Feature
No American institution has been more erroneously portrayed than the cowboy. Fiction has made him a superman with guns, on the side of right, justice and virtue; or else it made him a total scoundrel who lived by the six-shooter, eschewed all religion and never left the saloons of Dodge City. Seldom has the cowboy been viewed for what he really was- an ordinary mortal, rough on the exterior, with a minimum of education and possessing the run of human faults and strengths. Most were young and the average time spent as a cowboy was about seven years. The following selections may shed some light.
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"Deer Sur:
We have brand 800 caves this roundup we have made sum hay potatoes is a fare crop. That Inglishman yu lef in charge at the other camp got to fresh and we had to kill the son-of-a-bitch. Nothing much happened sence yu lef.
Yurs truly
Jim"W.P.Webb The Great Plains
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Modern writers have depicted the cowboy as a modest, religiously inclined young man who wouldn’t say "sheol" (hell) even if a steer tried to kick the roof off his dome of thought, nor do more than gently chide the erring animal if it endeavored to impale his liver on its horns. More ancient history tells us the cowboy is a cross between an Italian brigand and a buzz saw; that he is a walking armory and arsenal; that he spends one day in the saddle and twenty-nine in the saloons, shooting out lamps and filing up graveyards:
That he is a holy terror, a howling hyena, a killer from Undertakerville, a bad man from Bitter creek, etc. The truth of the matter is that the cowboy is neither one nor the other. He respects churches but because of his mode of life, he seldom becomes "mashed" on them. He is just as apt to swear as any other man. He carries no gun and never seeks a quarrel. He is a good rider and long experience has made him acquainted with all the wonderful evolutions and ramifications of the bucking bronco. He can throw a lasso with unerring aim, is in the saddle twelve hours a day and as much a gentleman as any other man, considering the lack of opportunity to acquire what the world calls "polish"—and no more so. He is neither saint nor sinner; a jovial, lighthearted, hard working young fellow, who minds his own business but who will not be imposed upon.
H. Garland The Trail of the Goldseekers
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As you mingle with these cowboys, you find in them a strange mixture of good nature and recklessness. You are as safe with them on the plains as with any class of men, so long as you do not impose upon them. They will even deny themselves for your comfort, and imperil their lives for your safety. But impose upon them or arouse their ire, and your life is of no more value in their esteem than that of the coyote.
Morally, as a class, they are foulmouthed, blasphemous, drunken, lecherous, utterly corrupt. Usually harmless on the plains when sober, they are dreaded in towns, for them liquor has an ascendancy over them. They are also as impoverished as the veriest "Jack" of the sea…. They never own any interest in the stock they tend. This dark picture of the cowboy ought to be lightened by the statement that there is occasionally a white sheep among the black. True and devoted Christians are found in such company—men who will kneel down regularly and offer prayers in the midst of their bawdy and cursing associates. They are like Lot in Sodom.
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Monday afternoon Johnny Davenport, a railroader, was sitting in a chair on the sidewalk at San Marcial, (New Mexico) when Al Chapman came along and gave him a kick. Davenport got up and shot three times at Chapman and Chapman returned the fire with two shots. Then Marshall Blunt came along and shot twice at Chapman, after which the cowboy was arrested and lodged in the cooler. Nobody was hurt. Good shots down that way.
C.P. Westermeier ed. Trailing the Cowboy
Last Modified 3-23-03