November 3, 2005
Meghan caught a major boo-boo in the spots we cut down at Canyon Records yesterday. In the 60 second spot, I spouted off about the origins of rodeo in the U.S. (culled from the September, 2004 True West on the Roots of Rodeo). I cited the Pecos, Texas rodeo as having been founded in 1883, the Payson rodeo started in 1884 and the Prescott rodeo in 1888, but that Prescott claimed to have the longest continuous rodeo. Meghan heard the spots, went online and discovered that, no, Payson claims the longest continuous rodeo and Prescott claims the oldest “formal” rodeo contest (evidently the Payson and Pecos rodeos were not black tie). Obviously they are splitting hairs, especially since Santa Fe and a couple other towns claim to have had rodeos as early as the 1840s. Still, it looks like Prescott wins, since the Pecos and Payson events were just informal events with cowboys getting together to compete and mostly rope. Ironically none of them, including Prescott, called it a "rodeo" until the 1920s. Prescott called theirs a "Cowboy Tournament." Anyway, we still need to rewrite the spot to avoid the obvious land mines inherent in a spot that will run on ProRodeo Radio. Ha. At least it gives me a chance to work with Jack Miller again and maybe talk him into letting me tell you the Stones stories. George Laibe is booking a "No-Time-Reride" session for next week.
Had an Executive Committee Session at ten with Dave Daiss, Bob Brink and Carole Glenn. Went over some pretty encouraging numbers. We are finally getting some traction in the marketplace and this makes me very happy.
This morning I was contacted by a writer named Coty Miranda who is doing a piece on Marshall Trimble for Southwest Magazine. One of her questions to me was, "Marshall Trimble is a handsome man. Why is his column photo [in True West] SO small?"
My answer: "Because a little bit of the Marshall goes a long ways."
Went home for lunch and tried to finish the Jesse Evans vs. the Texas Rangers artwork, but got nowhere fast. Basically ruined two boards. Very discouraged. Wanted to finish today. Came back to work and talked to Robert Ray about getting an extension on deadline until tomorrow. He agreed. Fortunately, he’s ahead on his work. I’m going to go home early and try to get something good in the can. My problem is basically shifting gears. I get rusty so quickly and it takes me a day or two to get back in gear.
A local legend, Grace Voss Frederick is 100 years old today. She gives tours of her museum in Cave Creek. I’m embarrassed to say I’ve never been there. It’s only about a mile from my house. You know how that goes. Anyway, when the Arizona Republic asked her the secret to living so long, she said, "French fries and melted butter." Too funny.
Carole offered to send a reply to the person who was angry about our "anti-Christmas" guide. Here’s her diplomatic Email:
"Thank you for your email. I am sorry that you interpreted our Holiday Gift
Guide as something other than was intended. This particular issue goes on
newsstands November 1—Dec 12, 2005. Since it is on stands during
Thanksgiving Holidays to the beginning of Christmas Holidays, we have called
it a ‘Holiday Gift Guide’—it is really that simple.
"We appreciate your Merry Christmas wishes to us and wish you a great
Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!"
"Common sense is as rare as genius."
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
November 2, 2005
Yesterday morning I bunged my knee on a bike spill on the road in front of my house. Went right down like an old man without a clue. I was looking backwards at the time, checking the road for neighbors with dogs. Didn’t hurt too bad at the time, but last night it really hurt at the slightest movement. Better today.
Met with George Laibe and Mark Boardman at nine this morning to go over our recording session down at Canyon Records. The three of us left the office at about 10:15 and made it down to 33rd Ave and Clarendon (below Indian School) by 11. Met legendary sound engineer Jack Miller (he was the engineer on the Stones’ Satisfaction and Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown, in addition to, Duane Eddy’s Rebel Rouser, among others). He had some pretty amazing stories to tell, but he requested me not to run them here. He’s a very honorable guy and feels it would be unseemly. Too bad. The Stones story was nasty.
We recorded three spots for ProRodeo Radio, adding Mike Torres’ original guitar creation "Cathouse Melee," which sounded absolutely bitchin’! Mike and I were in rival bands growing up in Kingman: The Exits vs. The Deltones?
After the session I treated everybody to huevos rancheros up at Pepe’s Taco Villa on West Camelback ($33. 59 includes tip). Mark, George and I had a big talk about marketing and the internet. Both guys are predicting a media tsunami coming and are prodding me to act sooner than later. Very convincing those two Boys.
Robert Ray didn’t get the joke on the latest Honkytonk Sue and said so. I showed it to Carole Glenn and she agreed. So, this afternoon I had Gus put in another set of drawings along with a new gag. It’s not great, but hey, she’s not smoking!
"If it bends, it's funny; if it breaks, it's not funny."
—Woody Allen
Yesterday morning I bunged my knee on a bike spill on the road in front of my house. Went right down like an old man without a clue. I was looking backwards at the time, checking the road for neighbors with dogs. Didn’t hurt too bad at the time, but last night it really hurt at the slightest movement. Better today.
Met with George Laibe and Mark Boardman at nine this morning to go over our recording session down at Canyon Records. The three of us left the office at about 10:15 and made it down to 33rd Ave and Clarendon (below Indian School) by 11. Met legendary sound engineer Jack Miller (he was the engineer on the Stones’ Satisfaction and Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown, in addition to, Duane Eddy’s Rebel Rouser, among others). He had some pretty amazing stories to tell, but he requested me not to run them here. He’s a very honorable guy and feels it would be unseemly. Too bad. The Stones story was nasty.
We recorded three spots for ProRodeo Radio, adding Mike Torres’ original guitar creation "Cathouse Melee," which sounded absolutely bitchin’! Mike and I were in rival bands growing up in Kingman: The Exits vs. The Deltones?
After the session I treated everybody to huevos rancheros up at Pepe’s Taco Villa on West Camelback ($33. 59 includes tip). Mark, George and I had a big talk about marketing and the internet. Both guys are predicting a media tsunami coming and are prodding me to act sooner than later. Very convincing those two Boys.
Robert Ray didn’t get the joke on the latest Honkytonk Sue and said so. I showed it to Carole Glenn and she agreed. So, this afternoon I had Gus put in another set of drawings along with a new gag. It’s not great, but hey, she’s not smoking!
"If it bends, it's funny; if it breaks, it's not funny."
—Woody Allen
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
November 1, 2005
I had to fast this morning, so no coffee or food until after my doctor’s appointment at 7:30. Had a blood test and an electrocardiogram. Got into the office at about 7:50, Mark Boardman, George Laibe, Robert Ray and Sue Lambert were already hard at it. That was pleasant for a payroll paying employer to see.
Drove down into the beast at 11:30 to have lunch with Abe Hays. We met at The Town Tavern, a big, clubby, dark wood restaurant at Scottsdale and Doubletree (he bought). I signed 30 of my books for his store and Abe educated me on why Scottsdale can’t land a Western art museum (they’ve blundered four different times, including once with the Buffalo Bill Museum in Cody). Abe owns an incredible collection of paintings by Western masters including Maynard Dixon, Edgar Payne, Will James and many others. Abe told me he thinks Bob McCubbin's original photographs in the magazine adds so much credibility to our efforts. Very true.
I don’t know if it’s the new issue, or the moon, or that time of the month, but we have been getting the weirdest and most wonderful correspondence. For example, this came in this morning, scribbled on the back of a reader service card:
“Mr. Bob Boze Bell, Paul Hutton wrote a factual article. Meghan Saar and Jana Bommersbach have a political propaganda to spread. Please fire these two. If it continues, I will cancel.”
—J.C., Northeast, Tennessee
JC also sent a second card:
“Mr. Bob Boze Bell, please stop Saar and Bommbersbach agenda—editorial articles. Besides they left out Bugs Bunny.”
Sam made sure the cards made the rounds in the office. Ten minutes ago, Robert Ray came into my office with a printout of an article that’s going in the January issue. It is a one-pager about Charlie Siringo, written by Meghan. Robert told me he thinks we need to be more specific in our slug heds [where the byline goes]. I looked closely and above Meghan’s name it said in a classic Old West type font: "Not a lesbian." I laughed ‘til I cried. Some staffers got worried because I said I wanted to actually put that in the column. Or, even better, we should put clarifiers on every name in the masthead. Gay. Not gay. Bi. Historically Sealed. You get the idea. It would be so helpful in this contentious age, don't you think?
Here’s a reader who’s upset about our holiday gift guide:"Well I see in the Nov/ Dec issue you people have joined the war against Christmas also. Shame on you, on page 55 you have the 2005 holiday gift guide, too bad, I give Christmas gifts so I can't buy a darn thing. Not once did I see where you wished your subscribers a Merry Christmas, too bad again, but I will wish YOU a Very Merry Christmas and I would bet that Doc, Morgan, Wyatt and Virgil would wish you a Merry Christmas also."
—A reader, Dale Reser, Eutawville,SC
And just when you think the anti-PC crowd is getting a tad obnoxious:
"I think it is too bad that you have to promote smoking just about every issue you have that c--t Honkytonk Sue with a cigarette either in her hand or mouth. I’m a non-smoker, and the kids think that it is gross. So I guess this will be my last magazine if she can’t talk without a fag hanging in her face."
—Bud, Dora, Missouri
Here’s a surprisingly benign missive:
"Can't wait to see your Brokeback Mountain coverage. I missed screenings of the film at Toronto but everyone was raving about it. I want to see it."
—A high ranking media person in New York
And a thoughtful one:
"It would be very petty of the Old West fraternity to read and think about only the history that is written the way they think it happened; even worse if they only read about what they wanted to have happened. .
"I don't know if you mentioned the movie release in this issue, but it might have smoothed things over a little. On the other hand, it might have made things worse! I have never heard of the movie or the actor. Guess I don't go to movies much. I sincerely hope that the staff resignations and one issue that has raised a ruckus does not decrease the editorial staff's desire to offer fresh new looks and discuss topics competitors wouldn't touch."
—Lucinda Parker, Las Vegas, Nevada
What does all this mean? I think the old vaqueros said it best:
"Seize opportunity by the beard, for it is bald behind."
—Old Vaquero Saying
I had to fast this morning, so no coffee or food until after my doctor’s appointment at 7:30. Had a blood test and an electrocardiogram. Got into the office at about 7:50, Mark Boardman, George Laibe, Robert Ray and Sue Lambert were already hard at it. That was pleasant for a payroll paying employer to see.
Drove down into the beast at 11:30 to have lunch with Abe Hays. We met at The Town Tavern, a big, clubby, dark wood restaurant at Scottsdale and Doubletree (he bought). I signed 30 of my books for his store and Abe educated me on why Scottsdale can’t land a Western art museum (they’ve blundered four different times, including once with the Buffalo Bill Museum in Cody). Abe owns an incredible collection of paintings by Western masters including Maynard Dixon, Edgar Payne, Will James and many others. Abe told me he thinks Bob McCubbin's original photographs in the magazine adds so much credibility to our efforts. Very true.
I don’t know if it’s the new issue, or the moon, or that time of the month, but we have been getting the weirdest and most wonderful correspondence. For example, this came in this morning, scribbled on the back of a reader service card:
“Mr. Bob Boze Bell, Paul Hutton wrote a factual article. Meghan Saar and Jana Bommersbach have a political propaganda to spread. Please fire these two. If it continues, I will cancel.”
—J.C., Northeast, Tennessee
JC also sent a second card:
“Mr. Bob Boze Bell, please stop Saar and Bommbersbach agenda—editorial articles. Besides they left out Bugs Bunny.”
