BBB's Blog
If you've ever wondered what it's like to run a magazine or how crazy my personal life is, be sure to read the behind-the-scenes peek at the daily trials and tribulations of running True West. Culled straight from my Franklin Daytimer, it contains actual journal entries, laid out raw and uncensored. Some of it is enlightening. Much of it is embarrassing, but all of it is painfully true.
In addition to this current journal, my early journal entries show the rocky road and money lost in the True West Business Timeline.
Bob's biography - The Unvarnished Truth
February 8, 2010
Back from a week of teaching a graphic arts class at Orme Ranch School which is about 70 miles north of Cave Creek. Really hard work. I apologized to Kathy for all my years of thinking she had a cake job when she taught eighth grade math. Was I ever a nut job! She taught 25-30 Westsiders for nine months and I tried to ride herd on seven high schoolers for five days, and the sad truth is that I was in over my head! Still, I ended up having a great time, and I'm very proud of my charges and the artwork they produced. Pictures and drawings later.
I'm actually flying out tonight for Salt Lake City for a speech to high school history teachers tomorrow and then I'll be back on Wednesday. Lots more to say about a ton of things.
"Measure yourself by your best moments, not by your worst. We are too prone to judge ourselves by our moments of despondency and depression."
—Robert Johnson
Bob Boze 9:48 AM
February 3, 2010
Had a half day of classes today at Orme Ranch School, so I drove down off the mountain to feed the chickens, pet the dog and stroke Honey Boy Roy, the name Kathy came up for the new studio cat. He's a cuddler. Name fits.
I had a rough start with my students (for a first-time teacher, I have to say it was really hard work to get a rise out of them) on Monday, but they seem to be coming around. One of them, Amy, came up with "Orme-ics" as the title of our graphic arts presentation at the Saturday Art Show. Orme-ics is off of comics, and once we got that going they settled on doing a series of comics about the school and their unique situation (unlike many high schools, they live on the ranch). Their arch rival is Mayer and they have a notorious meeting area called The Commons, so as you can see they are picking up the comic essentials quick quickly. Part of the reason I came home was to get more books on comics and art to inspire them. Andy, from China, wants to see books on clouds and landscapes, so I pulled down my Maynard Dixon and Ed Mell books and put them in the truck. Savannah wants books on how to draw squirrels, so I got several Disney books. The front seat is full of books. Can't wait to show them the goodies in the morning.
Last night several faculty members, including myself, practiced a Stones song, "19th Nervous Breakdown" for talent night, which is tomorrow night in the chapel, I think. Don't get worried, it's a cut time song, straight ahead, no drum solos, or even fills. And, I promise, no gatoring! Felt good to play around a bit. Never played the song before which is weird because I used to do a ton of Stones songs.
Someone came out to hear us, jamming on the patio, and he kicked over Three Trees' wine glass (yes, the drum teachers' name is Three Trees, real hip dude, playing a crate, or box, which he sat on), and the music teacher said, "It's all fun until someone gets hurt, then it's hilarious."
That was worth the session right there.
Going to spend the night at my house and drive up in the morning for class. It's about a 70 minute run up I-17 to the Orme Ranch turnoff. Classes end Saturday. One teacher, a creative writing instructor, has been doing this for 40 years. Amazing. And, one of the teachers was a student in 1970, who got into textiles because of the Fine Art Week festivities at Orme and now has come back to teach. When he saw me at dinner last night, he smiled and said, like the veteran he is:
"What did the kids teach you today?"
—Jim Carrol
Bob Boze 4:18 PM
January 31, 2010
Packing for my trip up the mountain tomorrow morning to Orme Ranch School. Going to be teaching a class on illustration and creating graphic novels to a dozen students at the international school (Robert Ray kidded me, last week, that perhaps they can teach me "How To Finish A Graphic Novel". Ha. Touche, Sir Snippy).
I've never taught a class before, so Kathy, an ex-teacher, ran me through the drill. She says I need lesson plans. Okay. How about this? 1. Learning to see. 2. Tell me a story. 3. Storyboarding. 4. Roughing it in. 5. Final scenes.
And what are my goals for these talented kids from Chinle, Brooklyn and China?
• That they hopefully avoid the many dead-ends I drove into. Check
• That I can teach them how to see and think like an artist. Check
• That I can inspire at least one of them. Check
My Mucous Motivations
I remember sitting in Mr. McCleve's Art Class at Mohave County Union High School (nicknamed "Mucous") in Kingman in 1965 and looking out the window and saying to myself, "Man, it sure is windy out there."
I also had other thoughts, such as, "I have really strong dreams about making it in some sort of media but I have no clue on how to get there from here, and Mr. McCleve just sits there at his desk, pounding leather with a leather punch, allegedly working on Christmas gifts utilizing leather he has charged to the school and he often leaves us for long stretches to fend for ourselves, and while he's gone, some of the tough guys pick fights, like when Philbert Watahomogie started poking Paul Clark and Paul told him to stop because he knew karate and Philbert didn't stop, and finally, Paul jumped up and went into a karate stance and everyone, including Philbert, froze. But then Paul let out a loud 'Heeee-yaaaaa!' and thrust his open hand forward into an alleged karate chop, which landed harmlessly on Philbert's shoulder, and Philbert just laughed as he beat the crap out of Paul. And I guess there was a life lesson in there somewhere, perhaps not to oversell your abilities, but I really wanted something more specific about how to reach my dreams.
And, so, as the bell rang and I stepped over Paul Clark sobbing on the floor, I made a silent vow that if I could ever go to a class, especially if it was way out in the country, I would answer the call, and maybe, if nothing else, teach them what not to do.
"Knowing what not to do, is as important as learning how to karate chop a Havasupai."
