The Last of the Silver Screen Cowboys
Rancher
Sustainability
By Stephen L. Wilmeth
There is a
place on the county road into the headquarters that I never fail to think about
this concept one devoted Bootheel ranch wife refers to as place.
That may
not be the best word for it, but nothing else seems to capture the essence of
the concept better. To explain it would likely make no sense to most folks, but
it is manifested time and again when it is prompted by certain circumstances.
Being alone
is a factor.
Being forever
awed by its physical presence, and, yet, attached to it in such a way that
erases apprehension or foreboding is a there as well. Every ridgeline, point of
rocks, grassy bottom, or sweeping vista is familiar in more than a casual way. Its
familiarity has risen to a raw state of nuptial bond. It has transcended
ownership.
People,
animals, events, circumstances, and rhythms are all arrayed in the backdrop,
but there it is distinctly alone in its relationship with me. Nobody knows it
better in its most intimate state at this time and under these circumstances.
The relationship is primeval. It is the union of the natural law described by
Thomas Aquinas and Plato, and the mortal life’s commitment to its stewardship. That’s
what ranches become with time and devotion. That’s what we become in the
relationship. In its noun form it is described in the dictionary.
The word is
rancher.
The Last
of the Silver Screen Cowboys
There is a
recorded performance of a younger Rex Allen, Jr. that will forever define his career.
When
compared to his Arizona born father, the younger Allen will not be as famous
nor will he be as gifted in natural vocal talents, but his gift of voice will
still be significant. The referenced performance shows him seated in a circle
of his peers, children of famous singers and musicians. He is seated next to
another scion of Arizona, Ronny Robbins, Marty’s equally talented and
personable son.
When asked
to introduce his turn in the spotlight, Rex Junior, is eager. He is not
nervous, and he is genuinely anxious to share his song of choice in the manner
in which it was conceived with nostalgia but mixed with humor and quality
musicality. In the original version, the elder Allen has a narration as does
the other and even more historic performer, Roy Rogers.
Junior is
openly joyous as he described the listening session following the insertion of
the two narrations. Roy interrupted the review by laughing at his own contribution.
Asked what was so funny by the elder Allen, Roy responds that the older he gets
the more he reminds himself of and sounds like that famous sidekick, Gabby
Hays.
Aha!
That was
the indicator there is more to the song than words, beat, or melodic
pentameter. It’s a history lesson. It is a story of the American West captured
on screen by performers we grew to love in their own attempt to tell the
greater story of a unique way of life the students of natural law attempted to
set to a narrative of written words and lectures.
It’s all
there.
It starts
with the strength of youth and the road to a place of accomplishment and worth.
The boxes are all checked as challenges and obstacles present themselves. The
task is to complete the work with diligence, honesty, and good character. It
matters who one becomes in the dealings of life. It matters what reputations are.
It matters how others are treated because, ultimately, it is that reflection
that describes oneself.
The
trinkets are all there, too.
The
leather, the dust, the silver conchos, the manners of speech and courtesy, the
sidearms, the silver spurs and even the sharpened pocketknives are all part of
the persona of the trade. And, then, of course, the final act is inevitable and
that isn’t just remaining loyal to the favorite caballo. It means finishing the
race with as much style and grit as the life lived revealed. Junior Rex then
sang the song.
Hell … we
all sang the song!
Sustainability
The
California Association of Winegrape Growers and the Wine Institute are doing
something the cattle growers of the American West ought to be duplicating. They
are enlisting their membership into a program of certified sustainability. The
process is not one of allowing an NGO or parasitical antagonist to dictate
direction in this concept our industry tends to denigrate and cast dispersions
toward. Rather, they are defining those things they have perfected within their
own ranks and calling attention to in the form of shared results and successes.
They now
have some 200 recommended practices of stewardship that, collectively, cannot
be judged as anything but sustainable practices. In other words, they are
telling their own story and they are attempting to elevate it into platform
that not only combats progressive antagonism and chaos, but shapes it into
their unique image of doing things right in the creation of a wonderful
product.
They
believe documenting their own initiatives will not just defend their industry
but make their industry better over time by creating and perfecting from within.
In that approach, sustainability emerges from theoretical wordsmithing to a
true form of constant improvement. That outcome marries their product output
with an environmentalism coat of armor that is indistinguishable when viewed from
outside.
Can we only
imagine our own story if it could be told in similar strength and truth? There
are even some silver screen cowboys within our midst to sing the praises of our
story. They exist in real time. Their product is the actual story of the
marriage of sunlight, the elements, soil and water, and a story line that
remains central to the American spirit in its initial form.
The truth
is our sustainability is original and fundamentally pure. We need to take
ownership of its narration.
Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New
Mexico. “Adelante!”
Here is the video Wilmeth referred to in his column
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