Sam made sure the cards made the rounds in the office. Ten minutes ago, Robert Ray came into my office with a printout of an article that’s going in the January issue. It is a one-pager about Charlie Siringo, written by Meghan. Robert told me he thinks we need to be more specific in our slug heds [where the byline goes]. I looked closely and above Meghan’s name it said in a classic Old West type font: "Not a lesbian." I laughed ‘til I cried. Some staffers got worried because I said I wanted to actually put that in the column. Or, even better, we should put clarifiers on every name in the masthead. Gay. Not gay. Bi. Historically Sealed. You get the idea. It would be so helpful in this contentious age, don't you think?
Here’s a reader who’s upset about our holiday gift guide:"Well I see in the Nov/ Dec issue you people have joined the war against Christmas also. Shame on you, on page 55 you have the 2005 holiday gift guide, too bad, I give Christmas gifts so I can't buy a darn thing. Not once did I see where you wished your subscribers a Merry Christmas, too bad again, but I will wish YOU a Very Merry Christmas and I would bet that Doc, Morgan, Wyatt and Virgil would wish you a Merry Christmas also."
—A reader, Dale Reser, Eutawville,SC
And just when you think the anti-PC crowd is getting a tad obnoxious:
"I think it is too bad that you have to promote smoking just about every issue you have that c--t Honkytonk Sue with a cigarette either in her hand or mouth. I’m a non-smoker, and the kids think that it is gross. So I guess this will be my last magazine if she can’t talk without a fag hanging in her face."
—Bud, Dora, Missouri
Here’s a surprisingly benign missive:
"Can't wait to see your Brokeback Mountain coverage. I missed screenings of the film at Toronto but everyone was raving about it. I want to see it."
—A high ranking media person in New York
And a thoughtful one:
"It would be very petty of the Old West fraternity to read and think about only the history that is written the way they think it happened; even worse if they only read about what they wanted to have happened. .
"I don't know if you mentioned the movie release in this issue, but it might have smoothed things over a little. On the other hand, it might have made things worse! I have never heard of the movie or the actor. Guess I don't go to movies much. I sincerely hope that the staff resignations and one issue that has raised a ruckus does not decrease the editorial staff's desire to offer fresh new looks and discuss topics competitors wouldn't touch."
—Lucinda Parker, Las Vegas, Nevada
What does all this mean? I think the old vaqueros said it best:
"Seize opportunity by the beard, for it is bald behind."
—Old Vaquero Saying
Monday, October 31, 2005
October 31, 2005
Nice day at home yesterday. Worked on new Honkytonk Sue illustrations for 2006. We’re trying to get ahead. Also worked on cleaning out boxes in the studio. Found great photo reference for Mickey Free that I had forgotten I have. Took the dogs on four bike rides. On every single ride they acted like they haven’t been on a ride in years.
Today is Halloween dress-up day at the True West offices. Robert Ray came dressed as Mike Melrose, Abby as a farmgirl, Sue Lambert as Zorra, Meghan as a She Devil, Joel as a doctor (“At home I’m a gynecologist,” Joel assures me). I came as a college graduate, complete with Tommy’s gown and a blank diploma. Fitting because I don’t have a degree. Yes, I quit college six units shy of a degree, but I have been planning to go back and finish for 36 years. And counting.
As I was cleaning my studio this past weekend I found Dale Carnagie’s book, “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” My book mark was on page 142. So typical. I’m so ADD I started the book, then went on to something else (just like college!). Made a vow to finish it this time. Read quite a bit on Saturday and Sunday. Great wisdom and insights. I think the strongest thing I realized is that I need to admit and own my mistakes more (see yesterday’s Email from Frank). I’ve made so many boneheaded mistakes running True West it’s amazing we are still standing. Still, with all the Monday morning quarterbacking going on right now I appreciate Bob and Trish Brink standing by me on the decision to go with the gay cover story. It’s situations like this where you really see who your allies are. This is not to say the people who don’t want the subject even mentioned in the magazine, are against me, although some definitely are. No, they have a very valid point. It’s distasteful to them and they don’t want the subject thrust in their face. I understand that and sympathize with their concerns. Even our newsstand consultants are against the cover, sending us an Email last week predicting dire newsstand results.
Still, the verdict on whether the issue is a success or not, is still out. The movie that is causing all the fuss and generated our coverage, Brokeback Mountain, will come out next month and I hope, by then, the context of our cover will make more sense to our old guard readers. We shall soon see.
And speaking of the movie and the star of it, Deena came out Friday night and we were watching tv when an ad for Jake Gyllenhaal’s new movie, Jarhead came on.
Deena: "I love Jake Gyllenhaal!"
Dad: "Really? Are you going to go see Brokeback Mountain when it comes out?”
Deena (looking at me with a sly look): “Yes, Dad, with you.”
Ha. Now I have to go. And I do have a problem with it (the trailer made me squirm like a castrated dog).
“People will have problems with it, but it’s kind of hard to disagree with what the movie is about. It’s a story about people struggling with how to love each other.”
—Jake Gyllenhaal
Nice day at home yesterday. Worked on new Honkytonk Sue illustrations for 2006. We’re trying to get ahead. Also worked on cleaning out boxes in the studio. Found great photo reference for Mickey Free that I had forgotten I have. Took the dogs on four bike rides. On every single ride they acted like they haven’t been on a ride in years.
Today is Halloween dress-up day at the True West offices. Robert Ray came dressed as Mike Melrose, Abby as a farmgirl, Sue Lambert as Zorra, Meghan as a She Devil, Joel as a doctor (“At home I’m a gynecologist,” Joel assures me). I came as a college graduate, complete with Tommy’s gown and a blank diploma. Fitting because I don’t have a degree. Yes, I quit college six units shy of a degree, but I have been planning to go back and finish for 36 years. And counting.
As I was cleaning my studio this past weekend I found Dale Carnagie’s book, “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” My book mark was on page 142. So typical. I’m so ADD I started the book, then went on to something else (just like college!). Made a vow to finish it this time. Read quite a bit on Saturday and Sunday. Great wisdom and insights. I think the strongest thing I realized is that I need to admit and own my mistakes more (see yesterday’s Email from Frank). I’ve made so many boneheaded mistakes running True West it’s amazing we are still standing. Still, with all the Monday morning quarterbacking going on right now I appreciate Bob and Trish Brink standing by me on the decision to go with the gay cover story. It’s situations like this where you really see who your allies are. This is not to say the people who don’t want the subject even mentioned in the magazine, are against me, although some definitely are. No, they have a very valid point. It’s distasteful to them and they don’t want the subject thrust in their face. I understand that and sympathize with their concerns. Even our newsstand consultants are against the cover, sending us an Email last week predicting dire newsstand results.
Still, the verdict on whether the issue is a success or not, is still out. The movie that is causing all the fuss and generated our coverage, Brokeback Mountain, will come out next month and I hope, by then, the context of our cover will make more sense to our old guard readers. We shall soon see.
And speaking of the movie and the star of it, Deena came out Friday night and we were watching tv when an ad for Jake Gyllenhaal’s new movie, Jarhead came on.
Deena: "I love Jake Gyllenhaal!"
Dad: "Really? Are you going to go see Brokeback Mountain when it comes out?”
Deena (looking at me with a sly look): “Yes, Dad, with you.”
Ha. Now I have to go. And I do have a problem with it (the trailer made me squirm like a castrated dog).
“People will have problems with it, but it’s kind of hard to disagree with what the movie is about. It’s a story about people struggling with how to love each other.”
—Jake Gyllenhaal
October 29, 2005
Samantha tells me this month's online orders are rivaling last year’s numbers (when we had the lifetime Maniac memberships in full swing). She attributes it to the increased exposure we are getting in the marketplace, and also to the great deals they are offering over there. Check them out in the shopping cart. You can access it right here.
Kathy and I attended a big wedding reception for Ed and Rose Marie Mell at the Hermosa Inn in the afternoon. Great food, wonderful setting. The historic restaurant and lobby were built by legendary Arizona artist Lon Megargee in the 1920s, I believe. Sat outside and talked to photographer Jon Gipe. Saw Bob Steinhilber (he did the custom lettering for Classic Gunfights), James and Linda Ballinger (Phoenix Art Museum director) and many other Phoenix natives. The Mell family has deep roots in the Valley and many oldtime families were in attendance.
Afterwards, Kathy and I drove over to Glendale to visit Mother Radina. She took us out to eat at Lito’s, a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican food place at about 47th Ave. and Dunlap.Enjoyed visiting with her. She always has such wisdom.
This morning I got this Email from Frank in New York state:
"I took my grandson to the Williamson NY gun club to do some target shooting this morning. We stopped into the club house for coffee and there were about 8-10 gunnies there.
"We were all [talking] and your magazine came up [the gay issue].Now you must remember we in western NY are not like those NYC boys we are most right wing rednecks.
"Well, anyway, one guy used this TW issue as a target and he put a nice pattern in it I must say and two other guys said if you guys publish one more issue like that they will stick to Wild West Magazine. All the other guys have never read your magazine and two never heard of it and all wanted to know if the publisher was a gay advocate."
"Never judge a book by its cover, except on the newsstand."
—Old Publisher saying
Samantha tells me this month's online orders are rivaling last year’s numbers (when we had the lifetime Maniac memberships in full swing). She attributes it to the increased exposure we are getting in the marketplace, and also to the great deals they are offering over there. Check them out in the shopping cart. You can access it right here.
Kathy and I attended a big wedding reception for Ed and Rose Marie Mell at the Hermosa Inn in the afternoon. Great food, wonderful setting. The historic restaurant and lobby were built by legendary Arizona artist Lon Megargee in the 1920s, I believe. Sat outside and talked to photographer Jon Gipe. Saw Bob Steinhilber (he did the custom lettering for Classic Gunfights), James and Linda Ballinger (Phoenix Art Museum director) and many other Phoenix natives. The Mell family has deep roots in the Valley and many oldtime families were in attendance.
Afterwards, Kathy and I drove over to Glendale to visit Mother Radina. She took us out to eat at Lito’s, a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican food place at about 47th Ave. and Dunlap.Enjoyed visiting with her. She always has such wisdom.
This morning I got this Email from Frank in New York state:
"I took my grandson to the Williamson NY gun club to do some target shooting this morning. We stopped into the club house for coffee and there were about 8-10 gunnies there.
"We were all [talking] and your magazine came up [the gay issue].Now you must remember we in western NY are not like those NYC boys we are most right wing rednecks.
"Well, anyway, one guy used this TW issue as a target and he put a nice pattern in it I must say and two other guys said if you guys publish one more issue like that they will stick to Wild West Magazine. All the other guys have never read your magazine and two never heard of it and all wanted to know if the publisher was a gay advocate."
"Never judge a book by its cover, except on the newsstand."
—Old Publisher saying
Friday, October 28, 2005
October 28, 2005
The Los Angeles Times’ Sunday Magazine is doing an upcoming feature on Wyatt Earp and a fact checker from the paper named Meryl called me to go over my quotes (Leo Banks of Tucson wrote the piece some time ago and they’re finally getting set to run it on November 13th). The newest twist on fact checking is they won’t tell you the actual quotes. Evidently, people often try to soften or change what they said to protect themselves. I understand the problem because we have sent articles to people mentioned in our mag, mostly to check for historical accuracy, and they invariably bridle at certain things and try to retract them, it’s only human. So Meryl’s job is quite tricky. She said things like, "Did you say something about Wyatt Earp and a jerk?" And I said, "Well, that depends on the context." I often tell the story of my grandmother in Kingman claiming “Wyatt Earp was the biggest jerk to ever walk the West." But that's her saying it, not me. And Meryl would say, “Well, that’s kind of what you’re quoted as saying,” and I would say, “read me the quote,” and she’d say, “I can’t.” And I’d say, “Then why are we talking?” And she’d go on and say, “Did you say something about Wyatt being a pimp and a long time offender?" And I said, "Probably. Can you give me any context?" And she’d say, "Not really." And I finally said, "Well, Meryl, I think I have to trust that Leo quoted me correctly and leave it at that."