—BBB
Bob Boze 3:02 PM
January 30, 2010
Man, did this month evaporate, or what? Nice day at home, although I did go into the office to finish up an overview-redesign on our travel issue. Did several roughs for layout consideration, but our server is acting up, not responding, so I couldn't even send email. Frustrating. Called Robert Ray at home, but the phone fix didn't work (take out the router jack on the little black box on top of the server for about 20 seconds and reconnect it. This seems to be tantamount to kicking the tires when your car engine overheats. Ha.).
Thomas Charles came out last night. Made him Bobby Cakes this morning, while he studied for a test he has to take online for work. At three, he finished and I was back from the office so we had Coronas with lime, and chatted up Onion headlines and American humor while I made carne asado tacos, from buffalo steaks. I had one, but also made chicken tacos and I stuck with those for the rest (2). Trying to be a good boy.
We're also trying to name our new gato. Carole suggests Roy or Emmett. T. Charles took one look at him and said, Zorrito, "Little fox." hmmmmm. might fly.
Hey Flying R, just got the latest T.A. Swinford Rare And Out of Print Books Catalogue from Tom Swinford today and he is listing the August, 1991 Arizona Highways issue with my Billy on the cover for $12.50. So, your 49 cent investment is looking good. At this rate, in about ten years you could buy a combo meal with the profits.
Tom Swinford also lists several of my other books, including Doc Holliday at $45 and my Billy the Kid book at $30. I tell everyone that if I sign it, I absolutely guarantee that someday it will be worth the cover price. So there's an investment strategy I can get behind.
Went on a walk with Peaches this morning and was inspired to tell this story:
My grandmother, Minnie, never liked the story where I ended up in the Buick with the Vegas Hookers. Makes some sense: she was 69, I was nine. Come to think of it, my mother didn't like the story either. Too unseemly. Better left out of my life story.
My father never admitted to liking it either. And, he never smiled when I told it, but I could see in his eyes, it amused him, perhaps because it upset his wife and mother so much.
And so, this story is for him:
66 Chix: the story of a life changing, cross country trip by Iowa Lutherans that ended in shame and worse yet, in Kingman.
Or, something like that.
"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself."
—George Bernard Shaw
Bob Boze 4:55 PM
January 29, 2010
As an update, so far, I have never made it to 10,000 steps a day. The closest I came was about 6,500 and man, that was walking almost all the time. I lost my pedometer at the Desert Ridge 3-D showing of Avatar a couple weeks ago. Had my feet up on the stadium seating railing and the pedometer, which hooked to my belt, must have slipped off and fallen behind the seats. I realized it when I got to the door, went back and looked in vain.
Meanwhile, it's good to know that my quest did have a positive effect on someone:
A Retired Lutheran Pastor Steps Up To Good Health
"Bob—I've reading your blog for a couple of years now. Interesting stuff! I am 72, retired and part of a bunch/gang of Lutheran Pastors who would meet for breakfast at the MINE SHAFT.
"Two questions: What do you think of the Cartwright Family style of dress for the Bonanza TV show, and 2, are you still trying to walk 10,000 steps?
"I told my wife about your goal and she went out, bought me a pedometer at REI. Took me four days just to read the directions and get the thing to work. Now, I'm up to 10,000 steps after three weeks. Thank You!
"I recently spent five days Jeeping/hiking in the Cerbats, especially South of the copper pit. I'm still amazed at how much the early miners must have influenced the West."
—Paul Halvorson
Yes, the Cerbats, north of Kingman, are riddled with mines and mining lore. I just got Jim Hinkley's new book in the mail:
And he's got a great section on the Cerbats. Check them out at www.VoyageurPress.com
Meanwhile, I went home for lunch to check on our new cat (long story, he's in the studio). While I was there, I whipped out a couple patina paintings:
I'm experimenting with a new technique. Kathy made me throw away one of my favorite denim shirts because it has a hole in the elbow. I loved that shirt and didn't want to part with it, so I brought it out to the studio to use as a brush cleaner, but then, with a thick load of paint on a sheet of watercolor paper I thought, "I wonder what would happen if I crinkled up my favorite shirt and pushed it down into that paint?" Pretty sweet effects, if I don't say so myself. Here's another one:
And, another one:
That shirt creates really cool fire effects, no? From there I tried to spit out a couple specific effects:
Apache Crown Dancers whoopin' it up. Plus, a strapped cowboy spurrin' it out of a desert firestorm:
I've got to hide my sources better. This was poached from a Hidalgo movie still of Viggo M. riding his paint through a dust storm and although I drew it freehand, and tried to hide it, that is Viggo big as day!
Did You Copy That?
Speaking of cheating by using photographs for art, I finished reading a new book: Norman Rockwell: Behind The Camera, which takes up this very subject and vividly illustrates Norman's tortured relationship with photography. He says, and I quote:
"The Balopticon [a machine that projects photos on canvas to trace the lines] is an evil, inartistic, habit-forming, lazy and vicious machine! It also is a useful, time-saving, practical and helpful one. I use one often—and am thoroughly ashamed of it. I hide it whenever I hear people coming."
—Norman Rockwell
I'll post the three or four photos he took to create one of my favorite Rockwells: "Breaking Home Ties" (1954).
"Let the next generation paint their own damn pictures."
—Norman Rockwell, when criticized for not properly sealing his paintings with protective varnish
Bob Boze 3:47 PM
January 29, 2010
Last night, Kathy and I met Deena Bean and Aaron up at C4 (Cave Creek Coffee Company) to take in Open Mike Night, hosted by Mad Coyote Joe. Stayed out way too late, but really enjoyed the music. I had forgotten how enriching music can be. One young guitarist told a story about being in Montana and meeting a pretty girl and she told him to meet her at Glacier Lake which was quite a hike, and, anyway, like so many frisky horndogs, he found himself driving halfway across the state, in the dark, and this song came to him: "Faraway Girls." And it was very insightful, in a Dan Fogerty kind of way, about the lengths guys go to for girls who are far away, sometimes in ways that are more than just physical distance.
