From The Exits to The Odyssey

October 16, 2014
   When I was in Ruidoso for the Lincoln County Cowboy Symposium I ran int this cutie:

 
Belinda Gail and her new album Granite Mountain. Photo taken at Williamson Valley, north of Prescott. She is a real talented sweetie.



   This morning I finished a little study, which I gifted to a friend:



 
Daily Whipout: "Billy In Sunset"

A Celebration of Charlie Waters' Life, Part III
   It was Charlie Waters and I who put together one of the first rock bands in Kingman, The Exits. This was in early 1963, when we were in high school at Mohave County Union High School. We were walking out of Civics Class in the new building, arguing about a good band name when Bugs said, pointing at the Exit sign at the end of the hall, "Why don't we call ourselves the Exits because when people hear us, that's where they'll go."

   And so, the Exits we became. Our first band job is something of a controversy: by Charlie's telling, our first gig was at the old Elks Hall and we made $5 a piece. In my telling, our first gig was at the American Legion. We rented the hall ($15) and charged fifty cents a person and we made $22 a piece. I think Charlie liked the more humble version. Anyway, in the book "The 66 Kid" I went with his version, because a. he edited my book and I didn't want to piss him off, and b. he may have been right.



The original lineup: Wayne Rutschman on sax, Charlie Waters on rhythm guitar, BBB and Wendell Havatone on lead guitar and vocals. This photo was taken at the old Girl's Gym at the high school. My King drumset was purchased out of Montgomery Wards for $117, if memory serves me right. Also notice the lack of amps. I think we had just one, for two guitars. Here's Charlie singing lead in his no nonsense manner (Charlie was dead set against "showmanship" that involved steps, and especially smiling):



 
Charlie Waters rocks out.



 
The Exits with matching shirts, except for the "rebel" drummer.

   We played all over Mohave County for about five years. Here we are at a USO show out in the boonies beyond Yucca, Arizona: The end came when we got to college. A frat brother, Bill McClellan, got us a gig at The Body Shoppe, a strip club outside the main gate of Davis-Monthan Air Base in Tucson. After a week of playing three nights a week from 9 to midnite, the mid-term grades came out and Charlie was flunking out. His dad found out about the nefarious band gig (Charlie's sis, Sarah ratted him out) and had a cow, forcing Charlie to ship home his guitar and amp via Greyhound. Me, I stayed in the band and barely passed Humanities with a D (F being failing). I remember reading Homer's "The Odyssy" backstage when one of the more popular strippers, "Big D" (as in D-cup) walked by with her tassles dangling in my face. "What 'cha reading, Honey?" she said. I demurred, somewhat embarrassed to name drop such a classic, but I finally told her. She replied, "Oh, yeh, I read that in Classic Comics." I fell in love right there. Unfortunately, her husband came in a couple nights later and took a claw hammer to a customer who was flirtng with her and I gave up my infatuation with Big D.

"Some of my friends yeah they been in a little trouble, some say I'm no better than the rest, so tell your mama and your papa, sometimes good guys don't wear white."
—The Standells

A Saucy Senorita And A Hot Bowl Of New Mexican Green Chile

October 15, 2014
   Several years ago I did a "Graphic Cinema" on Billy the Kid seeking out a saucy querida and a hot bowl of green chile on a cold New Mexico morning. The sequence included these scenes:

Daily Whipout: "Billy Leaves Las Chosas As Another Storm Moves In"

   After making a feint towards Lincoln, the Kid suddenly veers off. . .

Daily Whipout: "Billy Tops The Pass"

Daily Whipout: "Billy Goes Cross Country"

Daily Whipout, "Hunkered Down"

Daily Whipout, "Almost Home"

Daily Whipout, "Hearth & Home"

   The rest of the story is R-rated. You can own any of these scenes as art prints. Just go to bobbozebell.net.

"Funny how far an outlaw will go for green chile."
—Old Vaquero Saying

Guess Who?

October 14, 2014
    My grandfather, Bob Guess, was born in 1888, on Crow Flat in New Mexico, under the shadow of the Guadalupes. The closest town was Weed, so that's where his birth certificate was filed. This is an alleged photo of him as a young cowboy. He died the year before I was born and I am named for him.



