Red River Western Festival

Shreveport, Louisiana
15-17 July 2004

photographs copyright Kat Parsons, July 2004

Widely advertised with a very large roster of guest stars (including William Smith, at right), the ambitious Red River Western Festival was held at the Louisiana State Fairgrounds to permit, besides the usual film festival activities, Western entertainers, a barn dance, kid's corral, mini-parades and an LRCA rodeo each day, a chili cookoff, trail rides, reenactments, and other attractions. I was even more excited about all the ancillary activities than I was about seeing the stars, so this was an event to which I looked forward most eagerly.

Not to put too fine a point on it, this festival fizzled. I don't know whose fault that was, if anyone's, and won't speculate here or report any of the rumors I heard, beyond identifying their first mistake: Shreveport in July is only 4 degrees cooler than Hell, and may be slightly more humid. It was never less than 114°F outdoors during the days of the festival and, since the air conditioning was broken in the main building, it was even worse inside.

To put it mildly, locals stayed away in droves.

The guest stars (including Andrew Prine, at left), the entertainers, the vendors, and those of us in the public who had traveled a long way to attend hadn't much choice but to grin and bear it, though the grin wasn't always easy to maintain. There was a charge every time you walked in the gate, even on the same day. Since I would have had to pay to come back every time I returned to my motel room to cool off or change clothes or whatever, and since there was no way I was going to pay admission twice on the same day, I never spent more than a couple of hours per day at the festival. I know for a fact I wasn't the only one.

The outdoor entertainments to which I had so looked forward were out of the question for me due to the lack of shade. For reasons of a very fair complexion, medication that doesn't mix well with exposure to sunlight, and lupus erythematosus, which also doesn't mix well with exposure to sunlight, I don't "do" sun. I might have braved the heat if I'd had shade, but truthfully very few people enjoyed what outside opportunities did materialize. The entertainers were all dotted around the fairgrounds, and though they valiantly got up to tell their jokes and stories, or to play and sing—and they were good, judging from what little I heard—no one paused in the heat and unrelenting sun long enough to do their talent justice. I felt guilty walking past as the entertainers soldiered on without any audience, and I'm sure everyone else did as well. The little parade did take place twice a day, with a stagecoach and other stuff, but I only saw it once, and for only a few moments. I felt sorry for all the horses, and the people in costume, trotting along unwatched over blacktop pavement shimmering with heat.

I don't know whether or not they had the kid's corral, chili cookoff, or trail rides. I didn't see them, but as I've said I didn't stick around outside any longer than I could avoid. They did have the rodeo, but since it was a separate charge, and since I had very little spending money with me on this trip, I saved up that treat for the last evening.

The outside vendors of food and various Western and festive stuff were almost as forlorn and neglected as the entertainers, but they did get a little business, if only because some of them had tents and cool drinks. Besides, it takes a lot less time to shop than to appreciate a performance.

Inside the main building, where the stars' autograph tables were, there were also a number of vendors of Western kitsch, clothing, jewelry, furniture, art, DVDs, and memorabilia. They had some great stuff, and I wished fervently I weren't traveling on such a very straitened budget. I did, however, finally acquire a black "saddle bag" like the one I'd been coveting since I saw it at the 2001 Williamsburg Film Festival. I have now only to pick up one or two more in various colors to fully equip my wardrobe...

There was also a curtained-off corner where Western movies were being run, but if it was hellish in that building, that corner was the innermost circle. I don't think anyone stayed in there longer than thirty seconds—I poked my head in briefly and was nearly stifled on the spot.

The roster of stars (including Johnny Western, at right) had, I believe, shrunk even from the list in the program, and that roster was already considerably smaller than the list that had been advertised. (This happens in large part because stars agree to come to these things subject to availability, and that availability doesn't always work out.) Besides their smaller number, some of the stars left early, such as Robert Fuller of Laramie and Wagon Train; some others apparently only spent a short time each a day at their "stations" with the result that there were several guest stars presumably there whom I never actually saw. I hasten to add that I don't blame them! The stars were quite simply sweltering, despite big electric fans I later learned should have been in the stables on the rodeo animals. (Much as I felt for the stars, I feel even worse for the animals, who were even more trapped in that heat, and were wearing fur coats to boot!)

Despite that, for the most part the stars were friendly and gracious to the fans, which was a fortunate thing for those of us who had come a long way only to have to miss out on many of the experiences for which we'd come. Guest stars in attendance included several of my all-time favorites, such as William Smith and Peter Brown of Laredo, and Robert Hoy of High Chaparral. The guest list also included Andrew Prine, Ty Hardin, Dale Robertson of The Iron Horse, Buck Taylor of Gunsmoke (who was there with some of his paintings, which were excellent), Mike Moroff (also there with some of his paintings, also excellent), Kim Darby of True Grit, Whitey Hughes, Dean Smith, and Johnny Western.

There were morning and afternoon guest star panels, but I never saw more than one per day for the reasons stated above. Those I did catch, however, were really very good: the guests were very interesting, and the Q&A was well-moderated. It is a great shame the rest of the festival wasn't as successful as those panels! The only drawback was the difficulty of hearing over the fans.

Waiting in the audience for one panel, I was happy to spot familiar faces: a couple of the Laramie fans I'd met at the 2004 Williamsburg Film Festival back in March! Coincidence aside, it's rather remarkable I recognized them; I am not, in fact, good at recognizing people I don't know quite well out of their "usual" context.

Also, on what turned out to be the last day of the festival, I encountered an email friend, Dale Waldrop, who is like me a big fan of Laredo. I had known Dale might come, but had feared he would miss the festival entirely due to its closing a day early. I really enjoy meeting my online friends, so that was a big treat.

