The Texas Prison Rodeo and American Popular Culture
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Journal of Criminal Justice and Popular Culture Love of a Clean and Manly Sport December, 2016, 18 (1): pg. 79 Roth Copyright © 2016 School of Criminal Justice, University at Albany Journal of Criminal Justice and Popular Culture All rights reserved. ISSN 1070-8286 “Love of a Clean and Manly Sport”: The Texas Prison Rodeo and American Popular Culture Mitchel P. Roth Sam Houston State University “We welcome you to the greatest event staged by any penal institution in the world—the nationally known Texas Prison Rodeo.” INTRODUCTION On June 10, 1931, Alan Lomax and his father John, pioneering musicologists, anthropologists, archivists, folklorists and men of many hats, appeared at the Huntsville Walls prison unit, seeking admittance on the their first prison visit as they began a journey through the South collecting folk songs sung by African American inmates. Their research would eventually yield entire collections of folk music from around the world as well as introduce the wider world to the music of Muddy Waters and Huddie “Leadbelly” Ledbetter and many others. iThe impact of their music on popular music and culture cannot be overstated. The Lomaxes targeted rural regions of the country and other environs in order to collect black folk songs, from which they could add to the dearth of materials on African American folk culture. By most accounts they were searching for music sources that had been “unaffected by popular tastes” and were “closer to the music of Africa as it existed in the Americas through slavery and into the Twentieth century (Wolfe and Lornell, 1994:111).” Although they initially settled on lumber camps and similar repositories of labor, prisons and penitentiaries would emerge as the predominant focus of their research. They would make their greatest strides toward achieving their objectives in 1947 and 1948 when they were given access to Mississippi’s Parchman Farm, a complex of fifteen labor camps that many regarded as among the most “[closed] societies of black men” in America. According to one Lomax biographer, despite dropping the names of local connections, among them politicians and the president of the University of Texas, they were denied entry to Journal of Criminal Justice and Popular Culture Love of a Clean and Manly Sport December, 2016, 18 (1): pg. 80 Roth the Huntsville State Penitentiary. Nonplussed they moved on to more accommodating locations where they would have more luck capturing and preserving the folk music of African American culture (Szwed, 2010:39). Another version has it that the elder Lomax was well-acquainted with Prison Superintendent and Texas Prison Rodeo (TPR) founder Lee Simmons, but that he was out of town when they arrived, and his substitute wanted nothing to do with the enterprise and sent them down the road (Wolfe and Lornell, 1994:111). Few could have predicted that just a few months after the Lomaxes were rebuffed, the Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville, better known as “the Walls,” would begin opening its gates to the world, beginning an affair with American popular culture that would last more than a half century. Between 1931 and 1986 the Texas Prison Rodeo would capture the attention of the America and the wider world as it earned a reputation as the “World’s Fastest and Wildest Rodeo.”ii It should also be added that it was the first prison rodeo as well. What started as an entertainment and recreation opportunity for inmates and employees would win a permanent place in East Texas folklore and greater popular culture. This article uses the rodeo as a prism from which to observe the changing mores, values and entertainment of the free world’s popular culture. Indeed, the TPR stood at the intersection of numerous forms of popular culture during its heyday, from Negro spirituals to Wild West shows, from Hollywood Westerns and television “oaters” to country singers and the new teen idols of 1950s Pop music. During it’s more than fifty year run a virtual who’s who of popular culture was associated with various aspects of the TPR. Luminaries that included Tom Mix, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, James Arness, Ricky Nelson, John Wayne, Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays, and the notorious stripper known as Candy Barr, all lent their fame to an October Sunday either just by showing up or performing. What would have been probably the greatest performance of all was prevented by tragedy in 1935. Just months after meeting with Prison Director Lee Simmons and promising to attend a future performance, America’s best-known entertainer of his day, Will Rogers, was killed with his pilot Wiley Post in an Alaskan plane crash. Simmons later admitted it “was the bitterest of all my disappointments