Photo Elegy to the Buckaroos of California Prairie

Thanks to a century or so of western novels, countless Hollywood movies and a vast songbook of country music, the cowboy is a commonplace of American popular culture. But real cowboys can still be found at work on ranches all over California, and that’s the point of “The California Cowboy: In the Land of the Vaquero” with photography by David R. Stoecklein, text by Henry M. Schacht and Shirl Woodson, and illustrations by Ernest Morris (Stoecklein Publishing: $60, 252 pages).

The biggest ranch in California, photographer and publisher David Stoecklein points out, is within 60 miles of LAX. Other ranches can be found throughout the length and breadth of California, ranging from the Lacey Ranch, which sits at the foot of Mt. Whitney, to Rancho Mission Viejo near the suburban sprawl of San Juan Capistrano. And, as “The California Cowboy” shows us in convincing detail, these are not dude ranches or Hollywood locations. They are working ranches where real-life cowboys “rope ‘em, ride ‘em and brand ‘em,” as the theme from “Rawhide” puts it.

Many of the photographs in “The California Cowboy” are given descriptive but sentimental titles reminiscent of frontier artists such as Remington--”I’ll Race You to Cow Camp,” “Flying Through the Brush,” and “I’ll Rope ‘Em, Dad,” the last of which depicts a little cowboy, not much beyond toddler age, in full regalia. Other images are purely documentary but somehow no less evocative--the close-ups of bridles, saddles, ropes and the workaday paraphernalia used for blacksmithing and branding all take on a nearly iconic quality.

Now and then, the images are wry and comic: “Don’t cross this field unless you can run it in 9.9 seconds,” reads a sign posted on the Buckhorn Ranch in Oakdale, “our bull can do it in 10 flat.” For anyone who still remembers an old pol called Houston Flournoy, there is a certain irony to a photograph of the blacksmith shop on the old Flournoy family ranch in a place called Likely, where a faded campaign sign--Houston I. Flournoy for Governor--still hangs over the workbench.

The subtitle of the book, “In the Land of the Vaquero,” honors the Spanish traditions that still enrich the ranches of California. “The first cattle to make the long drive into Alta California,” writes Henry M. Schacht, “were descendants of those disembarked on the island of Hispaniola in 1494 by Christopher Columbus.” Not only the stock but also the techniques and even the vocabulary of the California cowboy are part of the same inheritance; “buckaroo,” for example, is a mangled remnant of the Spanish word for cowboy, vaquero.

Cowboys are an endangered species, as Stoecklein points out: “They are struggling to keep their ranches intact,” he writes, “fighting heavy government regulations, taxes, poor cattle prices, a lack of or an overabundance of water, pressure from developers, and encroaching cities.” And for that reason, “The California Cowboy” is as much an effort to document a fast-disappearing way of life as it is a celebration of the men, women and children--so lively, so vigorous, and so much like their counterparts in books, movies and song--who still live that life.

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The birthday of Cesar Chavez is now a state holiday in California, but that’s no guarantee that his struggle as a labor and civil rights activist will be remembered. Indeed, sometimes it seems that a day of official commemoration is the best way to turn an otherwise heroic figure into an excuse for a day off. But two new books seek to rescue Chavez from that sorry fate by reminding us of who he really was and what he really did over a lifetime of struggle.

“Elegy on the Death of Cesar Chavez” (Cinco Puntos Press: $16.95, 32 pages). consists of a poem by Chicano novelist Rudolfo Anaya, author of “Bless Me, Ultima,” illustrations by artist Gaspar Enriquez and a chronology of Chavez’s life that will enable a younger generation of readers to make sense of the rest of the book.

Anaya opens the book with a line from Shelley: “I weep for Adonais.” He conjures up both Aztec and Christian imagery, Quetzacoatl and the Virgin of Guadalupe alike. And he confronts us with the fact that Chavez died while his battles were still being fought: “Campesinos gather by roadside ditches to sleep/Shrouded by pesticides, unsure of tomorrow.” But he adopts a triumphant and unabashedly sentimental tone when he calls for a new generation to take up the banner of activism that Chavez carried in his own lifetime.

Do not weep for Cesar, for he is not dead.

He lives in the hears of those who loved him,

Worked and marched and ate with him, and those

Who believed in him.

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“Remembering Cesar: The Legacy of Cesar Chavez” (Quill Driver Books: $25, 112 pages), compiled by Ann McGregor, edited by Cindy Wathen, and with photographs by George Elfie Ballis, is a kind of memorial service in print. With nearly 50 short entries by contributors ranging from Jerry Brown to Cardinal Roger Mahony, and a series of black-and-white photographs of his life and work, the book evokes Chavez both as historic figure and as shimmering symbol.

“By the strictly material standards some people use to judge success, Cesar Chavez was not very successful,” writes his son, Paul Chavez. “He never owned a house. He didn’t own a car. He never made more than $6,000 a year.” And yet, as the younger Chavez points out, his father’s real patrimony was “a powerful conviction that ordinary people could do extraordinary things,” and that’s the theme of the eulogists whose words are collected here.

Still, both “Elegy on the Death of Cesar Chavez” and “Remembering Cesar” remind us that Cesar Chavez was not ordinary at all. The point is made in a contribution to “Remembering Cesar” by actor and activist Edward James Olmos, who recalls what Ethel Kennedy said in response to a reporter who asked her to compare Cesar Chavez to Robert F. Kennedy and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.

“Oh no, you can’t do that,” she replied, “for you see, Cesar was a saint.”

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West Words looks at books related to California and the West. It runs every other Wednesday.