Bob Guess, somewhere in New Mexico



Celebrating The Life of Charlie Waters
   We met in the third grade when my family moved out to Kingman from Iowa for the last time in 1956.

 
Boze & Bugs, fifth grade Palo Christy Grammar School, 1959

   We were both precocious talkers and spent most of the fifth grade by the teacher's desk. Mrs. Klotch had a meritocracy system with everyone in the class seated in order of our grades. Consequently, the right hand row was almost exclusively girls. The only guy who ever penetrated the first row was Charlie Waters. He was a very smart boy. I was stuck in the middle of the second row (unless I was seated next to the teacher, which was often). The number that describes my position best is 86. A little above average, but not by much. Charlie was a 92 kind of guy, who got sucked down to 86 from hanging out with me. Notice the "Pachuko" curl he is affecting in the above photo.

   After fifth grade, Charlie's mom, Martha, insisted that we never be in the same class and on registration day she would be there to make sure of it. I never saw the guy again until high school. Ha. Not totally true, because the school and the town were both very small, but is it any wonder we would end up to be best friends?

   Oh, and Martha taught me to eat with a fork, but that's another story.

"Nothing is more dangerous than a man who thinks he's already dead."
—Old Vaquero Saying

How to Handle Another Alleged Photo of Billy the Kid

October 13, 2014

 First day back in the office. Buried, but digging out. Got this zany piece from Gary Cozzens:



Also, here is an excellent tribute for my best friend:

My Mentor Is Dead

"I'm not trying to leave a pretty corpse."
—Charlie Waters

It's Just Like Me to Say to You

October 12, 2014
   Just before Charlie Waters passed he reminded me that his favorite Paul Revere and The Raiders song was "Just Like Me" and he wanted it played at his funeral. When I got home from NM today I was catching up on the news and saw that Paul Revere died a couple days before Charlie. Here are the two of them. The photo hangs in my studio:



The legendary Paul Revere and Charles Richard Waters, known in some circles as Charles Juarez Way.

"But it's just like you
To say goodbye
And leave me all
Alone at night, to cry. . ."
—Paul Revere, "Just Like Me"

The Song List

October 12, 2014
   Took off from Ruidoso this morning at six. Very quiet and still out for the first hour and as I drove out across the Bingham Plains I dialed up Rhapsody and played a few tunes, and eventually, one really got me: "Springsteen" by Eric Church. I have been with crowds of people for the last 12 days and this was the first time I had really been alone with my thoughts. The line that got me was the refrain, "Funny how a melody sounds just like a memory, like a soundtrack to a July Saturday night. . ." which took me right back to the Exits and being in a band with Charlie. I drove the rest of the way to Socorro with quite a few tears blurring my vision. Loved that guy.

   After a ten hour run, got home and immediately went out to the studio and typed up my notes from Henderson last Tuesday night when I saw Charlie for the last time. Here is the song list as I wrote it down:

   At the top it says, "Music was an important part of Charlie's and Linda's life. . .": and I believe that is a direct quote from Charlie giving us the wording he wanted.

"Amarillo by Morning" (first song he and Linda danced to on the night they met)

"Nowhere Man" by The Beatles

"Michelle" by The Beatles

" Just Like Me" Paul Revere and The Raiders

"Good Guys Don't Wear White" by the Standells

"Gloria" [medley, not sure what else would be in here, but it seemed like his brother Johnny had a handle on this]

"House of The Rising Sun" by The Animals

"Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond

"If You Get There Before I Do" by Colin Raye

"My Girl" by The Temptations

"Jennie, Jennie" and "Jolene" (although I think Charlie nixed this because he said he didn't want to embarrass his daughters Jennie and Jolynn?)