Aaron closed the show and I enjoyed his two songs very much. Kind of reminded me of my days in the music biz:
Okay, maybe not.
Got packed this morning and headed out the door for Sky Harbor. About a mile from my house my cell phone rang and it was Lynda at the True West offices asking me if I was at the airport. She came in early and retrieved a frantic phone call from the Ranching Association. The Lubbock Airport is closed because of a major snow storm and they wanted to catch me before I took off. Whew! I was flying out of Phoenix at 11 to Vegas, changing planes and flying to Lubbock, arriving there at four, speaking at seven. Returning tomorrow the same way. Dodged a bullet on that one. They are going to reschedule my speech. Thanks Lynda!
Got this today, under the heading:
It's All Your Fault
"Awhile back you used Optimo hats (indirect) referral, and River Crossing (indirect)referral.. LOL.
"Then I had to order me the long Scout Coat from Mike at River Crossing. Just had to, lost control of myself. After I recovered from my loss of self-control, my new hat from Grant arrived.
"So new hat and Scout Coat within a week. I was dismayed at my weakness.
"Well what is my new Scout Coat worth, without a wonderful Hondo shirt to wear under it? I just don't know either. Both would be free-standing without the other, so my weakness came over me. My Hondo shirt will be coming next.
"My hat was really lonely. It wanted company of its own kind. We can't have that can we? So I had to talk with Grant again. My other new hat will be here soon. Maybe in time for it to keep company with its friend the other hat, and the Hondo shirt. Damn, ain't that pure beaver nice?
"Now since I get confused about these things. I figured I should let you know that it is all your fault for turning me on to those places.
"Now we could be twins for all I know. 'Cept I got me a 12" beard that gets tangled up in those buttons now and again. But that is OK. I sure am beautiful now."
—James
"The greatest good you can do for another is not just share your riches, but to reveal to him his own."
—Benjamin Disraeli
Bob Boze 9:42 AM
January 28, 2010
I am writing this with a big grin on my face. Why? Because a half century ago (actually 55 years ago, almost to the day), I had a dream of someday owning a fringed-leather pullover just like the Range Rider's, and now I'm wearing it as I type this:
TV was a brand new phenom and we were living in Swea City, Iowa where my dad had a Phillip's 66 gas station. We were one of the first families on our block to get a television. All my friends hung out at my house to watch the five hours of programming before the TV went to snow. There was a Western daytime kids' show out of Mason City and they had a contest—if you could draw something, they would get it for you. I became obsessed with drawing the Range Rider's pullover. I tried to enlist my Norwegian uncles to help me but they just laughed and continued to drink coffee. In fact, this led to me drawing my own pictures, but I never got the chance to turn in that drawing to the show.
In January of 1956 we took off for Arizona. My father was going to open a big Flying A in Kingman, Arizona where my mother's family lived. On this migration I was still obsessed with getting that pullover. As we motored into Texas and New Mexico on Route 66, I would run into the curios shops every time my dad stopped for gas (he wouldn't stop for much else) and try and find a Range Rider pullover. At first nothing, other than mocassins, but then, near Grants, New Mexico I came close. They had a fringe deal, but it was a jacket, not a pullover:
See how the kid (above) has a cheap jacket on (probably made in Taiwan) and the Range Rider (Jock Mahoney) has that cool pullover? No comparison, Man. And speaking of Man, here's Mr. Easy Rider in his signature fringed jacket:
Dennis Hopper made it cool for a while, mainly for hippies, which didn't sit well with my Kingman cowboy cousins and so fringe started to go south on the acceptability scale. Of course, fringe fashion really began with the mountain men back in the early 1800s, then on to Buffalo Bill and the scouts. Then it seems to have died down a bit but came back with a vengeance with Shane (1950):
From Alan Ladd in Shane, it then appears on two of the new TV shows, The Range Rider and Wild Bill Hickok In my book, these shows took fringe to another level:
Fringe Behavior
This morning Carole brought in a priority mail package from Bellvue, Colorado. I opened it with some enthusiasm. Thanks to a reader of this blog, I contacted Mike Guli, of River Crossing Leatherworks, who made me a custom Range Rider Pullover Deluxe, exactly like Jock Mahoney's (he even bought the DVD so he could study the garment from every angle!). There was only one problem: I was wearing sweats (yoga class this morning). Robert Ray and I looked at the above images before I went home for lunch. Someone under thirty said to me, "Are you actually going to pose in that?" Hell, yes, I waited 55 years to get this, I'm not letting a little thing like respectability stop me now!
"Is Jock wearing a shirt under that?" Nope. Bear-chested (or, should that be, barely chested?) Ouch! Well, I came this far, I'm going to go the entire distance. I went home, put on the pullover, grabbed a neck scarf, went out to the studio to grab my custom-made Apache Kid Gunbelt (made just for me by the legendary John Bianchi), came back to the office, wearing all of the above.
And that's when the laughter began. Some people never grow up. That's my excuse, what's yours Abby Goodrich? She just howled. I told Abby to go to her room. She couldn't, she was on the floor, convulsing in a fit. Robert Ray set up the lights, got out the TW camera and squeezed off two dozen shots. Here's one of them, just for grins:
More later. I know some of you have heart conditions like me, so I don't want to tax your laughter muscles too much. And speaking of which, do you know who I blame for ruining fringe for the rest of us?
Yes, the Village People. I know they meant well, but can't we get back to Range Rider cool?
Didn't think so.
"Fringe is just another way of saying fruitcake."
—Old Vaquero Saying
Bob Boze 2:04 PM
January 28, 2010
Yesterday we met with Marshall Trimble here at the True West offices about doing something regarding the state of Arizona closing numerous parks, including the Tombstone Courthouse. Here is what Marshall came up with:
ARIZONA HERITAGE FUND AND STATE PARKS
Everyone knows these are tough times and I don’t know anybody who hasn’t been hurt by it but do we have to sacrifice our heritage and crown jewels?
