Welcome, Pardners: Hopefully the great reading in this month's edition will help keep your mind off the temperature — and humidity — for a bit. Enjoy. =======================================================

Let's start off with a trip to Rapid City for those of us who could not make the WWA convention this year:

Well, where do I start? First, I enjoyed the convention. It didn't seem like it'd been a year since I'd seen all my friends that I've made over the years. AOL buddies in attendance was down, but the few of us who made it stuck in there. :-)

There were several panel sessions that became a little "emotional" in content. No fists flew or anything like that — maybe that was due to the sound of buzz saws in the background already causing enough noise for a gaggle of geese. Unfortunately, I missed several of the panel sessions. I like to attend these sessions as one never knows when a single morsel of information can be gleaned.

I did attend both business breakfasts, the luncheon and award banquet. Breakfast was a basic eggs, bacon, sausage affair served buffet style. At the luncheon, about 80% of us dined on shoe leather and the other 20% had dried fish. (The menu was taken from the book Buckskin, Bullets and Beans that our pardoner BOBWISEMAN put together a few years back. Unfortunately, the hotel didn't know brisket isn't served rare and fish isn't cooked for an hour.) I basically went away from the lunch with the urgent need to visit the local McDonald's. This was the sentiment of many folks. The luncheon side dishes were tasty, just not enough. I did fuss at tablemate Johnny Boggs about the fact his plate had five baby carrots and my plate only one. Johnny was kind enough to give me one of his carrots to this starving child! (Thanks Johnny!)

The awards dinner made up for EVERYTHING! We dined on the BEST prime rib and stuffed game hens that I've ever had! I ate until my stomach hurt! The wild rice and seasoned green beans were wonderful. I didn't think it could get any better, then came desert. A simply marvelous recipe called Fresh Strawberry Pie was served. (This meal's menu also came from Buckskin, Bullets and Beans.) Guess whose recipe it is????

Backing up, Monday was the bus trip to Wounded Knee and Crazy Horse monuments and the Circle B dinner ranch in the evening. In the middle of the day, we stopped for Indian Tacos at this little spot in the road. When I asked how hot the homemade picante sauce was, the proprietor replied, and I quote, "DAMN HOT!" The only real drawback about the day was its length. We left the hotel about 10:30 a.m. and didn't arrive back until about the same time that night. My seatmate and I were nodding off on the short trip from the Circle B back to the hotel. VERY late night.

Tuesday's trip took us to Fort. Meade and Deadwood. At the fort, we spent about 30 minutes each at three different locations. My group saw a demonstration of mounted shooting. The "in charge" man said he laughs when he sees these movies where the actors are shooting from the back of a running horse. You might hit something when shooting like that, but it probably won't be anywhere close to what you wanted. Our second stop was at the fort cemetery where I noted that a good percentage of those buried there were very young children. I did get a laugh out of some of the markers there. For example. "Mrs. John Doe" wife of John Doe. DUH! We could figure that out ourselves. However, I do realize that in that time frame, women often lost their identities to their husbands. The third stop at the fort was the museum and 30 minutes was NOT enough time. I glanced at a few rooms, then it was time to board the bus.

Deadwood. Well, it's a casino town all the way. There are a few souvenir shops tucked in the middle, but for the most part, it's gaming. I did find $20 in the No. 10 saloon where Wild Bill took it in the back of the head. Lucky for me, unlucky for him. BTW, most all the buildings in Deadwood are reconstructed ones as the originals burned many, many years ago.

The book signing on Wednesday evening went off without a hitch. Many folks loaded down with good stuff to read. This was the first convention I'd been to that the signing wasn't held at a Barnes and Noble bookstore. I was disappointed at that as I do like to browse through all kinds of novels and magazines. However, my pocketbook was very happy this year. :-)

I cannot leave without mentioning the construction at the hotel. Yes, the hotel was under a major reconstruction and redoing of the rooms. My first three nights, I had one of the new rooms. Absolutely wonderful! New TV, shower, tiles in the shower that I'd love to have in my home. Coffeemaker, hair dryer, remote control for said TV. A bed big enough for about 10 people at once. (We WON'T go there!!!) Brand new carpeting. I moved to a different room for the last two nights in the old section. (Got a roomie to cut down on costs.) It wasn't bad in that room. Didn't like the bathroom tile at all though — that old ugly green stuff. The meeting rooms were also in for remodel and had bare sheetrock. The onsite restaurant was torn up which made dining inconvenient. All that said, it wasn't that bad, just had to watch where you walked when going through the construction zones. The biggest drawback of the hotel I saw was the distance between buildings and meeting rooms. This hotel consisted of six buildings of rooms, another building where the dinners/breakfasts were held, and several other smaller buildings. If you forgot something in your room, it was quite a hike to get back to it.

I guess the big thing for me this year was me and my mouth. For those who don't know, I pitched Wichita, KS for the 2002 convention. It edged Las Vegas by 5 votes. Soooo, mark your calendars for June 25-29 of 2002 as I expect to see each and every one of you here!!!