"Stagger Lee" and "Kansas City" medley

"Shouldah Been A Cowboy"  by Toby Keith

"When I think of you, I think about seventeen. . .I was singing to you and you were singing to me, I was so alive, never been so free. . ."
—Eric Church, "Springsteen"

Last Day In New Mexico

October 11, 2014
   It's been an incredible experience and it's coming to an end today. Here are some of the highlights of my artist in residency in Lincoln, New Mexico for the past ten days:


BBB, Gary Cozzens and the park rangers listen to Frederick Nolan (left) go over his proposed historian in residence article. This is in the Gallegos House where I had my office. Yes, that is the two foot bronze of "Billy the Kid" which I produced with Bronzesmith in Prescott Valley.

   When I got the news that my best friend Charlie Waters was fading fast, I took my leave on Tuesday morning and drove to Albuquerque, where I hopped on a Southwest flight and flew to Las Vegas to see Charlie one last time. It was very touching and yet brutal (he was in so much pain, when I heard he had passed late the next day I was actually relieved and happy for him). I then hopped on a return flight to New Mexico, ran to my car and drove straight through to Lincoln without stopping in order to make it back to a speech I had in the old Lincoln church.


The packed church in Lincoln, New Mexico as I'm being introduced by Gary Cozzens.

   I stayed at the Ellis Store which is a B&B. There I met this gentleman who is writing a book on Jimmy Dolan and Murphy. We think of them as being evil because they are in opposition to the Kid and his faction of McSween-Tunstall, but, as you might guess there are some new things to be learned about both men. As a tease, I learned that Jimmy was five foot two and he was in Sherman's March to the sea campaign, which must have steeled him for his encounters in New Mexico



Breaking bread (and breakfast) with author and researcher Chuck Usmar at the Ellis Store

While in Lincoln I got to visit Nora Henn's vast library which is being catalogued in her home outside town. In the main library is this photo:



Nora and Walter Henn in their younger days. Both were quite influential in my research of the Kid. And when I was in Lincoln in the early nineties I spent some time at their house talking about all things Billy. It was Nora who told me after my first edition of Billy the Kid came out in 1992, that it's not right to make jokes about history and not let the reader in on the joke. She was right. I totally redid the book and the second version of the Kid, published in 1996, is more friendly to history.Thanks Nora!

   Last Sunday night we had a wonderful dinner for 20 in the Ellis Store dining room. Although it is dark, you can get a taste of the evening with this photo shot with natural light:



Elise Gomber, Richard Sims, visible on left. Shelly Buffalo Calf, Lori Goodale and BBB on right. Fred Nolan to my right.

Buckeye Blake was in rare form, arriving with another hanged man, created by artist Dave Powell.

Buckeye Blake with "Red Turns Blue"

   Buckeye was irritated because I didn't bring the other hanged man that hangs in my office in Cave Creek. Perhaps that explains some of the bite in the following comment.

"Nobody reads your blog."
—Buckeye giving me grief at the Wortley

Proposed Site of The Billy the Kid Sculpture

October 7, 2014
   My sponsor in Lincoln, Gary Cozzens, the Site Manager of The Lincoln Visitors Center, has proposed to place the 10-foot-tall Billy the Kid sculpture Bronzesmith has created from my drawing, right here:



Visitors Center courtyard in Lincoln, New Mexico

   Here is my sketches of how it would look:



BBB Daily Whipout "Proposed Billy the Kid Sculpture Site in Lincoln"

   And here's the medium version of the sculpture:



Billy the Kid Stands Tall

"Over my dead body."
—One Cantankorous Person in Lincoln

A Kid Cloud Nine Secret Meeting

October 6, 2014
   Yesterday a select group of Kid Krazy aficionados met in secret at the Gallegos House. I can't divulge what was discussed, but I can say it got testy and lots of crazy plans ensued.

   Last night we had a big dinner down at the Ellis Store, one of the oldest buildings in Lincoln. Frederick Nolan has been researching in Lincoln for the past fifty years and he stunned me by saying he had never been inside:

Fred Nolan on the lawn of The Ellis Store

   Lest you think the Kid attracts only homely weirdos, check out these good looking weirdos:


Billy Babe Linda Pardo




Billy Babe Shelly Buffalo Calf



Billy Babe Lori Goodae, president of The Billy The Kid Gang

  Ken Amorosano finished filming our Kid Crew yesterday at the Tunstall Store. Here is Steve Sederwall getting ready to tell his side of the story in Tunstall's bedroom:


Steve Sederwall Is Ready for His Close-up

   Lincoln now has a great little art gallery and coffee shop. Gary took me over there on Thursday and here was the scene:



The Troublemakers: Sandy James, Annamarie Lamay and Adele Koleck, the owner of Annie's Sureshot Coffee Shop, across the street from the Gallegos House.

