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Pass Me the Gun, Billy - RANGE magazine - Home€¦ · They had a trader sale on Wednesday afternoon. ... trains and trucks, ... RANGE magazine-Winter 2017-Pass Me the Gun, Billy

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70 • RANGE MAGAZINE • WINTER 2017

Heard you left the ChimeneasAnd that makes me kind of sadShe’s a great old Spanish Land GrantAnd you’re the best she ever had...

—“Cowboy Pride” by Ian Tyson

When he was 16 years old mybrother Pat built a bucking barrelin the backyard of our Ingle-

wood, Calif., home, a 40-gallon oil drum sus-pended on ropes between four telephonepoles. The rig was powered by heavy-gaugegarage-door springs tied to the end of theropes. Pat was gearing up for riding real bullsin weekend rodeos on film ranches in theSan Fernando Valley. He’d recruit neighbor-hood boys, instruct them in the ways of abull rope, and tell them they needed a gate-opening password—like “Let’s dance!” or“Ride a bull!” or “Outside!”—famous last words before Patlaunched them into outer space.

Bull-riding dreams faded fastas the kid flew over chicken coopsand doghouses, landing facedownin Mrs. Zeelsdorf ’s manure pile.But nobody could buck my broth-er off that damn oil drum. He wasset for life. Centered. He went on tothe real thing, and he’s still in therodeo game.

Next Pat ran off to the SierraNevada, still in his teens, andworked as a mule packer for asummer in Mineral King. One ofhis mentors was an old Arkansasmule man named Rayburn Crane.I wrote one of my first songs abouthim. “Rayburn Crane he rode thesemountains, like the streams he rode’em through...” Pat returned withdozens of old cowboy songs, Irishfolk songs, and poems he’d learnedup in the wilderness. Everyone was requiredto sing or recite something around themountain campfires. We’ve been swappingsongs ever since.

Los Angeles, believe it or not, was cow-boy country. My brother is still obsessedwith the sheer volume of horses that havecome through Los Angeles in the last twoor three hundred years. We grew up on the

backside of HollywoodPark Racetrack, wheremy dad played pokerwith William Boyd (akaHopalong Cassidy) anddabbled in the buyingand selling of racehors-es. It was in my father’s blood. His fatherhad traded horses in Iowa.

Horses in L.A.? There was the westernmovie business, of course, and all that wentwith it—including the bars along the back-side of Griffith Park, where stuntmen, movieextras, rodeo cowboys, and livestock contrac-tors drank, fought, and enacted daily busi-ness. Then there was the L.A. Horse andMule Auction where we bought our pleasurehorses—most of them cowponies that camefrom Texas via train.

I’ll let my brother tell about the LosAngeles auction scene back in the ’50s. Hehas a better slant on the lingo.

Here’s Pat:“In L.A., there was a horse auction twice

a week. They had a trader sale on Wednesdayafternoon. Bob Scott, who was half-Indianand half-black, rode the horses through thering. They’d come in by the hundreds. He’dnever seen ’em before, but could make ’em doanything. “He worked with a lot of the movie hors-

es. He could make a horse lay down and rollover. With a halter rope. He had the knack.And a guy named Red Foster was trying tostart the American Model Quarter Horse

Association, and he’dship horses from NewMexico and Arizona. “The trader’s sale was

just for horse traders.There’d be three or fourhundred horses in thereand they wrote out thehorses’ names and heldthem up. They’d shavetheir tails down eachside so their butts wouldlook bigger and theirneck would look stouter.“And a lot of those

horses had their manesrubbed out, and they’d sell the mane and tailhair. They’d keep the horsehair separate. Load

Pass Me the Gun, BillyThe Russell brothers...dealers in livestock and song. By Tom Russell

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP: Tom stands nextto brother Pat. ➤Andy Warhol, GeorgeJones, and Tom, somewhere in the Eastin 1981. ➤Russell Christmas card in1956. Top row: Nan Russell, motherMarge and Mary Clare on Texanne(Texas cow horse bought at the L.A.Horse and Mule Auction). Bottom row:Pat, father A. Charles Russell and Tom(Hot walker). ➤Pat, chomping at thebit to ride.

PHOTOS COURTESY TOM AND PAT RUSSELL

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WINTER 2017 • RANGE MAGAZINE • 71

after load of it. The horses would come off thetrains and trucks, and also carloads of hair.The hair was sold to guys who would use junkhair in furniture. Ottomans and cushions. Andthe rest would go to making hair ropes.”

Brother Pat went from bull riding tobareback horses. He learned his trade at theauction. Here’s Pat again:

“Behind the L.A Horse and Mule Auctionon Bandini Road was Snowdon Brothers. Ahorse killin’ plant. They’d kill like 80 to 500

horses a day. For dog food. And Alvin Deal andI would go over to the horse killin’ plant whenthe sale was going on back at the auction. We’dget these killer horses in the alley, and we’d ropeone, put a bareback riggin’ on ’em, and that’swhere we’d practice. And we’d have to catchhim to get our riggin’ off.