I call on people everywhere to rally around the cause. Let Arizona be the focal point. I say this not because I’m an Arizonan. To paraphrase my idol Will Rogers, “I never met a state I didn’t like,” but Arizona is unique. The Spanish called it the “Northern Mystery.” When the Army of the West crossed in the 1840s they were accompanied by scientists who made the first studies of the geology, flora and fauna. The scientific community in America and the Europe waited anxiously to see their reports. Today, the biotic life in Arizona is the most diverse in the United States and scientists still come from afar to study here.
In December, 1983 “Arizona Highways” magazine published a special issue titled “Fifty in One,” where photographs exemplifying the most scenic places in each of the fifty states was shown. Every photo was shot within the boundaries of Arizona.
The science of Ecology was developed here by Clinton Hart Merriam, one of the world’s great naturalists. All seven of his Life Zones are found in Arizona.
We tend to think of the Grand Canyon as Arizona’s Crown Jewel, but in reality, Arizona is America’s Crown Jewel.
Why am I writing this? Because for the past several years politicians have been taking funds from our state parks and the Heritage Fund. This year most of our state parks have either had to close or are facing closure.
What can we do about it? I suggest we begin with a grass roots movement to gather strong public support. Public pressure is needed to persuade our legislators to pass a law that forbids a state legislature from taking funds from those entities that promotes and preserves our state heritage. If they won’t do it then let’s get it on the ballot
This is not just Arizona’s problem but something that should concern all Americans.
—Marshall Trimble, Official Arizona State Historian
“The Indians never got lost because they were always looking back over their shoulders to see where they’d been.”
—Will Rogers
Bob Boze 9:35 AM
January 27, 2010
I'm flying to Lubbock, Texas on Friday for a speech at the Ranching Heritage Association, then up to Orme Ranch for a round of teaching the next Monday thru Friday. Then off to Utah on February 10 for a speech to history teachers. Going to be busy.
Had lunch with Marshall Trimble at El Encanto. Had fun telling each other historic lies. Got rather deep. Also talked about a possible centennial show and book. Had the special, green chile burro and decaf coffee (True West bought, $25).
This afternoon I wrote up a submission to the Arizona Republic Plugged In for Sunday. My editor, Ken Western, said he loved it, but they have a special series running and there isn't room, so, here you go:
A Bridge Over Troubled Memory
Last week I survived my third 100 year flood. I can remember the first one like it was only four decades ago: raindrops as big as Jim Larkin's head (that's huge, man!), hippies battling straights in rowboats, J.D.'s In The Riverbottom underwater (Gee, I wonder why). Bridges out everywhere and city and state officials ducking responsibility by blaming it on a centennial fluke ("Trust us, it only rains this much every hundred years"). Yes, time flies when you are counting in flood years. Hope I live long enough to see a couple more.
—Bob Boze Bell, Executive Editor, True West magazine
In my speeches I have been noodling a line about returning some dignity and respect to the Apache people. In our rush to relieve our collective guilt and shame we have whittled them down from noble savages to noble victims. Neither is correct. I have mentioned in a couple of speeches that we didn't name an attack helicopter after them because they were wimps. But, it needed a better kicker. Wasn't quite there.
Two weeks ago, when I was at the breakfast meeting with the Arizona Theatre Company people, I mentioned this to Ed Furman, one of the Second City writers. He asked about the Apaches and I said, "We didn't name an attack helicopter after them because. . ." and, like a good comedy writer he said, without a beat, "of their beadwork." Yes! That's it.
Come on, Man. The Apaches aren't wimps who play flutes. They deserve respect. We didn't name an attack helicopter after them because of their beadwork.
Perfect. Thanks Second City Writer Guy Ed Furman. I'll share the punchline credit with you.
And speaking of Apaches, local TV producer John Booth told me that Native American filmmaker, Dustinn Craig, I think is his name, recently did a much acclaimed documentary on Geronimo. When John asked him what he was most proud of, Craig said, "There's no flutes in the show." Evidently Apaches have no flute in their culture and hate it that white people always jam one in whenever a film score is written. Ha.
“You know you’re just somehow to me.”
—An Apache putdown, utilizing their unique syntax (told to me by Pastor Guenther of Whiteriver fame)
Bob Boze 4:10 PM
January 27, 2010
Cloudy and overcast again this morning. Walked down to the Rockaway Hills crossing this morning to look at the storm damage. Looks like Cave Creek crested at about 12 to 15 feet. It's running about three inches right now.
I have a couple of favorite art patrons. One is a highway patrolman in the midwest named Ryan Marcy. He has purchased about a dozen of my original images and has commissioned me to do a painting on the O.K. Corral. Another patron, sent me this photo of his BBB wall:
Craig Schepp owns several True West covers, including "Billy Breaks Out" (upper, right, in red), which appeared on the October 2003 issue) and "The Day of the Dead Billy" which appeared on the cover of the September 2003 issue. If you want to see these covers, and the 98 others we have done in our decade long march to solvency, check them out right here.
Also, if you haven't taken our reader's survey, please take the time to fill it out.
Marhsall Trimble just walked into my office. He's up here to talk about a couple of things. The legislature's approaching closure of 21 State Parks. We want to protest this and Marshall has agreed to be our point man on it. The other item on the agenda is Top Secret (at least for this blog post).
Anyway, Marshall commented recently that he was at a guest ranch in Oracle and they put him in Rita Hayworth's room (she stayed there in her heyday). Over the bed was the famous, signed photo of the movie star:
I think I read somewhere that this photo was a fluke, the flash misfired, or something and the shadows across the top of her bosoms created a sensation. She really does look spectacular.
Marshall said he offered to do the speaking gig for free if he could have the photo. He also said, gazing up at Rita's statuesque frame as he went to sleep, "Now I know what we were fighting for over there." Over there would be Europe and Japan in WWII. Rita was the number two favorite pinup in WWII behind Betty Grable. Marshall said he preferred Rita because she had a sadder story. Ha.