One thing I did catch is we came out first with the story of Wyatt Earp as a pimp in Peoria, Illinois in 1872, not our competitor Wild West. So, it was worth the call to get that straightened out.
9•11 really played havoc with our newsstand sell thrus. It looks like we’re in for another bloodbath. We just got this news from our newsstand consultants:
Hurricane Wilma, the 12th hurricane of the season, struck southern Florida
from Key West to Daytona Beach on Monday with damaging winds, severe
flooding, power outages and tornadoes. The storm's effects on magazine
distribution in Central Florida, South Florida, and the Suncoast are still
being felt at week's end. Many shipment points remain closed or their
operation is seriously hindered.
Anderson Services' West Palm/Riviera Beach depot still reports no power and
no phone service, but little damage to the structure. Approximately 50% of
the stores serviced by the depot are refusing deliveries, with most
refusals concentrated in South Palm Beach County. A curfew is currently
being enforced outside of the hours of 6 a.m. to 7 p.m. and gas purchases
are limited to $20.00 maximum (approximately 7 gallons of gas).
Our January issue closed yesterday and our current sales staff is to be commended. Starting in a hole, because of the resignation of Mike Melrose, Sue Lambert, Joel Klasky and newcomer, George Laibe, worked overtime to bring the issue in 41% higher than last year’s issue. We promised them a steak dinner at Maestro’s, a very expensive restaurant down at Pinnacle Peak if they could get us to the winner’s circle and they did it! Really amazing. I came back from my probing physical Wednesday, and Trish had posted a big sign on my door, saying, "We did it!" with the final dollar number underneath. I went into the sales room, dropped my daytimer on the floor, fell to my knees and genuflected several times in their direction, all the while saying, "Thankyou, oh, Great Ones! Thankyou!" I didn't tell them about my rectal probe, but coming off that uncomfortable experience it was quite a thrill to come back to such a positive punchline. Not to beat a dead horse but I feel like we really pulled one out of our collective rectum.
“Rectum?! Damn near killed ‘em!”
—Old joke that Wonderful Russ enjoys running into the ground
The Los Angeles Times’ Sunday Magazine is doing an upcoming feature on Wyatt Earp and a fact checker from the paper named Meryl called me to go over my quotes (Leo Banks of Tucson wrote the piece some time ago and they’re finally getting set to run it on November 13th). The newest twist on fact checking is they won’t tell you the actual quotes. Evidently, people often try to soften or change what they said to protect themselves. I understand the problem because we have sent articles to people mentioned in our mag, mostly to check for historical accuracy, and they invariably bridle at certain things and try to retract them, it’s only human. So Meryl’s job is quite tricky. She said things like, "Did you say something about Wyatt Earp and a jerk?" And I said, "Well, that depends on the context." I often tell the story of my grandmother in Kingman claiming “Wyatt Earp was the biggest jerk to ever walk the West." But that's her saying it, not me. And Meryl would say, “Well, that’s kind of what you’re quoted as saying,” and I would say, “read me the quote,” and she’d say, “I can’t.” And I’d say, “Then why are we talking?” And she’d go on and say, “Did you say something about Wyatt being a pimp and a long time offender?" And I said, "Probably. Can you give me any context?" And she’d say, "Not really." And I finally said, "Well, Meryl, I think I have to trust that Leo quoted me correctly and leave it at that."
One thing I did catch is we came out first with the story of Wyatt Earp as a pimp in Peoria, Illinois in 1872, not our competitor Wild West. So, it was worth the call to get that straightened out.
9•11 really played havoc with our newsstand sell thrus. It looks like we’re in for another bloodbath. We just got this news from our newsstand consultants:
Hurricane Wilma, the 12th hurricane of the season, struck southern Florida
from Key West to Daytona Beach on Monday with damaging winds, severe
flooding, power outages and tornadoes. The storm's effects on magazine
distribution in Central Florida, South Florida, and the Suncoast are still
being felt at week's end. Many shipment points remain closed or their
operation is seriously hindered.
Anderson Services' West Palm/Riviera Beach depot still reports no power and
no phone service, but little damage to the structure. Approximately 50% of
the stores serviced by the depot are refusing deliveries, with most
refusals concentrated in South Palm Beach County. A curfew is currently
being enforced outside of the hours of 6 a.m. to 7 p.m. and gas purchases
are limited to $20.00 maximum (approximately 7 gallons of gas).
Our January issue closed yesterday and our current sales staff is to be commended. Starting in a hole, because of the resignation of Mike Melrose, Sue Lambert, Joel Klasky and newcomer, George Laibe, worked overtime to bring the issue in 41% higher than last year’s issue. We promised them a steak dinner at Maestro’s, a very expensive restaurant down at Pinnacle Peak if they could get us to the winner’s circle and they did it! Really amazing. I came back from my probing physical Wednesday, and Trish had posted a big sign on my door, saying, "We did it!" with the final dollar number underneath. I went into the sales room, dropped my daytimer on the floor, fell to my knees and genuflected several times in their direction, all the while saying, "Thankyou, oh, Great Ones! Thankyou!" I didn't tell them about my rectal probe, but coming off that uncomfortable experience it was quite a thrill to come back to such a positive punchline. Not to beat a dead horse but I feel like we really pulled one out of our collective rectum.
“Rectum?! Damn near killed ‘em!”
—Old joke that Wonderful Russ enjoys running into the ground
Thursday, October 27, 2005
October 27, 2005
I woke up this morning to stereo cement trucks, one on each side of the house, bleeping and blatting those irritating back-up signals over and over. We’ve got a big ol’ house going up to the south of us, and they’re totally remodeling the “Muffy” house to the north of us.
Yesterday at four I had half a physical, ending with the much dreaded "turn your head and cough," examination and for the finale, a plastic gloved finger up the off-ramp to the Bell Road Exit. Lisa was the PA who performed the deed and as I bent over the table I asked her how many of these she performs in a typical day. Seven or eight was the answer. "So, at lunch do you say things like, ‘Well I got to go back to work and probe an old man?" She laughed more than I did. A night of fasting and bloodwork follows next Tuesday.
Last night Kathy talked me into going to restorative yoga at Black Mountain Gym. I hate going mostly because it’s all women and they stretch into every position imaginable with such ease and to me a good stretch is picking up my wallet off the bedroom floor without having to get down on my hands and knees. On a desperate down dog deal, the yoga woman came over and sat on my rump to get it to go down. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that my rump was really getting tired of being abused by female health professionals. Felt good though.
Just before noon today, I got a call from Gordon Smith telling me Michael Lacey was on NPR being interviewed about the Village Voice buyout. I had to go down into the Beast to Dan Harshberger’s studio so I got in the truck and gave a listen on the way down. Lacey is so amazing. He manages to savage the interviewer for being subsidized by the government and then he hangs up, and experts and enemies from around the country have at Lacey and New Times, as if his newspaper company is the Soviet Union. And to think this little ol’ hippie newspaper started next door to a pizza parlor on Mill Avenue in 1970. I joined the paper in March of 1978 for $110 a week and did basically seven jobs, from writer to art director to photographer to columnist (“Scoops!”) to cartoonist (Honkytonk Sue) to cover art to ad layouts and ad art. There were six of us working on the second floor of the Westward Ho Hotel in a bad part of town (there were bums lying outside our door and you had to step over them to get in, and the only difference between the bums and the guys who worked at New Times is that the bums had better taste in pants).
Got to Dan’s studio at ten to one. He was bugged that I interrupted his lunch (which he takes in his house four steps away from his studio). We went over features layouts, the January cover, a new featurette we are producing and a top secret project.
Drove back out and had lunch at the house (three reheated tacos by Bell), then started the Jesse Evans vs. The Texas Rangers art.
Last night I went over to Floyd Brooks’ ranch and took photos of his prime stud Mr. Rockafeather, who sired the 1997 World Champion Paint Reiner and is an 80% producer on solid mares. At eighteen hands high, the Rock is mighty studly. I asked Floyd if he was difficult to handle and he said, "With all studs you have to keep your eye on them all the time because he’ll put your belly button right up against your tail bone in a heartbeat." Man, I love old cowboy talk like that! You can’t make up that stuff.
Found out at the post office that Rick Klein has passed. Former Monkees roadie and all around good guy. He was once married to Kathy's college roommate. He died October 14th.
“Put it before them briefly so they will read it, clearly so they will appreciate it, picturesquely so they will remember it and, above all, accurately so they will be guided by its light.”
—Joseph Pulitzer
I woke up this morning to stereo cement trucks, one on each side of the house, bleeping and blatting those irritating back-up signals over and over. We’ve got a big ol’ house going up to the south of us, and they’re totally remodeling the “Muffy” house to the north of us.
Yesterday at four I had half a physical, ending with the much dreaded "turn your head and cough," examination and for the finale, a plastic gloved finger up the off-ramp to the Bell Road Exit. Lisa was the PA who performed the deed and as I bent over the table I asked her how many of these she performs in a typical day. Seven or eight was the answer. "So, at lunch do you say things like, ‘Well I got to go back to work and probe an old man?" She laughed more than I did. A night of fasting and bloodwork follows next Tuesday.
Last night Kathy talked me into going to restorative yoga at Black Mountain Gym. I hate going mostly because it’s all women and they stretch into every position imaginable with such ease and to me a good stretch is picking up my wallet off the bedroom floor without having to get down on my hands and knees. On a desperate down dog deal, the yoga woman came over and sat on my rump to get it to go down. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that my rump was really getting tired of being abused by female health professionals. Felt good though.
Just before noon today, I got a call from Gordon Smith telling me Michael Lacey was on NPR being interviewed about the Village Voice buyout. I had to go down into the Beast to Dan Harshberger’s studio so I got in the truck and gave a listen on the way down. Lacey is so amazing. He manages to savage the interviewer for being subsidized by the government and then he hangs up, and experts and enemies from around the country have at Lacey and New Times, as if his newspaper company is the Soviet Union. And to think this little ol’ hippie newspaper started next door to a pizza parlor on Mill Avenue in 1970. I joined the paper in March of 1978 for $110 a week and did basically seven jobs, from writer to art director to photographer to columnist (“Scoops!”) to cartoonist (Honkytonk Sue) to cover art to ad layouts and ad art. There were six of us working on the second floor of the Westward Ho Hotel in a bad part of town (there were bums lying outside our door and you had to step over them to get in, and the only difference between the bums and the guys who worked at New Times is that the bums had better taste in pants).
Got to Dan’s studio at ten to one. He was bugged that I interrupted his lunch (which he takes in his house four steps away from his studio). We went over features layouts, the January cover, a new featurette we are producing and a top secret project.
Drove back out and had lunch at the house (three reheated tacos by Bell), then started the Jesse Evans vs. The Texas Rangers art.
Last night I went over to Floyd Brooks’ ranch and took photos of his prime stud Mr. Rockafeather, who sired the 1997 World Champion Paint Reiner and is an 80% producer on solid mares. At eighteen hands high, the Rock is mighty studly. I asked Floyd if he was difficult to handle and he said, "With all studs you have to keep your eye on them all the time because he’ll put your belly button right up against your tail bone in a heartbeat." Man, I love old cowboy talk like that! You can’t make up that stuff.
Found out at the post office that Rick Klein has passed. Former Monkees roadie and all around good guy. He was once married to Kathy's college roommate. He died October 14th.
“Put it before them briefly so they will read it, clearly so they will appreciate it, picturesquely so they will remember it and, above all, accurately so they will be guided by its light.”
—Joseph Pulitzer
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
October 26, 2005
One of Cave Creek’s living legends came by the office two days ago. Floyd Brooks, horse trainer extraordinaire, wanted to give us a story idea. Great stunt men of the Old West. Great idea. Floyd also has a big, off-white stallion I want to go by and see. Going by there on the way to my annual physical this afternoon.
