My last day, my last post

There aren’t many places where you can watch a shooting demonstration by Annie Oakley in the morning and watch hawks, eagles, and falcons flying overhead in the afternoon. Actually, there’s only one place to find such a rich diversity of experiences, and that place is right here at the Buffalo Bill Historical Center. Today is my last day interning at the center, and upon reflection of the last twelve weeks spent here, I’m happy to report there hasn’t been a dull day among them.

To recap, I’ve compared shoe sizes with Buffalo Bill, helped erect a tipi, and sampled biscuits and beans straight from the chuckwagon. I’ve also learned what to do in a bear attack, tried my hand at watercolor painting, and researched the definition of a “hooey” and “pigging string.” And let’s not forget the joys of side-stepping manure as I walked alongside a 1913 mail truck during the Fourth of July parade.

Basically, my summer at the historical center has been a crash-course in all things western, and though my stint here is over, I know that whenever I come back for a visit, the center will offer something new to learn. I may have grown up right here in Cody, but I think it’s safe to say that over the last few months, I’ve come to appreciate the history of the west more than ever before. Whether your next visit to the Buffalo Bill Historical Center is your first or your hundredth, I promise that just like me, you’re sure to see the west in a whole new way.

Thanks for reading!

One tough question

I’ve been answering a lot of questions lately. A couple of blog posts ago, I mentioned that I’ve taken on hour-long shifts selling raffle tickets in the orientation gallery each day. The truth is that while I manage to sell a few tickets each day for the car and the chairs, most of my time is actually spent answering visitors’ questions. Something strange seems to happen each time I don my Buffalo Bill Historical Center nametag and take a seat behind the ticket-sellers’ desk: quite suddenly, I become an expert on everything—at least, that’s what many visitors seem to think.

They want to know it all: Where should I eat lunch? Where’s the bathroom? Where is my favorite bronze sculpture? Where’s the bathroom? Why aren’t there more arrowheads on display? Where’s the bathroom? Did Buffalo Bill go bankrupt before he died? Where’s the gift shop? What road do I take to reach Thermopolis? Where’s the bathroom?

Answering visitors’ inquiries doesn’t bother me at all. These aren’t tough questions, and for the most part, I’m capable of giving an answer—or at least passing along the name and e-mail address of someone else who can. There is, however, one question I’m struggling with, and it hasn’t come from a visitor. Media coordinator Marguerite House has asked me to be the featured staff member in the next installment of Your Museum Matters, a regular column in the Cody Enterprise, and one of the questions she’s asked me to answer is, “What is your favorite object at the BBHC and why?”

I’ve been mulling over the answer to this question for over a day now, and still haven’t settled on a favorite object. Is it Annie Oakley’s rifle? A painting by Koerner? A beautiful pair of moccasins? The wedding dress belonging to Buffalo Bill’s daughter? A stuffed moose? Truth be told, I haven’t got the slightest idea which object is my favorite. It’s a frustrating feeling, but in some strange way, it’s a good feeling, too. It’s good to know that there’s so many fascinating pieces of the historical center’s collection that a person can never pick just one favorite. But maybe all you readers are more decisive than me. So I’ll keep contemplating the answer to this question, and in the meantime, feel free to drop me a line and tell me about your favorite object of the center’ collection.

But whatever you do, please don’t ask me how to find the bathroom.

No need to rush

Art in the Garden with Laura Fry from the Whitney Gallery of Western Art

There are plenty of instances in life when it’s not only appropriate to rush, but downright necessary. I’ve been known to outrun the cross country team on mornings I’ve overslept and risked arriving late for a final exam. When I’ve got a book to return to the library before closing time, the speed at which I move would imply that late fees are a life-or-death situation for me. I’m also pretty sure I have, on more than one occasion, left a trail of trampled old ladies and small children in my wake as I sprint through the airport to make my connecting flight.

As you plan your visit to the Buffalo Bill Historical Center, remember that exploring a building packed with so much western cultural and natural history is not one of those instances. Take my advice and plan to spend some quality time here. Visitors with overly packed itineraries who haven’t allotted much time for exploring must make a tough choice: linger in just one or two of the five museums or move through them all at a frantic pace reminiscent of the Fast and the Furious series. Sometimes, visitors ask me what museum to see if they don’t have time to see them all, and I’m never quite sure what to say, for every part of the historical center is essential to understanding the American West.

