by Gail Steiger
Photo by Charlie Ekburg
Growing up, I heard quite a bit of cowboy poetry. We lived with our grandparents, Gail and Delia Gardner, for a year or two back in the early ’60s, and my grandfather would sing his song “Tyin’ Knots in the Devil’s Tail” for any visitor who expressed interest. I pretty much took for granted that song and the other songs and poems Papa would share with his guests. I also took for granted the poems and songs many of those guests would share with us in return. There they go again with all that old stuff…. I didn’t realize how those old stories and songs were a big part of the glue that held their community together or how important they would be to my community down the road.
I remember stopping by their home sometime in ’83 or ’84 and asking my grandmother, “Where’s Papa?” “Oh, Big Jim Griffith from the University of Arizona and Warren Miller, that nice young man from the Sharlot Hall Museum, loaded him up and took him down to the junior high to sing some songs. He’s having a ball with those guys. They call themselves folklorists.”
Those folklorists were doing research that led to the first Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko in 1985. As we all know now, it was a hit, and they kept at it.
In 1988, the folks in Elko dedicated that year’s Gathering to my grandfather, and Warren asked me to shoot some video of Papa addressing the Gathering as, at 95, he wasn’t feeling up to making the trip in person. Warren figured I could handle the assignment since my brother and I had just finished making a film about cowboys in our country called Ranch Album.
I propped Papa up in front of the George Phippen painting my mom and dad had commissioned for my grandfather’s birthday, and he sang his song and thanked the Western Folklife Center.
I was scheduled to play the video right after Guy Logsdon’s keynote address. Guy did a great job of defending cowboy poetry from its frequent dismissal as doggerel verse unworthy of attention. I particularly appreciated his point that “a poem or song is just like a child. Once they’re out on their own, there is very little you can do to control them.”
“A poem or song is just like a child. Once they’re out on their own, there is very little you can do to control them.”
When we played Papa’s video, I was shocked to see many people singing along. How in the hell did they know the words? I had no idea his song had gotten around as much as it had. I guess something about it just spoke to people who had covered the song and to people who heard it. Papa used to bitch about singers getting the words wrong because folks might think he wasn’t a real cowboy, but I wished he could have heard Guy’s theory about a song being out on its own. I bet he would have felt a lot better about the whole affair.
I had brought a print of Ranch Album and screened it for two or three people in the Northeastern Nevada Museum. It was supposed to run several more times during the Gathering, but turnout was so low I left it to the projectionist to rewind and introduce to the next audiences.
Gathering sessions were organized by state back then, and I attended one for Texas poets. The convention center was packed and this was on the big stage. Joel Nelson was the leadoff poet, and, to my surprise, he devoted two or three minutes of his allotted time to a very positive review of Ranch Album. The subsequent screenings were very well attended, thanks to him.
I introduced myself to Joel and told him how much I appreciated the plug.
Joel and his then-wife, Barney, were inspired enough by those early Gatherings to start one of their own in Alpine, Texas. Joel invited me to screen the movie at the Texas Cowboy Poetry Gathering later that spring. He also made me get up and sing a couple of songs from the film. It was the first time I ever played music in front of an audience. I ended up working for Joel and the o6 Ranch through five different cow works. What a blessing!
Gail Steiger (left) with Hal Cannon (center) and Waddie Mitchell (right), 1990. Photo by David Stanley
I made some other lifelong friends in Elko that year. Waddie Mitchell, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott, and Ian Tyson all made me feel like I was part of a family that valued the cowboy lifestyle and wasn’t afraid to sing songs or recite poems about it right out loud, in front of God and everybody. I was invited to the next four or five Gatherings in Elko, and thanks to Guy Logsdon, I always made it a point to hear the keynote addresses. I wasn’t disappointed. Most years, I came away with a broadened perspective or at the very least, some useful information.
In 1990, the Folklife Center had rounded up some Australian stockmen, and Ranald Chandler told us a little bit about mustering cows Down Under. In ’91, Teresa Jordan had us thinking about how important stories were to all of us, on both personal and communal levels. In ’92, Alan Savory told us how we should deal with the desertification of our grazing lands. He said increased stocking rates and rotational grazing were the only ways to reverse the downward trends caused by understocking and constant year-round use. Doing this would require a lot more herders of livestock.
Our local Yavapai County Cattle Grower’s convention had been picketed by folks waving “Cattle Free by ’93” signs going back to 1988. The idea that cowboys could be the heroes in turning things around was a marked contrast to the idea that we were just moneygrubbing land rapers bent on the destruction of the West. The Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko gave us a platform to interact with environmentalists in a nonconfrontational way. Sharing poems and songs about those aspects of our agrarian lives that were personal and deeply felt did a lot to humanize us. We began to realize that we had many things in common with most environmentalists, not the least of which was an abiding love for the natural world and a mutual distrust of developers.
“Sharing poems and songs about those aspects of our agrarian lives that were personal and deeply felt did a lot to humanize us.”
