Rodeo Daze

When my wife and I moved to Park City in 1984, we found that it could snow almost any day of the year, and sometimes did. The only real summer we could count on were the two weeks surrounding the Fourth of July. And for Parkites, the centerpiece of that brief summer was always the Oakley Rodeo.

In those days, the rodeo was the main source of income for the town of Oakley. Probably still is. Then, the arena sat at the center of town, next to the post office and across from the city hall and Ken’s Kash Store. Ken Woolstenhulme owned the store and served as postmaster and mayor. One of his brothers, Dutch, ran the gas station, and, except for a few homes, that was the town. The brothers also ranched, and their roots in rodeo ran deep. For many years after they quit riding the rough stock themselves, they served as pickup men in the rodeo. Rough enough — especially when you’re showing a little age.

At that time, with no parking lot for rodeo fans, locals rented space for cars on their driveways and lawns. At the rodeo grounds, seats on the west side were choice, and since the performances started after supper, those in east side seats watched the sun set. They had to pull their hats low and squint hard. Nowadays the rodeo grounds are a fantastic collection of metal seats, pipe runs and pens and chutes, surrounded by acres of asphalt parking. The seating now faces north and south. The new complex is about four blocks southeast of the old arena. Those four blocks put it out of town. It’s huge. You won’t miss it.

In and around Park City in July, there are many rodeo parties where the attire is ‘Western,’ ranging from real ranch working attire to bling-bling and fringe. The grub is usually cooked on the grill or barbeque in a backyard because this is the only safe time of year to plan something outdoors. At a certain moment after the meal, the hostess announces that it’s time to go to the rodeo and passes out the tickets which were procured months in advance. The rodeo is always a sell out. Everyone heads for Oakley, drinks in hand.

The Rodeo is on the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association circuit, so the riders, ropers and racers are the best, and so is the livestock. There is patriotism. There is pageantry. There are flapping flags, kids, anthems and prayers. And queens and princesses galloping and waving. It’s a great American tradition. Even the jokes between the announcer and the clowns are traditional. Example:

A cowboy stumbles out of the arena after some sort of mishap. Clown to Announcer: “I think that guy’s from southern California.” Announcer: “Why do you think that guy’s from southern California?” (making sure we’re all aware that humor is in the air.) “Cuz,” the clown says, “He said something about the sun on the beach.” Announcer laughs, and the crowd groans. (I first heard that joke at rodeos in the Northwest 50 years ago.)

There are three evening performances at the rodeo, surrounding the Fourth of July, but skipping Sunday, of course (this is Utah). The days are full, with a parade, community breakfast, and other activities. And there is usually a lot of “slack” for the doggers, ropers and barrel racers. “Slack” is when there are too many entries for the evening performances, and the overflow of contestants is handled in the early mornings, without fanfare. Each night the rodeo ends with fireworks that make the Chinese manufacturers proud and can be seen all over the Kamas valley.

Though nothing feeds my cowboy soul like the Oakley Rodeo, there are a few other local events that warm my heart. The “Bull Wars” event in Kamas is to rodeo what Demo Derby is to NASCAR racing. With a minimum of distraction, it gets straight to the toughest part of rodeo, the bull riding. Here is the bucking, brawling, smashing and crashing action, without much fluff. And here they actually get to use the ambulance now and then.

After spring branding and castrating, local ranchers and cowboys get together to let off steam at the Testicle Festival in Woodruff. There are cow sorting competitions, branding contests and an old timers’ saddle bronc riding contest. These events allow working cowboys a chance to show off the skills they use in daily life. Apparently it’s not a spectator sport, because there aren’t many spectators. I thought it was just great, but maybe that’s just me. The climax of the Testicle Festival is a dinner of deep fried Rocky Mountain oysters, which are simply delicious. I took some home, but, reheated, they lost a little in translation. Having them as leftovers in an omelet, they tasted like rubber bands. Wouldn’t recommend it.

Don Weller rodeoed in high school and college in the 1950s and is still attracted to the smell.