in the years of my prison management (Simmons, 1957:100).” Indeed, there is a certain irony that two of America’s leading icons bridging the eras of the vanishing West and the first half of the twentieth century perished using the technologies of the modern era, Rogers in a plane crash and Tom Mix in a car crash just five years later. For most of the Texas State Prison system’s history, except for food and lodging, minimal spending was allocated by the state legislature for funding the needs of prisoners. But the TPR rectified this to a certain extent, by allowing prisoners to participate in good “wholesome” entertainment while raising money for prison education, recreation and medical programs. Any profits went into a Prisoners’ Welfare Fund to purchase books, band and orchestra equipment and “ motion picture machines” so that each prison unit “can have a modern talking picture show weekly (Prison Rodeo Highlights clipping, 1930s).” From the various money-making pursuits on rodeo days such as selling their arts and crafts to marking up and selling rodeo programs, prisoners earned a few coins to buy newspapers, magazines, art supplies and even false teeth, hearing aids, and eyeglasses. Journal of Criminal Justice and Popular Culture Love of a Clean and Manly Sport December, 2016, 18 (1): pg. 81 Roth THE TEXAS PRISON RODEO AND COMMUNITY IN A PRISON TOWN In the battle over becoming the capital of Texas, Austin won the capital; Huntsville the prison system, after the first Legislature of the State of Texas established the state penitentiary there on May 11, 1846. It opened in 1848 with 240 cells and was considered “vastly overbuilt.” During its first decade it accepted only 412 prisoners, most sentenced to 2-5 years for cattle rustling, thievery and various assault charges. Similar to other small towns that housed major prisons, Huntsville proper maintained an uneasy relationship with the prison system. On one hand it offered jobs and was an important cog in the local economy, while on the other, residents often became defensive whenever they heard their community referred to as a “prison town.” But the truth is that despite being the last home and burial place of Sam Houston and the location of the Sam Houston State Normal School (that opened just thirty years after the prison), the prison system was indeed at the center of the local economy. Initially the prison rodeo was a hard sell outside the Walls in the arch-conservative burgh of Huntsville. One needs to remember that its beginnings paralleled the start of the Great Depression and the last years of Prohibition (ended in 1933). What’s more, the beginning of the 1930s was a time of prison strife, escapes and riots across the country. In fact just the year before the first rodeo in 1931, the Ohio State Penitentiary in Columbus, Ohio witnessed the country’s worst prison disaster when an incendiary device started a fire that killed more than 320 prisoners in less than an hour.iii Despite all the fears to the contrary during its 55 year run only three prisonersiv ever escaped and few local crimes were attributed to the avalanche of visitors from the outside. When prison director Lee Simmons conferred with a construction foreman explaining his vision for the rodeo ring, the foreman replied, “Mr. Simmons, of course I’m going to do what you tell me; but you’re throwing away your money. You can’t get any crowd here. They ain’t gonna come (Simmons 1947: 93).” Few could have imagined that over the decades total yearly attendance at the Sunday-only October shows would reach 100,000. The initial trepidation about hosting the TPR was soon cast aside once local merchants saw the money rolling in from visitors each year. It did not take but several years for local merchants and entrepreneurs to recognize the potential lucre that would rain down on the sleepy town every October Sunday (except for 1943 and 1950). During the October Sundays no expense was spared in helping visitors absorb “some of the Texas culture” whether it coincided with historical reality or not. But the TPR was never intended to become the extravaganza that it eventually became. It was designed as a private affair for inmates, employees and their families. But no sooner had the first Sunday event taken place than local residents began checking it out. Word spreads fast in a small town (and still does). Within two years attendance had swelled to 15,000, leading to the erection of stands and the charging of admission. At first they tried to limit competition to inmates with ranch and rodeo experience. But the following year it was opened up to convicts with clean records. Strict security was of course of paramount importance, but not too much so that it detracted “from the authenticity of events.” Journal of Criminal Justice and Popular Culture Love of a Clean and Manly Sport December, 2016, 18 (1): pg.