"We were quite afraid of the [Apaches] because they killed women. Dona Genovevas' grandmother was killed coming from Las Chosas in a caret. The grandmother was holding a baby in her arms and the Indians killed the baby and the grandmother and others in the caret. This happened about where [The Ellis Store] is now."
—Lorenzita Miranda

Guess Who's Back In Lincoln?

October 4, 2014
   He's been gone from this town for a day or two, or three, but almost all of my amigos knew he would return, eventually. But it wasn't easy.

   Last night at 5:24 p.m. I saw a Fed Ex van pull up to the Old Lincoln County Courthouse. At the time I was out front of the Wortley Hotel trying to get bars on my phone, so I could call Bronzesmith in Prescott Valley and ask about the status of our big Bad Billy bronze. As I watched the driver run up to the door and put a tag on it, I finally got through to Ed Reilly at Bronzesmith and he assured me it went out express. "Where did you send it?" I asked him as I stood on one foot to try and keep the signal. "To the Old Lincoln Court House."

   I ran across the street and saw the Fed Ex tag saying the package they were delivering had to have a person sign for it. So close, but yet so far. So now, the bronze, which drove right by me, was well on its way to Roswell. Rather than trying to run him down I decided to go to Capitan with Ken Amorosano and eat New Mexico green chile stew at Paisanos. It was a good decision. First, because the chile was excellent and second because it forced me to drive to Roswell this morning and I had two epiphany's on the way down.

   The first is how incredible John Tunstall's ride was from Lincoln to Chisum's Ranch (just outside present day Roswell). I kept looking out the window and marveling at how this green horn from England, rode—all by himself—all the way without a map or a guide. And then, I marveled, at how far he rode the next day and the next. Close to 120 miles in all. I am working on a Classic Gunfight: "John Tunstall's Last Ride" complete with a map by Gus "The Mapinator" Walker and new research from Fred Nolan.

   The second epiphany was this: there have been hundreds of brutal slayings from the Capitans to the north to the Sacramentos to the south, from Agua Negra to Dog Canyon, from Blazer's Mill to Seven Rivers, and a whole bunch of people were slaughtered by Apaches, by Texicans, by outlaws and prominent politicians, and when you read about each one and study it, you get angry and it is just so unfair and awful and what the hell does it mean? Well, a handy billboard at Hondo had the answer:



Billboard at Hondo on the road to Roswell, New Mexico

   Got to Roswell at 11:20 and picked up a very large box from this place:



Fed Ex Headquarters On College Avenue in Roswell, New Mexico

  Drove back to Lincoln (67 miles) averaging about 85 mph ("Look at that guy from Arizona go, I wonder what the hell is in his bonnet?"). Arrived back at the Gallegos House at 12:17 and dragged the big box into my office space and unwrapped it. Even the shroud of it was magical:



A Certain Outlaw Shrouded In Mystery

I am the only person here. Everyone is at lunch down the Wortley. So, I set him up at the end of the table in my art space and I must say, he sure looks at home:



The Boys Are Back In Town (or, at least one of them is)

"Guess who just got back today?
Those wild-eyed boys that had been away
Haven't changed, haven't much to say
But man, I still think those cats are great."
—Thin Lizzy, "The Boys Are Back In Town"

The Secrets of The Pit Jail in Lincoln, New Mexico

October 3, 2014
   Now that everyone knows I'm at the Gallegos House, I have spent more time entertaining visitors than painting. Yesterday afternoon, this old scallawag, came in and loaded me up with wonderful lies and half-truths:


Steve Sederwall laying down the law

Then this guy showed up:

Buckeye Blake waxes eloquently and artistically about the Scorpion House.