Got a haircut at one from my neighbor Bev. She had me in stitches telling stories about our mutual neighbor JD. She also had a cure for the packrats in my ‘49 Ford. “Give the car to us.” Funny. ($20 cash, includes tip). Paul the Barber came in limping. Bad bone spur in his ankle, he says. Bev’s selling out. Wants more time at home and at their cabin in Payson. Everyone my age is retiring or playing golf. Salty Richardson plays every day, trying to get his score down.
Rounded up art reference for the Texas Rangers vs. Jesse Evans gunfight this morning. Going to be a good one. Thanks Chuck Parsons!
Proof that marrying a younger woman named Heather has its downside:
Sir Paul McCartney was out with his young wife when she recognized his voice in a song playing in the background. “She recognized my voice,” the cute Beatle mused in Rolling Stone, “and said, ‘Is this you?’ I said, ‘Yes, darling. It’s called ‘Get Back.’ It’s quite famous.”
Kathy told me this morning that if I really loved our house I’d clean my studio. She’s right, but I hate that kind of pressure because. . .
“Exactness and neatness in moderation is a virtue, but carried to extremes narrows the mind.”
—François de Salignac de la Mothe-Fénelon
One of Cave Creek’s living legends came by the office two days ago. Floyd Brooks, horse trainer extraordinaire, wanted to give us a story idea. Great stunt men of the Old West. Great idea. Floyd also has a big, off-white stallion I want to go by and see. Going by there on the way to my annual physical this afternoon.
Got a haircut at one from my neighbor Bev. She had me in stitches telling stories about our mutual neighbor JD. She also had a cure for the packrats in my ‘49 Ford. “Give the car to us.” Funny. ($20 cash, includes tip). Paul the Barber came in limping. Bad bone spur in his ankle, he says. Bev’s selling out. Wants more time at home and at their cabin in Payson. Everyone my age is retiring or playing golf. Salty Richardson plays every day, trying to get his score down.Rounded up art reference for the Texas Rangers vs. Jesse Evans gunfight this morning. Going to be a good one. Thanks Chuck Parsons!
Proof that marrying a younger woman named Heather has its downside:
Sir Paul McCartney was out with his young wife when she recognized his voice in a song playing in the background. “She recognized my voice,” the cute Beatle mused in Rolling Stone, “and said, ‘Is this you?’ I said, ‘Yes, darling. It’s called ‘Get Back.’ It’s quite famous.”
Kathy told me this morning that if I really loved our house I’d clean my studio. She’s right, but I hate that kind of pressure because. . .
“Exactness and neatness in moderation is a virtue, but carried to extremes narrows the mind.”
—François de Salignac de la Mothe-Fénelon
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
October 25, 2005
As you know, Gus the Mapinator, is leaving us next month. I set up a final jam session for November 23rd in the office and Mike Torres is coming out to gig, with me on drums. So, True West magazine is looking for a creative, edgy, map nut, who loves great design, and funky treasure maps. Must know 3-D, illustrator, Quark Xpress and In Design. Email me at the above address if you want the gig.
Our phone women, Samantha, Sheri and Carole are the best. Last week I wrote about a guy from Utah who was livid about the gay issue, wanted his money back. Samantha suggested I write him a letter and I did, telling him we wanted to hear his side of the debate. He called today and Carole answered the phone. She tells what happened next:
"I told him that we accepted that there are many points of view and we were not promoting any of them — just reporting. It really struck a nerve with him."
He un-cancelled his Maniac membership and is writing a letter to the editor. That is so cool, I can’t begin to tell you. The other thing is that most people are literally stunned when the girls answer the phone. "Whoa! Excuse me, is this a real person?" is the most common response they get. "Yes, we’re real and we’re not in India!" is the answer they've been trained to say back.
I got the film back from the plein air art trip and one of them is of the boys under the Kaiser Springs Bridge. I told them if they do a hip-hp album this is their CD cover. Kaiser Springs is off to the left. That’s T. Charles on the left and Carson Mell on the right. I also got a nice one of Ed Mell behind his oil transformer on the backside of the Hualapais and I’ll run that one tomorrow.
Two of my old underground friends are worth $400 million today. Mike Lacey and Jim Larkin just bought the Village Voice newspaper chain, bringing their newspaper holdings to 17 papers, I believe. Back in the mid-1970s when I was thinking of going to work for them at New Times, a person who I greatly admire and trust told me not to get involved because they would never amount to anything. Fortunately, that loan officer is no longer at our bank.
"Lord, Grant that I may always desire more than I can accomplish."
—Michelangelo
As you know, Gus the Mapinator, is leaving us next month. I set up a final jam session for November 23rd in the office and Mike Torres is coming out to gig, with me on drums. So, True West magazine is looking for a creative, edgy, map nut, who loves great design, and funky treasure maps. Must know 3-D, illustrator, Quark Xpress and In Design. Email me at the above address if you want the gig.
Our phone women, Samantha, Sheri and Carole are the best. Last week I wrote about a guy from Utah who was livid about the gay issue, wanted his money back. Samantha suggested I write him a letter and I did, telling him we wanted to hear his side of the debate. He called today and Carole answered the phone. She tells what happened next:
"I told him that we accepted that there are many points of view and we were not promoting any of them — just reporting. It really struck a nerve with him."
He un-cancelled his Maniac membership and is writing a letter to the editor. That is so cool, I can’t begin to tell you. The other thing is that most people are literally stunned when the girls answer the phone. "Whoa! Excuse me, is this a real person?" is the most common response they get. "Yes, we’re real and we’re not in India!" is the answer they've been trained to say back.
I got the film back from the plein air art trip and one of them is of the boys under the Kaiser Springs Bridge. I told them if they do a hip-hp album this is their CD cover. Kaiser Springs is off to the left. That’s T. Charles on the left and Carson Mell on the right. I also got a nice one of Ed Mell behind his oil transformer on the backside of the Hualapais and I’ll run that one tomorrow.Two of my old underground friends are worth $400 million today. Mike Lacey and Jim Larkin just bought the Village Voice newspaper chain, bringing their newspaper holdings to 17 papers, I believe. Back in the mid-1970s when I was thinking of going to work for them at New Times, a person who I greatly admire and trust told me not to get involved because they would never amount to anything. Fortunately, that loan officer is no longer at our bank.
"Lord, Grant that I may always desire more than I can accomplish."
—Michelangelo
Monday, October 24, 2005
October 24, 2005
I came into the office this Monday morning expecting the worst. Last Friday we received some very nasty phone calls with cancellations and abuse for our staff. I spent a good part of the weekend wondering and worrying just how bad it would get.
This morning I received this Email:
"I'm sure you'll get hate mail about the ‘gay western’ theme in the Nov/Dec magazine so wanted to say thank you for being willing to address the subject. As both a reader and an advertiser I value the articles about the 'true' west, especially if it breaks down stereotypes. Thanks for your courage!"
—Richard Beal, Beal’s Cowboy Buckles
www.bealscowboybuckles.com
More gay, or should that be 'shmay' fallout?
"Gay, shmay--Neil Williams has zeroed in on the real controversy in the latest issue of True West. Namely, Johnny Boggs, whatchoo smokin', son? My Darling Clementine is his favorite Wyatt Earp movie? If a fellow's going to hold those kind of socially unacceptable notions, he's got to be prepared to defend 'em. Skin that Mont Blanc and blaze away, Boggs!
"Shocking as that was, however, it wasn't enough to make me cancel my subscription."
—Emma Bull
"These kinds of emails make all the crap almost worth it."
—Charlie Waters, veteran newspaperman
We’ve got a new poll question up. How do you view Kit Carson? Go vote!
a. Intrepid scout and soldier
b. Genocidal Indian hater
c. TV Western hero
"Don't argue with an idiot; people watching may not be able to tell the difference."
—Old Vaquero Saying
I came into the office this Monday morning expecting the worst. Last Friday we received some very nasty phone calls with cancellations and abuse for our staff. I spent a good part of the weekend wondering and worrying just how bad it would get.
This morning I received this Email:
"I'm sure you'll get hate mail about the ‘gay western’ theme in the Nov/Dec magazine so wanted to say thank you for being willing to address the subject. As both a reader and an advertiser I value the articles about the 'true' west, especially if it breaks down stereotypes. Thanks for your courage!"
—Richard Beal, Beal’s Cowboy Buckles
www.bealscowboybuckles.com
More gay, or should that be 'shmay' fallout?
"Gay, shmay--Neil Williams has zeroed in on the real controversy in the latest issue of True West. Namely, Johnny Boggs, whatchoo smokin', son? My Darling Clementine is his favorite Wyatt Earp movie? If a fellow's going to hold those kind of socially unacceptable notions, he's got to be prepared to defend 'em. Skin that Mont Blanc and blaze away, Boggs!
"Shocking as that was, however, it wasn't enough to make me cancel my subscription."
—Emma Bull
"These kinds of emails make all the crap almost worth it."
—Charlie Waters, veteran newspaperman
We’ve got a new poll question up. How do you view Kit Carson? Go vote!
a. Intrepid scout and soldier
b. Genocidal Indian hater
c. TV Western hero
"Don't argue with an idiot; people watching may not be able to tell the difference."
—Old Vaquero Saying
Sunday, October 23, 2005
October 23, 2005
Made homemade margaritas and tacos last night. Bill Glenn drove over from Fountain Hills to join Tomcat, Kathy and I. Afterwards we watched Bill O'Reilly on Jon Stewart's The Daily Show. Both handled themselves very well, like two heavyweights punching each other in the face but not backing down. Both were very funny. Then watched The Colbert Report, which was also very funny. Both are on the Comedy Channel.
Tomas brought me a present from Flag, a CD of Calexico, a Tucson group he particularly likes. We went up to the new camera shop, Ritz Camera, and listened to it. Lots of twang and mariachi sounds. Tucson is so hip in that vein and always have been. The Dusty Chaps were doing Country Rock five years before the Eagles.
Unfortunately, The Ritz, had a machine down and didn't have my prints. The kid working there grabbed my negs and told me I could go down into the Beast and get them developed at another store. I told him, no, I want you to develop them, like you said you would yesterday when I left them here. I also told him this was my first experience with Ritz and that I came down here from Walgreen/s and I'm not happy. Of course, the kid looked at me like, "I don't give a s---, I just work here." Too bad. I wanted to give them my business (I spent, on average, $10K a year at Foothills Photo).
Got up this morning and bailed into more stud drawings and color studies. Inspired by the art trip and Ed Mell's advice. I'm tweaking my clouds with little dabs of yellow and red to "knock them back." Quite astounding, the effects. As with so many things, it's what you leave out, as much as what you put in."
"Sometimes work is more fun than fun."
—Old Vaquero Sayingy
Made homemade margaritas and tacos last night. Bill Glenn drove over from Fountain Hills to join Tomcat, Kathy and I. Afterwards we watched Bill O'Reilly on Jon Stewart's The Daily Show. Both handled themselves very well, like two heavyweights punching each other in the face but not backing down. Both were very funny. Then watched The Colbert Report, which was also very funny. Both are on the Comedy Channel.
Tomas brought me a present from Flag, a CD of Calexico, a Tucson group he particularly likes. We went up to the new camera shop, Ritz Camera, and listened to it. Lots of twang and mariachi sounds. Tucson is so hip in that vein and always have been. The Dusty Chaps were doing Country Rock five years before the Eagles.
Unfortunately, The Ritz, had a machine down and didn't have my prints. The kid working there grabbed my negs and told me I could go down into the Beast and get them developed at another store. I told him, no, I want you to develop them, like you said you would yesterday when I left them here. I also told him this was my first experience with Ritz and that I came down here from Walgreen/s and I'm not happy. Of course, the kid looked at me like, "I don't give a s---, I just work here." Too bad. I wanted to give them my business (I spent, on average, $10K a year at Foothills Photo).
