
Thursday, October 14, 2004
October 14, 2004
One last political musing: it's amazing to me that all of us can watch the same event and come away with so many different conclusions. I got up this morning and read all of the reactions to last night's debate ( The Arizona Republic did a special 12 page section devoted to the reactions of almost everyone in the state) and not one columnist, pundit or swing voter mentioned the "marrying up" line as being decisive. It just goes to show you we boil off all the substance and take the small gristle we were looking for and then proclaim it as the big meat. Ha. Some joke, eh?
Well, I wanted to finish our new CGII book by the end of this month, but the chances of that are looking quite slim. And, to boot, we find ourselves doing two books at once, 192 pages for one, and 128 for the other, both with similar deadlines. What we thought was going to be a handoff to the New York publishing house, is ending up to be our responsibility (they are doing the cover, we are doing everything else) which is exactly what I didn't want.
On top of that, we had lunch yesterday with Jim and Mary Brown of the Festival of the West and it looks like we are going to help them out with next year's program, designing and laying it out. That's another project on top of the two books. RG is concerned about spreading our staff too thin and rightfully so.
Kathy and I are taking off this morning for Vegas and the Western History Association conference at the Riviera Hotel. I plan on stopping in Kingman and visiting my father's grave and telling him how much I miss him.
I was telling Linda Smith (an old Kingman neighbor) yesterday that the last time I was there, our old house on Ashfork Avenue still has the “B” on the screen door that my father put up almost 50 years ago. I’m planning on going by and take a picture of that. What are the odds? Well, probably about the same as Kerry winning the election for the “marrying up line”.
“It matters not whether you win or lose; what matters is whether I win or lose.”
—Darrin Weinberg?
One last political musing: it's amazing to me that all of us can watch the same event and come away with so many different conclusions. I got up this morning and read all of the reactions to last night's debate ( The Arizona Republic did a special 12 page section devoted to the reactions of almost everyone in the state) and not one columnist, pundit or swing voter mentioned the "marrying up" line as being decisive. It just goes to show you we boil off all the substance and take the small gristle we were looking for and then proclaim it as the big meat. Ha. Some joke, eh?
Well, I wanted to finish our new CGII book by the end of this month, but the chances of that are looking quite slim. And, to boot, we find ourselves doing two books at once, 192 pages for one, and 128 for the other, both with similar deadlines. What we thought was going to be a handoff to the New York publishing house, is ending up to be our responsibility (they are doing the cover, we are doing everything else) which is exactly what I didn't want.
On top of that, we had lunch yesterday with Jim and Mary Brown of the Festival of the West and it looks like we are going to help them out with next year's program, designing and laying it out. That's another project on top of the two books. RG is concerned about spreading our staff too thin and rightfully so.
Kathy and I are taking off this morning for Vegas and the Western History Association conference at the Riviera Hotel. I plan on stopping in Kingman and visiting my father's grave and telling him how much I miss him.
I was telling Linda Smith (an old Kingman neighbor) yesterday that the last time I was there, our old house on Ashfork Avenue still has the “B” on the screen door that my father put up almost 50 years ago. I’m planning on going by and take a picture of that. What are the odds? Well, probably about the same as Kerry winning the election for the “marrying up line”.
“It matters not whether you win or lose; what matters is whether I win or lose.”
—Darrin Weinberg?
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
October 13, 2004
I watched the last presidential debate tonight, which was in Tempe (about 28 miles from here) at Arizona State University, and of course everyone in our state is quite proud. Someone at The Arizona Republic asked me to jot down my random thoughts while the debate was going on and this is what I wrote:
Oh, I’m really digging this. Every Zonie is beaming tonight. Waozaaa. You got both presidential candidates standing on a stage at a second rate Arizona school (okay, so I attended U of A), and quoting long, meaningless statistics on Arizona, about, ah, something, but they’re actually using the word Arizona in a sentence like it means something and we've never had that before. Now we're in the middle of it and, "Wow! They're both really on their game, they're both in the zone. Great point, he can't possibly refute that," and then, each time they pound it right back and it’s like two tennis pros standing at the net hitting overhead slams and the other guy actually returns the slam right in his face. Now we’re in the bottom of the ninth, with two out and Bush pulls off the biggest laugh with his listening to women zinger, and now we're in the two minute warning, or at least at the warning track area and I'm thinking, "There's no freaking way Kerry is going to top that, because he has a minus five sense of humor batting average" but then Glum Man reaches wayyyyy down inside, rolls out of the pocket and rears back, with his nose straight up in the air and comes out with the "We both married up. . ." and it's Michael Jordan taking off from the free throw line, and "Some of us really married up." Shazaaaaam! Gin! Bingo! What a slugfest! This is what makes America great. Mashed metaphors and mucho sports analogies that make no sense. I loved it, BAY-BEE! A home run for Arizona, a Texas Leaguer for the President and a Boston Fish Fry for Kerry. Okay, I'm done.
Hmmmm, that's funny. It doesn’t read very well, but while it was happening, I really felt on fire. I'll tell you what, bottom line: whoever we get, we deserve him.
"I can think of nothing more boring for the American people than to have to sit in their living rooms for a whole half hour looking at my face on their television screens."
—Dwight D. Eisenhower
I watched the last presidential debate tonight, which was in Tempe (about 28 miles from here) at Arizona State University, and of course everyone in our state is quite proud. Someone at The Arizona Republic asked me to jot down my random thoughts while the debate was going on and this is what I wrote:
Oh, I’m really digging this. Every Zonie is beaming tonight. Waozaaa. You got both presidential candidates standing on a stage at a second rate Arizona school (okay, so I attended U of A), and quoting long, meaningless statistics on Arizona, about, ah, something, but they’re actually using the word Arizona in a sentence like it means something and we've never had that before. Now we're in the middle of it and, "Wow! They're both really on their game, they're both in the zone. Great point, he can't possibly refute that," and then, each time they pound it right back and it’s like two tennis pros standing at the net hitting overhead slams and the other guy actually returns the slam right in his face. Now we’re in the bottom of the ninth, with two out and Bush pulls off the biggest laugh with his listening to women zinger, and now we're in the two minute warning, or at least at the warning track area and I'm thinking, "There's no freaking way Kerry is going to top that, because he has a minus five sense of humor batting average" but then Glum Man reaches wayyyyy down inside, rolls out of the pocket and rears back, with his nose straight up in the air and comes out with the "We both married up. . ." and it's Michael Jordan taking off from the free throw line, and "Some of us really married up." Shazaaaaam! Gin! Bingo! What a slugfest! This is what makes America great. Mashed metaphors and mucho sports analogies that make no sense. I loved it, BAY-BEE! A home run for Arizona, a Texas Leaguer for the President and a Boston Fish Fry for Kerry. Okay, I'm done.
Hmmmm, that's funny. It doesn’t read very well, but while it was happening, I really felt on fire. I'll tell you what, bottom line: whoever we get, we deserve him.
"I can think of nothing more boring for the American people than to have to sit in their living rooms for a whole half hour looking at my face on their television screens."
—Dwight D. Eisenhower
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
October 12, 2004
Deena made an appointment to get the oil changed on her new ride, so I drove it up to Tobias at 7:30 and then walked to work (about a mile). Felt good.
Had a staff meeting at 9:45. A full third of the crew was late because of a major accident at Cave Creek Road and Carefree Highway. Traffic backed up for miles.
I called a certain actor about being on the cover of True West for the April issue. Hint: he played Wyatt Earp, opposite Marie Osmond as Josie. Oh, and his wife is the president of SAG, and she was also the star of a popular tv show about this teenie, little house on the prairie.
Jana Bommersbach came out at 11:30 and we went over titles for her upcoming new book on Western Women. Jana had some good ones and I'll share my favorite as soon as I can.
Started a scratchboard of Mickey Free utilizing some of the reference Jim Hatzell shot last summer. I’m on to some movement techniques. Need to stay with it.
At noon, Jana, Meghan, RG and I went down to the Satisfied Frog for a working lunch. We went through five years of True Wests to pick out nominations for the Crown book we have been contracted to do. Chose about 20 articles, narrowed it down to "Oh Homo!", "The Split: Did Doc & Wyatt Split Because of a Racial Slur?", "How Did Davy Really Die?", "Eating His Weight In Democrats" and "Salty John Cox: Saloon Brawl In Magdalena" among others.
Came back and Emailed the short list to our editor in New York and she immediately got back to me that she was "thrilled" with the selections. It does have the potential to be a good one. The contracts for this project came in around two and RG went through them. Many changes. Glad he’s a detail man. I would have just signed them.
Had Abby drop me down at Tobias and when we got there they were closed! At 5:02! This really steamed me. Now Deena's car is locked in the compound and I'm on foot. Fortunately, Samantha drove by and yelled out the window, "Hey, Bob! Need a ride?" (thank God for living in a small town) So Sam, in spite of a case of severe hives, drove me back to the office, and I came back in and had no choice but to clean my space (Wow! Crazy Talk!).
“Happiness, I have discovered, is nearly always a rebound from hard work.”
—David Grayson
Deena made an appointment to get the oil changed on her new ride, so I drove it up to Tobias at 7:30 and then walked to work (about a mile). Felt good.
Had a staff meeting at 9:45. A full third of the crew was late because of a major accident at Cave Creek Road and Carefree Highway. Traffic backed up for miles.
I called a certain actor about being on the cover of True West for the April issue. Hint: he played Wyatt Earp, opposite Marie Osmond as Josie. Oh, and his wife is the president of SAG, and she was also the star of a popular tv show about this teenie, little house on the prairie.
Jana Bommersbach came out at 11:30 and we went over titles for her upcoming new book on Western Women. Jana had some good ones and I'll share my favorite as soon as I can.
Started a scratchboard of Mickey Free utilizing some of the reference Jim Hatzell shot last summer. I’m on to some movement techniques. Need to stay with it.
At noon, Jana, Meghan, RG and I went down to the Satisfied Frog for a working lunch. We went through five years of True Wests to pick out nominations for the Crown book we have been contracted to do. Chose about 20 articles, narrowed it down to "Oh Homo!", "The Split: Did Doc & Wyatt Split Because of a Racial Slur?", "How Did Davy Really Die?", "Eating His Weight In Democrats" and "Salty John Cox: Saloon Brawl In Magdalena" among others.
Came back and Emailed the short list to our editor in New York and she immediately got back to me that she was "thrilled" with the selections. It does have the potential to be a good one. The contracts for this project came in around two and RG went through them. Many changes. Glad he’s a detail man. I would have just signed them.
Had Abby drop me down at Tobias and when we got there they were closed! At 5:02! This really steamed me. Now Deena's car is locked in the compound and I'm on foot. Fortunately, Samantha drove by and yelled out the window, "Hey, Bob! Need a ride?" (thank God for living in a small town) So Sam, in spite of a case of severe hives, drove me back to the office, and I came back in and had no choice but to clean my space (Wow! Crazy Talk!).
“Happiness, I have discovered, is nearly always a rebound from hard work.”
—David Grayson
Monday, October 11, 2004
October 11, 2004
I blew it on two points yesterday. We were driving back from Flag and Tomcat called us on his cell, telling his mother that several of the Phoenix Suns were at the same coffee shop they were at (the Suns had an intramural game on Saturday night at the NAU Walkup Sky Dome). Kathy relayed this to me as I drove.
As Jerry Joslyn gleefully informed me by Email this morning, Stephen Marbury hasn't been a Sun for over a year. My gaff. I think T. Bell said it was Shawn Marion and the car was a Cadillac Escalade, not an Escalante, also my boo-boo.
Allen Fossenkemper sent me this: "Don't let your worries get the best of you. Remember, Moses started out as a basket case."
One of the subjects the entire family discussed this past weekend was on the topic of attention. As in, "Attention seekers get unwanted attention." Boy Howdy. All of us, Kathy, Deena, Tomas and yours truly are often the victims of the proverbial backlash, and we all have had our share of comments like, "Why do you say things like that?" and "You’re so gross!" and "Why can’t you just be professional?" and "That’s not funny, it’s sexist!"
And that’s just my mother's complaints.
I read one of the most informative articles on the current war, which basically said this: we aren’t fighting a war on terrorism. It is a huge mistake to think of it that way. Terrorism is a tactic, not a belief. It would be like calling WWII a war on blitzkrieg. This is a war between theocracy and secular democracy. This is a war between those who want their religion to be the center of government (i.e. radical Muslims and radical Southern Baptists) against those who believe in government sans religion (the U.S.A, England and parts of Spain). There. Glad I could clear that up.
So I’m reading Lynn Bailey’s "Too Tough to Die! The Rise, Fall and Resurrection of a Silver Camp: 1878-1990" and in this great Tombstone biography is a section on the Apache Wars, when Geronimo broke out of the San Carlos res (1882) and all hell broke loose around Tombstone, and the citizens formed Ranger groups to go kill all of the Apaches and U.S. President Arthur commanded "insurgents" to retire "peacefully to their respective abodes." And of course, they didn’t and went up to San Carlos to kill all the Apaches and teach them a lesson. Ah, the more things change, the more they remain the same.
"Life only demands from you the strength you possess.”"
—Dag Hammerskjold
I blew it on two points yesterday. We were driving back from Flag and Tomcat called us on his cell, telling his mother that several of the Phoenix Suns were at the same coffee shop they were at (the Suns had an intramural game on Saturday night at the NAU Walkup Sky Dome). Kathy relayed this to me as I drove.
As Jerry Joslyn gleefully informed me by Email this morning, Stephen Marbury hasn't been a Sun for over a year. My gaff. I think T. Bell said it was Shawn Marion and the car was a Cadillac Escalade, not an Escalante, also my boo-boo.
Allen Fossenkemper sent me this: "Don't let your worries get the best of you. Remember, Moses started out as a basket case."
One of the subjects the entire family discussed this past weekend was on the topic of attention. As in, "Attention seekers get unwanted attention." Boy Howdy. All of us, Kathy, Deena, Tomas and yours truly are often the victims of the proverbial backlash, and we all have had our share of comments like, "Why do you say things like that?" and "You’re so gross!" and "Why can’t you just be professional?" and "That’s not funny, it’s sexist!"
And that’s just my mother's complaints.
I read one of the most informative articles on the current war, which basically said this: we aren’t fighting a war on terrorism. It is a huge mistake to think of it that way. Terrorism is a tactic, not a belief. It would be like calling WWII a war on blitzkrieg. This is a war between theocracy and secular democracy. This is a war between those who want their religion to be the center of government (i.e. radical Muslims and radical Southern Baptists) against those who believe in government sans religion (the U.S.A, England and parts of Spain). There. Glad I could clear that up.
