Legend of three rodeo riders lives on

I'd like to recommend a book by Rick Steber called “Red White Black: A True Story of Race and Rodeo.”

I picked it up in Priest River's library when I happened to notice it on the shelf while browsing near the checkout desk. To quote from the story, “And there it was, three men of different skin colors — Jackson Sundown, a Nez Perce Indian; John Spain, a white man from pioneering stock; and George Fletcher, an African American — were in the finals and would compete for the Northwest Saddle Bronc Championship of 1911. Red. White. Black.”

This event occurred in Oregon at the Pendleton Round-Up. The back cover of the book intrigues with, “What happened that September day in 1911 — the judges' decision and the reaction of the crowd in the aftermath — forever changed our history, and the way the sport of rodeo, and the emerging West, was to look at itself.”

Maybe others can resist such a teaser, but not I. What a fascinating read, delving into the personal histories of these three men and then converging with their competitive rodeo talent. Jackson Sundown was a teen when the Nez Perce unsuccessfully fought the U.S. military to avoid being confined to an Idaho reservation. A later story from his life tells how people brought horses they didn't think could be ridden to a local riding exhibition in Montana. He took their bets — and then placed a silver dollar between the soles of each boot and the stirrups. If either coin came loose during the ride they got their money back. “Every single time, when the ride was over, Jackson Sundown pulled up his feet and those shiny silver dollars fell to the ground.”

When John Spain had his hand almost severed roping a runaway mustang in a 1912 Independence Day western celebration in Halfway, Ore., he sat in the arena holding it in his lap. When the doctor arrived he told him, “A one-armed cowboy ain't worth nothin' — do what you can for me, Doc.”

It couldn't be saved. His only comment after, “Well, at least the judges will never be able to accuse me of pulling leather (touching the saddle while riding a bucking horse.) He vowed a comeback — and he did. He became that “one-armed cowboy” — bronc riding by balancing with his stub of a right arm waving in the air.

George Fletcher — taking a lot of flak in Pendleton's public school (there were a total of five African American families in eastern Oregon at the time) — switched to the new boarding school on the Umatilla Indian Reservation, working for his room and board. He quickly made other teen friends — his best friend being Kels — who had a bucking barrel at his house. The boys took turns trying to ride the wooden keg strung between posts, while the others pulled on the ropes to “make the barrel buck.” George was the best rider, no contest; he was a natural.

One day Kels asked if he wanted to try the “real thing" and ride a calf. The calf wildly tried to unseat its rider. When it had no more fight George jumped off and begged Kels, “Catch me another one.”

So who did win the 1911 Pendleton Round-Up Saddle Bronc Championship? I'll never tell. But I can report these were three tough men who overcame huge odds in their lives to do what they loved. Their legend lives on.