Arrow-right Camera
The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Tellin’ Their Story Cowboy Poets: They’re Trying To Get It Down Before It’s Gone

Associated Press

Cowboy poetry is alive and well, even if it’s getting harder for city folks to understand what they’re talking about.

About 50 cowboy poets proved that during the weekend at the ninth annual Idaho Cowboy Poetry Gathering at Salmon.

Wearing beads, braided hat bands and brush popper shirts, they yodeled, sang, and recited tales about poppin’ brush, ridin’ fence, graftin’ calves at night, buckin’ broncs and honky bulls, mountain streams as pure as snow, coyotes yippin’, feds a lippin’, and buying bras, too.

Cowboys began honing their storytelling skills 11 years ago when a handful of folks organized the first cowboy poetry gathering in Elko, Nev. Working cowboys flocked to the event like a herd of cattle starved for the first green grass of spring.

“They were absolutely scared to death and yet they wanted to tell their story so much that they were willing to stand up at that mike,” recalls Ruth Sweeten, wife of cowboy poet Colen Sweeten of Malad, Idaho.

The poets have to submit resumes along with taped poems before being invited to perform. They attend gatherings around the West like rodeo cowboys following the circuit. To participate, they must have a ranching background.

Most see themselves as recorders of the cowboy life before mechanization and regulation replaced grit and grime.

“You’re talking about a culture that’s in danger of extinction,” said Wayne Nelson, American Falls, Idaho. “As Charlie Russell would have said, you want to get it down before it’s gone.”

Generations from now, when condos have replaced cowboys, readers of their tales may need a dictionary to understand subtleties of the culture. Even now, city folks don’t understand the lingo used to describe ordinary ranch work, said Cheryl Mueller, Nelson’s partner in song.

Mueller wrangles dudes each summer at a guest ranch. When the owners tried to entertain their guests by inviting cowboy poets to perform, the city slickers couldn’t understand what it was all about.

“These guys have their own language and city people don’t really understand it,” Mueller said. “They didn’t understand the romance. These were rocket scientists, talking on telephones while they were riding their horses.”

Sweeten said he had the same problem in 1991, when he appeared on “The Tonight Show” with Johnny Carson. “A halter means something different in Florida than it does here,” he said.

For some, hearing others speak their language or sing their song has changed their lives. When Jeff Muench was on stage singing a few years ago, a friend in the audience, Mark Steeley, began to harmonize with him. Until that day, Muench said he didn’t know Steeley could sing. Now they’re a duo.