Custom Leather Workers Put Their Hides on the Line Every Day

The stools are made of leather and horseshoes, welded together in different shapes. There’s a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey on the counter, inches from a bottle of Tums and a troll doll in a cowboy hat. Country music plays in the background.

It could be a western bar, with the customers streaming through the doors. It’s really a leather shop--nothing kinky, mind you, except for the occasional whips or bondage rings.

Here, the two workers craft chaps, harnesses, cellular telephone covers, saddles and almost anything else.

It’s not a job. It’s a venture in leather.

Pat McGowan, 50, the senior leather worker, and Darrin Stockman, 26, don’t own the store in the back room of the Indiana Harness and Saddlery Co. in east Spokane, but they’re a big draw. Indiana Harness is one of the few places in town that makes chaps and saddles to order.

And they repair anything made of leather. They craft belts, dog collars, dog antlers, duck decoy bags, spiked collars for people, gun holsters and book covers. They sell harness rings as bondage rings to skateboarding kids with spiked hair.

Lately, leather cellular telephone covers are the rage. “It’s crazy,” Stockman said. “You kind of make things for the times.”

One recent morning, McGowan pounded out a belt proclaiming “The Country Prune” and another etched with “Rory.”

Stockman stitched together a pair of bone, black and blue chaps, complete with long fringe. “I like things the old-fashioned way,” McGowan said. Stockman “likes things the modern way. Old-fashioned is simple and basic. The modern combination--everything is flash and fancy.”

Things have changed since McGowan came to Indiana Harness 29 years ago. Then, people waited two or three weeks or more. Now, they want it yesterday.

Then, a handmade saddle cost $300. Now, it runs $1,500. The shop used to turn out three saddles every 14 days. Now, it’s lucky if it sends out a dozen in a year.

“There aren’t as many ranchers,” McGowan said. “They’re all gone.”

Still, he and Stockman do a brisk business in chaps, making 300 to 400 pairs a year. They sell a couple hundred belts a year and probably more telephone covers.

It takes a lot of leather. At any one time, the leather from about 150 cows is stacked in the room.

McGowan and Stockman wear their own creations. They’re both cowboys, as much as people with city jobs can be, and own horses. They both used to ride in rodeos, and now break colts.

McGowan’s the elder statesman in cowboy boots, a handcrafted belt and a silver and bronze buckle that says “Crash and Burn.” The buckle was a gift after a year when McGowan almost died twice at the hoofs of horses. He’s a metal detector’s nightmare, filled with dozens of screws and four or five plates that pin him together after countless riding accidents.

“He taught me to rope,” said customer Roy Rose, who comes by the shop at least once a week. “Shoot, I still got a belt he made for me years ago. Still wear it too.”

To pass the time on the job, the workers bet on anything. McGowan lost a roping bet with Stockman, so Stockman had to make McGowan a pair of chaps. But McGowan has to wear them. They’re multicolored swirls striped with pink, purple and yellow fringe, and say “Hippy” in big letters.

McGowan’s no hippie, though his graying hair curls to his shoulders. He grew his hair long for a bet, and won $500.

Stockman and McGowan bet on the habits of some regular customers--on whether they’ll demand the same services, say the same phrases or forget to wash their horse blankets again.

They like their customers, who often drop by just to shoot the breeze, and tell stories about the more eccentric ones.

“It’s not really a job,” Stockman said. “It’s a nice feeling to get up in the morning and want to go to work.”