DUDE RANCH IN THE ROCKIESBy KLAUS MEHNERT

In the imagination of the European mId the Oriental, the Amel'icanexists almost exclusively as a being continuously in the th"oes of workand worry to produce dallal's. To a certain extent this is just'ijied, fO'I",ever since the arrival of the first Puritans in America, the emphasis inAmerican life has been on work and money-making. More recently, how­ever, one can perceive a growing tmde,"standing for the importance of re­laxat·ion of mind alld body, As ilt 1IIany other spheres, A11Ulrica hascreated its own forms of recreation, some of which differ 1uidely Ir01nthose familiar to us in EU1'01>e or Asia.

Never belore has it been so impo·rtant for the rest of the 1vorld tounderstand the complicated nature of the American, made up of manycontradictions, This understanding is aided bu a knowledu:e of theAmerican at play and of the v(llrious forms of his entertainment:.,such as footbaU und bl-idge, soda fountains and movi.,;s. c/,osswo'rdP1tZzles and univers-itll 81l1nmer sessions, "let's gO for a, ride," ConeyIsland. vacations in National Parks, auto cu.mps, and dude ranches. Theauthor believes that the pecuUarity of American recreation and vacation isbased on lour main fact01"s: the enormous size of the country, thlJ auto­mobile, a certain amount 01 Wild West romanticism in the hearts 01 mostAmericans, and the desire to "do thil1g8" even when relaxing.

WHAT IS A DUDE?

"Over there," said the driver of thebus, whose only occupant I was, "wherethe edge of the forest makes a sharpcorner, you can see the smoke of yourdude ranch." He pointed with his glovedhand toward the mighty mountainrange which suddenly appeared beforeus as we emerged from the rocky can­yon, We were now driving along aplateau over 6,000 feet high and sur­rounded by giant snow-capped moun­tains. The cool air was good to feelafter the long day in the hot wheatplains. Ten minutes later we reachedthe terminus of the bus line, which wasat the same time the end of the mainroad. A Ford belonging to the ranchwas waiting for me, and after anothertwenty minutes on a bumpy and steeplyrising road we stopped in front of thedude ranch.

For years I had been hearing of thisnew American institution which had

rapidly spread all over the country,and I was curious to see what life ona dude ranch was really like. A "duderanch" is a place where city-dwellingAmericans have, for some days or weeks,a chance to behave like cowboys andget some real exercise. .. Dude" is anAmerican slang word and means, ac­cording to Webster, "a dandy, a fop,an Easterner or city-bred person," and"fop" in turn, as I learned from thesame source, stands for "a silly per­son, a coxcomb." It takes a countrywith a good sense of humor to makea place with as derogatory a name as"dude ranch" a successful tourist attrac­tion.

What little I had heard about duderanches led me - like probably mostother Europeans - to expect somethingfalse, affected, and ridiculous. So,when on my last vacation trip in theWest I heard of the existence of a duderanch in the neighboring mountains, Idecided to take a look at the place.

128 THE XXth CENTURY

"Iff] ARE VERY INFORMAL"

And now I had arrived. In thetwilight I saw before me a large, one­storied house built of unhe\VD logs onthe edge of a magnificent fir-forest.Around a huge fir standing alone rightin front of the house there were longchairs and a pingpong table. The Fordsounded its horn. A white-coated ser­-vant (a college student, as I laterdiscovered, who was working here dur­ing his summer vacation) came trottingfrom behind the house and took chargeof my baggage. The young mistressof the house came briskly out onto theporch. In her smart riding clothes,tall, slim, sure of herself, moving withfreedom and confidence, she came verydose to the American ideal of feminineheauty as it has been created hyHollywood and cigarette advertise­ments, only healthier and less affected.

"Dr. Mehnert? We have been ex­pecting you. Welcome to the ranch.My husband had to drive into town.I am Mrs. Garrett, but everyone callsme Linda. Do you mind if I call youKlaus? We are very informal here onthe mnch."

1 stammered my approval, and she:showed me my room. It was simple,its walls of rough logs with cracksthrough which the evening breeze camein, but provided with every comfort,and furnished with good taste.

Then Linda led me into the lounge.Meanwhile night had fallen. In a largeopen fireplace a bright tire was crack­ling, its light tllrown upon my fellowdudes, upon the walls bung' with antlersand pictures of horses and mountainscenery, and upon several bearskins onthe floor.

