With the July death of Shirley Webster, queen of the Webster ranch and Shoat Webster’s great love, perhaps the greatest of great steer ropers, Shoat once again loomed as large as life in the old mind of a little boy who had revered his very name.
Shoat and his uncle, Fred Lowry, not only became heroes in the household of Dr. Clarence A. Love but also familiars. My daddy was their veterinarian, tending to all manner of animals on their ranches near Lenapah, Oklahoma, in Nowata County, most especially the horses that Shoat was honest enough to tell people had more to do with him becoming a Rodeo Hall of Famer than anything or anyone, save Uncle Fred.
From the moment Fred Lowry came home to Lenapah, their little place alongside Highway 169, with rodeo winnings of $1,000 in his jeans, Shoat recognized an opportunity. He told Lowry, according to Shirley Webster, that “if he would teach him to rope, he would work for him for nothing. And he did.”
The sweat equity paid off in fame and riches that could have been even larger if Shoat had not put such red-dirt-country priorities as wife, family, ranch, and doing what was right ahead even of rodeo and championship belt buckles
In the mind, especially that of a child, close-enough-to-touch champions like Howard Chouteau “Shoat” Webster Sr., could seem as if they were mists at first light or wisps of smoke. A person could know they were there, hear their names, see them, even touch them. And still, he could not be absolutely, dead-solid sure that they were real.
They were just too big. That was Shoat Webster.
In truth, though, Shoat was a small boy. Even his 2013 obituary in the Nowata Star made mention of this physical fact. Few, however, sat taller in the saddle. Over a 50-year rodeo career that began with an event in Nowata in 1940, Shoat Webster followed closely in the footsteps of his Uncle Fred, who from 1916 to 1929 won six world championships. Those were big boots to fill but from 1949 to 1955, Shoat dominated steer roping, winning four world championships and finishing runner-up twice.
He not only cut quite the figure astride his mount—often Popcorn, a bay Hancock-bred gelding—but when he came off the horses that he trained himself, he was adept enough at tripping and tying steers in tie-down roping and in wrestling them into submission that he won some of rodeo’s biggest all-around cowboy titles on its largest stages, places like Laramie, Wyoming and Pendleton, Oregon. When he won the Sam Jackson Trophy three years in a row at the Pendleton Round-Up, 1949-1951, Webster got to haul that big silver prize home for keeps.
I never saw that beauty, but as a boy I had the opportunity to see Shoat compete in rodeos around Northeastern Oklahoma, and I know that a couple of times Daddy let Little Stevie tag along when he worked the Lowry and Webster ranches that were eventually combined. I kept my mouth shut—a rarity—and laid low, because I knew that I was in the presence of what amounted to royalty in more than just our neck of the woods.
Shoat was inducted into so many rodeo Halls of Fame that it can give a person writer’s cramp to list them all. You’re always half afraid that you are going to fail to mention one and someone will get their nose bent out of joint. The one that pretty much sums up Shoat Webster’s status, however, is the Pro Rodeo Hall of Fame, which he joined in 1979, a member of the inaugural class.
And if that does not impress . . . Shoat Webster turned down the opportunity to be the Marlboro Man, the rugged cowboy advertising symbol for a tobacco company. And, he did it because he thought it would be wrong, even before the full extent of tobacco’s health dangers were known. “I never cared for smoking, especially by kids,” he was quoted as saying. “And, if they saw ol’ Shoat doin’ it, they might have to do it, too.”
But the money, Shoat? What about the money?
“Somebody asked him about giving up the money,” Shirley Webster once explained, “and he said, ‘I don’t need it that bad.’”
That answer fit perfectly with Shoat Webster’s decision to limit his rodeoing and tend to ranching and his family (not to mention paying his vet bills). He could have made much more money than he did had he gone to more rodeos and entered more events. In a 2005 ProRodeo Sports News interview, Webster recalled that he went to “about 36 rodeos per year” and that he “won 34 out of the 36 rodeos.” Not to brag or be too precise, Shoat went on, but his “winning percentage was really up there.”
The success did not come by chance. “What made him one of the best of all time,” suggested rodeo announcer Justin McKee, who, like me, grew up watching Webster rope, and later married his niece, Jeannie, “is that he worked harder than everybody else. If you talk to anybody who was ever around him, they would tell you he was physically the toughest man they’d ever been around, and that would include any bull rider, bronc rider, or bulldogger.”
McKee and I may be a tad prejudiced in Shoat Webster’s behalf—childhood heroes can be the biggest heroes of all—but I do not doubt what McKee told ProRodeo.com in 2013 at the time of Shoat’s death at 88. “Back in his day,” McKee said, “Shoat Webster was huge. In the rodeo towns that had steer roping like Cheyenne and Pendleton, there wasn’t a bigger celebrity in those towns than Shoat. He was the king; he was Elvis.”
Actually, in the early 1950s, in Lenapah and Nowata and rodeo towns everywhere, but especially those in Oklahoma, Shoat Webster was bigger than Elvis. He also looked way better in practical chaps than Elvis ever did in sweat-soaked Vegas leather celebrity duds.