Got up this morning and bailed into more stud drawings and color studies. Inspired by the art trip and Ed Mell's advice. I'm tweaking my clouds with little dabs of yellow and red to "knock them back." Quite astounding, the effects. As with so many things, it's what you leave out, as much as what you put in."
"Sometimes work is more fun than fun."
—Old Vaquero Sayingy
Saturday, October 22, 2005
October 22, 2005
Tomcat is in Flag visiting his "homies." He's got my truck and is supposed to return this afternoon.
I had dinner with a tv producer on Thursday night. He's in town to talk about doing a documentary on the Cowboy Artists of America, whose annual show opened last night. We ate at the Pink Pony, a venerable steakhouse in Oldtown Scottsdale. I had a ribeye, medium well, with baked potato and house salad with bleau cheese. He had the same, although he had a beer and I had a glass of cabernet ($48, I bought, incudes tip). We talked about the state of the biz, rumors and several projects he is doing including a finished doc on the Comanches that airs on the History Channel in November.
Earlier in the evening, Bob and Trish Brink, Joel and Laury Klasky and I manned a booth at the Thursday night Artwalk on Main Street. Handed out hundreds of mags and talked up the locals. Big crowd, maybe six thousand or so. Ran into Arizona Republic reporter Dolores Tropiano who blushed telling everyone I was her very first interview many years ago, and that she was so nervous. Funny. She wants to do an article on the mag and my new book (still more residual benefits from the press release sent out a month ago).
Got home about midnite. Long day, but good promotion for the magazine. I was quite impressed with everyone for giving up their evening to help the cause. We had a couple of people approach us about advertising, so that was worth the effort right there.
On Friday, Trish and crew burned up the phone lines to bring ad sales for the January issue into he winner's circle. We are already 10% higher than last year and Robert Ray offered to give them another couple of days to bring the number closer to 20%. This kind of cooperation from production speaks well of Trish’s leadership and her relationship with Robert is very encouraging to me. In the past there has been a nasty adversarial deal which didn’t help the bottom line at all.
Beautiful weather out this weekend. Took two bike rides in the morning, going all the way to the creek up on Rockaway Hills. Buddy Boze Hatkiller jumped right in the water and slurped around. Ran into JD on the road and told him about more packrats in the ‘49 Ford. This is the third time I’ve had them. I've hosed 'em, put cayenne pepper all over the engine, and they still come back. He recommended a have-a-heart trap, and said he captures at least one or two packrats a day. I asked him what he does with them and he said, “I drown ‘em.” Ha. Some heart.
Came back and picked cholla out of the engine of the '49 and hosed down everything. Called Eric to come out and replace the chewed wiring.
Went into the studio and whipped out six drawings and prepped three big watercolor boards for the Mexicali Stud story. When Ed Mell and I were on the roof last Tuesday looking at a dramatic sunset I asked him how he would paint the back of the bright orange clouds rolling over our heads in the technicolor twilight. He told me he would back in some red and yellow (into the blue) to deaden the backs and that he would also deaden the blue part of the sky, which he said was “too electric.” He confided to me that many artists try to match the actual blue, which we were seeing quite vividly, but that it gets too electric and kills the actual sunset effect. He told me if you deaden the blue just a skosh, and the back of the clouds (away from the highlights) it makes the highlights jump right up and sing. Man, that was worth the whole damn plein air trip right there.
“It's easy to stop making mistakes. Just stop having ideas.”
—Old Vaquero Saying
i
Tomcat is in Flag visiting his "homies." He's got my truck and is supposed to return this afternoon.
I had dinner with a tv producer on Thursday night. He's in town to talk about doing a documentary on the Cowboy Artists of America, whose annual show opened last night. We ate at the Pink Pony, a venerable steakhouse in Oldtown Scottsdale. I had a ribeye, medium well, with baked potato and house salad with bleau cheese. He had the same, although he had a beer and I had a glass of cabernet ($48, I bought, incudes tip). We talked about the state of the biz, rumors and several projects he is doing including a finished doc on the Comanches that airs on the History Channel in November.
Earlier in the evening, Bob and Trish Brink, Joel and Laury Klasky and I manned a booth at the Thursday night Artwalk on Main Street. Handed out hundreds of mags and talked up the locals. Big crowd, maybe six thousand or so. Ran into Arizona Republic reporter Dolores Tropiano who blushed telling everyone I was her very first interview many years ago, and that she was so nervous. Funny. She wants to do an article on the mag and my new book (still more residual benefits from the press release sent out a month ago).
Got home about midnite. Long day, but good promotion for the magazine. I was quite impressed with everyone for giving up their evening to help the cause. We had a couple of people approach us about advertising, so that was worth the effort right there.
On Friday, Trish and crew burned up the phone lines to bring ad sales for the January issue into he winner's circle. We are already 10% higher than last year and Robert Ray offered to give them another couple of days to bring the number closer to 20%. This kind of cooperation from production speaks well of Trish’s leadership and her relationship with Robert is very encouraging to me. In the past there has been a nasty adversarial deal which didn’t help the bottom line at all.
Beautiful weather out this weekend. Took two bike rides in the morning, going all the way to the creek up on Rockaway Hills. Buddy Boze Hatkiller jumped right in the water and slurped around. Ran into JD on the road and told him about more packrats in the ‘49 Ford. This is the third time I’ve had them. I've hosed 'em, put cayenne pepper all over the engine, and they still come back. He recommended a have-a-heart trap, and said he captures at least one or two packrats a day. I asked him what he does with them and he said, “I drown ‘em.” Ha. Some heart.
Came back and picked cholla out of the engine of the '49 and hosed down everything. Called Eric to come out and replace the chewed wiring.
Went into the studio and whipped out six drawings and prepped three big watercolor boards for the Mexicali Stud story. When Ed Mell and I were on the roof last Tuesday looking at a dramatic sunset I asked him how he would paint the back of the bright orange clouds rolling over our heads in the technicolor twilight. He told me he would back in some red and yellow (into the blue) to deaden the backs and that he would also deaden the blue part of the sky, which he said was “too electric.” He confided to me that many artists try to match the actual blue, which we were seeing quite vividly, but that it gets too electric and kills the actual sunset effect. He told me if you deaden the blue just a skosh, and the back of the clouds (away from the highlights) it makes the highlights jump right up and sing. Man, that was worth the whole damn plein air trip right there.
“It's easy to stop making mistakes. Just stop having ideas.”
—Old Vaquero Saying
i
Friday, October 21, 2005
October 21, 2005
One of the history field's classiest guys is getting a formal dinner to honor his achievements. Naturally, I sent Richard Dillon one of our Homos On The Range postcards ( he has a great sense of humor, plus I sent some other more tasteful items). Dick will be honored November 4th at The World Trade Club, One Ferry Plaza, San Francisco.
Speaking of One Ferry Plaza, I got a phone call this morning from a mad Maniac regarding the gay issue. "I’m a Mormon. I’m a registered Republican. I voted for George W. Bush. I live in a red state. And I won’t be preached at!" I was tempted to say, "Ah, excuse me sir, but who’s preaching to whom? We’re just trying to have a conversation about a valid part of history." But, when someone is that far gone around the bend, it does no good. I just told him I’m sorry he feels that way.
For every negative comment I have received, I’ve gotten good ones like this one:
“Ha ha ha!! Your new cover is MOST entertaining. First I see a great rendering of Clint, then I spy the two banditos locked in a big ol' dusty kiss . . . WOW! ha ha ha You get my coveted ‘Cover of the Month.’ All this AND ‘Black Bart Gets Off’ ? funny stuff
—Lonnie
But this has been my favorite one so far:
“Just read the new issue. It was, and I say this with affection, the most f-----up True West ever. The ‘Homos on the Range’ slant is all fine and well; brave even, considering your target readership. But Johnny Boggs' confession that Harris Yulin is his favorite Wyatt Earp is the humdinger of f------uppedness. Pure sacrilege. Does he just delight in being contrary or are you testing whether we actually read the small print? Inquiring minds want to know.”
—C. Neil Williams
Harris Yulin played Wyatt Earp in the 1970s movie Doc, where Stacey Keach played Doc Holliday.
“Jim Croce didn't sing 'Cat's in the Cradle.' Harry Chapin did. The two were both singer/songwriters. But Jim died in a plane crash. Harry died in a car wreck.”
—Mark Boardman
I am constantly looking for inspiration on how to do my job better. Carole sent me this today: As Dr. Edward Hall, an inventor of the theory of personal space (Proxemics) said in 1960...
"Like the creative composer, some people are more gifted at living than others. They do have an effect on those around them, but the process stops there because there is no way of describing in technical terms just what it is they do, most of which is out of awareness.
"Some time in the future, a long time from now when culture is more completely explored, there will be the equivalent of musical scores that can be learned, each for a different type of man or woman in different jobs and relationships, for time, space, work, and play.
"We see people who are successful and happy today, who have jobs which are rewarding and productive. What are the sets, isolates, and patterns that differentiate their lives from those of the less fortunate? We need to have a means of making life a little less haphazard and more enjoyable. That day has now come through the power of modeling.”
“Nobody told me how hard and lonely change is.”
—Joan Gilbertson
One of the history field's classiest guys is getting a formal dinner to honor his achievements. Naturally, I sent Richard Dillon one of our Homos On The Range postcards ( he has a great sense of humor, plus I sent some other more tasteful items). Dick will be honored November 4th at The World Trade Club, One Ferry Plaza, San Francisco.
Speaking of One Ferry Plaza, I got a phone call this morning from a mad Maniac regarding the gay issue. "I’m a Mormon. I’m a registered Republican. I voted for George W. Bush. I live in a red state. And I won’t be preached at!" I was tempted to say, "Ah, excuse me sir, but who’s preaching to whom? We’re just trying to have a conversation about a valid part of history." But, when someone is that far gone around the bend, it does no good. I just told him I’m sorry he feels that way.
For every negative comment I have received, I’ve gotten good ones like this one:
“Ha ha ha!! Your new cover is MOST entertaining. First I see a great rendering of Clint, then I spy the two banditos locked in a big ol' dusty kiss . . . WOW! ha ha ha You get my coveted ‘Cover of the Month.’ All this AND ‘Black Bart Gets Off’ ? funny stuff
—Lonnie
But this has been my favorite one so far:
“Just read the new issue. It was, and I say this with affection, the most f-----up True West ever. The ‘Homos on the Range’ slant is all fine and well; brave even, considering your target readership. But Johnny Boggs' confession that Harris Yulin is his favorite Wyatt Earp is the humdinger of f------uppedness. Pure sacrilege. Does he just delight in being contrary or are you testing whether we actually read the small print? Inquiring minds want to know.”
—C. Neil Williams
Harris Yulin played Wyatt Earp in the 1970s movie Doc, where Stacey Keach played Doc Holliday.
“Jim Croce didn't sing 'Cat's in the Cradle.' Harry Chapin did. The two were both singer/songwriters. But Jim died in a plane crash. Harry died in a car wreck.”
—Mark Boardman
I am constantly looking for inspiration on how to do my job better. Carole sent me this today: As Dr. Edward Hall, an inventor of the theory of personal space (Proxemics) said in 1960...
"Like the creative composer, some people are more gifted at living than others. They do have an effect on those around them, but the process stops there because there is no way of describing in technical terms just what it is they do, most of which is out of awareness.
"Some time in the future, a long time from now when culture is more completely explored, there will be the equivalent of musical scores that can be learned, each for a different type of man or woman in different jobs and relationships, for time, space, work, and play.
"We see people who are successful and happy today, who have jobs which are rewarding and productive. What are the sets, isolates, and patterns that differentiate their lives from those of the less fortunate? We need to have a means of making life a little less haphazard and more enjoyable. That day has now come through the power of modeling.”
