Back in the day, a group of us took on the challenge of presenting the first annual Nebraska Cowboy Poetry Gathering, in Valentine. Of the dozen or so members on the committee, none of us knew what we were doing, but we went for it anyhow. Two people came up with the idea, and began hunting up folks to execute a plan. I was drafted because I was the only one who had attended the National Gathering in Elko Nevada.
“You know how this kind of thing works,” one person said to me. Well, I had some idea, and some names of people I had been on stage with in Elko, and I was too green to know how much I didn’t know. In spite of all that, we learned together, made phone calls, wrote letters, solicited sponsors, worked our tails off, and waited on pins and needles to see if it would fly at all. The event not only flew, but grew, and a couple of weeks ago observed its thirty-year anniversary.
Many of the original committee have gone to the Big Roundup. Some of us moved away, and new members came on board. Attendance was down this year, and the workers are worn out. I don’t know if there’ll be another Old West Days. A couple of times, a committee member pleaded from the stage for anyone interested in continuing the celebration to step up, so we’ll see. The audience is mostly made up of gray hairs, and bald domes, and that’s pretty true of the presenters too. There are a few younger poets and musicians out there, and it would be a shame if they lacked a venue to share their work and learn from one another.
We’ve been honored to host some of the most well known and talented performers in the West because of the willingness of people in that genre’ to help pass on the tradition, and travel on a bare bones budget to hob-nob with Sandhillers. One example is the Bar J Wranglers, a family group from Jackson Hole Wyoming. Their tight harmony, talent with instruments and comedy are second to none, and this year, Old West Days was part of their farewell tour. Forty-four years is long enough, they say. Valentine has been pleased to feature them numerous times, and it’s always a sell-out. Twenty odd years ago, I was with a group of relatives in Tucson, and someone suggested we go out to a chuckwagon feed and musical program. The first people I laid eyes on after arriving was Babe Humphry and the boys, and I discovered they feed as good as they sing.
Several of us old timers shared the stage last week. Likely some of the audience came to see how we had weathered the years, but most were really there to hear Bar J.They opened the Saturday night show with “Headed for the Last Roundup” and closed with “This is Where the Cowboy Rides Away.” I couldn’t tell, through my tears, if there were any dry eyes in the house, but there was a definite feeling that we were witnessing the end of an era.
Whatever the big celebration in your town is called, know it takes a ton of planning and legwork to keep that going year after year. If you enjoy it, and want it to continue, how about volunteering to take some of that on? There’s not much glory, and you’ll only get paid in smiles and the fellowship of working with good people, but we’ll all appreciate you.