So I’m reading Lynn Bailey’s "Too Tough to Die! The Rise, Fall and Resurrection of a Silver Camp: 1878-1990" and in this great Tombstone biography is a section on the Apache Wars, when Geronimo broke out of the San Carlos res (1882) and all hell broke loose around Tombstone, and the citizens formed Ranger groups to go kill all of the Apaches and U.S. President Arthur commanded "insurgents" to retire "peacefully to their respective abodes." And of course, they didn’t and went up to San Carlos to kill all the Apaches and teach them a lesson. Ah, the more things change, the more they remain the same.
"Life only demands from you the strength you possess.”"
—Dag Hammerskjold
Sunday, October 10, 2004
October 10, 2004
A great day and a half in the north country. Deena, Kathy and I got up to Flag at two yesterday. Checked into the Quality Inn, just off I-40 and behind NAU ($80 for two twins). Nice and cool out. Went bike riding over onto the NAU campus with Tomcat (he has two bikes and stashes one on campus for the off chance that he'll meet someone and "go riding"). We came back across campus at about 4:30 and got to stop and check out a "Quadfest" where they were playing volleyball, with the usual tents and vendors and the obligatory punk band. Looked like high school kids, but they were quite good and we checked out the drummer who was way good. Depressing to see someone who I could have fathered when I was 40, and who is already twice as good a drummer as I will ever be.
Put up Tom's new Strokes poster in his apartment. Looks really solid and it fills out the room to reflect more of his style. Tomcat told about girls coming to his apartment and seeing the motif of all the other BBB artwork (which we brought up a month ago) and they all say, "Oh, are you into the Old West, Thomas?"
This really excited his publisher father: "The girls you bring here really like the cowboy stuff?"
T. Bell:"Oh yeh. It’s a total turnon."
Thrilled father: "Really?"
Bastard son:"No."
Last night we met Tom, his roommate Ryan and his girlfriend Jessica, who's visiting from New York, plus Jake at The Beaver Street Brewery but there was a one hour wait, so we walked across Beaver Street to Altitudes for dinner. The bar-restaurant is right next to the railroad tracks and the house rule is every time a train rolls through you get a shot of tequila for two bucks. Kathy and I bought drinks and dinner for the starving college kids and we ran up quite a bill ($125 cash) but it was fun to talk and listen to them. Lots of laughs.
This morning we met at Martan's for breakfast. Place packed on a cool northwoods morning. Fall is definitely in the air and the leaves are changing which puts a nice look on everything. We all had huevos rancheros and coffee ($40 cash, includes tip).
The kids wanted to go shopping so we ended up at Buffalo Exchange where I bought a ball and chain ($20 cash) for art reference. It was actually a bowling ball with a leg chain attached, but I'll use it for sure with my many jail illustration needs.
The Phoenix Suns were in town and T-Bell and Jake saw them at a local coffee shop. Marbury and Stoudenire came rolling up in a Cadillac Escalante. Later several "rookies" showed up in a Ford Expedition and the vets didn’t even acknowledge them, much to the enjoyment of Tomcat and Jake.
Speaking of great, bigtime posters, here's the big Spanish rodeo posters we hung a week ago in our house. That's Len and Scott from Creative framing in the bottom photo, just finishing up the framing. Quite nice, eh?
"Schizophrenia beats dining alone."
—Old Vaquero Sayingg
A great day and a half in the north country. Deena, Kathy and I got up to Flag at two yesterday. Checked into the Quality Inn, just off I-40 and behind NAU ($80 for two twins). Nice and cool out. Went bike riding over onto the NAU campus with Tomcat (he has two bikes and stashes one on campus for the off chance that he'll meet someone and "go riding"). We came back across campus at about 4:30 and got to stop and check out a "Quadfest" where they were playing volleyball, with the usual tents and vendors and the obligatory punk band. Looked like high school kids, but they were quite good and we checked out the drummer who was way good. Depressing to see someone who I could have fathered when I was 40, and who is already twice as good a drummer as I will ever be.
Put up Tom's new Strokes poster in his apartment. Looks really solid and it fills out the room to reflect more of his style. Tomcat told about girls coming to his apartment and seeing the motif of all the other BBB artwork (which we brought up a month ago) and they all say, "Oh, are you into the Old West, Thomas?"
This really excited his publisher father: "The girls you bring here really like the cowboy stuff?"
T. Bell:"Oh yeh. It’s a total turnon."
Thrilled father: "Really?"
Bastard son:"No."
Last night we met Tom, his roommate Ryan and his girlfriend Jessica, who's visiting from New York, plus Jake at The Beaver Street Brewery but there was a one hour wait, so we walked across Beaver Street to Altitudes for dinner. The bar-restaurant is right next to the railroad tracks and the house rule is every time a train rolls through you get a shot of tequila for two bucks. Kathy and I bought drinks and dinner for the starving college kids and we ran up quite a bill ($125 cash) but it was fun to talk and listen to them. Lots of laughs.
This morning we met at Martan's for breakfast. Place packed on a cool northwoods morning. Fall is definitely in the air and the leaves are changing which puts a nice look on everything. We all had huevos rancheros and coffee ($40 cash, includes tip).
The kids wanted to go shopping so we ended up at Buffalo Exchange where I bought a ball and chain ($20 cash) for art reference. It was actually a bowling ball with a leg chain attached, but I'll use it for sure with my many jail illustration needs.
The Phoenix Suns were in town and T-Bell and Jake saw them at a local coffee shop. Marbury and Stoudenire came rolling up in a Cadillac Escalante. Later several "rookies" showed up in a Ford Expedition and the vets didn’t even acknowledge them, much to the enjoyment of Tomcat and Jake.
Speaking of great, bigtime posters, here's the big Spanish rodeo posters we hung a week ago in our house. That's Len and Scott from Creative framing in the bottom photo, just finishing up the framing. Quite nice, eh?
"Schizophrenia beats dining alone."
—Old Vaquero Sayingg
Saturday, October 09, 2004
October 9, 2004
Going up the hill to Flag this morning to deliver Tomcat's Strokes poster. He is going to hang it in a prominent place in his living room. Can’t wait to see his expression when he sees the sucker. It's huge.
Speaking of huge, watched the second presidential debate last night with a room full of flaming, female liberals. Kathy's friend Lou Murphy came by with salads from the Bad Donkey (ironic, eh?) and they opened a bottle of California Zinfandel (Ravenswood, great logo!). They hooted and clapped every time Kerry opened his mouth. In spite of the senator's superior debating skills, I had to laugh when Bush, accused of having interest in a logging concern, looked incredulous, gave Kerry a "Where the hell did you come up with that?!" look, turned to the audience and said, "Need any wood?" Now that's down-home humor and the girls didn't enjoy it that I laughed out loud and then observed, "That's how he connects with middle America. They just like him for being an average guy. One of them." Or should that be, one of us?
Frankly, I was proud of the debate because it shows how free we are to engage in heavyweight, opposing ideas in a civil, yet, no-holds-barred way. It really was a slugfest, two heavyweights duking it out, toe to toe. I think both of them gave as good as they got.
This week's New Yorker (yes, I’m a faithful subscriber—great cartoons and great writing), nailed the contest with—what else?—a cartoon. It shows Bush as a modern day Sgt. Bilko with a golf club and a slouching, smirking look, while Kerry, as a pompous admiral, is looking down his nose at the frat boy who is in charge of getting the kegs. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, leave it to a cartoonist (Yea! That’s my team!) to win the day with a few lines on paper.
"Relax folks. It’s just lines on paper."
—Robert Crumb, underground cartoonist extraordinairer
Going up the hill to Flag this morning to deliver Tomcat's Strokes poster. He is going to hang it in a prominent place in his living room. Can’t wait to see his expression when he sees the sucker. It's huge.
Speaking of huge, watched the second presidential debate last night with a room full of flaming, female liberals. Kathy's friend Lou Murphy came by with salads from the Bad Donkey (ironic, eh?) and they opened a bottle of California Zinfandel (Ravenswood, great logo!). They hooted and clapped every time Kerry opened his mouth. In spite of the senator's superior debating skills, I had to laugh when Bush, accused of having interest in a logging concern, looked incredulous, gave Kerry a "Where the hell did you come up with that?!" look, turned to the audience and said, "Need any wood?" Now that's down-home humor and the girls didn't enjoy it that I laughed out loud and then observed, "That's how he connects with middle America. They just like him for being an average guy. One of them." Or should that be, one of us?
Frankly, I was proud of the debate because it shows how free we are to engage in heavyweight, opposing ideas in a civil, yet, no-holds-barred way. It really was a slugfest, two heavyweights duking it out, toe to toe. I think both of them gave as good as they got.
This week's New Yorker (yes, I’m a faithful subscriber—great cartoons and great writing), nailed the contest with—what else?—a cartoon. It shows Bush as a modern day Sgt. Bilko with a golf club and a slouching, smirking look, while Kerry, as a pompous admiral, is looking down his nose at the frat boy who is in charge of getting the kegs. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, leave it to a cartoonist (Yea! That’s my team!) to win the day with a few lines on paper.
"Relax folks. It’s just lines on paper."
—Robert Crumb, underground cartoonist extraordinairer
Friday, October 08, 2004
October 8, 2004
Went into Scottsdale at noon. Stopped at Arizona West Gallery on Main St. and signed my books (Greg Hays sells a ton of my stuff). Abe Hays showed me a very rare Lon Megargee painting of a hawk flying above Walpai cliff. Very modern. He also showed me a series of Lon's woodcuts (actually pen and ink done to simulate woodcuts) and they are so strong. And he had a letter to Buck Saunders with a great art quote, (below). Abe also had two wonderful maps, one by the U.S. Geological Survey of the Apache Campaign’s of General Miles, 1886, which showed all the troop movements between Fort Apache, San Carlos, Fort Bowie and deep into Mexico. Another map was also by the Geological Survey and showed a topo of Tombstone, 1903 with all of the buildings and mine locations. Really sweet. I asked Greg to shoot me a good photo of each and we’ll run them in the magazine. The Tombstone one had already been sold, sight unseen, for $500.
"To depict reality with a line or mass. Difficult. Requires invention. And a knowledge of drawing and design."
—Lon Megargee
Speaking of good design, our art director Dan Harshberger came out today to massage, tweak and teach the production staff the ins and outs of the new design. There is some strong resistance to the look, but I trust Dan will pull it off.
I was supposed to go visit Mad Coyote Joe in the hospital while I was in town but I got a call that he was checking out. That was actually good news, although Wonderful Russ was getting ready to go with me and we would have definitely caused some major zane damage on the fourth floor of Scottsdale Osborn ICU. When the three of us get together it can get rather zany, if you know what I mean and I think you do.
Grabbed lunch at Pischke’s (chicken caesar salad and iced tea, $15 cash, includes tip). The head waiter invited me to their 18th Anniversary party on Monday, but I’m going to be working on a certain book and can't go. One of the waiters has worked for Chris for 22 years. Chris was a good friend of Steven Spielberg's when they were growing up and when the Oscar winner turned forty, one of Spielberg's friends did a parody of Citizen Kane as a birthday film, and they came into Pischke's to film Chris's part. He went to the party. Chris was in one of the 8mm films Spielberg filmed in Phoenix. Few know that Spielberg was arrested for breaking windows at the then brand new Chris Town Mall (I want to say this was in 1963).
Went up Scottsdale Road (traffic was horrible, slipped over to Hayden, even worse. Crawled up to Acoma) and landed at Mort Fleischer's mortgage company to go over a big feature we’re doing on his saddle collection. We went over the various photos of saddles and he'd say things like, “Oh, that’s a very rare Stagg, half-seater. It’s worth north of $50,000.” For a saddle! And he's got 300 others in his barn.
Got back to the office at 4:30. Lori from Wild West sent me their new issue. They have a photo on the cover of Sitting Bull and Cody. First time for them to use a photo. It looked quite strong, and it's always irritating to see your competitors do well, but I wrote her a nice note to that effect.
Donated a scratchboard of Joaquin Murrieta to the West Valley Art Museum today ($500 value, highly inflated for tax purposes of course. Ha.). Big show coming up on November 19.
"Just don’t clown out our world.”"
—Dr. Dre, giving advice to Brian Grazer on making the hip-hop movie 8 Mile
Went into Scottsdale at noon. Stopped at Arizona West Gallery on Main St. and signed my books (Greg Hays sells a ton of my stuff). Abe Hays showed me a very rare Lon Megargee painting of a hawk flying above Walpai cliff. Very modern. He also showed me a series of Lon's woodcuts (actually pen and ink done to simulate woodcuts) and they are so strong. And he had a letter to Buck Saunders with a great art quote, (below). Abe also had two wonderful maps, one by the U.S. Geological Survey of the Apache Campaign’s of General Miles, 1886, which showed all the troop movements between Fort Apache, San Carlos, Fort Bowie and deep into Mexico. Another map was also by the Geological Survey and showed a topo of Tombstone, 1903 with all of the buildings and mine locations. Really sweet. I asked Greg to shoot me a good photo of each and we’ll run them in the magazine. The Tombstone one had already been sold, sight unseen, for $500.
"To depict reality with a line or mass. Difficult. Requires invention. And a knowledge of drawing and design."
—Lon Megargee
Speaking of good design, our art director Dan Harshberger came out today to massage, tweak and teach the production staff the ins and outs of the new design. There is some strong resistance to the look, but I trust Dan will pull it off.
I was supposed to go visit Mad Coyote Joe in the hospital while I was in town but I got a call that he was checking out. That was actually good news, although Wonderful Russ was getting ready to go with me and we would have definitely caused some major zane damage on the fourth floor of Scottsdale Osborn ICU. When the three of us get together it can get rather zany, if you know what I mean and I think you do.
Grabbed lunch at Pischke’s (chicken caesar salad and iced tea, $15 cash, includes tip). The head waiter invited me to their 18th Anniversary party on Monday, but I’m going to be working on a certain book and can't go. One of the waiters has worked for Chris for 22 years. Chris was a good friend of Steven Spielberg's when they were growing up and when the Oscar winner turned forty, one of Spielberg's friends did a parody of Citizen Kane as a birthday film, and they came into Pischke's to film Chris's part. He went to the party. Chris was in one of the 8mm films Spielberg filmed in Phoenix. Few know that Spielberg was arrested for breaking windows at the then brand new Chris Town Mall (I want to say this was in 1963).