“Nobody told me how hard and lonely change is.”
—Joan Gilbertson
Thursday, October 20, 2005
October 20, 2005
On Monday, Ed Mell, his son Carson, my son Thomas and I left Wickiup and drove down highway 93 to Kaiser Springs and got out under the new bridge to take some photos. Spectacular canyon, maybe 900 feet high, perhaps 15 feet wide at the bottom with straight up vertical walls. Really dramatic. For the past five decades I’ve craned my neck around every time I drive by this spot, wondering what it’s like up inside. Still didn’t make it in because of the rain (Zonie common sense: don’t go wandering into a slot canyon when it’s raining anywhere within fifty miles).
From the Burro Creek Wilderness, we took the Bagdad turnoff and went up to the oddly named Arizona mining town. Evidently, two "salty prospectors" staked the original claims in 1882. The two claims were named The Hawkeye and the Bagdad (misspelled but it stuck). The reason for the name has been lost although a Kingman teacher, Mr. Boyson, told us kids on a field trip that a father and son were prospecting nearby and the kid said, "Pass me another bag, dad." It’s probably not true, but it never fails to get a groan when I tell it.
After a picnic in Hillside, we drove on through dramatic thunder showers, thru Skull Valley and Kirkland and on into Prescott. Ed has a wonderful cabin not far from Thumb Butte and we rode out the rain and ate grilled steaks and twice-baked-potatoes. I sketched and read. Delightful.
We went downtown between showers and walked down Whiskey Row to get a beer at the famous Palace Bar (Steve McQueen got in a big fight here in the movie Junior Bonner, remember?). But before we could get there, out steps Wyatt Earp and his wife Terry from a store nearby. After a big chat (they hadn’t seen the New Times piece on Wyatt) we went inside the store they were just coming out of and I bought Kathy a Kit Carson pendant of a crow with a kernel of truth in its beak ($60 cash).
Drove home Tuesday afternoon under dramatic skies, getting home about five. Ed shot a roll of film up on the crow’s nest and said with a smile, "Well, there’s my next show."
“Okay, 6 days have passed. What’s Brook’s version?”
—Curt Rich, True West Maniac #244
I’ve placed two calls to Brook at the Camelback Inn, basically pleading for her forgiveness. “Brook is on property,” her secretary told me this morning, “but she’s not answering her page.” Likely story. I offered her, via voice mail, the opportunity to "vent and dress me down good," but as of 11:30 today, no call back, not that I blame her. According to someone who dealt with her last weekend, I allegedly called her a few choice names that I don’t recall saying, but then, that’s the nature of history (he said—she said).
In my defense I mentioned the $85 courtesy phone charge to my daughter Deena who worked the front desk at the Doubletree last year and she was appalled, saying "What has happened to customer service?" My sentiments exactly.
One of the most respected book dealers in the country called me this morning and said he has sold out twice now with Blaze Away: The 25 Gunfights Behind the O.K. Corral. Bob Pugh said one of his most stickler customers pronounced it, "Flawless." This made my day, especially with the petty criticism emanating from a certain Tombstone resident.
"To be satisfied with little is hard, to be satisfied with a lot is impossible."
—Old Vaquero Saying
On Monday, Ed Mell, his son Carson, my son Thomas and I left Wickiup and drove down highway 93 to Kaiser Springs and got out under the new bridge to take some photos. Spectacular canyon, maybe 900 feet high, perhaps 15 feet wide at the bottom with straight up vertical walls. Really dramatic. For the past five decades I’ve craned my neck around every time I drive by this spot, wondering what it’s like up inside. Still didn’t make it in because of the rain (Zonie common sense: don’t go wandering into a slot canyon when it’s raining anywhere within fifty miles).
From the Burro Creek Wilderness, we took the Bagdad turnoff and went up to the oddly named Arizona mining town. Evidently, two "salty prospectors" staked the original claims in 1882. The two claims were named The Hawkeye and the Bagdad (misspelled but it stuck). The reason for the name has been lost although a Kingman teacher, Mr. Boyson, told us kids on a field trip that a father and son were prospecting nearby and the kid said, "Pass me another bag, dad." It’s probably not true, but it never fails to get a groan when I tell it.
After a picnic in Hillside, we drove on through dramatic thunder showers, thru Skull Valley and Kirkland and on into Prescott. Ed has a wonderful cabin not far from Thumb Butte and we rode out the rain and ate grilled steaks and twice-baked-potatoes. I sketched and read. Delightful.
We went downtown between showers and walked down Whiskey Row to get a beer at the famous Palace Bar (Steve McQueen got in a big fight here in the movie Junior Bonner, remember?). But before we could get there, out steps Wyatt Earp and his wife Terry from a store nearby. After a big chat (they hadn’t seen the New Times piece on Wyatt) we went inside the store they were just coming out of and I bought Kathy a Kit Carson pendant of a crow with a kernel of truth in its beak ($60 cash).
Drove home Tuesday afternoon under dramatic skies, getting home about five. Ed shot a roll of film up on the crow’s nest and said with a smile, "Well, there’s my next show."
“Okay, 6 days have passed. What’s Brook’s version?”
—Curt Rich, True West Maniac #244
I’ve placed two calls to Brook at the Camelback Inn, basically pleading for her forgiveness. “Brook is on property,” her secretary told me this morning, “but she’s not answering her page.” Likely story. I offered her, via voice mail, the opportunity to "vent and dress me down good," but as of 11:30 today, no call back, not that I blame her. According to someone who dealt with her last weekend, I allegedly called her a few choice names that I don’t recall saying, but then, that’s the nature of history (he said—she said).
In my defense I mentioned the $85 courtesy phone charge to my daughter Deena who worked the front desk at the Doubletree last year and she was appalled, saying "What has happened to customer service?" My sentiments exactly.
One of the most respected book dealers in the country called me this morning and said he has sold out twice now with Blaze Away: The 25 Gunfights Behind the O.K. Corral. Bob Pugh said one of his most stickler customers pronounced it, "Flawless." This made my day, especially with the petty criticism emanating from a certain Tombstone resident.
"To be satisfied with little is hard, to be satisfied with a lot is impossible."
—Old Vaquero Saying
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
October 19, 2005
I was cleaning my studio this morning (imagine that!) and found staff meeting notes from December of 2000. Allen Fossenkemper suggested “having travel in the four regular True West issues.” This refers to our four regular issues vs. our collector editions. Allen was quite prescient since, we now have travel in every issue and it’s the biggest and best paying ad category in the history of the magazine. Thanks Allen!
Last Saturday Kathy drove Tomas and I over to I-17 and Carefree Highway to meet Ed Mell and his son Carson at 11:30. We piled into Ed's gray Explorer and drove from there over to Wickenburg and landed at the Rancho de Caballeros Guest Ranch southeast of town. Beautiful guest ranch built in the 1940s with funky corrals full of cow ponys. Had a free lunch in the dining room (three meals come with the rooms, which run $450 a night), and after a nap, we got dressed to go in town to the Desert Caballeros Museum for the John Coleman artshow opening. Started with a cocktail party in the museum. Met many of the big names in Western art including Cowboy Artists of America member Bill Owen (turns out he knows my Kingman cowboy cousin Billy Hamilton). John's sculpture was quite good and we admired his vision and scale. Also took some time to gander at all of the Old Masters paintings from Remington, Leigh, Maynard Dixon and Ed Mell. At seven we walked down the street for a formal sit down meal in a small park area between two old buildings. It was a beautiful night, with great food and good cowboy music. At one point the band leader introduced the bass player, who turned out to be Joel Dowling, the bass player in the Razz band for a decade or so. Of course I had to hoot and hollar his name like he was Elvis or something. On break Joel came over and said, “I heard you had a triple by-pass and a pec lift,” to which I said, “Well, you’re half right.” Actually he was dead wrong on all accounts but it sounded better the other way, and frankly, I half enjoy the vicious rumors.
On Sunday morning we stopped at Bashas’ and got steaks and twice-baked-potatoes for the ranch house ($28 debit, plus $40 cash), and took off for Wickiup. Stopped at the Santa Maria River and hiked back up into the foothills looking for a shot of Shiprock, a massive sandstone butte, but never did get a good angle at it. Felt good to be out in the wilds though and we worked up a sweat. We had been warned by Tom Carpenter to be on the lookout for meth labs, so we were armed and dangerous. We did manage to rustle up a dad and four or five tow-headed campers, but we didn’t kill them.
From there we stopped at Nothing, and got nothing. And we also stopped at Burro Creek and hiked up the river a tad. Really a pretty area.
Stopped for lunch at Luchia’s five miles north of Wickiup ($22 cash I paid). Great little oasis in the middle of a butt-ugly draw. A pond, grass, peacocks and wild fish. Sat outside. Had a tuna salad on whole wheat and homemade banana cream pie. Pulled into the Cane Springs Ranch at four, moved into the back ranch house, then took off up the draw for our first plein air painting setup. Got up on a long mesa and set up on the side of the road. Ed has a full boat oil painting rig with adjustable legs, sort of a transformer meets Red Adair oil rig. I sat in a camp chair and held my water bottle and gouache pallette as we both took a stab at the head of Bull Canyon and the back side of the Hualapais, as the boys took off up the road looking for adventure. I was quite nervous having never plein air painted, but I quickly got the hang of it. Real life is lit so much more pale than photos, and you see so much more tonal shifts than you do in the studio. It is intimidating though, with 360 degrees of choices and it’s a tad hard for me (Mr. Attention Disorder Hisself) to narrow down the field of vision. Painted until dark, got some good washes. I also whipped up two pen and inks of the Aquarius Mountains off to the east. Ed completed his oil study. Really a sweet little $5,000 number. I grew up looking at the Hualapais from the other side, so it was a bit of old home week for me, although they did look strange from the backside.
Got back to the ranch house after dark, made hamburgers and beans (how fitting). Rain came during the night and we woke up to major storm central on Monday morning. Not a good painting environment. Besides being wet, no shadows.
So we bailed on the second night at Cane Springs, and after breakfast at Luchia’s, took off for Prescott where Ed has a cabin. That adventure tomorrow.
“The grass is greener somewhere else. Our thoughts persuade, and we comply. And when we get to someplace else, we find the grass is often dry.”
—Dolores Dahl
I was cleaning my studio this morning (imagine that!) and found staff meeting notes from December of 2000. Allen Fossenkemper suggested “having travel in the four regular True West issues.” This refers to our four regular issues vs. our collector editions. Allen was quite prescient since, we now have travel in every issue and it’s the biggest and best paying ad category in the history of the magazine. Thanks Allen!
Last Saturday Kathy drove Tomas and I over to I-17 and Carefree Highway to meet Ed Mell and his son Carson at 11:30. We piled into Ed's gray Explorer and drove from there over to Wickenburg and landed at the Rancho de Caballeros Guest Ranch southeast of town. Beautiful guest ranch built in the 1940s with funky corrals full of cow ponys. Had a free lunch in the dining room (three meals come with the rooms, which run $450 a night), and after a nap, we got dressed to go in town to the Desert Caballeros Museum for the John Coleman artshow opening. Started with a cocktail party in the museum. Met many of the big names in Western art including Cowboy Artists of America member Bill Owen (turns out he knows my Kingman cowboy cousin Billy Hamilton). John's sculpture was quite good and we admired his vision and scale. Also took some time to gander at all of the Old Masters paintings from Remington, Leigh, Maynard Dixon and Ed Mell. At seven we walked down the street for a formal sit down meal in a small park area between two old buildings. It was a beautiful night, with great food and good cowboy music. At one point the band leader introduced the bass player, who turned out to be Joel Dowling, the bass player in the Razz band for a decade or so. Of course I had to hoot and hollar his name like he was Elvis or something. On break Joel came over and said, “I heard you had a triple by-pass and a pec lift,” to which I said, “Well, you’re half right.” Actually he was dead wrong on all accounts but it sounded better the other way, and frankly, I half enjoy the vicious rumors.
