I started going to Rondys and out to Friendship in 1962. I think it was in 63' that we were attacked by the Indiana State Police. We had a full size Mtn. Howitzer I think it had a 3" or 4" bore. We were at Friendship drinking too much. We started firing the gun across Laugery Creek at a tree. The farmer who owned the tree call the ISP. They chewed us out and that was the end of that. I don't think it would go that way today. :nono:
Pics of old rondys and doens.
- Thread starter TANSTAAFL
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TANSTAAFL said:
Why not get together with Tipis and organize an event that meets your needs? Advertise it as whatever you want it to be; "Minimum rules and lots of fun"! Surely you'll get some takers? :thumbsup:
Actually Claude, the events we attended had the same basic rules as today rendezvoux. :hmm: I do not remember breaking one they had. Well, that one on keeping my water barrel filled for fires ..just had more fun living within the boundries..or would you say a bit more lax in my attitudes on things. :shocked2: Also, I did sponsor my own events for over ten years in North Fla. and had no problems enforcing the rules when things got a bit out of hand. That is what Dog Soldiers would be there to see or a good talk when needed on safety. :applause:
Also was a Co-Bushway to the first Southeastern NMLRA :grin: and Dog Soldier for the 86 Southeastern and Western NMLRA doings. I think we just laughed and played a bit harder in those days. :surrender:
I have just told you of some of my participation/observaton of past events I went too. There are others out there that can probably tell you better stories and wilder ones than me. :nono: When you are looking at meets that are or were over 1000 camps/3000+ people...there will be happenings all over the place that fit your wants and needs. Remember too that camps reflect the "attitudes" and ideal of those in charge. Maybe we have just gotten older, slower, and medicated. :blah:
Also was a Co-Bushway to the first Southeastern NMLRA :grin: and Dog Soldier for the 86 Southeastern and Western NMLRA doings. I think we just laughed and played a bit harder in those days. :surrender:
I have just told you of some of my participation/observaton of past events I went too. There are others out there that can probably tell you better stories and wilder ones than me. :nono: When you are looking at meets that are or were over 1000 camps/3000+ people...there will be happenings all over the place that fit your wants and needs. Remember too that camps reflect the "attitudes" and ideal of those in charge. Maybe we have just gotten older, slower, and medicated. :blah:
Though I was booshway of the Yellowstone Mountain Men, there is no way I would attempt to recreate that which has come & gone, as it would not be spontaneous or the same as it was then. It was not out of hand or mean natured, just much more fun loving in a loud and rowdy sort of way as one would expect at a rendezvous. At night most would gather around the large central camp fire, a big kettle of community stew, brew and jugs of whistle, almost always some sort of music from fiddles and such, caterwauling, whooping, hollering and dancing into the wee hours.
Our rules were for the most part unspoken ones, but trouble makers per se were told to leave, or readily and roughly handled if required. In the larger camps there were appointed dog soldiers to keep a fair semblance of order, and they did so.
Mostly innocent times, like one winter rondy up the North Fork just for bucks and a big sweat lodge was put up. That night, tiring of plunging out of the steaming lodge and into the snow at about 10 below, a few were having warm up foot races down the middle of an adjacent highway, nude no less. (right powerful whistle t'war drinking) A deputy sheriff out of Cody drove by, stopped, turned on his spotlight, took one look at the streakers, shook his head, and went on to town.
Or the day we came out of camp and pulled a raid on the rafting company when they hauled out three rafts loaded full of tourists at Corbett Bridge on the Shoshoni River. Once they were all ashore, we all came a yelling and whooping out of the brush with blackened faces, firing double charged parade loads in the air and waving hawks, the pilgrims were screaming in fear and two of them jumped into the river. But when they realized the joke, it made their day, and we liked to never have got out of there for all wanting to have their pictures taken with us and the rafting company trying to make a deal where we would pull off the stunt regular on weekends, which we declined.
Our rules were for the most part unspoken ones, but trouble makers per se were told to leave, or readily and roughly handled if required. In the larger camps there were appointed dog soldiers to keep a fair semblance of order, and they did so.
Mostly innocent times, like one winter rondy up the North Fork just for bucks and a big sweat lodge was put up. That night, tiring of plunging out of the steaming lodge and into the snow at about 10 below, a few were having warm up foot races down the middle of an adjacent highway, nude no less. (right powerful whistle t'war drinking) A deputy sheriff out of Cody drove by, stopped, turned on his spotlight, took one look at the streakers, shook his head, and went on to town.
Or the day we came out of camp and pulled a raid on the rafting company when they hauled out three rafts loaded full of tourists at Corbett Bridge on the Shoshoni River. Once they were all ashore, we all came a yelling and whooping out of the brush with blackened faces, firing double charged parade loads in the air and waving hawks, the pilgrims were screaming in fear and two of them jumped into the river. But when they realized the joke, it made their day, and we liked to never have got out of there for all wanting to have their pictures taken with us and the rafting company trying to make a deal where we would pull off the stunt regular on weekends, which we declined.
