Weston Wednesday: Remembering the "Horseshoe L" Ranch of Dewey
Editor's Note: In collaboration with the Bartlesville Area History Museum, the Examiner-Enterprise is reviving the late Edgar Weston's 'Revisiting the Past' columns that ran in the newspaper from 1997-99. Weston's columns recount the history of Bartlesville as well as Washington, Nowata and Osage counties. He was a beloved figure who, in retirement as a Washington County court bailiff, followed his passion for unearthing area history and sharing it with others through his bus tours and writings. Weston died in 2002, but his work lives on. His collection of columns was recently donated to the museum by the Weston family. We will run one of his columns every Wednesday as part of our new Weston Wednesday feature.
"The Horseshoe L" Ranch is remembered by Joe DeYong of Dewey, Oklahoma, who grew up in Dewey and was an eager learner in the cowboy life, from a very early age. He spent much time on the Horseshoe L Ranch of Sherman Moore, as a visitor, cowboy, and observer. He wrote after he had been living in the home of Charles M. Russell at Great Falls, Montana, then moved to Hollywood, Calif., as an artist illustrator and advisor in the movie colony for many years of Sherman Moore and the Horseshoe L Ranch.
Once a cowboy, regardless of how good, or how poor a hand he may have been, there is always some outfit that claims his loyalty and affection above all others, as does the Alma Mater of most college graduates. Except that those who have worked their way through "Cow College" will usually have an even deeper, if more workless, regard for some particular home ranch, and it's equally affectionately remembered brand, or "iron."
In my own case, Sherman Moore's "Horseshoe L" up on the head of Hogshooter Creek, in the bluestem section of northeastern Oklahoma will always be home. Not my real, but my adopted home....and a good one! And yet ... a former home that, up to October of 1948...I hadn't seen for many years.
By plane, the head of Hogshooter is only four hours from the corner of Hollywood and Vine; but for me it was thirty-three years back at the start of a long and winding trail, a trail that crisscrossed itself many times between Oklahoma, Arizona, Montana, Wyoming, and finally California.
But, to so suddenly be able to bridge the start and the end of that same tangled trail, and the years it had taken to unwind it, also made it possible to sharply, and clearly compare the locality and surroundings of an earlier life and time with the present, and it's unavoidable altered manner of living.
Dewey, the little old hometown that Joe Bartles and his annual Fourth of July Roundup, had at one time, and over a considerable period had made the steer-roping capital of its state... had changed, as any prairie town does, with the passing years.
And yet, the big grass country outside of town looked even better than I had remembered it, except that distance had become sort of telescoped for me.
As a kid, I'd never ridden in a car enough for that sort of travel to become commonplace. So, most of my recollections were measured by "horseback miles." As a result, what I had once known as a long day's ride had become little more than an hour’s easy drive and, it took time to get used to that fact.
But, out at the old ranch, though I'd dreaded the changes I might find there, conditions, at first sight, were surprisingly much the same. Different and better-bred horses, and for the most part, different riders, as was natural; but still owned and successfully carried on, by members of the same family.
Except that "Mister" Moore, he of the level gray eyes, and quiet steady, self-confident manner.... slept now, and I am sure sleeps soundly, on the old round-up grounds southwest of Blue Mound.
Mister Moore...always Mister! He rated it! Fair square, stern, but just; one of the very few completely honest, straight-forward men I've ever known, and always a real cowman. Cattle, horses, and men were all that Sherman Moore knew, but he knew them inside-out and backwards. And his outfit was a sure enough cow ranch. No "Sunday Riders" ever worked for Mr. Moore; not "Pitchfork Cowboys," who wore big hats and drove a team all week just to be allowed to play cowboy on Sunday. For, along with his level glance, and always straightforward manner, he had a "carrying" voice, that could make his orders or directions clear at an unbelievable distance.
Which, coupled with an always easy-to-understand choice of words, was unfailingly guaranteed to blister the hide of any fumbling, would-be cowboy, that happened to get himself momentarily carried away by "Pony Express" complex, or any other manner stepped out of line.
Yet, Mr. Moore still carried on through his two grown sons, Monsieur and Clark who, successful, respected cattlemen themselves, still ran the old place in the same straight-up, straightforward manner, learned from their earliest childhood.
If Moore Brothers was, to me, a new firm name, at least I found satisfaction in the thought that the old headquarters, ranch, and the outfit's original "iron" was still in active use. For an old-time cowman's brand was his coat of arms. In fact, to have worked for some famous old time outfits, as identified by their "iron," automatically served to place the stamp of quality and ability on its riders as certainly as Sterling denotes an article of genuine silver.
But behind the outfit, and it's brand, is always the man. And in Moore's case, even the stonewalled ranch house still reflects the solid square-with-the-world, rock like integrity of its founder.
With the settling of any new country; and behind the establishment of any business in a frontier community, stories of outstanding characters, and their struggle to succeed, or even survive are commonplace. And, while the story of Sherman Moore's "Horseshoe L." is of minor importance in the larger overall picture of Eastern Oklahoma's development, the circumstances that led to its establishment will serve as an interesting illustration of its place and time. A story whose start, as with many such, that have to do with the history of early-day cowmen, began in West Texas at the close of the Civil War. Not the story of Sherman Moore, as yet, but necessarily of the man who became his mentor and partner...Jim Todd
This article originally appeared on Bartlesville Examiner-Enterprise: Weston Wednesday: Remembering the "Horseshoe L" Ranch of Dewey