A CALL TO ARMS

The WWA Marketing/Publicity committee is seeking members and prospective members to chair the WWA National Book signing Day on Saturday Nov. 27, 1999.

For more information, please contact
Bobwiseman@AOL.COM
or
Stef.donev@reporters.net

This is an important event that will receive national attention and a good chance for published writers and upcoming writers to get their names in front of the publishers/wholesalers/distributors/retailers.

Several locations are already working on the book signings including El Paso, Cheyenne, San Diego, Chicago, Fort Worth, Portland, Denver and Oklahoma City.

The book signings can be hosted wherever we can round up enough folks/champions to host the event. This event will be held every year on the first Saturday after Thanksgiving, which is the best time to gather a lot of holiday shoppers looking for gifts.

It's all across the U.S. So, get in on it. Get your book and your name out in front of the public. It's worth it! Regards,
Bob Wiseman

BOOK NEWS OF MEMBERS

Lost River
by Paxton Riddle

Book Description Based on the events surrounding the bloody Modoc Wars, Lost River is a sweeping drama that brings to life a tragic chapter in American history. . . In 1860s Oregon Territory, tensions run high between the Modoc tribe and the white settlers. While each group's leaders strive for peace, some on both sides want only blood. In this deadly landscape, two lovers — a white man and an Indian woman — are caught between loyalty and the unbreakable bonds of love.

Review by Lucia St. Clair Robson, author of Ride The Wind and Fearless: "With his first novel, Paxton Riddle has made a significant contribution to the literature of this country's native peoples. He writes with a clear voice about a little-known and tragic episode in our nation's history. Lost River has the ring of authenticity and heart."

Review by Robert Conley, UKB Cherokee, author of The Actor and Mountain Windsong: "Pax Riddle's first novel, Lost River, is historical fiction the way it should be written. It's a gripping tale, well told, concerning a too-little-known episode in American history. You'll be entertained as you read it and, after the fact, on reflection, you'll realize you've also learned something along the way."

Review by W. Michael Gear and Kathleen O'Neal Gear, authors of The Visitant and People of The Lakes: "In Lost River, Paxton Riddle has crafted a taut and compelling novel that vibrantly recreates the clash of cultures in the American Northwest. Riddle makes his debut as a new talent of uncommon vigor. His research is immaculate, and his understanding of the time and culture rivals that of Alvin Josephy's."

Comments from a reader from Richardson, TX: Entertaining, educational, eye-opening and excellent!!! I bought this book on a whim as I thought it would be entertaining. Not only was it entertaining, it was educational and eye-opening. The story surrounds the Modoc Indian war of the 1870s. The main characters, a Native American women and a white man, struggle to hold on to their love for each other, while each of their own cultures are determined to destroy the other. I liked the book as it is historical fiction and based on the author's family. The details of the war are outlined in a gripping and fast paced manner. I also liked the details of Indian life and the use of Modoc words in the story. (The author provides a glossary of the words and the characters.) Additionally, the use of factual, historical records in the book was helpful. I plan to keep this book for my children to read when they are older as it will provide a view of the story of white man's western expansion that is not often found in textbooks. Well done, Paxton Riddle!

MEMBERS' WORK

INFORMATION

A cowboy's fingers are agile, adept and always into something. They usually finger a rope in new loops or work on a hackamore. He can twirl a rope around post tops, horses and cows and has a good dance step when he shows off a new, wide circle of rope.

He has his fingers in the cook's vittles, making sure there's enough salt. He twirls his well oiled six-shooter before he hangs it up in the leather holster on the wall. He fingers his guitar and wails out a lonesome song, until his bunkmates toss boots at him. He works the reins on his horse to guide the animal around the beeves.

He's well capable of using his fingers when there are no forks and into so many other things that it would be a real misfortune if he ever lost one of those handy tools.

His fingers work over his tobacco pouch without spilling any. He two-fingers the tobacco papers, pours in just enough and flips the pouch back inside his shirt or vest pocket faster than a magician can make a coin disappear. His tongue has already licked the thin sheet and the fingers rolled it tight. He has that cigarette popped in his mouth with a match burning the end in a matter of seconds.

Cowboys never smoked "tailor-mades." They had their own "makin's" in a Bull Durham branded sack. The packet of thin tobacco papers were referred to as his "bible" and the tobacco was called "heifer dust." If he was up the trail on a cattle drive and he ran out of makin's, he could always depend on another cowhand to furnish him a smoke. He'd do likewise if his pardners were out. To turn a man down was considered an intentional insult.

Shirts were a bothersome item. Some were pullovers with no collars or pockets. Since a cowboy sits a saddle most of the day, it was not easy to pull his makin's from a rear pocket. It was more convenient to wear a vest with the needed place to store the tobacco and slip in a pencil stub and a pocket knife as well.

Matches were called "hell sticks" because of the very odorous sulfur. When the match was struck, usually against the side of his leather chaps or the seam of his Levi's, a white cloud of fumes erupted from the hardened end.

Some cowboys have lost a finger or two by being careless and slow-witted while hog tying a few dogies. A finger laid between a fast moving rope and the saddle horn could take a digit right off.