Went up Scottsdale Road (traffic was horrible, slipped over to Hayden, even worse. Crawled up to Acoma) and landed at Mort Fleischer's mortgage company to go over a big feature we’re doing on his saddle collection. We went over the various photos of saddles and he'd say things like, “Oh, that’s a very rare Stagg, half-seater. It’s worth north of $50,000.” For a saddle! And he's got 300 others in his barn.
Got back to the office at 4:30. Lori from Wild West sent me their new issue. They have a photo on the cover of Sitting Bull and Cody. First time for them to use a photo. It looked quite strong, and it's always irritating to see your competitors do well, but I wrote her a nice note to that effect.
Donated a scratchboard of Joaquin Murrieta to the West Valley Art Museum today ($500 value, highly inflated for tax purposes of course. Ha.). Big show coming up on November 19.
"Just don’t clown out our world.”"
—Dr. Dre, giving advice to Brian Grazer on making the hip-hop movie 8 Mile
Thursday, October 07, 2004
October 7, 2004
Mad Coyote Joe, Sr. came in the office today to tell me about Joe, Jr's medical status. With tears in his eyes he told me the grueling hospital drama and that the family was told several times that Joe was going and to get ready for the end. Then after the weekend and some major surgery, Joe, Jr. came out of a drug induced cloud and this morning he called Fender to send up a guitar because he was bored. His father said, "He's Joe this morning." I called the young one after lunch and we had a great talk. I'm going down to the hospital tomorrow to visit. Joe wants to write a book on the ordeal, telling me, "I'm supposed to have 18 feet of small intestine. I have three. The hospital staff told me they have all these kids coming in here for gastric bypass and I need to get this story out." I’m sure he will.
Took Sue Lambert and Abby Pearson to lunch today at the new Flapjack joint ($35, includes tip, chicken caesar salad, cup of homemade soup and iced tea). Food was just okay. Good talking to them about the biz and their lives. Both are hard workers and solid citizens.
Talked to Jeff Hidlebrandt at the Westerns Channel this afternoon. Told him about a funny incident last Monday. I had checked into the Crown Westin in Kansas City and as I got into the elevator to go up to my room I was joined by a middle-aged black woman and her statuesque daughter (who looked like a beauty queen and I assumed they must be having some pageant at the hotel). As the elevator started to rise, I could feel the woman staring at me and I looked over at her and said, "Hi." She suddenly blurts out, "You’re Bob Boze Bell!" and I say, "Excuse me, do I know you?" And she says, "I’m from Arkansas and we see you every day on the Westerns Channel." So we laughed and laughed and I gave her a True West as two construction type guys get on. The woman is still jumping up and down, "It’s really you! You’re him!" and then they get off at their floor and now it’s just me and the two burly guys and one of them says out of the side of his mouth, "So you must be famous." And I say, as we all look at the floor indicator changing numbers, "Not really. I don’t know what got into her."
"Tact is the ability to describe others as they see themselves."
—Abraham Lincoln
Mad Coyote Joe, Sr. came in the office today to tell me about Joe, Jr's medical status. With tears in his eyes he told me the grueling hospital drama and that the family was told several times that Joe was going and to get ready for the end. Then after the weekend and some major surgery, Joe, Jr. came out of a drug induced cloud and this morning he called Fender to send up a guitar because he was bored. His father said, "He's Joe this morning." I called the young one after lunch and we had a great talk. I'm going down to the hospital tomorrow to visit. Joe wants to write a book on the ordeal, telling me, "I'm supposed to have 18 feet of small intestine. I have three. The hospital staff told me they have all these kids coming in here for gastric bypass and I need to get this story out." I’m sure he will.
Took Sue Lambert and Abby Pearson to lunch today at the new Flapjack joint ($35, includes tip, chicken caesar salad, cup of homemade soup and iced tea). Food was just okay. Good talking to them about the biz and their lives. Both are hard workers and solid citizens.
Talked to Jeff Hidlebrandt at the Westerns Channel this afternoon. Told him about a funny incident last Monday. I had checked into the Crown Westin in Kansas City and as I got into the elevator to go up to my room I was joined by a middle-aged black woman and her statuesque daughter (who looked like a beauty queen and I assumed they must be having some pageant at the hotel). As the elevator started to rise, I could feel the woman staring at me and I looked over at her and said, "Hi." She suddenly blurts out, "You’re Bob Boze Bell!" and I say, "Excuse me, do I know you?" And she says, "I’m from Arkansas and we see you every day on the Westerns Channel." So we laughed and laughed and I gave her a True West as two construction type guys get on. The woman is still jumping up and down, "It’s really you! You’re him!" and then they get off at their floor and now it’s just me and the two burly guys and one of them says out of the side of his mouth, "So you must be famous." And I say, as we all look at the floor indicator changing numbers, "Not really. I don’t know what got into her."
"Tact is the ability to describe others as they see themselves."
—Abraham Lincoln
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
October 6, 2004
Working hard on The West's Deadliest Address: Fifth and Allen Street, Tombstone, A.T. Five killings, multiple altercations with Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, Curly Bill, Ike Clanton, Johnny Ringo, Luke Short and Bat Masterson, all within spitting distance of this amazing intersection.
A writer friend, Henry Beck, called me this afternoon and he's doing a piece in a big, new, glossy magazine called Giant. Henry is writing about the oddest connections to a single subject and I think, if I understood him correctly, he's doing the movie The Outlaw with Jane Russell (which I agree is one of the strangest Westerns ever made!), and he is recommending my Billy the Kid book to go along with it. Ha. It will run in the November issue.
Had lunch with Mike Melrose, RG Robertson and Joel Klasky at Tonto Bar & Grill (half a cobb salad, iced tea, True West picked up the tab). Joel starts with us next Monday and we went over some of the expectations and his ideas on new business. Very positive and exciting.
Watched a bit of the vice presidential debate last night. I guess I really don’t have much of a grasp on who wins these things. I thought the first Bush-Kerry debate was a draw and yet Time and Newsweek both think it was straight up Kerry. Last night I thought Edwards was winning by a mile (although I only watched maybe 15 minutes), and this morning's Arizona Republic says Dick Cheney got the best of it. Perhaps there's a quote to live by?
“The father is always a Republican toward his son, and his mother is always a Democrat.”
—Robert Lee Frost
Working hard on The West's Deadliest Address: Fifth and Allen Street, Tombstone, A.T. Five killings, multiple altercations with Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, Curly Bill, Ike Clanton, Johnny Ringo, Luke Short and Bat Masterson, all within spitting distance of this amazing intersection.
A writer friend, Henry Beck, called me this afternoon and he's doing a piece in a big, new, glossy magazine called Giant. Henry is writing about the oddest connections to a single subject and I think, if I understood him correctly, he's doing the movie The Outlaw with Jane Russell (which I agree is one of the strangest Westerns ever made!), and he is recommending my Billy the Kid book to go along with it. Ha. It will run in the November issue.
Had lunch with Mike Melrose, RG Robertson and Joel Klasky at Tonto Bar & Grill (half a cobb salad, iced tea, True West picked up the tab). Joel starts with us next Monday and we went over some of the expectations and his ideas on new business. Very positive and exciting.
Watched a bit of the vice presidential debate last night. I guess I really don’t have much of a grasp on who wins these things. I thought the first Bush-Kerry debate was a draw and yet Time and Newsweek both think it was straight up Kerry. Last night I thought Edwards was winning by a mile (although I only watched maybe 15 minutes), and this morning's Arizona Republic says Dick Cheney got the best of it. Perhaps there's a quote to live by?
“The father is always a Republican toward his son, and his mother is always a Democrat.”
—Robert Lee Frost
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
October 5, 2004
I almost lost a good friend of mine over the weekend. Mad Coyote Joe came close to dying from complications on his gastric bypass. He had not one, but two heart attacks, while on the operating table. He is in critical condition and is still awaiting a couple of operations. Carole said he called me at the office this afternoon while I was at a speech, so I'm encouraged that he might be pulling through. I'll keep you posted on his recovery.
Here's some hot news for all you Earpies. Sir John Martin down Tombstone way, is going to turn back the clock for one night, October 23rd, and return the location of the Oriental Saloon (which is now a clothing store) back into a saloon. To attend you need to dress period style, and John tells me there is already a waiting list. We are going down to film and record the event, although Martin is not allowing any cameras during the actual event: strictly period everything. Gambling tables and an authentic bar await the patrons on this Saturday night, three days before the anniversary of a certain gunfight, a few streets west.
This is too rich of an opportunity and Mike Pelligati and I are going down to film and I’ll shoot reference photos. I was supposed to go to Parent's Day at NAU that weekend, but I have to be at this event, both for the new book, CGII, and for a proposed cable show we are shooting a pilot for.
Whipped out a scratchboard of Wyatt Earp with a shotgun for our newest postcard. Stole the image from a Kevin Costner as Wyatt photo. Nice highlights and shadow. Fixed his hat and leaned on Earp's visage. I think it's pretty strong. Abby will design the card. Anxious to see what she comes up with
Left the office at three and drove out to Cactus High School for a college extension class taught by Coach Riff. As we were walking down the halls I saw an election poster that said, “Vote for Pedro” with the Pedro crossed out and Sarah hand written in. As Tomcat said on the phone tonight, "She should win on that alone."
Speech went well, mostly women teachers trying to find community resources for "interesting history." Each one got a free True West.
On the way home, in rush hour traffic, I heard Tom Petty on the radio and he made me smile, with the line, "All the good girls are at home with broken hearts." It's from his song "Free Falling" and some songs just make you happy and, for me, that's one of them.
"Anyone who says he can see through women is missing a lot."
—Groucho Marxh
I almost lost a good friend of mine over the weekend. Mad Coyote Joe came close to dying from complications on his gastric bypass. He had not one, but two heart attacks, while on the operating table. He is in critical condition and is still awaiting a couple of operations. Carole said he called me at the office this afternoon while I was at a speech, so I'm encouraged that he might be pulling through. I'll keep you posted on his recovery.
Here's some hot news for all you Earpies. Sir John Martin down Tombstone way, is going to turn back the clock for one night, October 23rd, and return the location of the Oriental Saloon (which is now a clothing store) back into a saloon. To attend you need to dress period style, and John tells me there is already a waiting list. We are going down to film and record the event, although Martin is not allowing any cameras during the actual event: strictly period everything. Gambling tables and an authentic bar await the patrons on this Saturday night, three days before the anniversary of a certain gunfight, a few streets west.
This is too rich of an opportunity and Mike Pelligati and I are going down to film and I’ll shoot reference photos. I was supposed to go to Parent's Day at NAU that weekend, but I have to be at this event, both for the new book, CGII, and for a proposed cable show we are shooting a pilot for.
Whipped out a scratchboard of Wyatt Earp with a shotgun for our newest postcard. Stole the image from a Kevin Costner as Wyatt photo. Nice highlights and shadow. Fixed his hat and leaned on Earp's visage. I think it's pretty strong. Abby will design the card. Anxious to see what she comes up with
Left the office at three and drove out to Cactus High School for a college extension class taught by Coach Riff. As we were walking down the halls I saw an election poster that said, “Vote for Pedro” with the Pedro crossed out and Sarah hand written in. As Tomcat said on the phone tonight, "She should win on that alone."
Speech went well, mostly women teachers trying to find community resources for "interesting history." Each one got a free True West.
On the way home, in rush hour traffic, I heard Tom Petty on the radio and he made me smile, with the line, "All the good girls are at home with broken hearts." It's from his song "Free Falling" and some songs just make you happy and, for me, that's one of them.
"Anyone who says he can see through women is missing a lot."
—Groucho Marxh
Monday, October 04, 2004
October 4, 2004
When we were in Santa Fe last Saturday night I tried to find a little weird cafe/bar Kathy and I found in 1993. It was the day after Thanksgiving and we came over to visit the set of Kevin Costner’s Wyatt Earp which he was filming outside of town. After spending all day freezing on the set at Cook's Ranch we were roaming around the plaza and discovered this little, crooked Spanish doorway, the kind you have to step over—a door in the middle of a wall. The passageway opened into a large courtyard and we heard music coming from the far corner. We went inside another hallway and came out into a dim bar and cafe, like something out of Cabaret, only with vegas and adobe. We ordered a drink and our waitress waltzed away (literally), stopped at the piano and started singing a show tune. Now normally I hate show tunes, but this was zany to the max and one by one, all of the other waiters and waitresses took their turn, singing up a storm. It was so eclectic and weird I couldn't imagine it was still in business 11 years later, but there it was, La Cafe Sena, still going strong, just east of the Palace of the Governors.
The place was packed but we talked the head waiter into giving us a temporary table, that had a reservation, but they hadn’t arrived yet. Kathy, Carole and I sat down, ordered the goat cheese-cheese cake, and Mexican coffee (tequila and coffee) and waited for the songs to begin. Soon all of the waiters and waitresses got up and did a number from the Broadway play Rent. it was very cool ($26 cash). Very cool. I love little out of the way places like that.
Speaking of which Deena gave me an update about our friend Ursula who is in the Red Zone in Iraq. It is so dangerous now she has been confined to her room for over a week and can't even go outside and barely downstairs to get food. You can read her comments about the insanity of being there at:
www.ecollegetimes.com
Go down the left control bar to the bottom where it says “archives,” click on that, then type in the name Ursula Redendo. It is hairy reading, especially for a parent. Very scary stuff. She carries a machine gun with her at all times.
We have a new poll up. Have you ever fired a black powder gun? Check it out.
"Habit creates the appearance of justice; progress has no greater enemy than habit."
—Jose Marti y Pereza
When we were in Santa Fe last Saturday night I tried to find a little weird cafe/bar Kathy and I found in 1993. It was the day after Thanksgiving and we came over to visit the set of Kevin Costner’s Wyatt Earp which he was filming outside of town. After spending all day freezing on the set at Cook's Ranch we were roaming around the plaza and discovered this little, crooked Spanish doorway, the kind you have to step over—a door in the middle of a wall. The passageway opened into a large courtyard and we heard music coming from the far corner. We went inside another hallway and came out into a dim bar and cafe, like something out of Cabaret, only with vegas and adobe. We ordered a drink and our waitress waltzed away (literally), stopped at the piano and started singing a show tune. Now normally I hate show tunes, but this was zany to the max and one by one, all of the other waiters and waitresses took their turn, singing up a storm. It was so eclectic and weird I couldn't imagine it was still in business 11 years later, but there it was, La Cafe Sena, still going strong, just east of the Palace of the Governors.
