The Lockhart contemporaries reunion tour
You know the feeling you have about old classmates, or compatriots in some ancient but intense experience? That’s how I feel about many of the people in Caroline Lockhart’s life: I wonder whatever happened to them, and I hope it was generally positive.
The feeling played out effectively for me on Wednesday night, when I spoke to the Yellowstone Corral of Westerners, a group of Billings-area folks interested in Western history. We were talking about Lockhart’s efforts to set up her ranch on the Dryhead (the climactic section of The Cowboy Girl). I showed a picture of one of Lockhart’s boyfriends, Lou Ericson, the fellow who had signed his name to the ranch purchase in 1926.
“We knew Lou Ericson,” said a voice from the audience. It came from Shirley Steele, speaking on behalf of herself and her husband, the esteemed artist Ben Steele. Ericson had been a friend of Ben’s father, and the younger Steeles visited him shortly after their wedding, at the Spear Ranch southeast of Hardin. Ericson told them of his days as a jockey, but not of his association with the notorious novelist/rancher.
A year or two after they purchased the ranch, Lockhart and Ericson split up. (There was a gunfight involved.) She banished him from the L Slash Heart. I was never able to find out what had happened to him, how he felt about Lockhart and his time on the Dryhead. But I was gratified to hear the Steeles report that he lived to a ripe old age, and seemed at that age to be quite happy.
I'm always interested in feedback, via info at johnclaytonbooks dot com
The feeling played out effectively for me on Wednesday night, when I spoke to the Yellowstone Corral of Westerners, a group of Billings-area folks interested in Western history. We were talking about Lockhart’s efforts to set up her ranch on the Dryhead (the climactic section of The Cowboy Girl). I showed a picture of one of Lockhart’s boyfriends, Lou Ericson, the fellow who had signed his name to the ranch purchase in 1926.
“We knew Lou Ericson,” said a voice from the audience. It came from Shirley Steele, speaking on behalf of herself and her husband, the esteemed artist Ben Steele. Ericson had been a friend of Ben’s father, and the younger Steeles visited him shortly after their wedding, at the Spear Ranch southeast of Hardin. Ericson told them of his days as a jockey, but not of his association with the notorious novelist/rancher.
A year or two after they purchased the ranch, Lockhart and Ericson split up. (There was a gunfight involved.) She banished him from the L Slash Heart. I was never able to find out what had happened to him, how he felt about Lockhart and his time on the Dryhead. But I was gratified to hear the Steeles report that he lived to a ripe old age, and seemed at that age to be quite happy.
I'm always interested in feedback, via info at johnclaytonbooks dot com
Labels: Caroline Lockhart, Cowboy Girl
Caroline gets BUSTed
The Febuary/March issue of BUST magazine (“for women with something to get off their chest”) includes a great article by Terry Selucky. Titled “Home on the Range” (and teased on the cover as “Cowgirls gone wild”), it argues that cowgirls were among the first and best feminists. As evidence it cites, among others, the life of Caroline Lockhart.
Selucky and I had a far-ranging interview (set up in part by Margot Kahn). I agreed with her basic thesis, that women of the Old West (and New) had an independence, free spirit, and contentment that make them excellent models for young girls today. But Selucky had a problem that I wasn’t able to help her with: most contemporary independent female ranch owners and horsewomen don’t think of themselves as cowgirls.
In the article, Selucky argues that “the term ‘cowgirl’ has been hijacked, so that we can’t even recognize a real cowgirl when we see one.” I think it’s a little more complicated than that, because even in Lockhart’s day the term ‘cowgirl’ did not fit in with the proto-feminist agenda.
Cowgirls are generally women who love the West, the landscape, the lifestyle, the horses and cattle and men who work them -- and who are generally seen as part of a family unit: a daughter, wife, mother. Lockhart was too independent and ornery for such a family-centric role. In metaphorical terms, she wanted to ride off into the sunset alone, just like a cowboy does. And I’m not sure that option was (or maybe even still is) open to cowgirls.
That’s why Lockhart self-identified not as a cowgirl but as the "cowboy girl." And that’s why I selected that phrase as the title for the book.
I'm always interested in feedback, via info at johnclaytonbooks dot com
Selucky and I had a far-ranging interview (set up in part by Margot Kahn). I agreed with her basic thesis, that women of the Old West (and New) had an independence, free spirit, and contentment that make them excellent models for young girls today. But Selucky had a problem that I wasn’t able to help her with: most contemporary independent female ranch owners and horsewomen don’t think of themselves as cowgirls.
In the article, Selucky argues that “the term ‘cowgirl’ has been hijacked, so that we can’t even recognize a real cowgirl when we see one.” I think it’s a little more complicated than that, because even in Lockhart’s day the term ‘cowgirl’ did not fit in with the proto-feminist agenda.
Cowgirls are generally women who love the West, the landscape, the lifestyle, the horses and cattle and men who work them -- and who are generally seen as part of a family unit: a daughter, wife, mother. Lockhart was too independent and ornery for such a family-centric role. In metaphorical terms, she wanted to ride off into the sunset alone, just like a cowboy does. And I’m not sure that option was (or maybe even still is) open to cowgirls.
That’s why Lockhart self-identified not as a cowgirl but as the "cowboy girl." And that’s why I selected that phrase as the title for the book.
I'm always interested in feedback, via info at johnclaytonbooks dot com
Labels: Caroline Lockhart, Cowboy Girl