"If it's beautifully arranged on the plate, you know someone's fingers have been all over it."
—Julia Child
Bob Boze 9:49 AM
Back from a week of teaching a graphic arts class at Orme Ranch School which is about 70 miles north of Cave Creek. Really hard work. I apologized to Kathy for all my years of thinking she had a cake job when she taught eighth grade math. Was I ever a nut job! She taught 25-30 Westsiders for nine months and I tried to ride herd on seven high schoolers for five days, and the sad truth is that I was in over my head! Still, I ended up having a great time, and I'm very proud of my charges and the artwork they produced. Pictures and drawings later.
I'm actually flying out tonight for Salt Lake City for a speech to high school history teachers tomorrow and then I'll be back on Wednesday. Lots more to say about a ton of things.
"Measure yourself by your best moments, not by your worst. We are too prone to judge ourselves by our moments of despondency and depression."
—Robert Johnson
Bob Boze 9:48 AM
February 3, 2010
Had a half day of classes today at Orme Ranch School, so I drove down off the mountain to feed the chickens, pet the dog and stroke Honey Boy Roy, the name Kathy came up for the new studio cat. He's a cuddler. Name fits.
I had a rough start with my students (for a first-time teacher, I have to say it was really hard work to get a rise out of them) on Monday, but they seem to be coming around. One of them, Amy, came up with "Orme-ics" as the title of our graphic arts presentation at the Saturday Art Show. Orme-ics is off of comics, and once we got that going they settled on doing a series of comics about the school and their unique situation (unlike many high schools, they live on the ranch). Their arch rival is Mayer and they have a notorious meeting area called The Commons, so as you can see they are picking up the comic essentials quick quickly. Part of the reason I came home was to get more books on comics and art to inspire them. Andy, from China, wants to see books on clouds and landscapes, so I pulled down my Maynard Dixon and Ed Mell books and put them in the truck. Savannah wants books on how to draw squirrels, so I got several Disney books. The front seat is full of books. Can't wait to show them the goodies in the morning.
Last night several faculty members, including myself, practiced a Stones song, "19th Nervous Breakdown" for talent night, which is tomorrow night in the chapel, I think. Don't get worried, it's a cut time song, straight ahead, no drum solos, or even fills. And, I promise, no gatoring! Felt good to play around a bit. Never played the song before which is weird because I used to do a ton of Stones songs.
Someone came out to hear us, jamming on the patio, and he kicked over Three Trees' wine glass (yes, the drum teachers' name is Three Trees, real hip dude, playing a crate, or box, which he sat on), and the music teacher said, "It's all fun until someone gets hurt, then it's hilarious."
That was worth the session right there.
Going to spend the night at my house and drive up in the morning for class. It's about a 70 minute run up I-17 to the Orme Ranch turnoff. Classes end Saturday. One teacher, a creative writing instructor, has been doing this for 40 years. Amazing. And, one of the teachers was a student in 1970, who got into textiles because of the Fine Art Week festivities at Orme and now has come back to teach. When he saw me at dinner last night, he smiled and said, like the veteran he is:
"What did the kids teach you today?"
—Jim Carrol
Bob Boze 4:18 PM
January 31, 2010
Packing for my trip up the mountain tomorrow morning to Orme Ranch School. Going to be teaching a class on illustration and creating graphic novels to a dozen students at the international school (Robert Ray kidded me, last week, that perhaps they can teach me "How To Finish A Graphic Novel". Ha. Touche, Sir Snippy).
I've never taught a class before, so Kathy, an ex-teacher, ran me through the drill. She says I need lesson plans. Okay. How about this? 1. Learning to see. 2. Tell me a story. 3. Storyboarding. 4. Roughing it in. 5. Final scenes.
And what are my goals for these talented kids from Chinle, Brooklyn and China?
• That they hopefully avoid the many dead-ends I drove into. Check
• That I can teach them how to see and think like an artist. Check
• That I can inspire at least one of them. Check
My Mucous Motivations
I remember sitting in Mr. McCleve's Art Class at Mohave County Union High School (nicknamed "Mucous") in Kingman in 1965 and looking out the window and saying to myself, "Man, it sure is windy out there."
I also had other thoughts, such as, "I have really strong dreams about making it in some sort of media but I have no clue on how to get there from here, and Mr. McCleve just sits there at his desk, pounding leather with a leather punch, allegedly working on Christmas gifts utilizing leather he has charged to the school and he often leaves us for long stretches to fend for ourselves, and while he's gone, some of the tough guys pick fights, like when Philbert Watahomogie started poking Paul Clark and Paul told him to stop because he knew karate and Philbert didn't stop, and finally, Paul jumped up and went into a karate stance and everyone, including Philbert, froze. But then Paul let out a loud 'Heeee-yaaaaa!' and thrust his open hand forward into an alleged karate chop, which landed harmlessly on Philbert's shoulder, and Philbert just laughed as he beat the crap out of Paul. And I guess there was a life lesson in there somewhere, perhaps not to oversell your abilities, but I really wanted something more specific about how to reach my dreams.
And, so, as the bell rang and I stepped over Paul Clark sobbing on the floor, I made a silent vow that if I could ever go to a class, especially if it was way out in the country, I would answer the call, and maybe, if nothing else, teach them what not to do.
"Knowing what not to do, is as important as learning how to karate chop a Havasupai."
—BBB
Bob Boze 3:02 PM
January 30, 2010
Man, did this month evaporate, or what? Nice day at home, although I did go into the office to finish up an overview-redesign on our travel issue. Did several roughs for layout consideration, but our server is acting up, not responding, so I couldn't even send email. Frustrating. Called Robert Ray at home, but the phone fix didn't work (take out the router jack on the little black box on top of the server for about 20 seconds and reconnect it. This seems to be tantamount to kicking the tires when your car engine overheats. Ha.).