The place was packed but we talked the head waiter into giving us a temporary table, that had a reservation, but they hadn’t arrived yet. Kathy, Carole and I sat down, ordered the goat cheese-cheese cake, and Mexican coffee (tequila and coffee) and waited for the songs to begin. Soon all of the waiters and waitresses got up and did a number from the Broadway play Rent. it was very cool ($26 cash). Very cool. I love little out of the way places like that.
Speaking of which Deena gave me an update about our friend Ursula who is in the Red Zone in Iraq. It is so dangerous now she has been confined to her room for over a week and can't even go outside and barely downstairs to get food. You can read her comments about the insanity of being there at:
www.ecollegetimes.com
Go down the left control bar to the bottom where it says “archives,” click on that, then type in the name Ursula Redendo. It is hairy reading, especially for a parent. Very scary stuff. She carries a machine gun with her at all times.
We have a new poll up. Have you ever fired a black powder gun? Check it out.
"Habit creates the appearance of justice; progress has no greater enemy than habit."
—Jose Marti y Pereza
Sunday, October 03, 2004
October 3, 2004
Yesterday Scott and Len from Creative Framing delivered the last two Spanish rodeo posters and hung them in our living room. They are massive and magnificent and it was well worth every penny ($980 biz account). All told I think I paid $150 for the posters, $75 getting them home from Valencia, and $1,500 for the framing. A small price to pay for something that gives us so much joy.
Speaking of joy, I was drawing and listening to Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion this morning and something he said really impacted me. He was talking about his daughter and how the slightest thing she does gives him meaning and pleasure (even when she's being selfish and he and his wife are basically the "Secretary and Treasurer" of her world). He said he is tired of his own story (LDL levels, too many carbs, stress tests, etc.) and that if you want to know your real story, your kids know it. And that we are here to tell our parent's story, and our children will tell ours. Through my tears I realized, well, for one thing I realized I'm getting too much estrogen, but also, that is the story I am telling in all of my books and any future books. My father comes from the green of Iowa (and he loved road trips!) and my mother comes from the harshness of the Mohave Desert and she was a cowgirl. One is a family of farmers, the other ranchers. And where those two stories meet, where the green meets the brown, where the corn meets the prickly pear that is the place I want to illustrate and write about.
There is a somewhat famous regional photograph of a little kid running down a carport driveway of a 1950's suburban tract house. He's crying and he appears to be trying to retrieve a wayward tricycle that's rolling toward the street. Off to the right is the pristine, high desert of New Mexico, probably the Sandia Mountains behind him, and a big storm is brewing in the sky overhead. The juxtaposition of the two, the pre-fab of the home vs. the raw, untamed desert is the heart of my experience and inspiration.
Of course, True West magazine is a perfect fit with that story, but if I am given the time, I intend to expand even more on my parent's story.
I worked on two paintings today, one of Wyatt Earp in the Oriental Saloon, and the other of Charlie Storms, the gambler who lost his life there. Storms was in his sixties and there is no known photo of him, but I think I know him, and I think he had on green-checked pants at the time of his death (Yes, this is inspired by all the colored pants patterns I saw in the Arabia Steamboat Museum.)
"That it will never come again is what makes life sweet.”
—Emily Dickinsonn
Yesterday Scott and Len from Creative Framing delivered the last two Spanish rodeo posters and hung them in our living room. They are massive and magnificent and it was well worth every penny ($980 biz account). All told I think I paid $150 for the posters, $75 getting them home from Valencia, and $1,500 for the framing. A small price to pay for something that gives us so much joy.
Speaking of joy, I was drawing and listening to Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion this morning and something he said really impacted me. He was talking about his daughter and how the slightest thing she does gives him meaning and pleasure (even when she's being selfish and he and his wife are basically the "Secretary and Treasurer" of her world). He said he is tired of his own story (LDL levels, too many carbs, stress tests, etc.) and that if you want to know your real story, your kids know it. And that we are here to tell our parent's story, and our children will tell ours. Through my tears I realized, well, for one thing I realized I'm getting too much estrogen, but also, that is the story I am telling in all of my books and any future books. My father comes from the green of Iowa (and he loved road trips!) and my mother comes from the harshness of the Mohave Desert and she was a cowgirl. One is a family of farmers, the other ranchers. And where those two stories meet, where the green meets the brown, where the corn meets the prickly pear that is the place I want to illustrate and write about.
There is a somewhat famous regional photograph of a little kid running down a carport driveway of a 1950's suburban tract house. He's crying and he appears to be trying to retrieve a wayward tricycle that's rolling toward the street. Off to the right is the pristine, high desert of New Mexico, probably the Sandia Mountains behind him, and a big storm is brewing in the sky overhead. The juxtaposition of the two, the pre-fab of the home vs. the raw, untamed desert is the heart of my experience and inspiration.
Of course, True West magazine is a perfect fit with that story, but if I am given the time, I intend to expand even more on my parent's story.
I worked on two paintings today, one of Wyatt Earp in the Oriental Saloon, and the other of Charlie Storms, the gambler who lost his life there. Storms was in his sixties and there is no known photo of him, but I think I know him, and I think he had on green-checked pants at the time of his death (Yes, this is inspired by all the colored pants patterns I saw in the Arabia Steamboat Museum.)
"That it will never come again is what makes life sweet.”
—Emily Dickinsonn
Saturday, October 02, 2004
October 2, 2004
I am busy working on Classic Gunfights, Volume II, which we call CGII around the office. Gus has been laying in the copy and images and I’ve been trying to match the scope and style of the first one. Yesterday I went out to the store and got a Vol. 1, came back to my office and compared our layouts. I also wanted to see what I wrote in the first editorial. Lo and behold it was dated October 1, exactly one year to the day from the last one. I don't think this one will be out by Christmas but it is going to be a worthy successor.
Theresa at Tri Star sent up a royalty check for August ($408.08) and included three pages of clipped comments from orders. Here's a few highlights:
• "If it ain't broke, why fix it?"
• "I'm interested in stage coaches, drivers, freight haulers and prospectors."
• "Very difficult to find books on the Wild West in UK now. Please answer." (Welshpool, UK)
• "Call me up sometime Bob Bozee Bell?"
• "This book about the Kid is verry special, never seen such!" (Ruse, Bulgaria)
• "I live and work in Germany but postage is only to NY. These books will be a blessing to me."
• "Easy reading, great illustrations, good history. As an extra from Calico Ghost Town, I loved them."
• "Do one on Jesse James.”
• "Don’t sell my info to any other business. Like your work."
• "Keep printing 'em, I’ll keep buying 'em!"
• "We met in Wickenburg. I was the only telephone retiree who knew when the phone was invented." (1876)
• "I am a relative of James Butler Hickok."
• "I am a real descendant of Wyatt Earp."
• "Love Wyatt but Doc’s a favorite."
• "Would like to see a large BBB artprint of Dallas Stoudenmire as shown on page 67 of Bad Men."
• "Thanks to your books, I've visited Lincoln, NM four times."
• "I love the book on Billy the Kid."
• "Is the Wild Bill book still available?" (Ouch! Haven’t finished it yet)
"A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort."
—Herm Albrightt
I am busy working on Classic Gunfights, Volume II, which we call CGII around the office. Gus has been laying in the copy and images and I’ve been trying to match the scope and style of the first one. Yesterday I went out to the store and got a Vol. 1, came back to my office and compared our layouts. I also wanted to see what I wrote in the first editorial. Lo and behold it was dated October 1, exactly one year to the day from the last one. I don't think this one will be out by Christmas but it is going to be a worthy successor.
Theresa at Tri Star sent up a royalty check for August ($408.08) and included three pages of clipped comments from orders. Here's a few highlights:
• "If it ain't broke, why fix it?"
• "I'm interested in stage coaches, drivers, freight haulers and prospectors."
• "Very difficult to find books on the Wild West in UK now. Please answer." (Welshpool, UK)
• "Call me up sometime Bob Bozee Bell?"
• "This book about the Kid is verry special, never seen such!" (Ruse, Bulgaria)
• "I live and work in Germany but postage is only to NY. These books will be a blessing to me."
• "Easy reading, great illustrations, good history. As an extra from Calico Ghost Town, I loved them."
• "Do one on Jesse James.”
• "Don’t sell my info to any other business. Like your work."
• "Keep printing 'em, I’ll keep buying 'em!"
• "We met in Wickenburg. I was the only telephone retiree who knew when the phone was invented." (1876)
• "I am a relative of James Butler Hickok."
• "I am a real descendant of Wyatt Earp."
• "Love Wyatt but Doc’s a favorite."
• "Would like to see a large BBB artprint of Dallas Stoudenmire as shown on page 67 of Bad Men."
• "Thanks to your books, I've visited Lincoln, NM four times."
• "I love the book on Billy the Kid."
• "Is the Wild Bill book still available?" (Ouch! Haven’t finished it yet)
"A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort."
—Herm Albrightt
Friday, October 01, 2004
October 1, 2004
I watched the presidential debates last night. Couldn't stand it. Went for a walk with the dogs. Kathy came driving up: "Why aren’t you watching the debate?" I followed her back in the house but couldn't stay in the room. Too much like "The Dating Game" for my tastes. Massive petty sniping with a dash of pompous over-simplification. Kathy was applauding wildly at every Kerry jab, but I personally think Bush counter-punched very effectively with his down-home simple reactions. At best, it was a draw. Frankly, I dislike them both. Privileged, rich kids, playing student council games.
I did see a placard I thought was funny. "Help the environment—replant a Bush in Texas."
We have signed on with Dick Glassman in New York to help us get a toe hold on the national circulation front. He is a very dynamic guy, knows everyone at Kable, and we could use the help. There are 6,500 magazine titles out there all fighting for the same 150 slots. It ain't pretty, in fact, it's the toughest challenge we face.
When I was in Kansas City I met Scott Robinette, the president of Hallmark Loyalty ("Enriching relationships"). He was also a presenter at the grocer conference and we got to comparing notes. Since I'm always looking for insights and ideas, I asked him to give me the Cliff Notes version of his speech and he gave me this little gem: Discover Card had a list of card holders who were seriously overdrawn and hadn’t made a payment in some time. The catch is that they had been good customers for some time but were suddenly in arrears and were ready to be turned over to collection. Scott and his Hallmark crew asked Discover to allow them to try something. They created a card that had a Hallmark image of a long, winding road on it, and when you opened it, the card said, "You have been a long, valued customer of ours and we understand what it's like to hit tough times. If we can be of any help let us know." The pay-up rates went through the roof and paid for the campaign ten times over. Isn't that an amazing little story? And aren't you going to steal it? I know I am.
I sent Blevins a postcard yesterday. And I hope you do too. Mike Melrose gave me their actual street address. Here it is:
Blevins Stirrup Buckles
615 Ferguson Road
Wheatland, Wy 82701
"If liberty means anything at all, it means the right
to tell people what they do not want to hear."
—George Orwell
I watched the presidential debates last night. Couldn't stand it. Went for a walk with the dogs. Kathy came driving up: "Why aren’t you watching the debate?" I followed her back in the house but couldn't stay in the room. Too much like "The Dating Game" for my tastes. Massive petty sniping with a dash of pompous over-simplification. Kathy was applauding wildly at every Kerry jab, but I personally think Bush counter-punched very effectively with his down-home simple reactions. At best, it was a draw. Frankly, I dislike them both. Privileged, rich kids, playing student council games.
I did see a placard I thought was funny. "Help the environment—replant a Bush in Texas."
We have signed on with Dick Glassman in New York to help us get a toe hold on the national circulation front. He is a very dynamic guy, knows everyone at Kable, and we could use the help. There are 6,500 magazine titles out there all fighting for the same 150 slots. It ain't pretty, in fact, it's the toughest challenge we face.
When I was in Kansas City I met Scott Robinette, the president of Hallmark Loyalty ("Enriching relationships"). He was also a presenter at the grocer conference and we got to comparing notes. Since I'm always looking for insights and ideas, I asked him to give me the Cliff Notes version of his speech and he gave me this little gem: Discover Card had a list of card holders who were seriously overdrawn and hadn’t made a payment in some time. The catch is that they had been good customers for some time but were suddenly in arrears and were ready to be turned over to collection. Scott and his Hallmark crew asked Discover to allow them to try something. They created a card that had a Hallmark image of a long, winding road on it, and when you opened it, the card said, "You have been a long, valued customer of ours and we understand what it's like to hit tough times. If we can be of any help let us know." The pay-up rates went through the roof and paid for the campaign ten times over. Isn't that an amazing little story? And aren't you going to steal it? I know I am.
I sent Blevins a postcard yesterday. And I hope you do too. Mike Melrose gave me their actual street address. Here it is:
Blevins Stirrup Buckles
615 Ferguson Road
Wheatland, Wy 82701
"If liberty means anything at all, it means the right
to tell people what they do not want to hear."
—George Orwell
Thursday, September 30, 2004
September 30, 2004
The True West Maniac Club is sitting at 822 members and we’ve got big plans for all of you. We are working on a Tombstone trip for next April with bigtime experts and great behind the scenes historic stops that most people don’t get to see. The ad will appear soon. If you are a Maniac and you have any suggestions or comments about the magazine, etc. you can send them to:
maniac@twmag.com
And please include your Maniac membership number in your e-mail.
One of the inspirations I got at Banta Printing in Kansas City last Tuesday is they give out gift bags. In fact, I had to have Bart ship me most of the goodies because I couldn’t get them all in my bag. In Wednesday’s staff meeting I asked our gang what we would put in our bag. Carole went out and got a sample bag and now we are trying to fill it. I think it would be a hoot to have a Blevins stirrup buckle in the bag. We keep calling Blevins and saying, “Hey, let us do an article on your business,” and they keep saying, “Naw, don’t need it.” Blevins has been advertising in True West for a half century. Yes, 50 years! I’d give you their website address except they don’t have one. So I’ll give you their phone number. Ooops! I just looked at their ad in the magazine and they don’t run one. You’ll have to write them at. . .ooops! They don’t have a street address in their ad. It just says:
Blevins Mfg. Co.
Wheatland, Wyoming 82201
Why don’t we all send them a postcard and blow their minds? Hey thanks for supporting True West for half a century! I’d love for the guys who work there to go, “Where the hell are all these postcards coming from? And why? Maybe we ought to try and find out? Naw.”
Did you see the poll results on Wyatt Earp? It was running about 50-50 until the end when a whole bunch of Earpies must have stuffed the ballot box. Hmmmmm.
