Twisters Tale By DK Hewett
The Kansas State University annual rodeo will be held this weekend February 17, 18, and 19. Much of what we learn in school has evolved through important stories. Cowboy stories — maybe not so much. But a good story’s a good story, and that’s why they get passed around. That’s what happened in K-State’s 1967 NIRA rodeo. There was a time when the powers-that-be in the K-State Ag department were adamantly opposed to the idea of having a rodeo in Weber Arena, the department’s pride. So, for some time in the 1960’s, the annual K-State rodeo was held in Ahearn Field House. Yes, Ahearn.A landmark on campus, it was home to Wildcat basketball, physical education classes, and intramural activities. The athletic department was never overly thrilled about hosting a temporary rodeo, or the livestock that came with it. But the rodeo had a distinctive feel.
The Chaparajos Club, the rodeo club, would always build and remove a temporary arena. Two cables suspended from the balcony and anchored on the corners held side fences. Ends were closed with the timed events chute on one end, and the bucking chutes, pens and loading chute on the other.
Friday was opening night. It went well for a first performance. Stock bucked. Some good rides. Timed-eventers made some good runs, and things ran smoothly for a decent crowd.
But for Saturday’s matinee, the stands were unusually full. Everything had a different feel. Kind of electric, and the performance was a step up in every regard… all the way down to the bull riding.
Stock contractor Floyd Rumford had recently acquired some new, but seasoned bulls. Twister was among them. Like a throwback classic “bremmer”, he had good size, his loose hide was a characteristic grey with dark points, floppy ears, and a nice, distinctive hump. He was one of four seasoned bulls new to the herd.
When it was bull riding time, Twister came in almost nonchalantly and stood like a statue as Floyd snugged the flank, and the rider took his wraps. But when the chute gate cracked, the story changed.
The bull left fast and kicked hard. He followed the gate around and made two good wraps, then jumped out of it and turned-back left. Two hard rounds that way ended the cowboy’s best effort.
Twister made one more round for himself, then stopped… rock still. He raised his head defiantly and looked both ways, as if expecting applause. Then he willingly trotted toward the out gate. That’s where the real adventure began.
In the temporary pen, the stripping chute out-gate was adjacent to four-foot arena gate for the rough stock riders. As Twister neared the gate in the corner, someone unwittingly opened the contestants gate to come through. Twister went through instead – just as a matter of habit with an open gate.
That left him outside the arena.
Still not realizing the situation, he continued around the edge of the pens, alongside the panels, loading chute and stock truck, through the fieldhouse entrance, and another 20 yards beyond.
He stopped and raised his head again. This time he was confused. There weren’t any pens.
He was suddenly ‘at large’ on the K-State campus.
He didn’t know where he was, but was sure he wanted no part of the herd of guys with failing arms and their “H’yaah!, ’yaah!, ’yaah!”. He left that scene.
The pick-up men had to hustle to the gate clear on the far end, then all the way around to the big door. By then, Twister had disappeared, except for a dwindling group of cowboys who couldn’t keep-up afoot.
Around the south of the fieldhouse. West across Denison. West up Huntington. When he got to Sunset, he stopped. Four blocks from the field house.
Across the street was an open space with an alleyway gate at the far end. Well, actually it was a parking lot, and the lower-floor entrance to a FRATERNITY HOUSE!
Twister trotted across the street, then the lot, and dutifully toward the door. By the time the bull entered, a dozen fraternity guys were bailing out of any available exit, running for their lives.
Through the door/gate, down the hall/alleyway, and up the short stairway/loading chute… into the fraternity house living room.
He stopped again, paused for a long time and looked around. It was the most luxurious pen he’d ever seen.
He didn’t sit on the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table… but he relaxed. He let his air out. His muscles softened. The chase was over.
When the pick-up men arrived, one went into the living room, lobbed a loop on the bull, then shooed him outside and down the front steps. There, the other pick-up man tossed a loop on him. A good deal of the drama had ended.
Twister was an experienced rodeo bull. He’d obviously been roped several times before. He stood politely for the first man to emerge from the frat house and mount-up.
When all were ready, a simple flap on the butt put Twister into his familiar trot. The pick-up men guided him as easily as a carriage, back to the fieldhouse.
When they entered the door, the crowd went wild. They stood-up and screamed in the joy and amazement of the moment.
They’d been there. They’d seen the start and the finish. They had been part of a legend-to-be.
The day a bull escaped from the rodeo… and joined a fraternity.