Thomas Charles came out last night. Made him Bobby Cakes this morning, while he studied for a test he has to take online for work. At three, he finished and I was back from the office so we had Coronas with lime, and chatted up Onion headlines and American humor while I made carne asado tacos, from buffalo steaks. I had one, but also made chicken tacos and I stuck with those for the rest (2). Trying to be a good boy.
We're also trying to name our new gato. Carole suggests Roy or Emmett. T. Charles took one look at him and said, Zorrito, "Little fox." hmmmmm. might fly.
Hey Flying R, just got the latest T.A. Swinford Rare And Out of Print Books Catalogue from Tom Swinford today and he is listing the August, 1991 Arizona Highways issue with my Billy on the cover for $12.50. So, your 49 cent investment is looking good. At this rate, in about ten years you could buy a combo meal with the profits.
Tom Swinford also lists several of my other books, including Doc Holliday at $45 and my Billy the Kid book at $30. I tell everyone that if I sign it, I absolutely guarantee that someday it will be worth the cover price. So there's an investment strategy I can get behind.
Went on a walk with Peaches this morning and was inspired to tell this story:
My grandmother, Minnie, never liked the story where I ended up in the Buick with the Vegas Hookers. Makes some sense: she was 69, I was nine. Come to think of it, my mother didn't like the story either. Too unseemly. Better left out of my life story.
My father never admitted to liking it either. And, he never smiled when I told it, but I could see in his eyes, it amused him, perhaps because it upset his wife and mother so much.
And so, this story is for him:
66 Chix: the story of a life changing, cross country trip by Iowa Lutherans that ended in shame and worse yet, in Kingman.
Or, something like that.
"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself."
—George Bernard Shaw
Bob Boze 4:55 PM
January 29, 2010
As an update, so far, I have never made it to 10,000 steps a day. The closest I came was about 6,500 and man, that was walking almost all the time. I lost my pedometer at the Desert Ridge 3-D showing of Avatar a couple weeks ago. Had my feet up on the stadium seating railing and the pedometer, which hooked to my belt, must have slipped off and fallen behind the seats. I realized it when I got to the door, went back and looked in vain.
Meanwhile, it's good to know that my quest did have a positive effect on someone:
A Retired Lutheran Pastor Steps Up To Good Health
"Bob—I've reading your blog for a couple of years now. Interesting stuff! I am 72, retired and part of a bunch/gang of Lutheran Pastors who would meet for breakfast at the MINE SHAFT.
"Two questions: What do you think of the Cartwright Family style of dress for the Bonanza TV show, and 2, are you still trying to walk 10,000 steps?
"I told my wife about your goal and she went out, bought me a pedometer at REI. Took me four days just to read the directions and get the thing to work. Now, I'm up to 10,000 steps after three weeks. Thank You!
"I recently spent five days Jeeping/hiking in the Cerbats, especially South of the copper pit. I'm still amazed at how much the early miners must have influenced the West."
—Paul Halvorson
Yes, the Cerbats, north of Kingman, are riddled with mines and mining lore. I just got Jim Hinkley's new book in the mail:
And he's got a great section on the Cerbats. Check them out at www.VoyageurPress.com
Meanwhile, I went home for lunch to check on our new cat (long story, he's in the studio). While I was there, I whipped out a couple patina paintings:
I'm experimenting with a new technique. Kathy made me throw away one of my favorite denim shirts because it has a hole in the elbow. I loved that shirt and didn't want to part with it, so I brought it out to the studio to use as a brush cleaner, but then, with a thick load of paint on a sheet of watercolor paper I thought, "I wonder what would happen if I crinkled up my favorite shirt and pushed it down into that paint?" Pretty sweet effects, if I don't say so myself. Here's another one:
And, another one:
That shirt creates really cool fire effects, no? From there I tried to spit out a couple specific effects:
Apache Crown Dancers whoopin' it up. Plus, a strapped cowboy spurrin' it out of a desert firestorm:
I've got to hide my sources better. This was poached from a Hidalgo movie still of Viggo M. riding his paint through a dust storm and although I drew it freehand, and tried to hide it, that is Viggo big as day!
Did You Copy That?
Speaking of cheating by using photographs for art, I finished reading a new book: Norman Rockwell: Behind The Camera, which takes up this very subject and vividly illustrates Norman's tortured relationship with photography. He says, and I quote:
"The Balopticon [a machine that projects photos on canvas to trace the lines] is an evil, inartistic, habit-forming, lazy and vicious machine! It also is a useful, time-saving, practical and helpful one. I use one often—and am thoroughly ashamed of it. I hide it whenever I hear people coming."
—Norman Rockwell
I'll post the three or four photos he took to create one of my favorite Rockwells: "Breaking Home Ties" (1954).
"Let the next generation paint their own damn pictures."
—Norman Rockwell, when criticized for not properly sealing his paintings with protective varnish
Bob Boze 3:47 PM
January 29, 2010
Last night, Kathy and I met Deena Bean and Aaron up at C4 (Cave Creek Coffee Company) to take in Open Mike Night, hosted by Mad Coyote Joe. Stayed out way too late, but really enjoyed the music. I had forgotten how enriching music can be. One young guitarist told a story about being in Montana and meeting a pretty girl and she told him to meet her at Glacier Lake which was quite a hike, and, anyway, like so many frisky horndogs, he found himself driving halfway across the state, in the dark, and this song came to him: "Faraway Girls." And it was very insightful, in a Dan Fogerty kind of way, about the lengths guys go to for girls who are far away, sometimes in ways that are more than just physical distance.
Aaron closed the show and I enjoyed his two songs very much. Kind of reminded me of my days in the music biz:
Okay, maybe not.
