Our dad was born in 1915, 105 years ago. It seems strange and
frankly unreasonable to think that, if he were still with us, he would
be that old. He is still
W.O. Culbertson, Jr was born in Tucumcari, NM, a restless budding
railroad and cattle town, sometimes also called Six-shooter Siding.
That same year his father and R.S. Coon of Dalhart, Texas created a
partnership that soon would operate on ranches from Dalhart to the New
Mexico line and develop the largest herd of registered cattle in the
world. Dad grew up in Dalhart and on the ranches, and was from an early
age a good cowboy, a characteristic that defined him more than any
other experience. Considering the reach of his life and the broad
spectrum of associates and friends, my father seemed to have the most
regard and strongest connection to those who were good cowboys and
horsemen.
The period of depression and drought in the ‘30s was
among the early events that defined “the greatest generation.” Economic
collapse and complete absence of life-giving rain brutally tested the
strength and resolve of ranchers and farmers in the west, especially the
plains states. Dalhart seemed to be in the bulls-eye of the black dust
storms of the “Dirty Thirties,” deserving of its nickname as the
capitol of the dust bowl. Many gave up for prospects elsewhere,
inspiring Steinbeck’s great work, “The Grapes of Wrath.” The Coon &
Culbertson ranch stuck it out, searching for feed and forage wherever
it could be found. It is said my grandfather searched out and bought
hay by the train car-load wherever he could, to be offloaded onto wagons
and carried straight out to the cattle. These were Dad’s formative
years and the early shaping of his identity as a cattleman.
W.O.
enrolled at Texas A&M College where, in 1938, he earned his degree
in Animal Husbandry as well as his officer’s commission in the United
States Army Reserve. Dad was an Aggie, through and through. From an
early age us kids knew the Aggie Fight Song by heart and probably could
have identified most of the main attractions of “Aggieland” on first
sight. I didn’t attend A&M, but he seemed not to mind, or at least
he didn’t show it. Anyway, he came back to the ranch in the spring of
‘38, as he always knew he would, “caught his horses,” and went to work
managing the outfit. In 1939 Coon & Culbertson dissolved their
enterprise and, with Mr. Coon’s encouragement, my grandfather created a
new partnership with his sons, acquiring ranchland and moving the
cowherd to Harding County, New Mexico.
In 1940 Dad and his
hometown sweetheart, Marie Ellen Foltz, eloped to Santa Fe to be
married. M.E., as he always called her, was the oldest of three
daughters in a railroad family. A red haired beauty, she had been the
first Queen of Dalhart’s famed XIT reunion in 1937. W.O. & M.E.
made their first home in a little rock house at the “Baca Ranch” on the
Ute Creek, near Bueyeros, NM.
War came with the attack on Pearl
Harbor, December 7th, 1941, and Dad was called to active duty. After
artillery training at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, Lieutenant Culbertson said
goodbye to his bride, boarded a train, and shipped out to the Pacific
theater. My brother Bill was born in 1942 and saw his dad only once in
the four years of World War II.
Few events of history affect
the pathways of peoples’ lives like those of war. 400,000 Americans
gave their lives, and, in their sacrifice, gave up the opportunity to be
fathers. Dad was in the Army’s 98th Division, which was among the
forces preparing for Operation Downfall, the invasion of Japan.
Military planners projected as many as one million American casualties
in the invasion, and the particular assignment for the 98th was known to
be pretty much a suicide mission. The battle force was getting ready
to go with ships loading supplies and gear at the docks in Hawaii, and
Dad’s duffel bag was already packed and on the troop ship. Then,
Hiroshima and in a few days Nagasaki, and soon afterward the war was
over. Within weeks, Captain Culbertson was on his way home.
Out of the Service and back on the ranch, Dad revived what had been
begun before the war, ranching and cowboying, but he also found himself
involved in another kind of service, having been elected to the Harding
County Commission and later the NM House of Representatives. In 1947 I
was born, making the little house on the Baca Ranch just a little
tighter fit for the family.
In 1950, brother Cary was born, and
at the same time the family ranch company bought the Park Springs Ranch,
halfway between Las Vegas and Santa Rosa. Our family moved there early
that year and began the next chapter of life’s adventure. Sister Jane
Ellen was born in 1953. For 34 years Park Springs Ranch was an anchor
point for how we measured our story as a family, whether on the ranch or
away. Las Vegas became the community that provided the source for
friendships, shopping, school, church, and all the rest.
Dad
was prominent in New Mexico politics as a legislator, candidate for
Governor, candidate for Lt Governor, and a respected advisor to numerous
political leaders, statewide and nationally. He was a businessman,
cattleman, cowboy, horseman, pilot, freemason, speaker, and occasional
lay preacher. He did and saw many things, had many friends, and reached
across a broad spectrum of private and public life; but to me and my
siblings he was, above any of that, always present in the life of the
family, the one who taught the skills, required the standards, provided
the example, and showed the way. He was insightful, humble, gregarious,
engaging, and respected people without regard to their station in life.
Dad passed away thirty six years ago, and yet sometimes I
still meet people who upon mention of him remark, “He was a fine man.”
Maybe that is, in a phrase, what we are called upon to pass down to the
generations; the thing that we might hope to be said of any of us in our
one-hundredth year. It is a matter of legacy.
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