Reporter
Into the Sunset
As I watched new members being inducted into Fort Worth's Cowgirl Hall of Fame last fall, I realized that these Texas icons are aging. Is this the end of an era?
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Today, of course, the cowgirl has been embraced by popular culture. When I was searching for a copy of The Cowgirls on Amazon.com, more than ninety items popped up when I typed in the word "cowgirl," from calendars and coloring books to big coffee-table books. Cowgirl memorabilia like old rodeo programs, postcards, and costumes are hot collector's items. Cowgirl images are splashed on T-shirts, coffee cups, mouse pads, and note cards. When I was watching the HBO series Sex and the City recently and saw Miranda wearing a T-shirt with a vintage image of cowgirls—I have one just like it—I realized that the cowgirl has become a model for independent women everywhere. "Cowgirls are more popular now than they've ever been," says Mitzi Riley. "They've finally gotten their due."
BUT THE COWGIRLS POPULARITY IS rooted in nostalgia. Where will the next generation come from, I wanted to know, and how will it be different? In late December I drove to Stephenville to put those questions to three cowgirls I know and respect, women who are in the Cowgirl Hall of Fame. I met Jerry Ann Portwood Taylor and Jimmie Gibbs Munroe, appropriately enough, by the big plastic cow in front of the Erath County courthouse, then we drove several miles to the ranch where Nita Brooks-Lewallen lives with her husband, G. K. Lewallen. A dirt road led us through mesquite brush to an attractive multilevel stone-and-cedar house near a small lake. Nita appeared on the front porch to greet everyone and distribute hugs. At eighty, she looked trim and stylish in black pants and a vest, an orange shirt, and a silver necklace of tiny linked horses. Her silver belt buckle was a gift from her college roommate, columnist Liz Smith, when Nita was inducted into the hall of fame.The shelves of her big, comfortable living room were lined with photographs and trophies from her years as a rancher, horse breeder, and part-owner of champion Thoroughbreds, including a Kentucky Derby contender called Coax Me Chad. Nita splits her time between this ranch and the one she and her late husband, Louis Brooks, established near Sweetwater. She and her children and grandchildren formed a limited partnership to operate the Sweetwater ranch and keep it in the family. "They're working the cattle out there today," she said wistfully in her low Texas drawl. "They roped and branded one hundred fifty-six calves yesterday. I would love to be out there."
Her friend Jerry, a 72-year-old former trick rider, had driven down from Graham that morning. National barrel-racing champion Jimmie, 50, had come from her ranch near Valley Mills with her 13-year-old daughter, Tassie, who barrel races and jumps Welsh ponies. "Do you consider yourself a cowgirl too?" I asked her. Tassie smiled shyly, showing her braces, and nodded. She has already been riding for a decade. It must be in her genes: Jimmie's grandfather Zack Miller was one of the Miller brothers who owned the 101 Ranch in Oklahoma and ran a famous Wild West show featuring early cowgirl stars like Tad Lucas and Lucille Mulhall.
Three generations of cowgirls sat around Nita's kitchen table, where our hostess had set out a tray of sandwiches and snacks. Jerry had brought a tooled-leather scrapbook, and she took out a black and white photograph and passed it around. It showed several cowboys and a blond, beautiful woman on horseback—herself, of course. She still looks like a rodeo queen, with coiffed blond hair and a dramatic red-and-black jacket trimmed with silver conchos. "That was taken in London when I was in the Texas show with Tex Ritter," she said.
"Which one is Tex Ritter?" Jimmie asked.
"The one on the big white horse," Jerry replied.