Got packed this morning and headed out the door for Sky Harbor. About a mile from my house my cell phone rang and it was Lynda at the True West offices asking me if I was at the airport. She came in early and retrieved a frantic phone call from the Ranching Association. The Lubbock Airport is closed because of a major snow storm and they wanted to catch me before I took off. Whew! I was flying out of Phoenix at 11 to Vegas, changing planes and flying to Lubbock, arriving there at four, speaking at seven. Returning tomorrow the same way. Dodged a bullet on that one. They are going to reschedule my speech. Thanks Lynda!
Got this today, under the heading:
It's All Your Fault
"Awhile back you used Optimo hats (indirect) referral, and River Crossing (indirect)referral.. LOL.
"Then I had to order me the long Scout Coat from Mike at River Crossing. Just had to, lost control of myself. After I recovered from my loss of self-control, my new hat from Grant arrived.
"So new hat and Scout Coat within a week. I was dismayed at my weakness.
"Well what is my new Scout Coat worth, without a wonderful Hondo shirt to wear under it? I just don't know either. Both would be free-standing without the other, so my weakness came over me. My Hondo shirt will be coming next.
"My hat was really lonely. It wanted company of its own kind. We can't have that can we? So I had to talk with Grant again. My other new hat will be here soon. Maybe in time for it to keep company with its friend the other hat, and the Hondo shirt. Damn, ain't that pure beaver nice?
"Now since I get confused about these things. I figured I should let you know that it is all your fault for turning me on to those places.
"Now we could be twins for all I know. 'Cept I got me a 12" beard that gets tangled up in those buttons now and again. But that is OK. I sure am beautiful now."
—James
"The greatest good you can do for another is not just share your riches, but to reveal to him his own."
—Benjamin Disraeli
Bob Boze 9:42 AM
January 28, 2010
I am writing this with a big grin on my face. Why? Because a half century ago (actually 55 years ago, almost to the day), I had a dream of someday owning a fringed-leather pullover just like the Range Rider's, and now I'm wearing it as I type this:
TV was a brand new phenom and we were living in Swea City, Iowa where my dad had a Phillip's 66 gas station. We were one of the first families on our block to get a television. All my friends hung out at my house to watch the five hours of programming before the TV went to snow. There was a Western daytime kids' show out of Mason City and they had a contest—if you could draw something, they would get it for you. I became obsessed with drawing the Range Rider's pullover. I tried to enlist my Norwegian uncles to help me but they just laughed and continued to drink coffee. In fact, this led to me drawing my own pictures, but I never got the chance to turn in that drawing to the show.
In January of 1956 we took off for Arizona. My father was going to open a big Flying A in Kingman, Arizona where my mother's family lived. On this migration I was still obsessed with getting that pullover. As we motored into Texas and New Mexico on Route 66, I would run into the curios shops every time my dad stopped for gas (he wouldn't stop for much else) and try and find a Range Rider pullover. At first nothing, other than mocassins, but then, near Grants, New Mexico I came close. They had a fringe deal, but it was a jacket, not a pullover:
See how the kid (above) has a cheap jacket on (probably made in Taiwan) and the Range Rider (Jock Mahoney) has that cool pullover? No comparison, Man. And speaking of Man, here's Mr. Easy Rider in his signature fringed jacket:
Dennis Hopper made it cool for a while, mainly for hippies, which didn't sit well with my Kingman cowboy cousins and so fringe started to go south on the acceptability scale. Of course, fringe fashion really began with the mountain men back in the early 1800s, then on to Buffalo Bill and the scouts. Then it seems to have died down a bit but came back with a vengeance with Shane (1950):
From Alan Ladd in Shane, it then appears on two of the new TV shows, The Range Rider and Wild Bill Hickok In my book, these shows took fringe to another level:
Fringe Behavior
This morning Carole brought in a priority mail package from Bellvue, Colorado. I opened it with some enthusiasm. Thanks to a reader of this blog, I contacted Mike Guli, of River Crossing Leatherworks, who made me a custom Range Rider Pullover Deluxe, exactly like Jock Mahoney's (he even bought the DVD so he could study the garment from every angle!). There was only one problem: I was wearing sweats (yoga class this morning). Robert Ray and I looked at the above images before I went home for lunch. Someone under thirty said to me, "Are you actually going to pose in that?" Hell, yes, I waited 55 years to get this, I'm not letting a little thing like respectability stop me now!
"Is Jock wearing a shirt under that?" Nope. Bear-chested (or, should that be, barely chested?) Ouch! Well, I came this far, I'm going to go the entire distance. I went home, put on the pullover, grabbed a neck scarf, went out to the studio to grab my custom-made Apache Kid Gunbelt (made just for me by the legendary John Bianchi), came back to the office, wearing all of the above.
And that's when the laughter began. Some people never grow up. That's my excuse, what's yours Abby Goodrich? She just howled. I told Abby to go to her room. She couldn't, she was on the floor, convulsing in a fit. Robert Ray set up the lights, got out the TW camera and squeezed off two dozen shots. Here's one of them, just for grins:
More later. I know some of you have heart conditions like me, so I don't want to tax your laughter muscles too much. And speaking of which, do you know who I blame for ruining fringe for the rest of us?
Yes, the Village People. I know they meant well, but can't we get back to Range Rider cool?
Didn't think so.
"Fringe is just another way of saying fruitcake."
—Old Vaquero Saying
Bob Boze 2:04 PM
January 28, 2010
Yesterday we met with Marshall Trimble here at the True West offices about doing something regarding the state of Arizona closing numerous parks, including the Tombstone Courthouse. Here is what Marshall came up with:
ARIZONA HERITAGE FUND AND STATE PARKS
Everyone knows these are tough times and I don’t know anybody who hasn’t been hurt by it but do we have to sacrifice our heritage and crown jewels?