Visitors who choose to spend the better part of a day at the center, or at least an entire morning or afternoon, will find that they’ve given themselves enough time to enjoy the many free programs happening daily. I’ve highlighted many of these wonderful lectures, spotlight talks, and performances in my previous posts, but there’s one program that I’ve found to be a special treat for those visitors willing to stay awhile and be a bit more leisurely: Art in the Garden. Every Tuesday and Thursday, from 1 p.m. – 3 p.m. in the Braun Garden, a variety of art supplies are available to give visitors of all ages a chance to get creative. Whether you prefer colored pencils, pastels, charcoal, or watercolors, Laura Fry, a member of the Whitney Gallery of Western Art curatorial team, is happy to offer a little informal instruction as you work in this lovely setting.

I went out to the garden yesterday afternoon and experimented with a few watercolors and a postcard. My finished product was comparable to the handiwork of a preschooler, but it might have turned out better if I hadn’t been in such a rush to finish painting and return to my desk. Perhaps I should have take some of my own advice and saved the rushing for the airport.

From cookies to cars

1952 British MG TD sportster

I’ve never been a very good saleswoman. I think it’s safe to say my product-pushing abilities peaked at age eight, when I walked door-to-door through my neighborhood selling Girl Scout cookies. It’s still unclear whether it was the charm of my smile or the cuteness of my Brownie uniform, complete with knee-high socks, which won over the masses, but whatever it was, it worked. After selling a grand total of 128 boxes of cookies, it seemed I had a knack for the art of sales.

But as the years wore on and every class, team, or club seemed more desperate for cash than the last, I was forced to try selling an endless stream of products: lollipops, wrapping paper, magazines, chocolate bars, cookie dough, and stuffed animals, just to name a few. It seemed that the more teachers and coaches urged us to sell, sell, sell, the less likely I was to close the deal and move the inventory. When other kids were winning useful and exciting products like lava lamps, cotton candy machines, and doorbells for their bedrooms, I was the kid stuck with nothing but a glow-in-the-dark keychain and a Tootsie Roll. To be honest, it was my own fault—I would rather have handed over my own lunch money to (fill-in-the-blank-here) cause than ask people to pull out their wallets. There were times when even my own mother didn’t place an order, and that, my friends, is the sign of failure for any young salesperson.

So imagine my dread when I learned that for the next two weeks, I’d be selling raffle tickets for two of the Buffalo Bill Historical Center’s fundraisers. Thankfully, the prizes for which we’re selling tickets are quite superior to the lollipops and wrapping paper of my past. For starters, there’s a recently restored 1952 British MG TD sportster with gray paint and red interior; the tickets sell for $20 each or six for $100 and proceeds benefit the historical center. There’s also a collection of 13 child-size chairs in fun, unique western designs donated by the Cody Western Artisans. A chance to win these will cost you just $5 a ticket or for $20 for five, and all proceeds support Cody High Style, an annual contemporary exhibition of western decorative arts.

Now, after three days of manning the raffle desk for about an hour each day, I can breathe a sigh of relief, for it isn’t so bad after all. Actually, from my spot in the historical center’s orientation gallery, I have a perfect view of the many hundreds of people wandering back and forth through the five museums, and I certainly don’t mind the opportunity to chat with visitors and answer their questions. I’m especially glad when one of those visitors takes the time to sit down across from me and buy a ticket. Even in the midst of their busy family vacations, and at a time when most everyone is slow to open their wallets, there are some people still willing to buy a ticket and, in turn, make a contribution to the ongoing success of the historical center. To those people, I would just like to say thank you for ensuring my success as a saleswoman even without the aid of my Girl Scout uniform.

If you can’t stop by the historical center to buy from me or one of the other ticket-sellers, don’t worry! You can still buy tickets online. For more details about the car raffle, visit http://www.bbhc.org/events/patronsBallPrizes_2009.cfm and to see all the beautiful chairs, go to http://www.bbhc.org/CodyHighStyle/KidsChairs_2009.pdf.