As we looked at more vintage photos and ate lunch, the hall-of-famers reminisced about their days in the saddle. Despite the difference in their ages, all of them share some things in common. They grew up on Texas ranches, learned to ride while young, and were Ranch Girls, a tradition at the Southwestern Exposition and Livestock Show, in Fort Worth. It began in 1939, when the daughters of Texas ranchers were invited to be "honor guests" and were treated like celebrities at what was then called the Southwestern Exposition and Fat Stock Show. Jerry was the youngest Ranch Girl ever when, at nine, she debuted at the Fort Worth show in 1940; at fifteen she rode in Gene Autry's rodeo in New York and went on to become a national cutting-horse champion. Nita, who was one of the six White Horse Riders at Hardin-Simmons College, in Abilene, was a Ranch Girl in 1942 and also went on to ride in the New York rodeo at the same time Mitzi Riley did. The Fort Worth Ranch Girls were glamour girls, selected as much for their ranching pedigree and their appearance as for their riding abilities. Nita recalled that when she was at the stock show, she competed in a simple contest of musical chairs played on horseback—not exactly challenging for a girl who'd grown up on a ranch, but she enjoyed being in the spotlight at the biggest stock show in Texas.
By the time Jimmie was invited to be a Ranch Girl, in the early seventies, the tradition was changing, and the Ranch Girls had moved from simple events like musical chairs or staged riding exhibitions to the more difficult sport of barrel racing. Today, the sociological underpinning of the tradition has evolved as well. Rather than representing big ranches, many of the girls who are invited to participate in the amateur Ranch Girl Invitational Barrel Race at the stock show are sponsored by civic groups or towns. "You know, it's sad; there aren't a lot of ranch-raised girls anymore because the ranches are becoming fewer and fewer and the way of life is changing," said Jimmie, a petite woman with shoulder-length dark blond hair, hazel eyes, and a folksy manner. "It's sort of like with horses. It's hard to find a colt that's been ridden out on a ranch and is used to cattle work. These days they're started and trained in arenas."
Jerry shook her head. "When I was a kid, I rode every day," she said. "I loved being outside."
"And I worked on our ranch," Nita added.
"Yeah, side-by-side with your husband?" Jimmie interjected.
"I did," Nita said. "It was hard work, but I loved it. I think the younger generation will miss that."
"Oh, I don't know if they'll miss it or not," Jerry said. "They won't know it."
While all three women believe that there will be cowgirls in the future, they think they'll be different. "I was just amazed that these girls who are rodeo champions now learned to ride in a city or at a stable," said Jerry. And there's another big difference between the cowgirls of yesterday and today: These days, more and more of them are turning pro, either in the arena or as professional horse trainers. Women rodeo riders are earning huge purses, thanks to Jimmie, who championed equal pay for women competing in professional rodeo events when she served as the president of the Women's Professional Rodeo Association from 1978 to 1993. When she was a pro barrel racer, she might earn $20,000 in a year; today's top competitors can rake in more than $200,000.
Many of the younger women who have been inducted into the Cowgirl Hall of Fame in recent years came from the ranks of professional rodeo champions. Charmayne James, who lives in Athens and was inducted in 1992, is a nine-time world champion barrel racer. Lindy Burch, who owns a ranch near Weatherford and was inducted in 1997, was the first woman to win the National Cutting Horse Association Futurity. "This is all business now," Jerry said. Even the clothes, once a big part of the cowgirl mystique, are changing. Jerry once owned as many as sixty fancy costumes, but younger riders today are opting for practical shirts and blue jeans instead.
After lunch, we strolled outside so the cowgirls could have their picture taken in front of a horse trailer. "Watch out where you step," Nita warned as they walked across a pasture mined with cowpatties. "You might mess up your boots."
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time," Jerry shot back with a laugh.
The photographer told the women to show some attitude in their poses. "I like that word, Œattitude,'" Nita said, putting one hand on her hip.
After the shoot, Nita drove me back to the Stephenville square. Along the way we talked about her 24-year-old granddaughter, Shasta Brooks, who is living in Fort Worth and studying law at Texas Wesleyan University. She has a share in the family ranch in Sweetwater and has grown up with cowgirl independence. "She's won more saddles than I ever dreamed of winning," Nita said proudly. "She is truly a cowgirl."
I felt better knowing that women like Jimmie and Nita were passing along the cowgirl gene to their daughters and granddaughters. I also decided that Joyce Gibson Roach was right when she told me, "As long as there are horses and a culture that tends to idealize and idolize the horse world, cowgirls are going to stay in the saddle."
But I have one thing to say to all those little girls out there who are dreaming of becoming cowgirls: You've got some tough acts to follow.
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