Steve, Thank you so much for the article about Shoat Webster. I had not seen the article. I didn’t know your Dad was a veterinarian and you were related to the Websters . I learned a lot from the article. Again thank you. Charlotte Borneman
Thanks, Charlotte. To correct one point: I am not related to the Websters. . . was just an admiring little boy who could get closer than some to our very own famous cowboy because of what Daddy did for living and for whom.
I really enjoyed this one. I saw Shirley about two or so years ago. My brother Steve and I were eating at the Mexican Place. (The former Bliss Restaurant, I believe the locals refer to the Mexican Place as El Bliss O ) Shirley came in and we had a really nice visit. She was a true lady! My cousin Bill Lawrence was also a rodeo man about this same time frame. Kelly Corbin has pictures of former rodeo stars from Delaware and Nowata. He posts pictures and stories from time to time on Facebook. I think you would enjoy them. Another great story. Keep writing and I will keep reading.
Have to admit I am wearing out. I do, however, still like these pieces that are a blend of memory, research, and happier times. I’d visit Kelly Corbin’s page but I am not eager to return to Facebook—though it may be the easiest way to repost blog pieces.
So wonderful. Happy someone shared.
Thanks for the comment, Kathy. I, too, am glad you found the post. I used to repost on Facebook but have deactivated my Facebook account. You are, of course, welcome to visit the website blog: https://stevelovewriter.com/blog/
Rodeo seems like such a fascinating world. One of my favorite stories I wrote was about a bull rider from the Bronx, Bobby DelVecchio.
I remember the DelVecchio name, and, indeed, rodeo is world all its own. When Jackie and I first met I took her to a national competition then held in Tulsa. The Yankee girl wrote a story for the Tulsa Tribune features department and I wrote a sports column. Old hat for me, new hat—and one that fit—the cowgirl.
As a child, lived close to Fred & Miss Kate’s, so watched Shoat become famous! Also knew Bill Lawrence even before he married Betty Ames. My mom and dad were good friends of the Lowrey’s and Betty’s sisters were good friends of mine.
I love hearing of others’ connections to these times and those who shared them. Thanks, Pat.
The Lenapah Rodeo was so unique. Where else could you view an excellent rodeo from the comfort of your own vehicle.
Shoat and Shirley were always larger than life.
My parents, Marge and Dane Noe, sister Sally and I were at the Webster’s home in the early sixties and dinner time rolled around and they invited us to stay. Shirley went to the freezer and pulled out a package of hamburger. She said dinner wouldn’t take long and then put the meat into this strange thing. It was a microwave oven. It was years before I ever saw another microwave oven, or knew anyone who owned one.
Just one of the memories of this great family.
What a wonderful memory, Dana. Thanks for adding it. Cowboys, rodeo, and lessons from Shirley about food preparation. We lived, as they say, in interesting times. In my head, I still live there.
I enjoyed reading post. Shoat’s sister Betty was my sister in law. Jeannie asked me to make her a quilt with Shoat’s rodeo patches. I would share pictures of these if you would want. Each one has its own story.
My husband is Jim Straw the younger brother of Harry. Our daughter is Sue Ann .
I couldn’t figure how to attach the pictures here.
I appreciate the follow-up, Barbara, and I would love to see photos of the quilt. Could you send as attachments to my most used email? It is: [email protected]. Juanita Clark mentioned the photos to me. I am a troglodyte when it comes to these technologies. Another of my heroes as a boy was Don Straw and all the Nowata Ironmen football players. Oh, how I loved those guys. Don’t know if you’d be interested but I published a memoir that has a heavy Nowata angle: Football, Fast Friends, and Small Towns: A Memoir Straight from a Broken Oklahoma Heart. It is available on Amazon.
I commented previously that I was an Indian in a previous life. Paradoxically I longed to be a cowboy in real life. Songs like “Tumbling Tumbleweed” spoke to me. I love the singing cowboys Roy and Gene. I’m not sure Hoppy did any singing. But they were cowboys. I would tear up when Roy and Dale would sing “Happy Trails” at the end of the TV show. That dream came crashing down when the eye Dr. told me I needed glasses. Through my 9 yo tears I declared “cowboys don’t wear glasses. After that my hero became Normaan Rockwell and I spent my life as an artist and a JOY it is to be an artist. No material wealth but to be told “you are really very good” is like a bar of gold. As you know tremor has pretty much ended my pursuit of international museum fame but I’m ok with that. Thanks for writing about all of the things in the world I care about: real life Indians, Cowboys and I’m still waiting for an artist blog. Keep jogging my dusty brAIN Mr. Love. You still got the goods and if it’s not too painful to bring the thoughts to light please do continue. Amen my dear friend
You’d have made a great cowboy, Arthur, riding herd on moo-boogies instead of an art staff. As it was you more way, way more than “really very good.” You not only were great but, more important, you made others better and helped them realize their potential.