In ’93, Jim Griffith gave us a history lesson going back to Cortés as the Folklife Center hosted Mexican ranchers and looked at border cultures. This was the first time it occurred to me that we didn’t invent the cowboy thing. People have herded livestock around the world for thousands of years.
In ’94, at the 10th Gathering, Hal Cannon speculated that the Folklife Center might make it another 10 or 20 or even 30 years. In ’95, Hank (Henry) Realbird introduced us to Charlie Colombe. Charlie talked about “cowboys and Indians” and how being a cowboy today is the closest an Indian can come to living like they are supposed to live.
In ’96 and ’97, we got to meet poets from England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. I remember a young Welsh poet whose accent was so beautiful I’d have been happy to listen to her read the weather report all day.
Ian Tyson delivered the keynote address in ’97 and told us how cowboys got to Alberta, Canada, and how Americans exported the business we’d picked up from Mexico to our northern neighbors.
In ’99, MacArthur Grant recipient Bill MacDonald told us how the Malpai Borderlands Group and Drum Hadley and the Animas Foundation were working with local ranchers, environmentalists, The Nature Conservancy, and the Bureau of Land Management to address land management issues in Southern Arizona. There was a path to move beyond “Cattle Free by ’93” and these guys were blazing a trail for the rest of us. Less “good guys versus bad guys,” and more appreciation for the complexities of the problems, and more collaboration between folks who appeared to have competing interests, was leading to better outcomes for all involved.
In 2001, during the “Sagebrush Rebellion,” Waddie Mitchell spoke about the downward trend in ranching on public lands. He asked us, “Are we here to celebrate ranching or eulogize it?” Following his address, former United States Secretary of the Interior Stuart Udall stepped into the belly of the beast and explained his beliefs regarding the necessity to protect as much land as possible, giving us a great opportunity to hear more than one side of an issue important to most of us.
Waddie and Gail, 2024. Photo by Jessica Brandi Lifland
Throughout the 2000s, the Folklife Center organized cultural exchanges with several herding cultures in Mongolia, Brazil, Argentina, France, Spain, and Hungary. These exchanges showed us all that horses, cows, sheep, goats, and yaks don’t care what kind of outfit you wear or what language you speak or what party you belong to. They just give you back what you give them. If you make your living with livestock, you’ll have much in common with other herders around the world, including dealing with ever more industrialization and urbanization. Hats off to the Western Folklife Center for broadening our international horizons the way they have, and for expanding our community way beyond our borders.
The Gathering’s gifts didn’t just happen in Elko. I’ve heard that, over the years, it’s spawned dozens of similar events around the West. I believe that happened because many people are nostalgic about an agrarian past we see disappearing in the rearview mirror, everywhere. I like to ask audience members what brought them to the gathering, wherever it is. Most have a story about the time they spent on their grandparents’ farm or their uncle’s ranch. They talk about western values: hard work, honesty, generosity, humor, a sense of community they can’t find at home anymore.
Wendell Berry says happiness comes from producing something of value for your community. I’m so thankful to be part of the community that the Western Folklife Center has produced and nurtured through the years. I lucked into this community in my early 30s just the other day, but somehow I’m already in my late 60s.
I’m so thankful for the lifelong friends I’ve met in Elko. Cowboys, poets, musicians, folklorists, audience members, benefactors, volunteers…we all belong to a great tribe and finding it has truly shaped my life in countless big and little ways.
Where else could I have gotten a glimpse of cowboys from around the world?
Where else could I have found discussions on the future of ranching in the West? on horsemanship, stockmanship, cooking, writing, songwriting, dancing, saddlemaking, conservation easements, hatmaking, marketing in the digital age…?
Where else could Amy and I have jumped over the broom while Dave Stamey sang “Come Ride With Me?”
Where else could I hear keynote addresses from the likes of Sandra Day O’Connor and Temple Grandin?
Where else could I find people of every political persuasion imaginable still sticking together these days? What is that worth?
Looking ahead, 40 years seems like a long way off. Looking back, it seems like it doesn’t take very long to live a whole life. Blink of an eye, really.
We’ve said goodbye to many beloved members of our community who’ve contributed in so many ways, and age is taking hold of many beloved and integral old-timers, too. I thank you for all you’ve done to water this garden through the years, and I thank those who are carrying the load today. You know who you are, and I’m grateful to you all for picking up the slack.
If you’re here for the first time, there are many doors and they’re all open. Come on in.
Seems to me that we can use all the community we can get in these interesting times…
Photo by Jessica Brandi Lifland
Gail Steiger crafts songs and stories from the heart of the Spider Ranch in Arizona, where the landscapes and cowboy lifestyle shape his every word. As a songwriter, musician, poet, and filmmaker, his work captures the quiet wisdom of the desert and enduring rhythms of ranch life.
Originally published in the program book for the 40th National Cowboy Poetry Gathering as a companion to Gail Steiger’s keynote address. Presented in partnership with the Humanities Center at Great Basin College, which is made possible with significant support from the National Endowment for the Humanities.