And speaking of the Lion of Tombstone, I talked to Wyatt Earp’s wife Terry today. She is quite famous here in the Valley as a playwright. In fact she wrote the one-man play Wyatt performs as his great uncle. He is going to perform this Saturday night out at the Mistress Mine north of Cave Creek. Great venue, at a real Old West mine, outside, under the stars, chuckwagon dinner, etc. A must see. Terry is working on two new plays, one called “In My Humble Opinion” which is about Jack Durant, the famous restauranteur in Phoenix, whose real name was James Earl Allen. It opens on January 25th. The other play she’s writing is on the artist Ted De Grazia and that should be interesting. A legendary Arizona artist (although I absolutely despise his art).
Terry also asked me if I knew anything about Wyatt’s time in Cripple Creek, Colorado because they are booked to do the one-man Wyatt show there in 2005 and I said I didn’t (other than him being there in the 1890s) but that I’ll bet someone who is reading this knows something. Don’t you?
"There must be 500,000 rats in the United States. Of course, I'm only speaking from memory."
—Bill Nye (not the science guy)
The True West Maniac Club is sitting at 822 members and we’ve got big plans for all of you. We are working on a Tombstone trip for next April with bigtime experts and great behind the scenes historic stops that most people don’t get to see. The ad will appear soon. If you are a Maniac and you have any suggestions or comments about the magazine, etc. you can send them to:
maniac@twmag.com
And please include your Maniac membership number in your e-mail.
One of the inspirations I got at Banta Printing in Kansas City last Tuesday is they give out gift bags. In fact, I had to have Bart ship me most of the goodies because I couldn’t get them all in my bag. In Wednesday’s staff meeting I asked our gang what we would put in our bag. Carole went out and got a sample bag and now we are trying to fill it. I think it would be a hoot to have a Blevins stirrup buckle in the bag. We keep calling Blevins and saying, “Hey, let us do an article on your business,” and they keep saying, “Naw, don’t need it.” Blevins has been advertising in True West for a half century. Yes, 50 years! I’d give you their website address except they don’t have one. So I’ll give you their phone number. Ooops! I just looked at their ad in the magazine and they don’t run one. You’ll have to write them at. . .ooops! They don’t have a street address in their ad. It just says:
Blevins Mfg. Co.
Wheatland, Wyoming 82201
Why don’t we all send them a postcard and blow their minds? Hey thanks for supporting True West for half a century! I’d love for the guys who work there to go, “Where the hell are all these postcards coming from? And why? Maybe we ought to try and find out? Naw.”
Did you see the poll results on Wyatt Earp? It was running about 50-50 until the end when a whole bunch of Earpies must have stuffed the ballot box. Hmmmmm.
And speaking of the Lion of Tombstone, I talked to Wyatt Earp’s wife Terry today. She is quite famous here in the Valley as a playwright. In fact she wrote the one-man play Wyatt performs as his great uncle. He is going to perform this Saturday night out at the Mistress Mine north of Cave Creek. Great venue, at a real Old West mine, outside, under the stars, chuckwagon dinner, etc. A must see. Terry is working on two new plays, one called “In My Humble Opinion” which is about Jack Durant, the famous restauranteur in Phoenix, whose real name was James Earl Allen. It opens on January 25th. The other play she’s writing is on the artist Ted De Grazia and that should be interesting. A legendary Arizona artist (although I absolutely despise his art).
Terry also asked me if I knew anything about Wyatt’s time in Cripple Creek, Colorado because they are booked to do the one-man Wyatt show there in 2005 and I said I didn’t (other than him being there in the 1890s) but that I’ll bet someone who is reading this knows something. Don’t you?
"There must be 500,000 rats in the United States. Of course, I'm only speaking from memory."
—Bill Nye (not the science guy)
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
September 29, 2004
After being totally knocked out by the Arabia Museum in Kansas City yesterday (although it???s an unfortunate name, conjuring up the wrong imagery, considering it???s actually a steamboat named The Arabia, full of 1857 Western cargo), I bought a book from the giftshop on the arduous efforts to excavate the boat. ???Treasure In A Cornfield,??? is the name of the book and it???s written by Greg Hawley, a member of the family that literally dug up the goods. I read much of it on the plane ride home.
Of course Greg, his brother Dave (who I met) and his dad were all crazy, getting consumed by the goal of digging up hidden treasure. They have an air-conditioning business and pooled all of their money, along with some close friends, and came up with some $250,000, to do the whole project. Of course, they spent that just getting down to the boat and then the money really started to flow, out, not in. Which in the water sense was a good thing, but in a metaphorical sense, money being water, it was a very bad thing. The fuel bill for the multiple pumps to suck the water table down, was running at $650 a day! They mortgaged their homes, worked around the clock, missed family dinners, strained their relationships with their wives. Ticked off old friends. Let???s just say I can totally relate, having dug up a sunken ship in a very similar manner.
Greg, the author, relates how at one point when everything looked bleak and he was working around the clock and everything was going south, he told his wife, ???Don???t worry honey, the bank can only take our house once.??? Ha. I wish I had that line back in the beginning of our True West journey, although, if I had used it I may not have lived long enough to write this.
The Arabia dig and resulting museum is really an extraordinary tale and legacy and when I met Dave Hawley I asked him if the culmination of the project had vindicated him and set him free and he said, ???Oh, no, we???ve found three other boats and we start digging next week on one of them.??? As my kids would say, ???Insane in the membrane.??? And that goes for me too. It???s amazing where passion for history can take you.
Or as my mother puts it, ???At least it keeps all of you off the streets.???
???If you can't accept losing, you can't win.???
???Vince Lombardi?
After being totally knocked out by the Arabia Museum in Kansas City yesterday (although it???s an unfortunate name, conjuring up the wrong imagery, considering it???s actually a steamboat named The Arabia, full of 1857 Western cargo), I bought a book from the giftshop on the arduous efforts to excavate the boat. ???Treasure In A Cornfield,??? is the name of the book and it???s written by Greg Hawley, a member of the family that literally dug up the goods. I read much of it on the plane ride home.
Of course Greg, his brother Dave (who I met) and his dad were all crazy, getting consumed by the goal of digging up hidden treasure. They have an air-conditioning business and pooled all of their money, along with some close friends, and came up with some $250,000, to do the whole project. Of course, they spent that just getting down to the boat and then the money really started to flow, out, not in. Which in the water sense was a good thing, but in a metaphorical sense, money being water, it was a very bad thing. The fuel bill for the multiple pumps to suck the water table down, was running at $650 a day! They mortgaged their homes, worked around the clock, missed family dinners, strained their relationships with their wives. Ticked off old friends. Let???s just say I can totally relate, having dug up a sunken ship in a very similar manner.
Greg, the author, relates how at one point when everything looked bleak and he was working around the clock and everything was going south, he told his wife, ???Don???t worry honey, the bank can only take our house once.??? Ha. I wish I had that line back in the beginning of our True West journey, although, if I had used it I may not have lived long enough to write this.
The Arabia dig and resulting museum is really an extraordinary tale and legacy and when I met Dave Hawley I asked him if the culmination of the project had vindicated him and set him free and he said, ???Oh, no, we???ve found three other boats and we start digging next week on one of them.??? As my kids would say, ???Insane in the membrane.??? And that goes for me too. It???s amazing where passion for history can take you.
Or as my mother puts it, ???At least it keeps all of you off the streets.???
???If you can't accept losing, you can't win.???
???Vince Lombardi?
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
September 28, 2004
Back from Kansas City. Got in at 3:30. This morning I saw one of the most amazing museums I have ever seen. Back in the 1970s some Old West maniacs from Kansas City got obsessed with digging up sunken steam ships on the Missouri River (there are a reported 400 sunken ships strewn from Saint Louis to Kansas City and northward), and they ended up digging up this packet called the Great White Arabia which had 200 tons of cargo bound for the edge of civilization (Omaha and the Dakotas) when it hit a snag and sank in 1857. These crazy guys dug the ship up in 1988 paying for most of it with their own money and what they found is just incredible. Inside packing crates and barrels and boxes were some 4,000 pairs of shoes and boots (many of them rubber, made by the Goodyears, yes, with an s, co.), tens of thousands of buttons, oodles of axes, hats, pants, suits, guns, door knobs, tape measures (50 foot rolls of tape!), pocket knives, fine China, window glass (400 panes) and lots of food. Now here’s the incredible part. Since it has been buried under silt (the river channel moved and the entire ship’s cargo is under 36 feet of sand and silt, there was no oxygen and all of the cargo (sans cotton products) is in perfect condition. Especially the food. The story goes that they opened a jar of pickles and one of the diggers bit into one and it still had a ripe snap. They opened a bottle of champagne and it was perfectly bubbly. There are many bottles of cherrys from France that look like they should be on the shelf of your local gourmet grocery store. I met with one of the guys who discovered and dug up and created the museum and we are going to do several features on it.
Speaking of food, I ate like a Kansas City King. Bart E. from our printing plant Banta (which is just north of the city) took me to the Smokehouse Bar-b-que on Monday for a great lunch, and this afternoon we hit The Golden Ox (“The real reason Kansas City is famous for steaks.”). Really enjoyed it, especially the Missouri style bar-b-que which I have heard so much about but never had.
Toured the Banta printing plant. They do some 400 titles so we are a small part of their 24/7 operation but everyone I met raved about True West and especially that we have never missed a deadline and they can always count on our punctuality and our product (it’s rare for us to even have a correction). This is all to the credit of Robert Ray and his crew. They work very hard under trying circumstances and always get it done.
My speech last night to the grocers was so-so, but the event was enlightening to me. I got to mingle with them at the cocktail party prior to the dinner and met several “Loyalty Managers,” which I had never heard of, but I learned plenty and I’ll spill all of their "loyalty" secrets tomorrow.
Going to be nice to go back in the office in the morning. Really looking forward to it. Been out too long. Lots to do.
“The brain is a wonderful organ. It starts working the moment you get up in the morning and doesn’t stop until you get to the office.”
—Robert Frostr
Back from Kansas City. Got in at 3:30. This morning I saw one of the most amazing museums I have ever seen. Back in the 1970s some Old West maniacs from Kansas City got obsessed with digging up sunken steam ships on the Missouri River (there are a reported 400 sunken ships strewn from Saint Louis to Kansas City and northward), and they ended up digging up this packet called the Great White Arabia which had 200 tons of cargo bound for the edge of civilization (Omaha and the Dakotas) when it hit a snag and sank in 1857. These crazy guys dug the ship up in 1988 paying for most of it with their own money and what they found is just incredible. Inside packing crates and barrels and boxes were some 4,000 pairs of shoes and boots (many of them rubber, made by the Goodyears, yes, with an s, co.), tens of thousands of buttons, oodles of axes, hats, pants, suits, guns, door knobs, tape measures (50 foot rolls of tape!), pocket knives, fine China, window glass (400 panes) and lots of food. Now here’s the incredible part. Since it has been buried under silt (the river channel moved and the entire ship’s cargo is under 36 feet of sand and silt, there was no oxygen and all of the cargo (sans cotton products) is in perfect condition. Especially the food. The story goes that they opened a jar of pickles and one of the diggers bit into one and it still had a ripe snap. They opened a bottle of champagne and it was perfectly bubbly. There are many bottles of cherrys from France that look like they should be on the shelf of your local gourmet grocery store. I met with one of the guys who discovered and dug up and created the museum and we are going to do several features on it.
Speaking of food, I ate like a Kansas City King. Bart E. from our printing plant Banta (which is just north of the city) took me to the Smokehouse Bar-b-que on Monday for a great lunch, and this afternoon we hit The Golden Ox (“The real reason Kansas City is famous for steaks.”). Really enjoyed it, especially the Missouri style bar-b-que which I have heard so much about but never had.
Toured the Banta printing plant. They do some 400 titles so we are a small part of their 24/7 operation but everyone I met raved about True West and especially that we have never missed a deadline and they can always count on our punctuality and our product (it’s rare for us to even have a correction). This is all to the credit of Robert Ray and his crew. They work very hard under trying circumstances and always get it done.
My speech last night to the grocers was so-so, but the event was enlightening to me. I got to mingle with them at the cocktail party prior to the dinner and met several “Loyalty Managers,” which I had never heard of, but I learned plenty and I’ll spill all of their "loyalty" secrets tomorrow.
Going to be nice to go back in the office in the morning. Really looking forward to it. Been out too long. Lots to do.
“The brain is a wonderful organ. It starts working the moment you get up in the morning and doesn’t stop until you get to the office.”
—Robert Frostr
Sunday, September 26, 2004
September 26, 2004
Back from Santa Fe at nine p.m.. Going out in the morning to Kansas City. Lots to report. Lots of driving (1,100 miles), great food, big sights, big nights, big fights.
We’ve got a new poll up (I was really surprised at the results of the Wyatt Earp poll, which we’ll run in the mag in the next issue). Which of the following people do you think were the greatest North American explorers?
• Lewis & Clark
• John C. Fremont
• Jedediah Smith
• Sieur de La Salle
Cast your vote here.
Went to the new Georgia O’Keefe museum in Santa Fe and was really unimpressed. Dirty walls (I know, I know, it’s supposed to be that way, so Santa Fe-o, it’s like the dirt came off the ground and onto the walls. . .). In the first place there isn’t that much of her work there. In contrast, this morning we hit the New Mexico Museum in Albuquerque and saw a new Maynard Dixon show and they also had a Buck Dunton and a few Taos masters who mostly did Native Americans. Really great stuff, towered over the Georgia stuff. In another league really.
“Until you walk a mile in another man’s mocassins you can’t imagine the smell.”
—Old Vaquero Sayings
Back from Santa Fe at nine p.m.. Going out in the morning to Kansas City. Lots to report. Lots of driving (1,100 miles), great food, big sights, big nights, big fights.
We’ve got a new poll up (I was really surprised at the results of the Wyatt Earp poll, which we’ll run in the mag in the next issue). Which of the following people do you think were the greatest North American explorers?
• Lewis & Clark
• John C. Fremont
• Jedediah Smith
• Sieur de La Salle
Cast your vote here.
Went to the new Georgia O’Keefe museum in Santa Fe and was really unimpressed. Dirty walls (I know, I know, it’s supposed to be that way, so Santa Fe-o, it’s like the dirt came off the ground and onto the walls. . .). In the first place there isn’t that much of her work there. In contrast, this morning we hit the New Mexico Museum in Albuquerque and saw a new Maynard Dixon show and they also had a Buck Dunton and a few Taos masters who mostly did Native Americans. Really great stuff, towered over the Georgia stuff. In another league really.
“Until you walk a mile in another man’s mocassins you can’t imagine the smell.”
—Old Vaquero Sayings
Friday, September 24, 2004
September 24, 2004
Hitting the road for Santa Fe this morning. Board meeting of the major stockholders. Looking forward to it. Plenty of challenges and problems to solve.