On Sunday morning we stopped at Bashas’ and got steaks and twice-baked-potatoes for the ranch house ($28 debit, plus $40 cash), and took off for Wickiup. Stopped at the Santa Maria River and hiked back up into the foothills looking for a shot of Shiprock, a massive sandstone butte, but never did get a good angle at it. Felt good to be out in the wilds though and we worked up a sweat. We had been warned by Tom Carpenter to be on the lookout for meth labs, so we were armed and dangerous. We did manage to rustle up a dad and four or five tow-headed campers, but we didn’t kill them.
From there we stopped at Nothing, and got nothing. And we also stopped at Burro Creek and hiked up the river a tad. Really a pretty area.
Stopped for lunch at Luchia’s five miles north of Wickiup ($22 cash I paid). Great little oasis in the middle of a butt-ugly draw. A pond, grass, peacocks and wild fish. Sat outside. Had a tuna salad on whole wheat and homemade banana cream pie. Pulled into the Cane Springs Ranch at four, moved into the back ranch house, then took off up the draw for our first plein air painting setup. Got up on a long mesa and set up on the side of the road. Ed has a full boat oil painting rig with adjustable legs, sort of a transformer meets Red Adair oil rig. I sat in a camp chair and held my water bottle and gouache pallette as we both took a stab at the head of Bull Canyon and the back side of the Hualapais, as the boys took off up the road looking for adventure. I was quite nervous having never plein air painted, but I quickly got the hang of it. Real life is lit so much more pale than photos, and you see so much more tonal shifts than you do in the studio. It is intimidating though, with 360 degrees of choices and it’s a tad hard for me (Mr. Attention Disorder Hisself) to narrow down the field of vision. Painted until dark, got some good washes. I also whipped up two pen and inks of the Aquarius Mountains off to the east. Ed completed his oil study. Really a sweet little $5,000 number. I grew up looking at the Hualapais from the other side, so it was a bit of old home week for me, although they did look strange from the backside.
Got back to the ranch house after dark, made hamburgers and beans (how fitting). Rain came during the night and we woke up to major storm central on Monday morning. Not a good painting environment. Besides being wet, no shadows.
So we bailed on the second night at Cane Springs, and after breakfast at Luchia’s, took off for Prescott where Ed has a cabin. That adventure tomorrow.
“The grass is greener somewhere else. Our thoughts persuade, and we comply. And when we get to someplace else, we find the grass is often dry.”
—Dolores Dahl
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
October 18, 2005
We drove hundreds of miles, set up our art equipment on the back side of the Hualapais (west of Cane Springs), looking towards Bull Canyon, got rained out on Monday morning, came back down to Burro Creek, past Kaiser Springs, Bagdad, Hillside, Kirkland, Skull Valley, Williamson Valley, Prescott, Dewey, Humbolt, Cordes Junction, Sunset Point, New River, Anthem, Pioneer, raining all the way. Got home at five tonight, went up on the crow’s nest of my studio and had the most dramatic skies imaginable. Ha. We had driven all over the state and when we got back, the best scenery was on the roof of my house. Too funny.
Many stories in Wickenburg and Wickiup and Prescott. Those stories and more in the morning. I’m beat.
“Some people are always looking for shortcuts, even where the road is straight.”
—Old Vaquero Saying{
We drove hundreds of miles, set up our art equipment on the back side of the Hualapais (west of Cane Springs), looking towards Bull Canyon, got rained out on Monday morning, came back down to Burro Creek, past Kaiser Springs, Bagdad, Hillside, Kirkland, Skull Valley, Williamson Valley, Prescott, Dewey, Humbolt, Cordes Junction, Sunset Point, New River, Anthem, Pioneer, raining all the way. Got home at five tonight, went up on the crow’s nest of my studio and had the most dramatic skies imaginable. Ha. We had driven all over the state and when we got back, the best scenery was on the roof of my house. Too funny.
Many stories in Wickenburg and Wickiup and Prescott. Those stories and more in the morning. I’m beat.
“Some people are always looking for shortcuts, even where the road is straight.”
—Old Vaquero Saying{
Saturday, October 15, 2005
October 15, 2005
Kathy picked me up at 5:15 last night and we drove down into the Beast to meet Tomcat and Deena at Comedor de Guadalajara at Central and I-17. Deena picked up the NYC Boy at Sky Harbor and met us for dinner.
I had the tacquitos de lengua which prompted my bi-lingual daughter to say, “Do you know what you’re ordering?” Yes, actually I did. Tacos with tongue meat. Ha. Very succulent and tasty. T. Charles had been travelling all day (He saw a concert last night in Philadelphia, took the bus for $10 from Phillie’s Chinatown to NYC’s Chinatown, then the E Train across the Hudson to Queens and a bus to LaGuardia. Flew out of there to Denver, with a stopover, and finally into Phoenix at 5:56). So, anyway, he got grumpy and the whole deal went into a tailspin. I paid the strolling mariachis $6 to play La Bamba, but even me playing drums on the table and chirping did nothing to raise the spirits of our boy.
Instead of driving home with us, he went with Deena and met up with Bill Glenn for a night out on the town. As parents, this is disappointing, but then I did worse to my parents, or as Jim Croce put it, “I’ll be comin’ home soon dad, and we’ll have a good time then dad. . .and it occured to me, the boy had grown up just like me. . .”
On the way out, I picked up a New Times in the lobby of Comedor and wondered if they had ran the Wyatt Earp piece. They had, and I wasn’t disappointed in my prediction of their snide coverage. Robrt (yes, he spells it without the e)L. Pela leads with two puns: “Earp. Excuse me,” and “All’s Wyatt on the Western Front.” It’s basically a flip, anything for a laugh interview with our local Wyatt Earp with inane questions like, “How come you’re not wearing a cowboy hat right now?” Here’s the part of the interview where they mention me and my book: “Hey, I heard that Bob Boze Bell’s new book about Wyatt Earp ‘dethrones Tombstone’s most famous resident.’ What does that mean?”
Wyatt’s diplomatic response: “I don’t know. I read it cover to cover and didn’t find anything objectionable.”
NT: “Why does Bell have Earp on the cover of this month’s True West magazine with a big red X through his face?”
Earp: “It’s all hype. We love to scandalize our heroes.”
I woke up this morning to a critical response to my Arizona Republic piece that ran last Sunday. Here’s the letter under the headline Find yourself a new frontier, Bob:
"Bob Boze Bell wrote that if Texas is excluded from the region known as the frontier West then “there goes all of the James gang robberies.” The 12 banks the James gang robbed were in Missouri, West Virginia, Alabama, Arkansas, Minnesota and Kansas.
"Some people speculate that the James brothers hung out in Texas for a while (but then some people speculate Jesse James died in 1951, too).
"Even so, what would make the Texas of the late 1880s part of the “frontier” at that time—simply because if was largely rural? In his attempt to glamorize butchery and banditry, Bell gets confused over what constitutes frontier territory.
"Better go back to being a radio DJ, Bob!"
—George Ertel, Scottsdale
Never mind that I was refuting the original author’s contention that there were less than a dozen bank robberies in all the frontier from 1850 to 1900, and that certainly Texas would be considered part of the frontier in that time span (I never said it was in the “late 1880s”), and to a large degree West Texas especially in the Big Bend area west to El Paso has been a lawless frontier all the way up to at least 1953 (some would contend all the way up to today with drug running and such).
I was rather miffed, but Kathy just read it and laughed. “They spelled your name right, what are you bitching about?” Ah, you gotta love those Germanic women.
I’m packing to leave on the plein air art trip. Tomcat and I are leaving at 11 to meet Ed and Carson Mell and we’re heading up into the wilds of the Burro Creek wilderness. I’ll try to post from the Cane Springs Ranch if I can.
“The farther up the flagpole you go, the more people can see your rear end.”
—Old Vaquero Saying
a
Kathy picked me up at 5:15 last night and we drove down into the Beast to meet Tomcat and Deena at Comedor de Guadalajara at Central and I-17. Deena picked up the NYC Boy at Sky Harbor and met us for dinner.
I had the tacquitos de lengua which prompted my bi-lingual daughter to say, “Do you know what you’re ordering?” Yes, actually I did. Tacos with tongue meat. Ha. Very succulent and tasty. T. Charles had been travelling all day (He saw a concert last night in Philadelphia, took the bus for $10 from Phillie’s Chinatown to NYC’s Chinatown, then the E Train across the Hudson to Queens and a bus to LaGuardia. Flew out of there to Denver, with a stopover, and finally into Phoenix at 5:56). So, anyway, he got grumpy and the whole deal went into a tailspin. I paid the strolling mariachis $6 to play La Bamba, but even me playing drums on the table and chirping did nothing to raise the spirits of our boy.
Instead of driving home with us, he went with Deena and met up with Bill Glenn for a night out on the town. As parents, this is disappointing, but then I did worse to my parents, or as Jim Croce put it, “I’ll be comin’ home soon dad, and we’ll have a good time then dad. . .and it occured to me, the boy had grown up just like me. . .”
On the way out, I picked up a New Times in the lobby of Comedor and wondered if they had ran the Wyatt Earp piece. They had, and I wasn’t disappointed in my prediction of their snide coverage. Robrt (yes, he spells it without the e)L. Pela leads with two puns: “Earp. Excuse me,” and “All’s Wyatt on the Western Front.” It’s basically a flip, anything for a laugh interview with our local Wyatt Earp with inane questions like, “How come you’re not wearing a cowboy hat right now?” Here’s the part of the interview where they mention me and my book: “Hey, I heard that Bob Boze Bell’s new book about Wyatt Earp ‘dethrones Tombstone’s most famous resident.’ What does that mean?”
Wyatt’s diplomatic response: “I don’t know. I read it cover to cover and didn’t find anything objectionable.”
NT: “Why does Bell have Earp on the cover of this month’s True West magazine with a big red X through his face?”
Earp: “It’s all hype. We love to scandalize our heroes.”
I woke up this morning to a critical response to my Arizona Republic piece that ran last Sunday. Here’s the letter under the headline Find yourself a new frontier, Bob:
"Bob Boze Bell wrote that if Texas is excluded from the region known as the frontier West then “there goes all of the James gang robberies.” The 12 banks the James gang robbed were in Missouri, West Virginia, Alabama, Arkansas, Minnesota and Kansas.
"Some people speculate that the James brothers hung out in Texas for a while (but then some people speculate Jesse James died in 1951, too).
"Even so, what would make the Texas of the late 1880s part of the “frontier” at that time—simply because if was largely rural? In his attempt to glamorize butchery and banditry, Bell gets confused over what constitutes frontier territory.
"Better go back to being a radio DJ, Bob!"
—George Ertel, Scottsdale
Never mind that I was refuting the original author’s contention that there were less than a dozen bank robberies in all the frontier from 1850 to 1900, and that certainly Texas would be considered part of the frontier in that time span (I never said it was in the “late 1880s”), and to a large degree West Texas especially in the Big Bend area west to El Paso has been a lawless frontier all the way up to at least 1953 (some would contend all the way up to today with drug running and such).
I was rather miffed, but Kathy just read it and laughed. “They spelled your name right, what are you bitching about?” Ah, you gotta love those Germanic women.
I’m packing to leave on the plein air art trip. Tomcat and I are leaving at 11 to meet Ed and Carson Mell and we’re heading up into the wilds of the Burro Creek wilderness. I’ll try to post from the Cane Springs Ranch if I can.
“The farther up the flagpole you go, the more people can see your rear end.”