Great pics Tan. My son and I started back in '79 and he was 10. A big part of our camps was the music and community camp fire. And when the music died for the night some of us stayed up telling stories and laughing for hours.
It started back then with the comments about loud laughing and talking but to me that was what it was about.
It started back then with the comments about loud laughing and talking but to me that was what it was about.
Your pictures sure bring back a lot of great memories!! As I recall, George Campbell was the poor soul chained to the tree, until Chuck Bragg decided to end the silliness and freed him...and the fight was on. I don't remember the name of the fellow who tried to stop Chuck (Jerry something). But I do remember that at some point in the fight, the guy pulled out a reserve deputy's badge :nono: , and that really added fuel to the fire!!! It took a half dozen of us to get Chuck off the guy (Chuck was pretty large)I was camped with old Gruff Macomber, and Ren Ferguson near the chain tree. We were the camp that butchered and barbequed the goat. It caused a real flap, as someones little girl had found where we had the goat tethered out of camp and had been petting it daily(unbeknownst to us). When we butchered it (out of camp) and barbequed it she was understandably heart broken!! We were pretty sorry, but the line of "guests" at the barbeque was real long!! :shocked2:
The pictures from south of Livingston look like the Story Ranch rondy. Are they?
Tom
The pictures from south of Livingston look like the Story Ranch rondy. Are they?
Tom
When we went to free him, the assault was planned at the upper end of the camp by the creek. We split into three groups, the smaller one went through the center of the camp, with the other two, one on either side of the camp, coming down parallel and sight unseen in the trees keeping pace. When the signal was given by the center group, the other two poured out of the woods to join in the fray, and for a few minutes quite the fray it was. :grin: Later on the booshway and dog soldiers restored order, saying such a repeat would not be tolerated and things got back to fun and games. Would Chuck Bragg be the same Chuck (AKA Corn) from Livingston who had the antique store?
Do you recall the sweat lodges? One was communal for male/female, I was over for a early morning sweat. after a steaming session of thrashing myself with stinging sage brush, I came barreling out naked to dive into the creek, only to find a beautiful young thing ala Lady Godiva astride a horse bareback, right in front of the lodge. Needless to say, I had to forego my creek foray for a few minutes to behold nature in all it's beauty.
You are right, as Tipis said, it was on Senator Story's ranch. Later on that same year, just the Livingston and Cody clubs held a small weekend rondy there also. The Cody and Livingston groups at the time were tight knit, we held doings together and at the larger rondys always tried to set up next to each other.
Do you recall the sweat lodges? One was communal for male/female, I was over for a early morning sweat. after a steaming session of thrashing myself with stinging sage brush, I came barreling out naked to dive into the creek, only to find a beautiful young thing ala Lady Godiva astride a horse bareback, right in front of the lodge. Needless to say, I had to forego my creek foray for a few minutes to behold nature in all it's beauty.
You are right, as Tipis said, it was on Senator Story's ranch. Later on that same year, just the Livingston and Cody clubs held a small weekend rondy there also. The Cody and Livingston groups at the time were tight knit, we held doings together and at the larger rondys always tried to set up next to each other.
Yeah, that would be the same fella. He now lives in Clyde Park,Montana and has the 1800's antique store there.I've spent many a primitive canoe trip with him and he loves to tell the story about the donnybrook at Kalispell :grin: . The gal you ran into would have been Al Flemming's flame of the moment. Her name was Linka. I believe she is Finnish and had been Miss October in Penthouse magazine in the late '70s (I might have the date wrong). Really a sweet gal,and very intelligent (besides being drop dead gorgeous). I saw her and Al about 7 years later when I worked for Shiloh Rifle Co. in Big Timber and she was still a show stopper!. Great Memories !!
Tom
Tom
TDW, you are a font of information and I thank you. Corn (Chuck) got his name from the jug he shared around the camp fires, rumor had it he made his own squeezings, now it was just a rumor mind you. :grin:
You are right about the young lady, she was absolutely a drop dead beauty and that scene of her has stayed with me. :thumbsup:
The guys from the Livingston club were a great bunch, our Cody club and them meshed like mated gears from the first. Corn, Griz, Wool Finger and the others, I often think about them in regards to the shinning times we had together.
You are right about the young lady, she was absolutely a drop dead beauty and that scene of her has stayed with me. :thumbsup:
The guys from the Livingston club were a great bunch, our Cody club and them meshed like mated gears from the first. Corn, Griz, Wool Finger and the others, I often think about them in regards to the shinning times we had together.
Those were sure shinin' times! I still do the little local rendezvous (Red Lodge, Howell's Encampment, some small gatherings of the old Livingston bunch), but like many, have stepped off to the late 1700's on my own (1780's Brady Scouts). Anymore I usually just drift up the Crazy's to Cottonwood Canyon over a weekend with my little .40 flinter (Ron Paull Carolina rifle). A few days on my own, with some fried squirrel, and I'm good to go. But , I still spend a lot of time remembering the fun and brotherhood of the old AMM and NAPR events of the mid and late '70s. Thanks for bringing me "home" with the great pictures!
Tom
Tom
