Queen Of Them All

In his mid-twenties, my dad got a wild hair (to say the least). He entered the local Rodeo Queen contest dressed in drag. This was before the contest had the Q&A and luncheon parts. All it involved was riding your horse in the arena.

He had one of his sisters sign up, then he took her place in the contest. He wore a regular girl’s riding outfit including gloves and a right feminine-looking wig.

Overheard conversation from the judges:

1st judge: She certainly sits on a saddle well.

2nd judge: She sure is ugly.

1st judge: You're right, but she rides like the wind and outperforms all of the others. I’m picking her. Who are you picking?

2nd judge: I’m voting for her too…but…she sure is ugly.

And so the judges agreed, the contestant on the beautiful black horse was undoubtedly the winner. That is, they all agreed until the contestant threw off the wig and galloped out of the arena very obviously a young man. The judges had been had.

A quote from a September 1951 newspaper clipping states: This luscious number with painted lips and lacquered nails dashed into the arena on a shining black mount, displays charm and excellent horsemanship, gives the judges the glad-eye and gets ice stares from the other contestants.

Did I mention my father's birth order? He was a middle child…number 7 of 15.