“Over in the hay barns, behind the auc-tion, there was always a crap game going on.One Friday night they shot a guy.”

There’s your cowboy movie. All I have todo for new cowboy song material is hangaround brother for a day or two, and thenreach for the rhymes.

In that regard, Ian Tyson and I wereworking on songs one afternoon in a remotecabin in the Canadian Rockies. We went for ahike to clear our heads and Ian stopped,turned to me, and said: “What’s up with yourbrother? He’s always good for some colorfulmaterial.”

So I told the story of one of my brother’slatest romantic escapades and his gettingkicked off the Chimeneas Ranch in Cuyama,Calif., for stating, in an LA Times story, some-

thing to the effect that a cowboy could doanything he damn well wanted—includinggoing into town to drink, run wild, and chasethe ladies. You get the drift.

The corporate owner of the ranch readthe article and took offense. Political correct-ness reared its wimpy skull. Based on this,Tyson wrote the song “Cowboy Pride,”which was a semihit for Ian, as well asMichael Martin Murphey. We also laterwrote one called “Heartaches Are Stealin’,”

recorded by Ian, and recently by MikeBeck. My brother’s identity was thinlyveiled in both songs. Some relativesweren’t thrilled.

With Pat it was always the horses.He’s gone on to become one of themost respected California horsemenand a major livestock provider forrodeos and cutting-horse events. He’son the backside. Always horseback. Ibecame the songwriter. I stole his Tijua-na gut-string guitar when I was 14, andI listened to his great record collection:Johnny Cash, Marty Robbins, Tex Rit-ter, the music of the bullring...all of it. Amusic education. To this day he’s deepinto old Irish folk songs and MexicanRanchera music by folks like Vicente

Fernandez. These are the musical roots ofwhat I later put into melodies and lyrics.Songs like “Gallo del Cielo” and “The SkyAbove, The Mud Below.”

If I had time here I could tell a few dozenbrotherly “western action” stories—maybeabout the time my brother, Billy Mello, and Iwere in Pat’s truck chasing cattle poachersdown an isolated back road near San LuisObispo at 80 miles an hour. In front of us

was a lowered Mercury filled with guys whoappeared as if they’d stepped out of the film“Deliverance.” Inbred-looking weasels.

When they got to an isolated spot theypulled their car over. We pulled over behind.Two of ’em stepped out and faced us withshotguns raised.

My brother yells at Billy Mello, “Pass methe gun, Billy!”

Billy frowns. “Pat...we ain’t got no gun!” That last phrase still rings in my ears. I

dove for the floor, bashing my head into theradio. I’ll leave the rest of the story for now.Ask Pat or Billy next time they ride throughyour territory.

It’s always been colorful. And western.Horses, cows, guns, women, songs. Mybrother Pat is of a different era. Think SlimPickens, Ben Johnson, or the song “Tyin’ aKnot in the Devil’s Tail.” I’m sure Pat wouldhave roped the devil’s hind feet and cut offthe bastard’s horns. But these are now tepidtimes, eh? We get away with what we can. Herides ’em. I write about ’em. We both love agood song.

The Russell brothers, dealers in livestockand tall tales. We came out of L.A. and thebackside of the track, the horse auctions,slaughterhouses, and those San FernandoValley film ranches. And Pat’s still murmur-ing about the sheer number of horses thatcame across the irrigated desert.

A while back I flew into Los Angeles,directly over the old Hollywood Park Race-track, near where we grew up. The bulldozerswere demolishing the last portion of thegrandstand. The old stables were gone. Theycan tear it all down, sir, but they can’t bull-doze our memories.

Pass me the guitar. Tonight we ride! ■

Singer/songwriter/painter/essayist Tom Rus-sell has recorded 35 highly acclaimed recordsand published five books. His songs have beenrecorded by Johnny Cash, Doug Sahm, Ram-blin’ Jack Elliott, Ian Tyson, Iris Dement, JoeEly, and a hundred others. In 2015, hereleased a 52-track “folk opera” on the West,“The Rose of Roscrae,” which was deemedmaybe the most important Americana recordof all time by UK Folk and hailed in Top Tenlists in three dozen publications, includingthe Los Angeles Times. He appeared on“The Late Show With David Letterman”five times. In 2015, he won the top ASCAPaward for music journalism. Contact:www.tomrussell.com, www.tomrussellart.com,and www.fronterarecords.com.

FROM TOP: Ian Tyson and Tom in 1987. Timeswere good. ➤Toddler Tom, always looking up tohot-rodder Pat.

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