The ultimate road trip

One look at the Buffalo Bill Historical Center parking lot, and it’s clear this place attracts a lot of road-trippers. They’ve traveled hundreds, even thousands of miles in their cars and RVs and buses to come to Cody, and they often look a little tired and road-weary. I can empathize, for I, too, have endured my share of days on the road during family vacations. Between the iffy air-conditioning, questionably safe gas station bathrooms, and a backseat mate who used my scalp to perfect the subtle art of hair-pulling, I’ve always considered myself a veteran road tripper.

Then, this afternoon, I attended a program by Buffalo Bill Museum Curator Dr. John Rumm titled Backstage with Buffalo Bill. He told a number of fascinating, behind-the-scenes stories of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show, and what impressed me most by far was the incredible logistical feat Buffalo Bill accomplished every time he and his cast and crew traveled to another stop along one of their performance tours. Groups of 500 – 1,000 people, ranging from cowboys and Native Americans to pastry chefs and stable boys, traipsed throughout the United States and Europe together. They didn’t pack lightly, either; they brought their own tents, hundreds of horses, portable lighting, and, of course, their very own grandstand. Though faced with the task of setting up, tearing down, and hauling away their sizeable load, they nevertheless moved quickly, usually stopping at 150 venues in 180 days.

Buffalo Bill really puts my days on the road in perspective. He may have traveled by rail rather than the family car, but I still think it’s safe to say that with all the stops he had to make and the luggage he brought along—not to mention having hundreds of traveling buddies—Buffalo Bill was the ultimate road-tripper. Even so, I bet he never had to tolerate a little sister pulling his hair.

Catch Dr. John Rumm’s program at 1 p.m. August 7th and 21st in the Coe Auditorium!

Oh, deer!

Last spring, while I sat studying in my dorm room, I received a panicked call from Gabie, one of my roommates. Her voice was hushed, yet I could hear a sense of urgency as she said, “Laurel, I don’t know what to do! What do I do?” I hadn’t the faintest idea what she might be talking about, but dozens of scenarios raced through my mind. Had she been kidnapped and stashed in the trunk of a car? Had she fallen and couldn’t get up? Had she just witnessed a crime by the mafia? Had she stopped at the video store and couldn’t decide on a rental? Then she added, “I’m walking back from the library and there’s a deer in my way. He’s looking right at me. What do I do?”

I didn’t know it was possible to breathe a sigh of relief and laugh out loud at the same time, but that’s what I did. Poor Gabie. A lifelong resident of New Orleans, she knew how to pull the heads off crawfish before eating them, evacuate for a hurricane, and run away from an alligator; she wasn’t quite prepared, however, for the wildlife she would encounter at our college in suburban Chicago.

I really shouldn’t tease her. Wildlife sightings are rarely frightening to me because I grew up here in the Greater Yellowstone area—a place where animals, especially deer, are abundant. But for many people, coming to Yellowstone means encountering a whole lot of animals they can’t find at home, just like Gabie did that night in Illinois. To spot wolves, bears, bison, moose, elk, and all the other critters of this area, you have to know where to look. This morning, I went to a presentation in the Buffalo Bill Historical Center’s Coe Auditorium by Jennifer McDonald, a curator from the Draper Museum of Natural History. During her 40-minute presentation, titled, A Guide to Yellowstone Wildlife. She offered the audience an informative overview of animals in Yellowstone, both large and small, and gave tips on where and when to look for them. Seeing some of Yellowstone’s wildlife for the first time is so exciting, and sometimes visitors forget to stay safe, so she also reminded us to keep our distance from these animals for the safety of both ourselves and our four-legged friends (actually, even though I don’t think the deer would have hurt her, I should call Gabie and commend her for being so cautious).

Attending A Guide to Yellowstone Wildlife is a great idea if you’re on your way to Yellowstone. It’s free with paid admission to the museum, and you can catch it every Wednesday at 11 a.m.