I call on people everywhere to rally around the cause. Let Arizona be the focal point. I say this not because I’m an Arizonan. To paraphrase my idol Will Rogers, “I never met a state I didn’t like,” but Arizona is unique. The Spanish called it the “Northern Mystery.” When the Army of the West crossed in the 1840s they were accompanied by scientists who made the first studies of the geology, flora and fauna. The scientific community in America and the Europe waited anxiously to see their reports. Today, the biotic life in Arizona is the most diverse in the United States and scientists still come from afar to study here.
In December, 1983 “Arizona Highways” magazine published a special issue titled “Fifty in One,” where photographs exemplifying the most scenic places in each of the fifty states was shown. Every photo was shot within the boundaries of Arizona.
The science of Ecology was developed here by Clinton Hart Merriam, one of the world’s great naturalists. All seven of his Life Zones are found in Arizona.
We tend to think of the Grand Canyon as Arizona’s Crown Jewel, but in reality, Arizona is America’s Crown Jewel.
Why am I writing this? Because for the past several years politicians have been taking funds from our state parks and the Heritage Fund. This year most of our state parks have either had to close or are facing closure.
What can we do about it? I suggest we begin with a grass roots movement to gather strong public support. Public pressure is needed to persuade our legislators to pass a law that forbids a state legislature from taking funds from those entities that promotes and preserves our state heritage. If they won’t do it then let’s get it on the ballot
This is not just Arizona’s problem but something that should concern all Americans.
—Marshall Trimble, Official Arizona State Historian
“The Indians never got lost because they were always looking back over their shoulders to see where they’d been.”
—Will Rogers
Bob Boze 9:35 AM
January 27, 2010
I'm flying to Lubbock, Texas on Friday for a speech at the Ranching Heritage Association, then up to Orme Ranch for a round of teaching the next Monday thru Friday. Then off to Utah on February 10 for a speech to history teachers. Going to be busy.
Had lunch with Marshall Trimble at El Encanto. Had fun telling each other historic lies. Got rather deep. Also talked about a possible centennial show and book. Had the special, green chile burro and decaf coffee (True West bought, $25).
This afternoon I wrote up a submission to the Arizona Republic Plugged In for Sunday. My editor, Ken Western, said he loved it, but they have a special series running and there isn't room, so, here you go:
A Bridge Over Troubled Memory
Last week I survived my third 100 year flood. I can remember the first one like it was only four decades ago: raindrops as big as Jim Larkin's head (that's huge, man!), hippies battling straights in rowboats, J.D.'s In The Riverbottom underwater (Gee, I wonder why). Bridges out everywhere and city and state officials ducking responsibility by blaming it on a centennial fluke ("Trust us, it only rains this much every hundred years"). Yes, time flies when you are counting in flood years. Hope I live long enough to see a couple more.
—Bob Boze Bell, Executive Editor, True West magazine
In my speeches I have been noodling a line about returning some dignity and respect to the Apache people. In our rush to relieve our collective guilt and shame we have whittled them down from noble savages to noble victims. Neither is correct. I have mentioned in a couple of speeches that we didn't name an attack helicopter after them because they were wimps. But, it needed a better kicker. Wasn't quite there.
Two weeks ago, when I was at the breakfast meeting with the Arizona Theatre Company people, I mentioned this to Ed Furman, one of the Second City writers. He asked about the Apaches and I said, "We didn't name an attack helicopter after them because. . ." and, like a good comedy writer he said, without a beat, "of their beadwork." Yes! That's it.
Come on, Man. The Apaches aren't wimps who play flutes. They deserve respect. We didn't name an attack helicopter after them because of their beadwork.
Perfect. Thanks Second City Writer Guy Ed Furman. I'll share the punchline credit with you.
And speaking of Apaches, local TV producer John Booth told me that Native American filmmaker, Dustinn Craig, I think is his name, recently did a much acclaimed documentary on Geronimo. When John asked him what he was most proud of, Craig said, "There's no flutes in the show." Evidently Apaches have no flute in their culture and hate it that white people always jam one in whenever a film score is written. Ha.
“You know you’re just somehow to me.”
—An Apache putdown, utilizing their unique syntax (told to me by Pastor Guenther of Whiteriver fame)
Bob Boze 4:10 PM
January 27, 2010
Cloudy and overcast again this morning. Walked down to the Rockaway Hills crossing this morning to look at the storm damage. Looks like Cave Creek crested at about 12 to 15 feet. It's running about three inches right now.
I have a couple of favorite art patrons. One is a highway patrolman in the midwest named Ryan Marcy. He has purchased about a dozen of my original images and has commissioned me to do a painting on the O.K. Corral. Another patron, sent me this photo of his BBB wall:
Craig Schepp owns several True West covers, including "Billy Breaks Out" (upper, right, in red), which appeared on the October 2003 issue) and "The Day of the Dead Billy" which appeared on the cover of the September 2003 issue. If you want to see these covers, and the 98 others we have done in our decade long march to solvency, check them out right here.
Also, if you haven't taken our reader's survey, please take the time to fill it out.
Marhsall Trimble just walked into my office. He's up here to talk about a couple of things. The legislature's approaching closure of 21 State Parks. We want to protest this and Marshall has agreed to be our point man on it. The other item on the agenda is Top Secret (at least for this blog post).
Anyway, Marshall commented recently that he was at a guest ranch in Oracle and they put him in Rita Hayworth's room (she stayed there in her heyday). Over the bed was the famous, signed photo of the movie star:
I think I read somewhere that this photo was a fluke, the flash misfired, or something and the shadows across the top of her bosoms created a sensation. She really does look spectacular.
Marshall said he offered to do the speaking gig for free if he could have the photo. He also said, gazing up at Rita's statuesque frame as he went to sleep, "Now I know what we were fighting for over there." Over there would be Europe and Japan in WWII. Rita was the number two favorite pinup in WWII behind Betty Grable. Marshall said he preferred Rita because she had a sadder story. Ha.
"If it's beautifully arranged on the plate, you know someone's fingers have been all over it."
—Julia Child
Bob Boze 9:49 AM