—Old Vaquero Saying
a
Friday, October 14, 2005
October 14 , 2005 Bonus Blog
Big dust-up yesterday at the Western History Association convention at the Camelback Inn. I had a speech at the downtown Rotary at noon. Speech went well. Only 18 in attendance but they bought $400 worth of books! Go figure. You can never underestimate the buying power of a well-read crowd. I have had speeches to 300 where I have sold nothing. Crowd dynamics is an amazing thing. As Brian Label quipped to me last weekend, “The longer I’m in this business, the less I know.”
Got to the Camelback Inn Conference Center at about 1:30 and with the official True West dolly loaded in our magazines and books to booth #18. All the big University presses were there. Got set up and asked my neighbors, Western Writers of America, what time it was, since I had a phone interview to do with KTAR radio at 3:30. Kathryn Swarthout (whose late husband, Glendon, wrote The Shootist) told me she would alert me to when the time came close. Ted Simon’s producer told me on Wednesday they preferred not to do the interview on a cell phone, and encouraged me to find a “land line.” I didn’t think that would be a problem in a place as classy as the Camelback Inn (four or five stars). I easily found a courtesy phone around the corner from our booth and called the operator. She curtly told me I couldn’t call out from this phone. When I asked her where I could find a land line phone, she told me to use my room phone and when I told her I wasn’t staying at the hotel she suggested a pay phone. I said, “I’m going to be doing a live radio interview with KTAR from your hotel and you’re telling me you can’t help me?” She gave me the standard “Sir, I’ll need to call you back” routine, and five minutes later, the phone rang and a young lady named Brook asked me what the problem was. When I told her, she said she would be glad to procure me a phone. I started to thank her profusely, but then she added, “for an $85 charge.” I was stunned. “Are you kidding me?” I barked. Actually there was another word in there, after the “you” and I think there were a couple of other colorful Western expressions following the “me,” that I learned in my formative years as a rear chainman for Thyrogod & Associates in Kingman. I was so steamed. I slammed down the courtesy phone (some courtesy!) and went down the hall to do the interview on one of these new-fangled pay phones. First I had to bum 50 cents off Mrs. Swarthout and when I called the station the clock starts running (you only get 15 minutes and a doomsday digital timer counts down on the display window). There is no phone number on the phone, so the station couldn't call me back. They were in commercials but the producer Steve told me he would alert Ted and try and get me on ASAP.
The interview went great, although I was talking fast with one eye on the phone timer. Although I went out of my way not to mention where I was calling from. I finished with 11 seconds to spare, got in a great plug for the website (three orders already this morning) and went back to the booth and hawked mags and books. At five, Paul Hutton, the executive director of the conference, came by and asked me if he could buy me a beer. As we walked down the hall towards the poolside cantina, Paul said, “You want to tell me your version of what happened with our event coordinator, Brook?”
Brook’s version of the above events tomorrow.
“What a delight it is to make friends with someone you have despised!”
—Old Hotel Concierge Saying
Big dust-up yesterday at the Western History Association convention at the Camelback Inn. I had a speech at the downtown Rotary at noon. Speech went well. Only 18 in attendance but they bought $400 worth of books! Go figure. You can never underestimate the buying power of a well-read crowd. I have had speeches to 300 where I have sold nothing. Crowd dynamics is an amazing thing. As Brian Label quipped to me last weekend, “The longer I’m in this business, the less I know.”
Got to the Camelback Inn Conference Center at about 1:30 and with the official True West dolly loaded in our magazines and books to booth #18. All the big University presses were there. Got set up and asked my neighbors, Western Writers of America, what time it was, since I had a phone interview to do with KTAR radio at 3:30. Kathryn Swarthout (whose late husband, Glendon, wrote The Shootist) told me she would alert me to when the time came close. Ted Simon’s producer told me on Wednesday they preferred not to do the interview on a cell phone, and encouraged me to find a “land line.” I didn’t think that would be a problem in a place as classy as the Camelback Inn (four or five stars). I easily found a courtesy phone around the corner from our booth and called the operator. She curtly told me I couldn’t call out from this phone. When I asked her where I could find a land line phone, she told me to use my room phone and when I told her I wasn’t staying at the hotel she suggested a pay phone. I said, “I’m going to be doing a live radio interview with KTAR from your hotel and you’re telling me you can’t help me?” She gave me the standard “Sir, I’ll need to call you back” routine, and five minutes later, the phone rang and a young lady named Brook asked me what the problem was. When I told her, she said she would be glad to procure me a phone. I started to thank her profusely, but then she added, “for an $85 charge.” I was stunned. “Are you kidding me?” I barked. Actually there was another word in there, after the “you” and I think there were a couple of other colorful Western expressions following the “me,” that I learned in my formative years as a rear chainman for Thyrogod & Associates in Kingman. I was so steamed. I slammed down the courtesy phone (some courtesy!) and went down the hall to do the interview on one of these new-fangled pay phones. First I had to bum 50 cents off Mrs. Swarthout and when I called the station the clock starts running (you only get 15 minutes and a doomsday digital timer counts down on the display window). There is no phone number on the phone, so the station couldn't call me back. They were in commercials but the producer Steve told me he would alert Ted and try and get me on ASAP.
The interview went great, although I was talking fast with one eye on the phone timer. Although I went out of my way not to mention where I was calling from. I finished with 11 seconds to spare, got in a great plug for the website (three orders already this morning) and went back to the booth and hawked mags and books. At five, Paul Hutton, the executive director of the conference, came by and asked me if he could buy me a beer. As we walked down the hall towards the poolside cantina, Paul said, “You want to tell me your version of what happened with our event coordinator, Brook?”
Brook’s version of the above events tomorrow.
“What a delight it is to make friends with someone you have despised!”
—Old Hotel Concierge Saying
October 14 , 2005
I’ve been on a media blitz with no time to blog. Got home last night late, even later the night before. Attended a top secret history meeting in a dark and dank setting. Much illegal activity involving knives and petty bickering. More on that later.
We got a great letter from Germany this morning: “I still like Bob Boze Bell’s diary and the words of the Old Vaquero. Last week a friend sent me a letter and ended, ‘Life is a matter of wind—if there’s no wind, it doesn’t matter.’ Maybe he met an old vaquero—’kuhhirte’—as we say in Germany.”
—Peter Hast, Krefeld—Traar, Germany
Big art trip coming up tomorrow. Lots to do before I go. Tomcat is flying in tonight. Big dinner planned with the famdam (hint: he misses Mexican food).
“Snow in a Western is bad luck.”
—Old Italian Producer, commenting on Spaghetti Westerns
I’ve been on a media blitz with no time to blog. Got home last night late, even later the night before. Attended a top secret history meeting in a dark and dank setting. Much illegal activity involving knives and petty bickering. More on that later.
We got a great letter from Germany this morning: “I still like Bob Boze Bell’s diary and the words of the Old Vaquero. Last week a friend sent me a letter and ended, ‘Life is a matter of wind—if there’s no wind, it doesn’t matter.’ Maybe he met an old vaquero—’kuhhirte’—as we say in Germany.”
—Peter Hast, Krefeld—Traar, Germany
Big art trip coming up tomorrow. Lots to do before I go. Tomcat is flying in tonight. Big dinner planned with the famdam (hint: he misses Mexican food).
“Snow in a Western is bad luck.”
—Old Italian Producer, commenting on Spaghetti Westerns
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
October 12 , 2005
My speech last night to the Western Art Associates of the Phoenix Art Museum was a smashing success. They had about 60 members show up at the home of art collectors Fred and Anne Christianson in Paradise Valley. A beautiful home straight out of Town & Country, with acres of original art by all the giants in the Western field. I gave a hearty and enthusiastic talk on authenticity in Western art, and they really got into it. Many questions and good repartee on our combined love of Western art. As they say, I was preaching to the choir. The gentleman who set up the speech, Gerald Montgomery, bought the Suspects (in the Stilwell killing) painting and I had that at the speech and showed it off to much appreciation. In the audience was the legendary Ginger Renner of Charlie Russell fame (her husband was a major collector of Russell art and she is a real hoot herself). She informed me that Bryon Price is coming in this week to stay at her house and that she and him are planning on coming out to see the BBB show this weekend.
Also in attendance was James Ballinger the director of the Phoenix Art Museum and he also talked to me at length about the show. The hosts mentioned they are going to make a trip out to see the show before it comes down. So I’m hopeful that this may result in a few more red dots (when paintings are sold in a gallery they put red dots on the sticker).
From time to time, Carole, Sam and Sheri sometimes give me feedback on the phone calls we get:
Howard Sperry of Spanish Fork, UT called and subscribed for 3 years. He has been buying off newsstand for years. Really enjoys True West and the old west. I asked if he liked anything in particular and he said he usually starts at the beginning and goes straight through. He said he even enjoys the ads and has planned some trips based on information in TW.
Our art director Dan Harshberger is coming out today to go over design issues, and a new “insert” we are considering doing. One of the complaints from old readers of the magazine is they miss the oldtime stories Joe Hosstail Small would run. This led us to wonder if we added an insert, on old pulp paper and loaded it up with our vast archival material (like the funeral of Seldom Seen Smith, circa 1961), would that be a cool thing? Would readers dig that? The problem is, and this is a mind blower to me, if we added 16 pages of the old pulp paper it will cost us an extra $1,200 in paper costs. When we bought the magazine in 1999, pulp paper was the cheapest you could get, but now it’s rare, because nobody uses it anymore, and thus, more expensive than the glossy paper we use today. Mucho ironic, no?
“Politicians are interested in people. Not that it is always a virtue. Fleas are interested in dogs.”
—P. J. O'Rourke
My speech last night to the Western Art Associates of the Phoenix Art Museum was a smashing success. They had about 60 members show up at the home of art collectors Fred and Anne Christianson in Paradise Valley. A beautiful home straight out of Town & Country, with acres of original art by all the giants in the Western field. I gave a hearty and enthusiastic talk on authenticity in Western art, and they really got into it. Many questions and good repartee on our combined love of Western art. As they say, I was preaching to the choir. The gentleman who set up the speech, Gerald Montgomery, bought the Suspects (in the Stilwell killing) painting and I had that at the speech and showed it off to much appreciation. In the audience was the legendary Ginger Renner of Charlie Russell fame (her husband was a major collector of Russell art and she is a real hoot herself). She informed me that Bryon Price is coming in this week to stay at her house and that she and him are planning on coming out to see the BBB show this weekend.
Also in attendance was James Ballinger the director of the Phoenix Art Museum and he also talked to me at length about the show. The hosts mentioned they are going to make a trip out to see the show before it comes down. So I’m hopeful that this may result in a few more red dots (when paintings are sold in a gallery they put red dots on the sticker).
From time to time, Carole, Sam and Sheri sometimes give me feedback on the phone calls we get:
Howard Sperry of Spanish Fork, UT called and subscribed for 3 years. He has been buying off newsstand for years. Really enjoys True West and the old west. I asked if he liked anything in particular and he said he usually starts at the beginning and goes straight through. He said he even enjoys the ads and has planned some trips based on information in TW.
Our art director Dan Harshberger is coming out today to go over design issues, and a new “insert” we are considering doing. One of the complaints from old readers of the magazine is they miss the oldtime stories Joe Hosstail Small would run. This led us to wonder if we added an insert, on old pulp paper and loaded it up with our vast archival material (like the funeral of Seldom Seen Smith, circa 1961), would that be a cool thing? Would readers dig that? The problem is, and this is a mind blower to me, if we added 16 pages of the old pulp paper it will cost us an extra $1,200 in paper costs. When we bought the magazine in 1999, pulp paper was the cheapest you could get, but now it’s rare, because nobody uses it anymore, and thus, more expensive than the glossy paper we use today. Mucho ironic, no?
“Politicians are interested in people. Not that it is always a virtue. Fleas are interested in dogs.”
—P. J. O'Rourke
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