It’s a sign

As I wandered into the Whitney Gallery of Western Art this afternoon, I noticed a subtle change. The sign that nicely tells visitors “Please Do Not Touch—Touching Damages the Artwork” had been moved from its usual position on the right side of the entrance to a less-discreet spot in the center of the entryway. I realize that admitting I noticed the three-foot migration of a single sign is like admitting that I am, in fact, anal-retentive. Or perhaps it means I have too much time on my hands. Nevertheless, the simple fact remains that the sign has moved, and I, for one, suspect it was no accident.

You see, I don’t think everyone noticed the sign in its previous location. In the short spurts of time I’ve spent in the Whitney Gallery since it opened less than three weeks ago, I’ve come to realize I would make a terrible guard. As fabulous as I would surely look in a vest, and as much as I covet those walkie-talkies they all get to carry, I know I would quickly lose patience with those people who too often forget that viewing art is best done with the eyes, not the hands. It isn’t that I don’t empathize; I understand that seeing a beautiful piece of artwork for the first time is exciting, and it’s easy to fall to temptation. Who wouldn’t want to feel the texture of a bronze sculpture or the brushstrokes of a painting?

But I have spent too much of my life babysitting and asking questions like “what is that sticky stuff on your hands?” not to cringe when I see excited young visitors run ahead of their parents, stop at something bright, beautiful, and framed, and reach up their hands. I suppose I can’t just point my oily, dirty, potentially harmful finger at the kids, however. The man who gesticulates with his brochures while standing beside a painting, or the woman who juts out her cane to point out a sculpture, make me just as nervous.

Putting a piece of artwork on display, especially in such a non-restrictive setting as the Whitney Gallery, is a risk. But, of course, it’s a risk worth taking to make sure everyone has a chance to enjoy such an impressive collection of art. To ensure that people can still enjoy the art for many years to come, let’s all do our part and take the not-so-subtle hint from that sign in the gallery.

My life as a cowgirl

Sometimes, when I tell people that my first summer job was at the Cody Nite Rodeo, I’m tempted to lie a little bit. I’m tempted to dream up some elaborate story about the time I roped a steer in record time with the crowds cheering me on, or the time I rode an impossible bull with ESPN cameras all around. I’m tempted to tell them that I, the girl everyone believes to be just an average college student, am actually a celebrity in professional rodeo circles. I’m tempted to say that I have boxes and boxes of hard-earned belt buckles under my bed, and that I only quit my career in rodeo because ropin’ and ridin’ didn’t leave enough time for my real passion: blogging.

I’m only tempted to lie because the truth is so underwhelming. While my first summer job was in fact at the Cody Nite Rodeo, I spent my evenings wrangling up cotton candy and nachos for droves of rodeo fans—not exactly the stuff of which legends are made.

Now that I’m an intern at the Buffalo Bill Historical Center, I find myself busily organizing festivities to celebrate National Day of the American Cowboy (NDAC) on July 25th. Yesterday, I sat down to write a quick guide to rodeo events for a special NDAC newspaper article and realized how limited my knowledge of rodeo truly is. I relied heavily on information provided in a Cody Nite Rodeo program, and even found myself googling (yes, googling) a few key phrases in hopes of understanding some of the rodeo-related terminology I was reading.

You might be wondering, shouldn’t a girl who grew up in Cody, the “Rodeo Capital of the World” be able to define “dog-fall” or “pigging string” or “hooey?” Well, no. My summers mopping up mustard in the concession stand provided me with an intimate knowledge of nacho preparation techniques, but don’t ask me for an explanation of bareback riding scoring methods. Fortunately, no one has to be a rodeo expert to enjoy an evening of thrills and adrenaline at the rodeo, and that is precisely why the Buffalo Bill Historical Center has chosen to take part in a day devoted entirely to the cowboy lifestyle. Cowboys (and cowgirls, thank you very much) have long captured the imagination of people around the world. If you’re here at the historical center on July 25, you’ll have the opportunity to enjoy traditional cowboy music as well as gallery presentations about many aspects of cowboy life. Kids will have fun participating in the Little Pokes Rodeo, when the real cowboys from the Cody Nite Rodeo will be out in the historical center’s garden for fun activities like stick-horse barrel races and clown face painting.