   Last night I was able to whip out a little study of a certain Kid:


Daily Whipout: "Billy Looks Down"

Also, yesterday Ranger Gary Cozzins took me down to Phoebe Taylor's house to talk to her about her family and the old pit jail which is on her land:


Gary looks on as Phoebe points to the location of the Pit Jail, 30 feet north of her dad's well.

The Lincoln Pit Jail
"The Boys had been put in irons and lodged together with Lucas Gallegos and and Catarino Romero in the recently completed county jail. This was an adobe structure built by George Peppin; it comprised a house for the jailer, beneath which were were two log-lined underground rooms reached by means of a ladder lowered through a trapdoor. Because of the fetid conditions below ground, the shackled prisoners were taken outside once a day for exercise."
—Fred Nolan, The Lincoln County War, page 170

Drawings tomorrow.

"We were walking proud, talkin' loud and drawin' a crowd."
—Steve Sederwall

Knockin' On Heaven's Door

October 2, 2014
   As I motored through the Malpais (Badlands, pure black volcanic rock with a road cut through it) yesterday, I put on Bob Dylan's "Knockin' On Heaven's Door" and as the big mountain peaks—Carrizo being the biggest—swung into view, I got a big smile on my face because a great soundtrack puts a nice, juicy glow on everything. Knockin' on heaven's door, indeed.

   Landed in Lincoln at 1:35 after a 485 mile run. Checked in with Gary Cozzins at the Gallegos House and we did a tour of the old town to talk about what exactly I would be concentrating on while serving as an artist in residence for the next ten days. We talked a bit about the early history, when the torreon was built and Gary showed me a photo from about 1900:


   The original torreon was four stories high with a ten foot wall around it (it decomposed by the 1930s and was rebuilt, but smaller). The jacals (crude adobes with mud dobbed in between cedar poles) placed around it, all had tunnels leading to the fort. Because the raids by Mescalero Apaches was so intense, the residents of Las Placitas (the little plaza) slept in the torreon every night, with the children on the bottom floor and the men on the top three floors.

   What I didn't realize is that the settlers were mostly Penitentes, and they were probably fleeing persecution in Socorro and wanted an isolated place where they could practice their controversial worship. The men flogged each other—and themselves!—with spiny whips for being sinful. They would also disappear from Wednesday to Saturday, doing penance of some sort (more whipping no doubt). It finally dawned on me this morning that this area of New Mexico has long been a refuge for scoundrels and misfits. You had the Penitentes and then you have all the renegades being driven out of Texas and they all congregated in these mountains. Some believe they still do.

   Gary and I also lined out narrative holes in the story of Lincoln and the Lincoln County War and what I could do to fill those gaps. For example, there are no photos of Squire Wilson. Ditto for so many of the Lincoln stalwarts.

   Landed at the Ellis Store at four and saw a herd of deer in the side yard:


The Ellis Side Yard (see the deer just this side of the fence). And in case you can't see him, well, here's a better view:



Ellis Store visitor

   Got up this morning and walked down to the Gallegos House to begin my work. Drew a couple sketches of the torreon and studied oral history reports Gary produced featuring interviews with old timers like Lorenzita Miranda, who was born inn 1861 and lived in Lincoln from about 1873. She was interviewed in 1953 when she was 92-years-old. Here's what she remembered about Susan McSween: "Yes, she was a Catholic. She [played organ and] sang in the church choir. She didn't have a family. She was a very pretty woman."

   And of course she remembered another young man who rode into Lincoln quite a bit in those days:

"He was short. He always wore boots."
—Lorenzita Miranda, remembering Billy the Kid

Happiest Day of My Life & The Saddest Town In America

October 1, 2014
   Nothing ahead of me. Nothing behind me. I'm on the road to Billy the Kid country. Left Springerville, Arizona this morning at 7:20 and headed up on the high plateau towards the New Mexico line. A brisk 40 degrees out. Shocking considering I have been wearing short sleeved shirts for the past four months and the temperature has never been below 78 at night! It was 39 degrees when I woke up at Reeds Lodge:



   Got in to Springerville yesterday at about four. Left the True West World Headquarters after a Design Review meeting at ten, and an interview with reporter Mike T. who I used to work with at New Times. He was in my office ostensibly to interview me about "The 66 Kid" but one of his first questions to me was, "Your band, the Zonies, played at our wedding at the R&G ranch. What did you do with the $400 I paid you? Buy a new house?"