Sometimes, those fingers pull into fists and that cowboy hurls a few swings at whoever cheated him or spoke an insult. Sometimes, they wipe sweat from a tired brow or extend a hand in a warm shake. Then with a shyness, they might clutch a smaller, feminine hand in need of love. There also comes a time when his hands fold in prayer.

All in all, a cowboy's natural tools were well designed.

ARTICLE

Allen English was considered one of Tombstone's best lawyers. He was a man of much persuasion, humor and notably the best actor ever to come into town. He impressed many influential men and made a name for himself as a lawyer who could get the devil off even if there were 41 witnesses to prove different.

English was born in 1860 in Saginaw, Michigan. He came to Tombstone when he was 21 and soon impressed Marcus Smith, a well-known lawyer and congressman. Smith offered English a junior partnership in the law firm of Smith & Goodrich. English was soon carrying law books and a good bottle of bourbon into his new office at Rotten Row Street, just opposite the courthouse and Billy King's saloon. It was believed that many of English's cases were solved in the saloon.

In the case of Wiley Morgan, who was charged with murder during the Earp-Clanton fight, he defended Morgan so well that he got the murderer off free and clear.

The amazing fact is that lawyer Allen English worked better under the influence of whiskey than he did sober. He could scarcely stand when he defended Morgan. But he could talk and influence a room full of people so they didn't care if he was drunk. In fact, he was quiet the showoff when he was drunk. He worked up a sweat in trying to get the jury to see that Morgan shot only in self-defense. While the court adjourned for lunch, English headed for Billy King's saloon. He had to be picked up off the floor and guided back into the courtroom to stand weaving before the judge and jury. His appeal was so impressive and convincing that Morgan. was cleared.

Judge Lockwood, however, did not take to English's drunken episodes. He slammed the gavel down when English staggered to the front of the courtroom. He pointed his gavel at English saying, "Get out of my courtroom and sober up."

English hurried over to Billy King's saloon and lifted a few more whiskeys. He came back to court and staggered up to the judge's bench, weaving as usual. Judge Lockwood rapped down his gavel hard. "Counsel English, I warned you concerning your behavior in this courtroom and you have ignored me. I hereby sentence you to 30 days for contempt of this court."

For 20 minutes the judge, jury and those attending the court listened to English quote sections from the Bible, Shakespeare and the great poets on motherhood and country patriotism. English actually brought tears to eyes of the judge and all in the courtroom. People were blowing their noses because they had pity for the "poor drunken lawyer."

Judge Lockwood rapped his gavel several times and held his hand out to English. "Enough, English. I hereby reduce your sentence to 15 days in jail."

As English was being led out of the courtroom, he winked at a friend and said, "Well, I talked myself out of half the charge."

In jail, English made such a nuisance out of himself by yelling about his constitutional rights at all hours that he was released earlier than the 15 days to give the attending officers some peace. The first thing English did on his release was to hurry over to Billy King's saloon.

Strange as it seemed, English was voted in as the district attorney, and, stranger yet, he served for three years. He was married three times and all women left him because of his drinking. His first wife gave him two sons, his second wife had one son and the third wife didn't stay with him long enough to produce anything but a headache for herself.

In 1900, English was assured of the position of United States Commissioner to represent the Territory of Arizona. He would have made it too, except for his drinking habit. As could be expected, drinking was at the bottom of his downfall. He had just finished his fourth or fifth drink, by no means his last, when he overheard two men discussing the phenomenon of the rain that always came on San Juan's Day.

"Nonsense," English roared. "I bet it will NOT rain." Men glanced around to see if anyone would take English's bet. But English went over the simple money bet. "I'll bet it doesn't rain on San Juan's Day. If it does rain, I'll stand buck naked under the public rain spout."

It rained on San Juan's Day. English stood naked under the public rain spout letting himself be drenched with water. A photograph was snapped of the spectacle and sent to Washington. It wasn't long before English received word that he was denied the position of United States Commissioner.

When the Cochise County Court moved to Bisbee, English went along. He became less ambitious or eloquent than he had been in Tombstone. Some of the essence of the actor disappeared.

English died on Nov. 8, 1937, penniless with only a bottle of bourbon on his table stand. It was a wonder, with all of his drinking he managed to live to be 77 years old.

Next time you happen to be in Tombstone, listen at the saloon door. You just might hear some ghost slur out the phrase Allen English always liked to spout:

"Oh moon, thou art full!
But you ain't a damned bit ahead of me."

FROM THE NEWS WIRE

LOS ANGELES — Getting the boot in Hollywood isn't always a bad thing.

Kirk Douglas, James Garner and the late DeForest Kelley are among this year's recipients of Golden Boot Awards honoring the best in Westerns, organizers said Thursday.

The 17th annual awards presentation is scheduled for Aug. 7, at a gala dedicated to the late Gene Autry and benefiting the Motion Picture & Television Fund.

Presenters will be James Coburn, Henry Darrow, Dennis Weaver, Fess Parker and Janet Leigh.

Till next month, happy trails, pards!
Jack and Marge