Going to take the scenic route through Concho, St. Johns, Zuni, El Moro rocks, Cubero and then hook up with the dreaded I-40 into Albuquerque. My good friend Abe Hays says there is a Maynard Dixon show in Albuquerque and I may stop there on the way back and check it out.
I’d write more, but I need to save my breath.
"Save your breath. You'll need it to blow up your date."
—Old Vaquero Sayingg
Hitting the road for Santa Fe this morning. Board meeting of the major stockholders. Looking forward to it. Plenty of challenges and problems to solve.
Going to take the scenic route through Concho, St. Johns, Zuni, El Moro rocks, Cubero and then hook up with the dreaded I-40 into Albuquerque. My good friend Abe Hays says there is a Maynard Dixon show in Albuquerque and I may stop there on the way back and check it out.
I’d write more, but I need to save my breath.
"Save your breath. You'll need it to blow up your date."
—Old Vaquero Sayingg
Thursday, September 23, 2004
September 23, 2004
Mr. Unstoppable came in to my office yesterday and said he wanted to go see a movie and did I have any suggestions. I told him I hate most of the new movies but that I saw a real odd one but I was hesitant to recommend it to him. But, of course, I did and kicked myself the rest of the day, imagining him in a darkened theater cursing my name and spitting.
This morning Dave came in and looked at me funny. “What did you go see?” I asked, somewhat defensive. “I went and saw Napoleon Dynamite,” he said looking at me sideways. “And?” I said expecting the worst. “And I loved it!” he said laughing. Amazing. We laughed and related our favorite parts and I’d tell you mine but I don’t want to ruin it for you.
I took Samantha to lunch at El Encanto. Just beautiful out, so we sat outside ($24 biz account). Got some good marketing ideas from her. She is a natural born upseller.
Started on a “Good Saddle-Bad Saddle” scratchboard. Going to be a funny shirt whether you know the source of the saying, or not.
Finally got a haircut yesterday. Bev does a great job. Guys my age need a combo of clippers, straight razor, lawn mower and sheep shears. It’s damned embarrassing, but Bev makes it seem normal and funny and so I tip her well, as I should ($20 cash). Plus, she tells funny stories, mostly about huntin’ elk and inlaws. Both funny subjects.
“Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really need it.”
—Old Vaquero Saying
Mr. Unstoppable came in to my office yesterday and said he wanted to go see a movie and did I have any suggestions. I told him I hate most of the new movies but that I saw a real odd one but I was hesitant to recommend it to him. But, of course, I did and kicked myself the rest of the day, imagining him in a darkened theater cursing my name and spitting.
This morning Dave came in and looked at me funny. “What did you go see?” I asked, somewhat defensive. “I went and saw Napoleon Dynamite,” he said looking at me sideways. “And?” I said expecting the worst. “And I loved it!” he said laughing. Amazing. We laughed and related our favorite parts and I’d tell you mine but I don’t want to ruin it for you.
I took Samantha to lunch at El Encanto. Just beautiful out, so we sat outside ($24 biz account). Got some good marketing ideas from her. She is a natural born upseller.
Started on a “Good Saddle-Bad Saddle” scratchboard. Going to be a funny shirt whether you know the source of the saying, or not.
Finally got a haircut yesterday. Bev does a great job. Guys my age need a combo of clippers, straight razor, lawn mower and sheep shears. It’s damned embarrassing, but Bev makes it seem normal and funny and so I tip her well, as I should ($20 cash). Plus, she tells funny stories, mostly about huntin’ elk and inlaws. Both funny subjects.
“Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really need it.”
—Old Vaquero Saying
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
September 22, 2004
Special thanks to Victor Tinajero, Sherry Monihan and Allen Barra for tweaking and correcting my Tombstone movie scene. Allen had the actual shooting script, both Sherry and Victor did their corrections off the top of their heads. The power of this movie is amazing. One of my favorite questions at book signings is: “How many times have you seen the movie Tombstone?” And the answers range from “over 5,000 times” (this was Cowboy Dan Martin, he’s not kidding, and that number is at least two years old, so his total is probably even higher now. What is the new number Dan?) to “watch it every night before I go to bed” to “I just watched it before I came down to this signing.”
This morning we were meeting with Joel Klasky in the conference room and he was asking about the availability of back issues and I mentioned that one of our Doc Holliday issues recently sold for $100. As I said this I remembered we had a framed copy on the wall, behind me, and I turned and pointed at it. RG got a gleam in his eye and said, “Is that just a framed cover, or do you think there’s an issue in there?” I pulled it down, we peeked through the backing and lo and behold, we have another $100 to put in the bank! RG also took the frame for recycling. That guy wastes nothing.
At one I walked down to Dairy Queen for lunch ($4.77 cash for Ultimate burger and iced tea).
Neil Carmony caught a gaff in this issue’s Classic Gunfight. Got it changed. Had a good phone conversation with Dick Glassman in New York about newsstand distribution. He and Angelo Gandino are two old pros who together have some 60 years experience in the biz. I asked Dick about changing distributors and he had good advice—Don’t do it.
We’re also talking to a New York publishing house about a possible True West book, although there really isn’t any money in it for us (after all the production costs, etc.). So, do we go for it anyway? And try to capitalize on the exposure? Leverage it into a second book?
“Every one of us thinks we have what it takes to be successful. But when the opportunity arises, most people don’t have the courage to go for it.”
—Mark Cuban, owner of the Dallas Mavericks
Special thanks to Victor Tinajero, Sherry Monihan and Allen Barra for tweaking and correcting my Tombstone movie scene. Allen had the actual shooting script, both Sherry and Victor did their corrections off the top of their heads. The power of this movie is amazing. One of my favorite questions at book signings is: “How many times have you seen the movie Tombstone?” And the answers range from “over 5,000 times” (this was Cowboy Dan Martin, he’s not kidding, and that number is at least two years old, so his total is probably even higher now. What is the new number Dan?) to “watch it every night before I go to bed” to “I just watched it before I came down to this signing.”
This morning we were meeting with Joel Klasky in the conference room and he was asking about the availability of back issues and I mentioned that one of our Doc Holliday issues recently sold for $100. As I said this I remembered we had a framed copy on the wall, behind me, and I turned and pointed at it. RG got a gleam in his eye and said, “Is that just a framed cover, or do you think there’s an issue in there?” I pulled it down, we peeked through the backing and lo and behold, we have another $100 to put in the bank! RG also took the frame for recycling. That guy wastes nothing.
At one I walked down to Dairy Queen for lunch ($4.77 cash for Ultimate burger and iced tea).
Neil Carmony caught a gaff in this issue’s Classic Gunfight. Got it changed. Had a good phone conversation with Dick Glassman in New York about newsstand distribution. He and Angelo Gandino are two old pros who together have some 60 years experience in the biz. I asked Dick about changing distributors and he had good advice—Don’t do it.
We’re also talking to a New York publishing house about a possible True West book, although there really isn’t any money in it for us (after all the production costs, etc.). So, do we go for it anyway? And try to capitalize on the exposure? Leverage it into a second book?
“Every one of us thinks we have what it takes to be successful. But when the opportunity arises, most people don’t have the courage to go for it.”
—Mark Cuban, owner of the Dallas Mavericks
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
September 21, 2004
Went for a walk with Kathy and the dogs this morning at seven. I came back early while Kath and the dogs went running across the creek (too much exercise for me). Really nice day out. Enjoyed the quiet walk back. Just when I got back in the house, the phone rang. It was the owner of a horse ranch north of us and he said he had a red dog that had been chasing coyotes and they ganged up on him and ran him right into a cholla patch and the red dog had so many cholla in him he couldn’t move.
“Yes, that’s my dog,” I replied wearily. “He’s an idiot from Manhattan.”
Just as I went out the door, Kathy came running up with Peaches and I told her the bad news. She had heard the yelping, couldn’t find him and came home to get the truck. I drove the truck down with a tarp in the back so I could load him and not get myself covered with those sharp little pricks, but when I pulled into the barn area of the horse ranch, the ranch hands had already pulled most of the big chucks out of him. The ground was littered with cholla spines, big green chunks, scattered here and there. Of course Buddy Boze Hatkiller sees the truck, wiggles free and jumps in the front seat, his mouth riddled with little white spines, and a goofy look on his face, that says, “Hey, let’s go for a ride!” We drove him home and he’s slobbering on us and he looks like Gabby Hays with half a beard. We held him in the front seat and tried to get out the rest of the little pricks. One went right through his ear, another was buried deep in his nose and he had an entire spine cluster hanging from the roof of his mouth. Now that was a fun one to get!
Got into work at about eight. More spine removal. Heavy duty business stuff getting ready for Board of Director’s meeting. Got most of it done, or at least in line.
Took the sales staff to Carefree Conference Center. My treat.
Went over cover stories for 2005. Very ambitious and exciting. Talked to Jackie King Ellis on the phone. She was my fave model for Honkytonk Sue and she now lives in Durango, Colorado has two kids and a loving husband. She’s coming down in October and I told her we’d like to do an article on her. She is a true cowgirl, former Miss Arizona Rodeo Queen. I’ll put up a photo of her so you can take a gander.
“So what if my telephone is turned off again at home? Or my electricity is shut off? Or my credit cards canceled? If you don't bet, you don't have a chance to win. It's so silly in life not to pursue the highest possible thing you can imagine, even if you run the risk of losing it all, because if you don't pursue it you've lost it anyway. You can't be an artist and be safe.”
—Francis Ford Coppola
Went for a walk with Kathy and the dogs this morning at seven. I came back early while Kath and the dogs went running across the creek (too much exercise for me). Really nice day out. Enjoyed the quiet walk back. Just when I got back in the house, the phone rang. It was the owner of a horse ranch north of us and he said he had a red dog that had been chasing coyotes and they ganged up on him and ran him right into a cholla patch and the red dog had so many cholla in him he couldn’t move.
“Yes, that’s my dog,” I replied wearily. “He’s an idiot from Manhattan.”
Just as I went out the door, Kathy came running up with Peaches and I told her the bad news. She had heard the yelping, couldn’t find him and came home to get the truck. I drove the truck down with a tarp in the back so I could load him and not get myself covered with those sharp little pricks, but when I pulled into the barn area of the horse ranch, the ranch hands had already pulled most of the big chucks out of him. The ground was littered with cholla spines, big green chunks, scattered here and there. Of course Buddy Boze Hatkiller sees the truck, wiggles free and jumps in the front seat, his mouth riddled with little white spines, and a goofy look on his face, that says, “Hey, let’s go for a ride!” We drove him home and he’s slobbering on us and he looks like Gabby Hays with half a beard. We held him in the front seat and tried to get out the rest of the little pricks. One went right through his ear, another was buried deep in his nose and he had an entire spine cluster hanging from the roof of his mouth. Now that was a fun one to get!
Got into work at about eight. More spine removal. Heavy duty business stuff getting ready for Board of Director’s meeting. Got most of it done, or at least in line.
Took the sales staff to Carefree Conference Center. My treat.
Went over cover stories for 2005. Very ambitious and exciting. Talked to Jackie King Ellis on the phone. She was my fave model for Honkytonk Sue and she now lives in Durango, Colorado has two kids and a loving husband. She’s coming down in October and I told her we’d like to do an article on her. She is a true cowgirl, former Miss Arizona Rodeo Queen. I’ll put up a photo of her so you can take a gander.
“So what if my telephone is turned off again at home? Or my electricity is shut off? Or my credit cards canceled? If you don't bet, you don't have a chance to win. It's so silly in life not to pursue the highest possible thing you can imagine, even if you run the risk of losing it all, because if you don't pursue it you've lost it anyway. You can't be an artist and be safe.”
—Francis Ford Coppola
Monday, September 20, 2004
September 20, 2004
Someone said we got two inches of rain in Cave Creek yesterday. But just to show you how much of a drought we’ve been in, when I got home tonight I took the dogs down to the creek to see how wide Cave Creek was running and, low and behold, no puddles, no rivulets, nada. Dry as a bone. Now that’s scary.
Here’s an update on the Homos on the Range debate. This morning Deena comes out for breakfast and we’re talking about our jobs and work and all of a sudden she gets real excited and says, “I haven’t seen you since last Friday morning.” This is true. She has been running wild like a 24-year-old hellion with a new job and an almost new car. “I wanted to show the people I work with the photos of Tomcat as Napoleon Dynamite,” my wild offspring told me between bites of Special K. “So on a break I signed onto your blog and showed them and one of the people scrolled up to the top and said, “Who’s this yahoo?” And Deena says, “That’s my dad.” And everyone gathers around and looks at this page and one of them says sarcastically, “Yeh, right. Like this cowboy is your dad?” Which, granted, would be just like Deena to fool her workmates with some goony website fakery. So, just for grins, Deena scrolls down to where there is an entry that mentions her and says, “See, ‘I’m having breakfast with Deena.’” (which she was in the story and in this blog entry also) And Greg, one of the coolest and funniest guys Deena works with starts reading the blog and sees my proposed headline: “Homos On The Range?” and says, “Is he serious?” And Deena says, “Well, he wants to run that headline but I think I talked him out of it. He thinks he’s going to run it before some gay Western comes out and then Entertainment Tonight will do a report saying, ‘According to a national history magazine, True West reports there really were homosexuals in the real Old West,” and Greg goes, “He’s right! They probably will. He should run it.” And Deena is beside herself, that Greg, the hippest cat and funniest dawg in the whole department actually thinks her dad is right about anything.
Ah, I don’t care what history says, sometimes revenge is very sweet, indeed. Now, to have the actual courage to run the dang thing. Or, as Mark Cuban, owner of the Dallas Mavericks puts it, “No balls, no babies.”
And speaking of the billionaire entrepreneur, here’s his business advice: “When you are at a business meeting, look around for the fool. If you can’t spot him, you’re the fool.” Ha. Too true.
And speaking of fools on the hill, I spent all day today working on our Director’s Meeting Agenda. The principal stock holders of True West are meeting in Santa Fe this weekend and the CEO (the same guy who wants to run the word “Homos” on the cover) needs to establish the tone and direction of the meeting. Fortunately I have RG Robertson and Carole Glenn to give me the right information and numbers to actually sound like I know what I’m talking about. For instance here’s part of the report:
• Web Sales are up 173.8% over last year.
Web Sales 1-1-03 to 8-31-03: $20,568.27
Web Sales 1-1-04 to 8-31-04: $56,325.01 (includes Maniac memberships ordered online)
August Web Traffic: 30,192 hits (the first time hits have topped 30,000 in a month)
Stuff like that. Hey, maybe being totally open and honest on this blog is actually paying off. What do you think Greg?