   Now this is journalist humor. Notoriously underpaid (his wife has been the business editor at the Republic for 30 years and she just had to reapply for her job) reporters like Mike often hold grudges for a long time. I told him I bought an eight-ball of cocaine with the $400, which seemed to make him happy. In reality, I only got $100 of the money because I had to split it with three other guys (all newspaper men as well) who probably did buy cocaine with it. Or, at least a couple cases of beer.

   Anyway, that was fun, and I left the office heading for Rio Verde and the back way across the In-din res to the Beeline Highway. It's a 225 mile run to Springerville and it was a very pretty day to be traveling. I am all by my lonesome, which I actually kind of prefer because if I want to stop and take a gander or a pee break I don't have to negotiate with anyone. If I want to take a side road, who is going to stop me?

   I had dinner last night at Los Dos Molinos in Springerville and that was fun. Walked there from Reeds so I could have two margaritas and celebrate being on the road. Made it back to the lodge without incident and slept like a baby.

   Woke up with a dilemma. Do I drive for an hour and have breakfast in Quemado, like my dad would do, or do I walk across the street to Booga Red's and see what the locals are doing. In a flash of inspiration I thought to myself, Hey, I'm going to do both!


Booga Red's surrounded by Big-ass F-350s

   Got inside and took a booth by the front window. Straight ahead of me, in a corner booth, were six cowboy types who, it turns out, owned most of the big haul-ass trucks in the parking lot. They were on their way to a job somewhere near Pie Town and they had a ton of stories. Most cowboys work construction, and the two professions kind of bleed into each other. There were probably only three of those guys who ever roped a calf in their lives, but they got the gear on. Come to think of it, so do I.

  Anyway, loved hearing their talk: "Got a big day planned, Hon," the lead dog said to the waitress when he wanted the check. The other phenom in these little cafes is the retired guys and the coffee klatch. They seem kind of sad, or lonely, to me. They're not going anywhere, all the guys at the table have heard their stories a thousand times and it just seems a tad tragic to me anyway.

   Took off at 7:17 with a cool dampness in the air. it was 49 degrees out and I turned on the heater (something I haven't done in a long, long time). Why is it that you're driving along and it's cold, and it's cold and then it's too hot. This happens in about a millisecond. There is not toasty in between. It's freezing and then it's too hot. This is also true about money. You're poor, you're poor and then you have too much money. It's happened to me a couple times and I'm here to tell you, there is no in-between.

   Got to Quemado at about eight and went into El Largo Cafe:



  El Largo is home of the very large elk head on the wall and the very large American flag, also on the wall. Had the huevos rancheros. I couldn't see half the people in there because of all the camo. In this cafe I had a whole table of elk hunters with their guide in my line of vision, and the guide was making fun of all the yocals who hunt with 30-30s.

   Speaking of hunting, El Largo has one of the finest large-boned, large-haired waitresses I have ever encountered in the wild. Took this photo, on the sly:


One fine Big-boned Waitress taking an order from the elk hunter's table

The Saddest Town In The Southwest?
  As I motored on to Socorro, I realized this is one of the happiest days of my life. I love these back road cafes and the slice of life it gives a glimpse of. And speaking of a slice of life, I went through one of the saddest bergs in America: Pie Town. Now there are towns that look bleak (Magdalena is very bleak looking), but this is just sad, sad, sad. Nothing on the street, everything boarded up, not a hope of anything happening—ever.

   Next stop, Lincoln, where I will be spending the next 10 days as the artist in residence.

