Bio: Dude and Wrangler, 1954-1960’s. Descriptor: Coming to the ranch as a boy from New Jersey, first snipe hunt, developing friendships and a bear in the kitchen.
Johnny’s Story: GREEN DUDES The Holmberg Family left Summit NJ at dawn on an early June morning in 1954. It took seven days to travel along route 30, through cities and small towns identified by tall grain silos, to reach Togwotie Pass. It was early morning as we topped the pass and found the magnificent Tetons staring at us, beyond fields of snow drifts. That afternoon we arrived at the White Grass Ranch. Not knowing what to do, Mom asked a grubby older fella building fence, how to find the “office”. A very polite but smelly, John Cook (aka Cookie) hopped in the car and found Frank Galey for us. Mom hauled me, John (13) and my two sisters, Karin (15) and Linda (6) out west to spend the summer in the Nolde Cabin, part of the soon to be loved White Grass Dude Ranch. It had water (no outhouse) and no power. Using kerosene lamps and a fireplace, we city folk became pioneers. That night we joined other ranch guests at the weekly BBQ, where we met new friends, Mopsy Ingersoll and her sons, Fran (13) and Tony (15), Ginny and Ted Thomas and their daughter, Beth(6), and many others. That night, Fran and Tony took Karin and me on a snipe hunt. Karin and I sat back to back in the hay field, waiting for the non-existent birds to run into our gunny sacks, having been driven there by those who knew better. After an hour of increasing fear of bears, moose and what-all, we gave up and found our way back to the Main Cabin. Fran, Tony and others were laughing and joking about the new kids left in the woods. So, welcome guys! A couple of days later, Curt Winsor arrived with his 2 sons, Joe (13) and Curtie (15). They had been there many times before and graciously helped Karin and me adapt to the environment. Curt Sr., and Mom eyed each other over, as both were to be soon devoid of current spouses. That friendship became a new family a couple of years later. Curt Sr., Unc to us kids, was a fanatic fly fisherman. Joe and Curtie were not far behind. The three of them took us under wing to introduce us to trout and how they chase flies. My first fish caught late that summer on a fly was a small white fish snagged by a tangled mess of line I had splashed into the famous Fish Creek. Meanwhile Joe and Curt Jr. were catching 2 and 3 pound cutthroat. Each year Joe and Curt competed for the now well known monsters, Jasper and Casper, hiding under the same dams year after year. Nearly pets. Tribulations not over yet, I experienced more embarrassment on my first horseback excursion. Fran, Frank’s daughter, Cindy and others including me were going by horseback to Phelps Lake. Injun, my horse was HUGE, and single minded. I was last in line, and he decided to walk slower and slower until he finally just stopped to eat, while the others continued on to the lake. I thought “Maybe he’s smarter than me and smells a bear”, so I climbed off and gently took his reins and asked him what the matter was. He continued to eat, so finally not totally convinced of no bears, I led him on foot down the rest of the switchbacks to the lake. I got there just as everyone else decided to go home. Injun did not hesitate this time. Linda’s first horse back trip wasn’t much better. Mopsy, Ginny and other Moms, were going to go to Phelps Lake. Linny was asked to come along, but she refused to climb on board. Mom coaxed her until finally giving up, said Linda was welcome to walk behind all the others, but they were going to leave NOW. Linda decided to walk….until she finally decided get on board at the overlook, riding double with Mopsy on Coon (a very large and gentle horse who loved kids). Coon later became her favorite and special mount, helping her and Beth collect snakes at Phelps Lake, as they brought them back in their hats atop their heads to be held captive in the cabin tub — much to the surprise of anyone entering the bathroom. Early one morning, as the wranglers were coming to breakfast, they were met with a very angry cook, with a broom in hand. When she had arrived before dawn, she found the kitchen door smashed open and a bear dutifully trashing her domain. She grabbed the broom and chased him into the help’s annex, where he shattered his way through the window over the garbage cans, knocking them all over. It is very doubtful that he ever returned. In the years to follow, we returned every year until college, and as the three of us grew older, we fished, rode, and worked as chore boy then wrangler, house keeper and kid-wrangler. We are now avid fly fishers, horseback riders and lovers of the Wild West. Karin retired to Jackson, Linny is still wrangling kids and horses, teaching Montessori style and caring for dogs and horses in Sewickley, PA and I have retired to Gloucester, MA to flyfish for stripers and blues. By John Holmberg.