“The biggest sin is sitting on your ass.”
—Florynce Kennedy
Someone said we got two inches of rain in Cave Creek yesterday. But just to show you how much of a drought we’ve been in, when I got home tonight I took the dogs down to the creek to see how wide Cave Creek was running and, low and behold, no puddles, no rivulets, nada. Dry as a bone. Now that’s scary.
Here’s an update on the Homos on the Range debate. This morning Deena comes out for breakfast and we’re talking about our jobs and work and all of a sudden she gets real excited and says, “I haven’t seen you since last Friday morning.” This is true. She has been running wild like a 24-year-old hellion with a new job and an almost new car. “I wanted to show the people I work with the photos of Tomcat as Napoleon Dynamite,” my wild offspring told me between bites of Special K. “So on a break I signed onto your blog and showed them and one of the people scrolled up to the top and said, “Who’s this yahoo?” And Deena says, “That’s my dad.” And everyone gathers around and looks at this page and one of them says sarcastically, “Yeh, right. Like this cowboy is your dad?” Which, granted, would be just like Deena to fool her workmates with some goony website fakery. So, just for grins, Deena scrolls down to where there is an entry that mentions her and says, “See, ‘I’m having breakfast with Deena.’” (which she was in the story and in this blog entry also) And Greg, one of the coolest and funniest guys Deena works with starts reading the blog and sees my proposed headline: “Homos On The Range?” and says, “Is he serious?” And Deena says, “Well, he wants to run that headline but I think I talked him out of it. He thinks he’s going to run it before some gay Western comes out and then Entertainment Tonight will do a report saying, ‘According to a national history magazine, True West reports there really were homosexuals in the real Old West,” and Greg goes, “He’s right! They probably will. He should run it.” And Deena is beside herself, that Greg, the hippest cat and funniest dawg in the whole department actually thinks her dad is right about anything.
Ah, I don’t care what history says, sometimes revenge is very sweet, indeed. Now, to have the actual courage to run the dang thing. Or, as Mark Cuban, owner of the Dallas Mavericks puts it, “No balls, no babies.”
And speaking of the billionaire entrepreneur, here’s his business advice: “When you are at a business meeting, look around for the fool. If you can’t spot him, you’re the fool.” Ha. Too true.
And speaking of fools on the hill, I spent all day today working on our Director’s Meeting Agenda. The principal stock holders of True West are meeting in Santa Fe this weekend and the CEO (the same guy who wants to run the word “Homos” on the cover) needs to establish the tone and direction of the meeting. Fortunately I have RG Robertson and Carole Glenn to give me the right information and numbers to actually sound like I know what I’m talking about. For instance here’s part of the report:
• Web Sales are up 173.8% over last year.
Web Sales 1-1-03 to 8-31-03: $20,568.27
Web Sales 1-1-04 to 8-31-04: $56,325.01 (includes Maniac memberships ordered online)
August Web Traffic: 30,192 hits (the first time hits have topped 30,000 in a month)
Stuff like that. Hey, maybe being totally open and honest on this blog is actually paying off. What do you think Greg?
“The biggest sin is sitting on your ass.”
—Florynce Kennedy
Sunday, September 19, 2004
September19, 2004
Big storm blew in during the night. Hurricane Javier, someone said. Rained and rained. all day. Can’t remember the last time it rained this much on the desert. Power went out twice, the second time for about an hour. No water. No electricity. A fighter jet flew over the Seven Sisters at about five hundred feet, big sound wave behind it. Of course I imagined that Hoover Dam had been car bombed and that’s the reason our power was out. Catastrophe everywhere. Imagined the worst.
At four the power came back on and went back to work. Need to get the shooting script for Tombstone for the killing of Marshal White by Curly Bill for this month’s Classic Gunfights. We are going to need extra pages because the November-December issue is going to be so big, so I’m thinking of adding a page or two for this. Here’s my take (if you have the script to Tombstone and I’m miss-hearing something please let me know:
Did Hollywood Ever Get It Right?
Tombstone
Scene 11 (on DVD) “Law Dog”
Scene opens inside a Tombstone opium den (actually a tent). Curly Bill (Powers Booth) staggers to his feet as he says:
“Oh yeah.” [he’s obviously stoned]
Slowly stumbling out into the nighttime street, Curly Bill exclaims:
“Oh, I feel great.” [beat] “I feel Capital!”
Curly looks at his hands and sees hallucinating traces of shadows and is mesmerized for a moment or two until he looks across the street and sees something that makes him very unhappy. Pulling both his revolvers he shoots into the shadows. Laughing he turns and shoots out a window. A woman screams. He shoots a street lamp, bursting the glass, then takes aim at a horseman riding by and at a pedestrian. He begins laughing demonically.
Sherif Behan (actor’s name?) with Josephine Marcus (Dana Delany) behind him, walks into the Oriental Saloon:
Behan: “What’s going on in the street? Somebody’s got to do something.”
John Clum (actor’s name?): “Well, I believe you’re the sheriff.”
Behan: “No. No, this is not the county. This is a town matter, marshal.”
Behan looks at Marshal White (Harry Carey, Jr.) and White looks down sheepishly.
Wyatt Earp (Kurt Russell) is dealing faro and takes a sip of coffee: “Why don’t you just leave it alone?”
Marshal Fred White: “No. No, I gotta do something.”
Wyatt goes back to dealing faro: “Here’s your down card.”
Out in the deserted street, Curly Bill continues firing [just for fun, I counted the number of shots Curly fires in this entire sequence and although he has two pistols he fires somewhere between 21 and 24 shots without reloading). Now Curly sees the moon and begins to howl. He aims up at the celestial body and begins firing at it.
Marshal White: “Curly Bill! Come on now.”
Curly Bill turns with both pistols at full cock. White steps out in the street with his own pistol drawn, pointing it at the cow-boy captain:
Curly Bill: “Well, hello Fred.”
Marshal White: “Hand those over, Curly. Hand ‘em over.”
Curly Bill: “Why sure, dad. I’m only funnin’. [he steps forward with both pistols in front of him, butt first].” Here you go.”
Just as White grabs ahold of the pistol in Curly Bill’s left hand, Brocius pulls a border roll and shoots the marshal in the heart with the pistol in his right hand. Stunned and dying, smoke billowing off him, White collapses in the street. Curly Bill steps around the prone marshal:
Curly Bill: “Fred! Oh, Fred!”
Wyatt Earp comes up from behind and cold cocks Curly Bill with the butt of his pistol. A townsperson can be heard in the background: “He got Fred White!” Other voices join in: “He shot the marshal!” “They killed him!”
Wyatt: “Better get him off the street.” [meaning White]
Another townsperson: “Git a rope! String him up!”
Wyatt: “Nobody’s hangin’ anybody.”
“He just killed a man!”
Wyatt: “Move!” [Wyatt continues to hold Curly Bill by the scruff of his neck.]
Coming up the street we see a group of cowboys: “Turn ‘im loose!”
It’s Ike Clanton, his brother Billy and others: “He said turn loose of him.”
Wyatt: “I’ll not! So go home!”
Ike Clanton [stepping up close[: “I swear to God Lawdog, if you don’t step aside we’ll tear you apart.”
Wyatt cocks his pistol and aims it a Ike’s forehead: “You die first, get it? Your friends may get me first, but not before I make your head into a canoe. You understand me?”
One of the cowboys: “He’s bluffin’. Let’s rush him!”
Ike [petrified]: “No! He’s not!”
Wyatt: “Now tell ‘em to get back.”
Ike: “Go on., Git back! Go on Billy! He’ll kill me!”
Doc Holliday (Val Kilmer) swaggers off the boardwalk and enters the fray holding a pistol: “And you Music Man [aiming at Billy Clanton], you’re next.”
Billy Clanton (actor’s name): “It’s the drunk piano player. You’re so drunk you can’t hit nothin’. In fact, you’re probably seein’ double.”
Pulling a second pistol, Doc says: “I have two guns. One for each of you.”
A shotgun is fired and we see Virgil (Sam Elliott) running to the scene: “Break it up. Go home!”
With the tables turned, the cowboys begin a slow retreat. Wyatt pushes Ike off with the barrel of his gun. Ike backs away snarling: “I’ll see you soon. I’ll see you soon. We’ll meet again.”
Cut to: Johnny Behan and Josie watching from the sidewalk. Behan smiles and says to his lover: “Well as you see, never a dull moment.”
"The only way to succeed is to make people hate you."
—Old Navajo sayingr
Big storm blew in during the night. Hurricane Javier, someone said. Rained and rained. all day. Can’t remember the last time it rained this much on the desert. Power went out twice, the second time for about an hour. No water. No electricity. A fighter jet flew over the Seven Sisters at about five hundred feet, big sound wave behind it. Of course I imagined that Hoover Dam had been car bombed and that’s the reason our power was out. Catastrophe everywhere. Imagined the worst.
At four the power came back on and went back to work. Need to get the shooting script for Tombstone for the killing of Marshal White by Curly Bill for this month’s Classic Gunfights. We are going to need extra pages because the November-December issue is going to be so big, so I’m thinking of adding a page or two for this. Here’s my take (if you have the script to Tombstone and I’m miss-hearing something please let me know:
Did Hollywood Ever Get It Right?
Tombstone
Scene 11 (on DVD) “Law Dog”
Scene opens inside a Tombstone opium den (actually a tent). Curly Bill (Powers Booth) staggers to his feet as he says:
“Oh yeah.” [he’s obviously stoned]
Slowly stumbling out into the nighttime street, Curly Bill exclaims:
“Oh, I feel great.” [beat] “I feel Capital!”
Curly looks at his hands and sees hallucinating traces of shadows and is mesmerized for a moment or two until he looks across the street and sees something that makes him very unhappy. Pulling both his revolvers he shoots into the shadows. Laughing he turns and shoots out a window. A woman screams. He shoots a street lamp, bursting the glass, then takes aim at a horseman riding by and at a pedestrian. He begins laughing demonically.
Sherif Behan (actor’s name?) with Josephine Marcus (Dana Delany) behind him, walks into the Oriental Saloon:
Behan: “What’s going on in the street? Somebody’s got to do something.”
John Clum (actor’s name?): “Well, I believe you’re the sheriff.”
Behan: “No. No, this is not the county. This is a town matter, marshal.”
Behan looks at Marshal White (Harry Carey, Jr.) and White looks down sheepishly.
Wyatt Earp (Kurt Russell) is dealing faro and takes a sip of coffee: “Why don’t you just leave it alone?”
Marshal Fred White: “No. No, I gotta do something.”
Wyatt goes back to dealing faro: “Here’s your down card.”
Out in the deserted street, Curly Bill continues firing [just for fun, I counted the number of shots Curly fires in this entire sequence and although he has two pistols he fires somewhere between 21 and 24 shots without reloading). Now Curly sees the moon and begins to howl. He aims up at the celestial body and begins firing at it.
Marshal White: “Curly Bill! Come on now.”
Curly Bill turns with both pistols at full cock. White steps out in the street with his own pistol drawn, pointing it at the cow-boy captain:
Curly Bill: “Well, hello Fred.”
Marshal White: “Hand those over, Curly. Hand ‘em over.”
Curly Bill: “Why sure, dad. I’m only funnin’. [he steps forward with both pistols in front of him, butt first].” Here you go.”
Just as White grabs ahold of the pistol in Curly Bill’s left hand, Brocius pulls a border roll and shoots the marshal in the heart with the pistol in his right hand. Stunned and dying, smoke billowing off him, White collapses in the street. Curly Bill steps around the prone marshal:
Curly Bill: “Fred! Oh, Fred!”
Wyatt Earp comes up from behind and cold cocks Curly Bill with the butt of his pistol. A townsperson can be heard in the background: “He got Fred White!” Other voices join in: “He shot the marshal!” “They killed him!”
Wyatt: “Better get him off the street.” [meaning White]
Another townsperson: “Git a rope! String him up!”
Wyatt: “Nobody’s hangin’ anybody.”
“He just killed a man!”
Wyatt: “Move!” [Wyatt continues to hold Curly Bill by the scruff of his neck.]
Coming up the street we see a group of cowboys: “Turn ‘im loose!”
It’s Ike Clanton, his brother Billy and others: “He said turn loose of him.”
Wyatt: “I’ll not! So go home!”
Ike Clanton [stepping up close[: “I swear to God Lawdog, if you don’t step aside we’ll tear you apart.”
Wyatt cocks his pistol and aims it a Ike’s forehead: “You die first, get it? Your friends may get me first, but not before I make your head into a canoe. You understand me?”
One of the cowboys: “He’s bluffin’. Let’s rush him!”
Ike [petrified]: “No! He’s not!”
Wyatt: “Now tell ‘em to get back.”
Ike: “Go on., Git back! Go on Billy! He’ll kill me!”
Doc Holliday (Val Kilmer) swaggers off the boardwalk and enters the fray holding a pistol: “And you Music Man [aiming at Billy Clanton], you’re next.”
Billy Clanton (actor’s name): “It’s the drunk piano player. You’re so drunk you can’t hit nothin’. In fact, you’re probably seein’ double.”
Pulling a second pistol, Doc says: “I have two guns. One for each of you.”
A shotgun is fired and we see Virgil (Sam Elliott) running to the scene: “Break it up. Go home!”
With the tables turned, the cowboys begin a slow retreat. Wyatt pushes Ike off with the barrel of his gun. Ike backs away snarling: “I’ll see you soon. I’ll see you soon. We’ll meet again.”
Cut to: Johnny Behan and Josie watching from the sidewalk. Behan smiles and says to his lover: “Well as you see, never a dull moment.”
"The only way to succeed is to make people hate you."
—Old Navajo sayingr
Saturday, September 18, 2004
September 18, 2004
Big monsoon blew in around 5:30 tonight. Heavy winds. Finally got some rain at about 6:15. Nice and cool out at dusk. Unfortunately got a leak in my studio. Put a waste paper basket over the drip. Sounds like a water balloon hitting every five seconds.
Took Peaches to the vet this morning. They beat me up pretty good about not bringing her in since 2001. Does she have her shots? (No, that was $117), does she have her new license? (Is there a driver’s test? I think she’d pass.), does she have a tracking electrode between her shoulder blades? (Holy guacamole! Did George Orwell take over the vet biz while I was on deadline?). What’s next? E-mail in their stools? (Yes, they sent home a stool sample gizmo, but with no html I can find, so far).