"The road is everything."
—Good Ol' Ben Rux

201 Zany Zonies

September 29, 2014
   The director of the Tempe branch of The Arizona Historical Society, John Langallier, is producing a retrospective art show featuring 34 of my most demented cartoons. The name of the show will be "201 Zany Zonies: from Geronimo to Goldwater." For the G-Man we're using the original I did of him with his boom box. Here it is in context (as it ran in the book Low Blows):



The G-Man Breaks It Down

   And, although I was aiming for a PG rating on "The 66 Kid," and didn't use this in the book, here is a cartoon that sums up where me and all my Boomer brothers and sisters came from:



  Also in the show will be one of my favorite Jesus cartoons:



This cartoon took on the fact that the Hopi tribe complained about all the business using one of their sacred religious objects, The Kachina, in their businesses. I mentioned that the Yellow Pages listed over 50 Valley businesses with Kachina in the title. So I wondered how the dominant culture would react if the shoe was on the other foot? And, by the way, I was taking on the Yellow Pages here which is kind of amazing to realize it's gone, but not forgotten.

   I also get to feature some of my favorite models. Recognize the guy in the chair, below?



Ed Mell Learns How to Deal With His Wife's Hairdresser Issues


   And last but not least is Ghandi in Arizona:


   The show will go up in November.

"Artists are a tribe of borrowers."
—David Gessner "

Wallace Stegner, Ed Abbey & Bruce Babbitt

September 28, 2014
   I just finished reading a new book,"All the Wild That Remains" by David Gessner. It is a road trip and a quasi-dual biography of Wallace Stegner and Ed Abbey. I learned some pretty amazing things about both dudes, like this:

 ". . .as acting editor of  the University of New Mexico's literary magazine, THE THUNDERBIRD, [Ed Abbey] decides to print an issue with a cover emblazoned with the words, 'Man will not be free until the last King is strangled with the entrails of the last priest!' The quote is from Voltaire, but Abbey thinks it funnier to attribute the words to Louisa May Alcott."

   He, was right, of course. It is much funnier. Gessner adds, "And so he quickly loses his editorship while the FBI adds a few more pages to his file."

   The book talked about both their passings and I called The Top Secret Writer to find out exactly where Stegner died in Santa Fe (at the entrance to the Santa Fe Opera). Although the book covers Abbey's death, I knew he had a hard time dying and wanted to be buried in the desert. Got this off of the Ed Abbey website:

"He wanted his body transported in the bed of a pickup truck. He wanted to be buried as soon as possible. He wanted no undertakers. No embalming, for Godsake. No coffin. Just an old sleeping bag... Disregard all state laws concerning burial. 'I want my body to help fertilize the growth of a cactus or cliff rose or sagebrush or tree.] said the message.

 As for graveside ceremony: He wanted gunfire, and a little music. "No formal speeches desired, though the deceased will not interfere if someone feels the urge. But keep it all simple and brief." And then a big happy raucous wake. He wanted more music, gay and lively music. He wanted bagpipes. "And a flood of beer and booze! Lots of singing, dancing, talking, hollering, laughing, and lovemaking." said the message. And meat! Beans and chilis! And corn on the cob. Only a man deeply in love with life and hopelessly soft on humanity would specify, from beyond the grave, that his mourners receive corn on the cob.

   Dang, I love that. So Western. Love these quotes as well:

"Never make the New Yorker's mistake of taking New York for America."
—Wallace Stegner

"I may not know who I am but I know where I am from."
—W.S.

"In the West it is impossible to be unconscious of or indifferent to space."
—W.S.

"Lawlessness, like wildness, is attractive, and we conceive the last remaining home of both to be in the West."
—W.S.

   On Friday I drove down to the Tempe branch of the Arizona Historical Society. The director, John Langellier is proposing a retrospective of my cartoon work as a show in their gallery, to be called "201 Zany Zonies". Among the works he selected is this:


Daily Whipout: "Prince Babbitt," pen and ink

   In the eighties Governor Bruce Babbitt made a run for the presidency. I did this parody of the Sunday comic strip Prince Valiant where Bruce is the conquering hero who comes home to a sexy Hattie, his partner and wife. There is a cameo by the pulitzer prize winning columnist Tom  Fitzpatrick, upper right, as a gnarly, groveling scribe.

"What attracts us is what we then ruin."
—Wallace Stegner