So now you know the whole truth; my rodeo experience only went as far as the window of the concession stand. Nevertheless, I may not be able to shake the temptation to spin a quick yarn about my former life as a championship barrel racer. If you see me at the historical center on July 25, I’ll probably be busy taking notes from the real cowboys to help me make my tall tales a little more believable.

Parade time in Cody

To say that people around here take the Fourth of July seriously would be an understatement. I never realized just how seriously until last year, when my friend Liz was in town for the holiday. Before we could go to bed on the night of July 3, I dragged her out to Sheridan Avenue to stake out some space along the Cody Stampede Parade route. She was nothing short of flabbergasted when we drove down the street and she saw the hundreds, maybe even thousands, of chairs set up on the sidewalk. As we unloaded our own chairs out of the car, she asked me, “don’t you ever worry that someone will steal these?”

I wasn’t really sure how to respond. Her concern was logical, but to be honest, I had never really considered the possibility in all the years I’d lived here. I had always taken for granted that no one dared mess with die-hard Cody parade fans. After all, Codyites love parades so much, we have one on July third and July fourth. At the Buffalo Bill Historical Center, we know that the people who make the effort to line up their chairs the night before and brave the traffic the next morning expect to see a great parade. We’ve been working hard all week on our entry, and we think everyone will enjoy the little piece of local history we plan to share as Park County celebrates “A Century of Western Tradition.” Our entry is a 1913 truck, the very vehicle that delivered mail to the Southfork many years ago. Riding in the truck each day will be a long-time Southfork resident now residing at Absaroka Assisted Living in Cody. I, along with some fellow historical center staff members, will be walking alongside the truck passing out candy.

So if you’re lucky enough to be celebrating the Fourth of July in Cody, go secure some seating along the parade route right now so you’ll be sure to get a good view of us and all the other exciting entries.

Still more to see

Bird Woman (Sacajawea) R.V. Greeves. Modeled 2001, cast 2005, 5 of edition of 10. Bronze, 72 inches high. Gift of Carlene M. Lehous and C. Harris Haston and of Keith and Bobbie Richardson. 10.05

It’s hard to stay inside on a sunny day like today, so, despite the to-do list staring me down, I left my desk a little while ago to spend a few minutes wandering the grounds of the Buffalo Bill Historical Center. I was reminded that if visitors don’t take the time to do the same, they just might miss out on a beautiful part of the historical center’s collection. Take my advice: if you’re impressed with the artwork inside this place, make sure you take a few minutes to enjoy the artwork displayed outside of it, too.

The grounds surrounding the historical center feature many large sculptures that echo the themes found throughout the five museums, like Plains Indians, wildlife, cowboys, and Buffalo Bill himself. You’ll see a few of these, like Big Hal by Michael Coleman and Daddy Long Legs by T.D. Kelsey, before even setting foot in our front door. Later on, while you’re enjoying lunch at the Mustang Grill, wander out into the gardens on either side of the hallway leading to the Plains Indian Museum. Among the trees, flowers, and birds in the Braun Garden are sculptures of Plains Indians and buffalo, including The Unknown by R.V. Greeves and Buffalo Prayer by James Earle Fraser. It’s hard to miss Sacagawea by Harry Jackson in the Greever Cashman Garden across the way, and don’t forget to walk a little farther down the path to see Buffalo Bill’s boyhood home.

If you’re feeling up to even more walking when you leave the historical center, there are more sculptures to see near the RV parking lot and the Robbie Powwow Garden. Among these are several more sculptures by R.V. Greeves and T.D. Kelsey, as well as Code of the West by Herb Mignery. On the north side of the museum, visible from inside the Whitney Gallery of Western Art, is The Scout by Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney. Stretch your legs and climb the stairs up to the monument to see this tribute to Buffalo Bill up-close, or listen to a spotlight presentation in the Whitney gallery to learn the story behind this recognizable symbol of Cody, Wyoming. Check the “Buffalo Billboard” in the orientation gallery for spotlight times.

I hope that, like me, you’ll spare some time during your next visit to the BBHC to wander through our gardens and view the sculptures. Don’t forget to pick up the “Outdoor Sculpture Guide,” available in the orientation gallery and at the doors leading to the gardens.