Took Kathy down to Bell Ford (no relation) at about 11 to pick up her car. Freeway hell. No southbound onramp at I-17 (closed, no warning), ended up going north to Deer Valley, then south, snaking along 27th Avenue with a ton of other people. Added another 20 minutes to the trip. Stopped at Aaron Brothers on the way home and bought some more watercolor board, gouache paints, mixing dish and brush ($87, TW account). Came home and worked on several paintings. One of the Northfield robbers riding out of town under a storm cloud. Also worked on a Mickey Free image. I think we ware going to post that one real soon, if not today.
Swam 10 passes, took a nap, went back at it and worked until around five. Had some red mole that Brad Radina made. Quite good. Opened a bottle of Coppola cabernet wine (yes, from the film director Francis Ford’s winery. Quite dry and good). Had two glasses, sat out on the patio and enjoyed the rain.
Tomcat is coming down tonight from Flag. They’ve been at the Grand Canyon and are supposed to roll in at about nine. I got T’s Strokes poster framed in Scottsdale and they’re supposed to deliver it in the morning so he can take it back up the hill.
Mr. Unstoppable came into my office earlier this week and was limping. When I asked Dave Daiss why, he told me one of his horses kicked him in the shin and he had to go to the hospital for stitches. I really felt sorry for him. First cancer, now this. I asked him why the horse kicked him and Dave said, “Because I kicked him first!” I both laughed. Dave is such a kid.
“Every writer is a frustrated actor who recites his lines in the hidden auditorium of his skull.”
—Rod Serling>
Big monsoon blew in around 5:30 tonight. Heavy winds. Finally got some rain at about 6:15. Nice and cool out at dusk. Unfortunately got a leak in my studio. Put a waste paper basket over the drip. Sounds like a water balloon hitting every five seconds.
Took Peaches to the vet this morning. They beat me up pretty good about not bringing her in since 2001. Does she have her shots? (No, that was $117), does she have her new license? (Is there a driver’s test? I think she’d pass.), does she have a tracking electrode between her shoulder blades? (Holy guacamole! Did George Orwell take over the vet biz while I was on deadline?). What’s next? E-mail in their stools? (Yes, they sent home a stool sample gizmo, but with no html I can find, so far).
Took Kathy down to Bell Ford (no relation) at about 11 to pick up her car. Freeway hell. No southbound onramp at I-17 (closed, no warning), ended up going north to Deer Valley, then south, snaking along 27th Avenue with a ton of other people. Added another 20 minutes to the trip. Stopped at Aaron Brothers on the way home and bought some more watercolor board, gouache paints, mixing dish and brush ($87, TW account). Came home and worked on several paintings. One of the Northfield robbers riding out of town under a storm cloud. Also worked on a Mickey Free image. I think we ware going to post that one real soon, if not today.
Swam 10 passes, took a nap, went back at it and worked until around five. Had some red mole that Brad Radina made. Quite good. Opened a bottle of Coppola cabernet wine (yes, from the film director Francis Ford’s winery. Quite dry and good). Had two glasses, sat out on the patio and enjoyed the rain.
Tomcat is coming down tonight from Flag. They’ve been at the Grand Canyon and are supposed to roll in at about nine. I got T’s Strokes poster framed in Scottsdale and they’re supposed to deliver it in the morning so he can take it back up the hill.
Mr. Unstoppable came into my office earlier this week and was limping. When I asked Dave Daiss why, he told me one of his horses kicked him in the shin and he had to go to the hospital for stitches. I really felt sorry for him. First cancer, now this. I asked him why the horse kicked him and Dave said, “Because I kicked him first!” I both laughed. Dave is such a kid.
“Every writer is a frustrated actor who recites his lines in the hidden auditorium of his skull.”
—Rod Serling>
Friday, September 17, 2004
September 17, 2004
Our sales staff has really kicked it in and we are getting set to publish the biggest and boldest Holiday issue we have ever done. Can’t say enough about Mike, Sue, Crystal and Julie. They are working strong as a team and it shows.
Also, my production people came through and did a series of movie posters that tickle me to no end. Illustrating Allen Barra’s “The Ten Greatest Westerns Never Made” Robert took three, assigned two to Gus and Abby and Dan Harshberger did one and I’ve got to tell you, they are all believable as movie posters. We all went to lunch today at Satisfied Frog and laughed about it ($11 cash, chicken caesar salad and iced tea). Robert thinks the Elfego Baca poster is the one most likely to be made into a real movie. He’s right (very strong story and amazing that Hollywood has missed it all these years). Afterwards, Gus, Robert and I dropped by the Cave Creek Museum to see the display on a certain Cave Creek cartoonist. Funny to see ones-self in a museum. Ha.
Samantha took a call from a guy who wanted to buy the Doc Holliday issue from two years ago (it says sold out on our ads but he wanted to know if we had found any). Samantha told him that we had, in fact, found two in the warehouse and were about to put them on e-bay for bid. He said he’d pay $100 for the privilege of having one and Sam said, “Sold.” Amazing. Just amazing. For a back issue!
Wrote up my editorial for the November-December issue and laid in artwork of Curly Bill Brocius, including a new illustration of Powers Booth as Curly. Gus also placed a few images in the CGII book. Can’t wait to show you some of those.
At five, Carole drove me up to Kathy’s office. She got in a fender bender in the parking lot of Bashas’ and the bender guy drove her car down into Phoenix to get it fixed. We got some groceries at Bashas’ ($78 house account) and brought it down to True West to eat supper (Iowa term) and Robert Ray was still in the office working (6:40 p.m.). Gave him part of a Corona and a lime, while Kathy and I ate in the conference room. Got the call that the car won’t be done until morning and took off for home. I’ve got lots of photos to show you, including the Northfield raid, the Northfield newskids, my latest painting of Mickey Free and those fabulous Iowa Rock ‘N’ Roll hall of famers the “Guys With the Pizza Advertisement On Their Drums!”
“The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits.”
—Old Vaquero Saying
?
Our sales staff has really kicked it in and we are getting set to publish the biggest and boldest Holiday issue we have ever done. Can’t say enough about Mike, Sue, Crystal and Julie. They are working strong as a team and it shows.
Also, my production people came through and did a series of movie posters that tickle me to no end. Illustrating Allen Barra’s “The Ten Greatest Westerns Never Made” Robert took three, assigned two to Gus and Abby and Dan Harshberger did one and I’ve got to tell you, they are all believable as movie posters. We all went to lunch today at Satisfied Frog and laughed about it ($11 cash, chicken caesar salad and iced tea). Robert thinks the Elfego Baca poster is the one most likely to be made into a real movie. He’s right (very strong story and amazing that Hollywood has missed it all these years). Afterwards, Gus, Robert and I dropped by the Cave Creek Museum to see the display on a certain Cave Creek cartoonist. Funny to see ones-self in a museum. Ha.
Samantha took a call from a guy who wanted to buy the Doc Holliday issue from two years ago (it says sold out on our ads but he wanted to know if we had found any). Samantha told him that we had, in fact, found two in the warehouse and were about to put them on e-bay for bid. He said he’d pay $100 for the privilege of having one and Sam said, “Sold.” Amazing. Just amazing. For a back issue!
Wrote up my editorial for the November-December issue and laid in artwork of Curly Bill Brocius, including a new illustration of Powers Booth as Curly. Gus also placed a few images in the CGII book. Can’t wait to show you some of those.
At five, Carole drove me up to Kathy’s office. She got in a fender bender in the parking lot of Bashas’ and the bender guy drove her car down into Phoenix to get it fixed. We got some groceries at Bashas’ ($78 house account) and brought it down to True West to eat supper (Iowa term) and Robert Ray was still in the office working (6:40 p.m.). Gave him part of a Corona and a lime, while Kathy and I ate in the conference room. Got the call that the car won’t be done until morning and took off for home. I’ve got lots of photos to show you, including the Northfield raid, the Northfield newskids, my latest painting of Mickey Free and those fabulous Iowa Rock ‘N’ Roll hall of famers the “Guys With the Pizza Advertisement On Their Drums!”
“The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits.”
—Old Vaquero Saying
?
Thursday, September 16, 2004
September 16, 2004
When we were in Lake Okoboji last Sunday, Minnesota Mike insisted on stopping at the Iowa Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame. The building is on the grounds at Arnold’s Park, a legendary theme park that has been around so long I even went to it as a little kid. Melrose was just beside himself when he saw the sign. “Who are they going to have in there besides Tommy Bolin?” he kept yelling like a little kid in a car outside a theme park. After lunch with my cousin Mike and his wife Ann at Maid-Rite ($31.80 cash, I bought) I went down the street to get some gas and Mike started jumping up and down in his seat: “Don’t forget the Iowa Hall of Fame! We have to go there Uncle Bob! You’re going the wrong way, the wrong way! It’s over there!!” When we finally went inside ($1 per person admission fee, Mike paid), he wasn’t disappointed. In addition to Tommy Bolin, who actually played in Deep Purple, and the obligatory crash site newspaper articles on the death of Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper after their Clear Lake-Surf Ballroom appearance, there were photos of, well, all the people who have actually played Iowa, or perhaps driven through at some point, like Bruce Springsteen and Elton John. The part I loved was all of the photos of the small-time bands that labored up and down the farm grids in the fifties and sixties, like “The Beach-niks,” and “The Echo’s Five,” and “The Fabulous Flippers” and a group with the unlikely name of “Al, Larry & The New Untouchables Sponsored by George’s Gourmet Pizza” (I swear this is the name on the base drum!). The latter’s photo is just fantastic and I’ll get it posted up here ASAP, because you have to see this Cedar Rapids sextet (I paid $5 for the program with their photo in it just so I could show you).
Speaking of genius names, I’ve been learning quite a bit about “Branding” from the book Wonderful Russ gave me. I finally finished it last night. Here’s an example from the book Becoming A Category of One. The author, Joe Callaway interviewed a honcho from a company that dominates the tractor biz. Here’s what the guy has to say:
“We are in a niche business. If you look at our customer segmentation, they all have something in common, and that’s what makes us unique. They all have a desire for a particular lifestyle. We help enable that lifestyle. We enable that lifestyle through an eclectic collection of products. When I go out and talk about Tractor Supply, I say that you can find everything in our store somewhere else, but you can’t go anywhere else and find everything in our store. It’s this unique, eclectic collection of products that enables people with a common lifestyle, a rural lifestyle, to have fulfillment and enjoyment of that lifestyle, and to live life on their own terms.”
“In America, you have fads, which can turn into trends, which can turn into hobbies, which can turn into lifestyles. As a brand, you want to be serving a lifestyle. You can’t have a sustainable brand around a fad. Our emotional connection with our customers is built around that lifestyle.”
“We want to remove price as an obstacle to shopping. We just don’t want it to be an issue. We want to build the trust that we’re going to have fair, everyday low prices.”
—Blake Bohl, Vice President of marketing and advertising for Tractor Supply
Finished Classic Gunfights this morning and passed it in to Meghan. She had some excellent edit suggestions to make it read like English. Also called a key person at HBO’s Deadwood series. They are filming the second season even as you read this and I may go over in November and do a cover story on them. Kind of exciting.
Actor Bruce Boxleitner just became a True West Maniac. We are up over 700 on the membership list. If you want to get in on the lifetime subscription part of it you’d better hurry. When we hit 1,000 it goes away forever.
“What you get is a living—what you give is a life.”
—Lillian Gish
When we were in Lake Okoboji last Sunday, Minnesota Mike insisted on stopping at the Iowa Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame. The building is on the grounds at Arnold’s Park, a legendary theme park that has been around so long I even went to it as a little kid. Melrose was just beside himself when he saw the sign. “Who are they going to have in there besides Tommy Bolin?” he kept yelling like a little kid in a car outside a theme park. After lunch with my cousin Mike and his wife Ann at Maid-Rite ($31.80 cash, I bought) I went down the street to get some gas and Mike started jumping up and down in his seat: “Don’t forget the Iowa Hall of Fame! We have to go there Uncle Bob! You’re going the wrong way, the wrong way! It’s over there!!” When we finally went inside ($1 per person admission fee, Mike paid), he wasn’t disappointed. In addition to Tommy Bolin, who actually played in Deep Purple, and the obligatory crash site newspaper articles on the death of Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper after their Clear Lake-Surf Ballroom appearance, there were photos of, well, all the people who have actually played Iowa, or perhaps driven through at some point, like Bruce Springsteen and Elton John. The part I loved was all of the photos of the small-time bands that labored up and down the farm grids in the fifties and sixties, like “The Beach-niks,” and “The Echo’s Five,” and “The Fabulous Flippers” and a group with the unlikely name of “Al, Larry & The New Untouchables Sponsored by George’s Gourmet Pizza” (I swear this is the name on the base drum!). The latter’s photo is just fantastic and I’ll get it posted up here ASAP, because you have to see this Cedar Rapids sextet (I paid $5 for the program with their photo in it just so I could show you).
Speaking of genius names, I’ve been learning quite a bit about “Branding” from the book Wonderful Russ gave me. I finally finished it last night. Here’s an example from the book Becoming A Category of One. The author, Joe Callaway interviewed a honcho from a company that dominates the tractor biz. Here’s what the guy has to say:
“We are in a niche business. If you look at our customer segmentation, they all have something in common, and that’s what makes us unique. They all have a desire for a particular lifestyle. We help enable that lifestyle. We enable that lifestyle through an eclectic collection of products. When I go out and talk about Tractor Supply, I say that you can find everything in our store somewhere else, but you can’t go anywhere else and find everything in our store. It’s this unique, eclectic collection of products that enables people with a common lifestyle, a rural lifestyle, to have fulfillment and enjoyment of that lifestyle, and to live life on their own terms.”
“In America, you have fads, which can turn into trends, which can turn into hobbies, which can turn into lifestyles. As a brand, you want to be serving a lifestyle. You can’t have a sustainable brand around a fad. Our emotional connection with our customers is built around that lifestyle.”
“We want to remove price as an obstacle to shopping. We just don’t want it to be an issue. We want to build the trust that we’re going to have fair, everyday low prices.”
—Blake Bohl, Vice President of marketing and advertising for Tractor Supply
Finished Classic Gunfights this morning and passed it in to Meghan. She had some excellent edit suggestions to make it read like English. Also called a key person at HBO’s Deadwood series. They are filming the second season even as you read this and I may go over in November and do a cover story on them. Kind of exciting.
Actor Bruce Boxleitner just became a True West Maniac. We are up over 700 on the membership list. If you want to get in on the lifetime subscription part of it you’d better hurry. When we hit 1,000 it goes away forever.
“What you get is a living—what you give is a life.”
—Lillian Gish
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