Your Custom Text Here
When we first heard about plans for the great Montana Centennial Cattle Drive, people putting on the drive said, “This is going to be the biggest Cattle Drive in history, something you’ve never seen before, and after it’s over you’ll never see anything like it again.” Well if you’re like most people you probably thought, “Sure that sounds nice, but can they pull it off?” Well, did they ever, and they were right about the drive. It was a genuine Western classic.- Gus Koernig
On a Friday night 30 years ago in the first week of September, cowboys and cowgirls from all over Montana (and in fact the world) bid farewell to a week long adventure. Along with 3000 other riders, wagoneers, and drovers, they had traveled 5 days with 2700 cattle. The Great Cattle Drive of ‘89 marked Montana’s most ambitious centennial celebration.
The event drew press from all over the world. My father was the head media wrangler. This meant that it was his job to make sure reporters, cameramen, and journalists got the shots and interviews they were looking to capture.
A couple years ago I was hanging out with my dad, probably watching football, and the conversation turned to the glory days of the cattle drive. Sadly, it’s easy to become uninterested in the stories of those closest to us, but for some reason that night … I wanted to know more about the drive. Dad told me stories of ranchers working together, endless meetings and logistical hurdles, financial debacles, bad press going into it, last minute miracles, September storms, and a few stories that many never knew about … like when Dad coerced Grandpa to peel off a dozen of the lead steers in the middle of the night, bedding them down in a coulie a couple hundred yards away from the main herd, sparking an all out panic in camp the next morning. “I couldn’t tell Dick Walker the truth of that for a couple years.”
“Dick Walker was the president of the Latigo corporation. He’s the one you’ll want to have talk for sure.” -- That’s what Uncle Pat told me when I mentioned my plan to paint scenes from the drive and have cowboys like my dad come in and share stories at the opening. The next morning, a tall older cowboy strolled through the gallery. After a few minutes I asked his name. “I’m Dick Walker,” he replied.
About a month later he and my dad sat in front of a room full of my friends and clients and told us tales from the drive. On the walls behind them hung my paintings -- my tribute to their grand event 30 years ago.
Tyler Murphy
Mike Murphy and Dick Walker at the opening of ‘89.