"We have a new guest," Linda an­nounced, and mentioned my name.... Klaus," she turned to me, "I wantyou to meet the others: that's Emily.Joe, Marjorie, Jean .. " and so on till,she had introduced me to all thirty ofthem. All were wearing cowboy out­fits, even the women-riding pants, thehigh-heeled boots typical of the Amer­ican cowboy and rather uncomfortable

for walking, gayly colored blollses, andneckerchiefs knotted in front. On thegrand piano lay a pile of wide­brimmed hats. The guests were loung­ing around in a comfortable, lazy mood.They had just had supper, and mostof them had not long returned from astrenuous day's riding in the mountains.Some were playing cards, one groupstood at the piano singing old cowbo}·songs, but most of them had madethemselves comfortable in the easychairs by the fire.

MY FELLOW DUDES

By bed-time I had more or less of anidea of the sort of people my "eol­leagues" were. Like everywhere elsein the USA, when it is a question ofvacations and traveling, the feminineelement predominated. The ratio wasabout 5: 2. 1\'10st of the men weremarried and were on the ranch withtheir wives and some with their children,while the women were mostly workingbachelor-girls spending two or threeweeks of their annual vacation up here.They were all from big cities lyingwithin a radius of about five hundredmiles of the ranch. One of the womenwas a journalist, another a doctor, twowere nurses, and the rest mostlyteachers and secretaries. It was all aharmless, jolly crowd in that pleasantevening mood people enjoy who feelthat the day has been well-spent inphysical exertion. It was a mood Ihad known, for example, as a studenton evenings in Bavarian ski huts. Theconversation was concerned exclusivelywith the events of the day, the horses,and the plnn8 for the next day. On alist hung up on the wall everyone en­tered his wishes for the following day.When someone tuned the radio in tothe news and the voice of the announcerbrought the war in Europe for a fewmoments into the room, protests wereraised: "Turn it off, we are here ona vacation. No politics!" A move­ment of the dial, and the announcerwas silenced. Dance music tilled theroom, and the conversation of theguests was turned once again to thepros and cons of the various horses.

D DE RANCH IN THE ROCKIES 129

HAPPY RIDINGThese were the people with whom I

spent the next few days. We began theday, according to American custom,with a tremendous breakfast. Themountain air and physical activity madeus hungry. Milk, eggs in every possibleform, ham, pancakes, porridge, fruit,fruit-juice - all this and more was de­voured by the ravenous dudes. Afterbreakfast we strolled over the fields tothe corral, chatted with the real cow­boys, caught our horses, and saddledthem. All the different desires of thedudes were taken iuto account: somewanted to go for a whole day's ride-theywere given a cowboy who rode alongas a guide, and an extra horse to carryfood; others were passionate fishermenand had to have a cowboy to show thema good fishing-stream and to carry thefishing tackle; a couple of men wentshooting, and others again wanted tobe back for lunch.

On one occasion we went for a two­days' ride to a lake high up in themountains. There were eleven of us­the cowboy guide, seven women, andthree men, with fourteen horses, asthree were needed to carry sleeping­bags, provisions, and cooking equipment.It was a strenuous ride, all day in thesaddle, on narrow mountain paths lead­ing over rocks and canyons, and nowand then a level stretch where we couldcanter. The night at the lake wascrystal-elear and frosty, and lying onthe stony ground was hard and uncom­fortable. Had these young people beenforced to spend a night under theseconditions, they would have been highlyindignant at such a dastardly attackupon their human rights. But since itwas a part of their vacation, theyenjoyed it as a great lark, with muchlaughter and unfaltering good humor.The girls showed far more spirit thanone would have expected from themhad one met them in their home-townin all their finery and make-up. Someof them had never been on a horsebefore, but in spite of aches and painsthe first day they took part in every­thing, not only without complaints butwith genuine enthusiasm.

"ROUGHING IT"

This longing for the hard and primi­tive life, this pleasure in "roughing it"lies deep in nearly all Americans, aheritage from their ancestors who onlya few decades ago were advancing intheir covered wagons into territorythat had never before been cultivated.This does not only apply to young people.It is to be found in all ages and bothsexes. However, two generations of ahigh standard of living have accustomedcity-bred Americans to certain demandsof civilization, such as plentiful food,hot water, modern plumbing, etc., tosuch a degree that they would find ithard to do entirely without them. Thedude ranches offer that very mixtureof "roughing it" and civilization whichthe American desires for his vacation.Moreover, it satisfies his romantic long­ing to be a cowboy or a ranger and tofind himself as it were transplantedback into the great period of America,into the time when the Wild West wasconquered by the pioneers and theirherds of cattle, the time of battles withthe Indians and with bandits-in short,into an atmosphere which for genera·tions has fascinated even German young­sters more than any other phase ofhistory.

