Riders Out of the Past

In days of old, they numbered in the thousands. But history does not remember them. They rode the open range free and wild as the wilderness. Some drifted from Texas to California to the Dakotas. Still others drove great herds of cattle across the plains. Some lived by the gun and died by it. Many were heroes; others were the meanest, most ornery cusses who ever walked the face of the Earth. Though they were among the best ropers, riders and bulldoggers, they were also scorned, scared and called the most offensive names one could imagine.

There is little memory of the black cowboy now. But they helped kick up the dust and tame and settle this country. When that dust had cleared, the memory of the black cowboy had been blown away like a tumbleweed across the desert.

But it has not been completely lost, even in urban Southern California. Charlie Sampson, a former world champion bull rider and a native of Watts, was introduced to rodeoing at nearby stables not far from the Harbor Freeway. And young black riders continue to participate in local rodeos and riding events.

Rodeo cowboys do not look to the future; they look to the past. If you get slammed down into the dirt, you’re supposed to get right back up and ride again. That’s called “cowboy up.” Because when you put on that cowboy hat, you’re representing a lot of tradition. For most guys, that’s the reward.

Times photographer Kirk McKoy has chronicled the black cowboys over the years. Here are some of the scenes he has captured.