Published: July 10, 2008 09:42 am            

The announcer was guaranteed

“We guarantee everything but the

announcer.” That’s how Clem McSpadden ends the commercial for Claremore’s rodeo.

That got me to thinking. Clem is one thing they can absolutely guarantee. For more years than I’ve been alive he’s soaked up the book on every cowboy and cowgirl going, including all kinds of information about their horses, biggest wins, most embarrassing moments and kin folks. He’s done it without carrying around a suitcase full of notes, too. It seems he forgets nothing.

Although many people have taken credit for the Cowboy’s Prayer, Clem McSpadden wrote it. At Bud Stutzman’s funeral he told how he and Freckles Brown were on a plane to a rodeo in California somewhere. Clem scribbled around on a napkin and right before they hit the ground he asked Freckles to read it and see what he thought.

“He said if I die before you do, you’ve got to read that over me,” Clem said. “So he did, and I did.”

I used to be married to a bareback rider. Every time Clem saw me he would say “your husband cost me a pair of alligator boots.” Seems at the Prairie Circuit finals (going on 20 years ago now) my husband drew Dell Hall’s good bucking mare Foxy. Clem bet some other stock contractor a pair of alligator boots he’d win the round. Foxy won. Clem lost.

Like magic, once that union went south Clem never said it to me again. He knows everything that happens to anyone in PRCA rodeo.

The first time I entered Clem’s pasture barrel race, I went dressed as I would for a rodeo. We had to ride out in front of the announcer stand for Clem to sell the Calcutta. All the other girls were dressed in everything from sleeveless shirts to shorts and tennis shoes — horseback. I don’t think anyone had their hat on except me. Clem hadn’t seen me and I don’t think he’d read the list of contestants. When he got to me he looked up, to acknowledge me, I guess. I was sitting right in front of him. He looked me over, smiled and gave me a big wink. He bought me.

John Taylor is one of the funniest rodeo clowns I’ve ever seen. One year he was working the rodeo at Vinita and of course, Clem was announcing (I wonder if anyone else has ever announced Vinita’s rodeo?). One of John’s contract acts included a car.

By the time this incident happened, clowns were wearing a microphone instead of depending on the announcer to repeat what they said.

Part of the act was for the car to get stalled in the arena and after a bunch of antics John would manage to start it up and leave.

This night, the car wouldn’t start.

“I need a pickup man,” John said to Clem.

Clem thinks he’s adlibbing, so he says, “no, you can’t be using good pickup men to pull that car.”

“No, really, I need a pickup man with a rope.”

“Get that thing started up and get it out of there.” Clem thought he was just keeping up the old routine.

So finally John says, “No, really Clem, I need a pickup man. The damn thing won’t start!”

I’m sure that whole thing wasn’t nearly as funny to the crowd as it was to those of us who had caught on to John’s dilemma and the fact that Clem just kept going on with the show despite John’s distress. Clem must’ve thought John was really doing a good job.

Many years ago at some of the smaller rodeos the barrel race wouldn’t be full at every performance. If you were hauling a young horse to train you could get a practice run during the performance sometimes if they didn’t have a full book (boy am I dating myself here). Ever the professional for the crowd, Clem would never call a girl’s name twice of course, so he’d name us something else. Sometimes he’d be having fun with us. Once when I rode twice he announced me as “Martha Two Trees from Red Lodge, Montana.”

Many people probably think of Clem as a politician, a legislator, and a lobbyist. He may well go down in the history books that way, but to me and several generations of rodeo contestants he’ll always be that man behind the mike who knows everything. Guaranteed.

        

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