For many nations, wars are thegreatest memories of their past. ThisI believe is not the case withAmericans. The War of Independenceis too far away, the Civil War toosad to remember, and of the GreatWar they think with mixed feelings.The part of their history that fillsAmericans with the greatest pride isthe Conquest of the West. They thrillat the thought of covered wagons onthe Oregon trail, of Kit Carson'sscouting and General Custer's last stand.How much more thrilling to viewfrom the saddle the magnificence andgrandeur of this very West and toremember the exciting events thathappened in this canyon or on theshores of that lake.

Anyone who has lived in the USAhas felt the stores of vigor andstrength in her youthful, buoyant

130 THE XXth CENTURY

people. For this, the finest characteris­tic of the American, the pioneer periodoffered an extraordinary opportunity.It gave purpose, meaning, and satis­faction to his life. Since then timeshave changed. The frontiers have beenreached. The Conquest of the Westas chief problem of the nation has beenreplaced by the much less excitingtasks of conquering unemployment, ofrestoring fertility to once abundantand now drought-ridden lands, ofpreparing for war against a nationwhich lives thousands of miles awayacross an ocean.

ADULTS AT PLAYThe American now finds an outlet

for his vitality in the rough and hardyforms of his play and recreation; andnowhere is he offered a more idealplaygrolmd than on a dude ranch. Heis aided in his enjoyment by anotherof his characteristics: his lack ofinhibitions as we would have them.Most Europeans would consider it ridic­ulous and in bad taste and it wouldmake them uncomfortable to dress upand pretend to be something they arenot. (For many years one of thestandard characters of German cartoonswas the Berlin snob in the mountainsdressed up like a drawing room Tyro­lean.) In this matter the American ismore unsophisticated. When, as littleboys in Germany, we stuck feathers onour heads to become Indians or weretransformed into medieval knights bywearing paper helmetlS, we l'eally wereIndians or knights and did not feel atall ridiculous. The same thing happensto the grown-up American when heplays at cowboys. He does not feelridiculous in a costume that his fatherstill wore in all seriousness, nor doeshe feel uncomfortable when the farmershe meets on his rides greet him with"Hello, dude I "

DUDE RANCHING WILL GROWThe only possible limit to the de­

velopment of dude ranches are the

prices; however, these show a tendencyto decrease. When the first dude ranchescame into fashion, only the rich couldafford to stay there. There are stillsuch ranches to be found today, withpolo fields and golf courses and landingfields for private planes. Later ondude ranches for the middle classescame into existence, at first only a few,but soon more and more. I paid $45a week for my room at the ranch, whileothers, living in tents scattered in theforest and belonging to the ranch(roughing it I), within a few steps ofcomfortable log-cabin washrooms withhot showers, paid $ 35. That is notmuch in America, where even a modestback room in a city hotel, withoutbreakfast, costs $1.50 a night. Thebest thing about the dude ranch is thatit is not a "gyp-joint." Everything isincluded in the $ 35 or $ 45: threeenormous meals a day, service, horsesat every hour of the day or night,guides, the use of the ranch car fordrives into town, etc. I actually didnot spend a cent over the price agreedupon.

Most dude ranches are located in theclassic country of the Wild West, theRocky Mountains, and I predict a suc­cessful future for them. In the travelfolder of one single state, Arizona, Ifound a hundred and six of them listed,with prices ranging from $20 to $100a wl;:~k. Many l'anchers have realIzedthat by taking in dudes they can havetwo crOp:5 a yeal": calve:5 in the :5pl-illgand dudes in the summer. Lately theWyomIng State University has evenintroduced courses on dude ranching.At the same time the number of dudesis rapidly increasing; they now amountto tens of thousands every season. Thisnumber will continue to grow, for thereis a lot of truth in the old crack that"the average American grows up in thecountry, works like mad to be able tomove into the city where he works likemad to make enough money to be ableto move back to the country."