Bio: First Year Dude, 1955. Descriptor: Judy’s Ballad of White Grass.
Judy’s Story: 1955 was my first year at the WG. I have so many memories that I would like to share my Ballad Of White Grass: She got off the train filled with excitement, electricity in the air. She saw a dark pensive cowboy dressed black waiting there. He was hunched against the wall looking left, then right. Was he looking for her, she thought? He was, for it felt so right. He walked over slowly, offered his hand and said softly, “Howdy, Ma’am”. He tipped his black hat. She was speechless, her legs weak as sand. Said his name was Ben, smiled, but she still couldn’t speak. She felt wooden, star struck, a foolish young girl from the East. Here she was in Wyoming, land of her fantasies and dreams. Where her heroes rode white horses and fouled up rustlers’ schemes! A place where clouds drifted thru endless blue skies and mountains reigned supreme. Where Elk, Mule Deer and Buffalo grazed the plains and drank from crystal clear streams. They traveled north and by nightfall he drove up a long graveled roadway. Deposited her in her cabin and before leaving said, “I hope you enjoy your stay.”. Too excited to go to sleep, too dark to see outside, she listened to the magical night. Was that an owl she heard? Coyotes singing their song? Where they, too, waiting for the daylight? That summer, like for so many, started a Wyoming love affair that she knew was waiting just for her. The Tetons, the Galeys, the dudes and dudines, Ellen the cook and Rachel Trahern. The Huebners, Dick and Pat Quast, the Thomas family, Elise and George Clover, Alice and Evans Dunn. The pack trips, picnics and riding that all made up for great summer fun. Who could forget the Clearys, Dorothy’s beautiful paintings and pen and inks. And Cappy Pennock who drank the bleach in a gin glass sitting on the bathroom sink? The Bar-B-Q’s in the North pasture, cocktail parties at the Galey’s house, friendly and warm. Frank’s fishing and pack trips where he spun Western tales and boyish charm. Then there was Curt Winsor with his guitar singing many a cowboy song. While we all would sit around that starlit campfire and try to sing along. The antics of the Matthews boys, the Fox boys, Tink Elliot and Fran Strawbridge, too. George Clover must have felt he ran a school for wranglers when the day was through! The cabin girls, the waitresses, they ran from Rachel’s and Inge’s sight! The trips to town and Dornan’s Bar that lasted well into the night. We were lucky to have Suki Matthews, the Gorden Crouters, and the Balderstons to the northwest. Cynthia’s Shane, Parni, Captain, Strawberry, Spade, crafty black Coon, they were the best. Then there was Rachel’s toad sandwich given to Bob Lewis with love. Bananas in George’s boots, pigs in the girls’ cabin, bats in the bathroom….heavens above! What fun we had and stories and memories we will always share. Our milk runneth over, thanks to the Choreboy’s special care! The young Eastern girl who arrived in Rock Springs, you know was me. We all have our memories, our love for this ranch, our desire for the West to remain free. So raise a toast to all who are here and those who are not, for never more shall we walk through that enchanted door. But in our hearts wildflowers will bloom, coyotes will sing and we will hear Elk bugle in this place for evermore. Thanks for the memories everyone!