I do have a story from the afternoon panel on my first day: I was walking with a crutch (just one—I'm a menace to navigation with two) due to an injury to my right foot, and limping a bit due to a separate injury to my left ankle. Well, there was a panel and I wanted very much to attend it (William Smith was one of those on the dais), but there were no chairs available. Desperate to get off my feet and still hoping to hear what was said, I headed for a pillar over in front of the stars' table nearest the dais. Leaning up against the pillar for support, I began to slowly lower myself to the floor. Now, I get red-faced when I'm hot, and like everyone else I was sweating profusely. From the stars' point of view, then, here's this overweight, sweating, red-faced woman sinking slowly...

Next thing I know, Bob Hoy (photo at left) and Mike Moroff are holding me up, each by one arm, Ty Hardin is shoving a chair under me, and Kim Darby is giving me water. I was horribly embarrassed to have caused such a fuss, but I didn't want to embarrass them by telling them I'd only been sitting down—it would have felt ungrateful—so I just assured them I was fine, just fine, thank you very much, and sat in the chair sipping my water while Bob Hoy kept a watchful eye on me. As it happened, I couldn't hear the panel (because of the aforementioned huge fans), but I did at least get to sit comfortably and cool off for a few minutes. And it was very gratifying to find those guest stars so kind; one is always somewhat hesitant to meet favorite authors or stars or artists for fear they will disappoint, but these certainly did not.

William Smith (photo at right) and his wife Joanne recognized me, as they had in Williamsburg, which again amazed me. More than that, they were very kind to me, I think concerned because I was hobbling around with increasingly obvious discomfort (aka, pain). Poor Bill kept ducking outside to "cool off" where it was a mere 115°F, but he was one of the most conscientious in staying throughout the entire meet-and-greet period to talk to the fans. Invited to sit down with them awhile one day, I somehow fell into an explanation to Joanne of why judges check the rear ends of male dogs in AKC shows, and the skill sumo wrestlers and some dogs have in common, but I won't repeat that here...

Peter Brown (photo at left) was one I'd very much looked forward to meeting. I could tell he was, like everyone else, somewhat disgruntled about the way the festival had turned out, but he was friendly to me (when I asked if I could write him a check for the photos I wanted to buy for my collection, he said I had an honest face and let me do it). He wasn't there much, so I didn't encounter him again until the closing banquet, when he passed me on his way to the stage to accept his award and greeted me as his "favorite" (he didn't specify favorite what, but I imagine he just recognized me because of the crutch).

And Bob Hoy, who is a stuntman as well as an actor and has, he said, spent his share of time on crutches, took a sort of avuncular interest in me after my "fainting" incident, and kept checking on my welfare throughout the rest of the festival—what a sweet man! I greatly enjoyed his Q&A because he talked fondly of High Chaparral, his costars there, and life on the set. I learned a number of things from his comments, including the answer at last to how Cameron Mitchell and Don Collier survived filming in the desert wearing black leather and suede respectively, (Mr. Mitchell spent a lot of time in the horse troughs since his outfit looked the same wet or dry, while Mr. Collier had to spend a lot of time in his trailer) and how Linda Cristal survived in her many velvet suits (with grace, as it happens).

Originally scheduled to run to the 18th, the festival closed on the 17th due to the low attendance. There was no food at the closing awards banquet, but Larry Maurice and John Buttram (who looks and sounds [and tells a story] so much like his famous uncle Pat that it's a little spooky) were fine hosts, and there was excellent entertainment from musicians and poets. The Dub Taylor Memorial Award was given, appropriately, to his son, Buck Taylor. 101 Years of Western Heritage Awards were presented to Ben Cooper, William Smith, Ty Hardin, Dean Smith, Whitey Hughes, Roydon Clark, Caruth C. Byrd, Loren Janes, Bob Hoy, Peter Brown and Diane McBain. I believe other stars who were not there also received awards. In accepting his award, Peter Brown announced that he was forming a production company for the purpose of putting out family Westerns and, he said (paraphrasing, since I don't remember his precise words) with a sweep of his arm in the direction of his fellow guest stars, "There'll be jobs for everyone here."

The festival was capped by the last rodeo. We'd been told that everyone at the "banquet" could attend for free, but I couldn't get in. Well, maybe I could have if I'd been willing to work harder at it, but by that point I was so hot, tired, sweaty and aggravated, and my foot and ankle hurt so much, that I gave up and hobbled away rather than go track down the guy from the banquet. Alternatively, of course, I could have paid to get in, which I had intended to do all along on the last day, but I'm just far too stubborn to pay for something that's supposed to be free.

The next big event the stars were talking about was the rodeo being put on in the fall by Dean Smith (photo at right), a fundraiser for the fight against cancer. Peter Brown and Robert Fuller pointed out that their old "pardners", from Lawman and Laramie respectively, had been lost to cancer, as have so many, many people in and out of show business. The cause is great, and apparently everybody is going to be there. Everybody but me, because I blew my travel money and annual leave going to Shreveport. <sigh>

Normally I would have filled a report like this with photos but, to save myself a suitcase on the trip to Louisiana, I UPSed my camera and its accoutrements to my motel. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but it didn't arrive til after I had already left the motel on what turned out to be the last day of the festival. All I had with me was a little digital point-and-shoot tucked into my purse; it's really a very nice camera for its intended use of taking snapshots, but not adequate to the conditions if you're really going for candid portraits. Considering everything else that went wrong, it somehow seems appropriate that all the pictures I would get are a few rather lousy snapshots.

All that said, I managed to enjoy myself.

I really have to raise my standards...