Broadcasters in Minnesota called him “Hawk.” He kept his eyes on opposing quarterbacks and often interfered with their passes, either knocking them out of line to a receiver or intercepting. Rip Hawkins was a middle linebacker for the Minnesota Vikings from the inception of that team in 1961 through the 1965 season that ended when the Vikings beat their biggest rival, the Chicago Bears, on the final play of the game. It was an interception, run for a touchdown, by Rip Hawkins. It was his last act in pro football. You’d be lucky to learn that much from the historical record of the Vikings. I’ve had the good fortune over the last two weeks to find out a lot more. You see, Rip is a Cowboy, and not the Dallas kind.
A friend at the Wyoming Transportation Department, Rick Carpenter (whose photos you’ll often see on our web pages), told me about this Rip fellow who was a commissioner for his department. Our office was heading to Minnesota for a winter sports show and I thought maybe Rip would join us to add some flavor to the promotional mix. He agreed to help out by appearing in the Wyoming booth and signing autographs. We placed his old football shot on a picture of Devils Tower where Rip and his wife Mary have a ranch about a mile from the country’s first national monument. Rip signed and chatted with Vikings fans. He was well received and remembered.
I spent time with him in rides to and from the airport. He said that after the sudden death of his first wife he had to make a choice. Rip was just 25 but knew he should be there to take care of his family. “Football was a game to me. It was time to get on with life. I had to go out and make a living like everybody else,” Rip recalled. There is nothing self-aggrandizing in his tone but he occasionally thinks about what it would have been like to continue playing pro football. Could he have gained the notoriety of other linebackers of his era who played longer – Dick Butkus, Tommy Nobis? It was not to be. And the money, well it was different then. Rip’s first contract offered a $3,000 bonus and annual income of $12,000. It was really different. He was named to the pro bowl one year and led the Vikings in interceptions one season as well. I watched highlights from the 1965 season and Rip was one tough cat. He was big too – 6’ 3” and 250 pounds of hard-charging muscle.
Before getting on with Rip’s many life situation changes it would be best to go back to the beginning. His given name is Ross and Rip has nothing to do with football. His dad was a concrete salesman and baby Ross was always sleeping so far as Dad knew. The baby was sawing logs when Dad left for work and asleep when Pa got home. So, the forty winks of Rip Van Winkle gave Ross a new first name forever.
The Hawkins family resided in North Carolina during Rip’s toddler days but moved back to their roots along the base of the Cumberland Mountains in Tennessee. Rip was ten, at home alone with his Mom, when she died of a heart attack. Shortly thereafter, a cowboy was born. Christmas was coming and Rip’s father wondered how he might cheer his son in the aftermath of the family’s tragic loss. Would he like a motorbike? Or did he want a horse? Rip asked for a horse.
Enter a one-eyed pony named Charlie. You can see the scene. Young Rip strapped with his two toy guns and sporting a cowboy hat. “I got on Charlie and went on down the road with no idea what to do,” Rip said. He tried to turn Charlie but with the eye situation being what it was the pony did not know what his rider wanted. So Charlie just sat down in a ditch. “I thought I’d killed him or something,” laughed Rip. Charlie lived many years, so long in fact Rip had to resort to a bucket of corn mush mixed with hot water for feed. “He was my first love. After that, everything that I wanted to do it had to be with a horse.”
Rip had an older, mentally retarded, friend named Marvin Ray as a mentor. He answered to “Pee Wee” and they first met one day when Pee Wee came hollering up the road to the Hawkins place riding an old, bridled, plow horse. “I want to take Baby Rip for a ride!” Pee Wee told Rip’s father. Rip was placed on the horse, held on, and they rode around the hills for hours. “From then on, Pee Wee was sort of my guardian,” Rip said.
Many other horses followed. There had to be walking horses, this was Tennessee remember, and for Rip and his friends horses served as the boys’ legs. “We were on horses every chance we got. We rode all around those mountains. Played cops and robbers, chased each other to try and tag. Played every possible game on them,” he said.
After football Rip even took a shot at rodeo in Minnesota. Imagine a big middle linebacker on a bareback horse. The former pro gridiron star was now 30 years old. “I should have been bull dogging but didn’t know how to do that.” He joined the Pro Rodeo Cowboys Association nonetheless and recalls his first ride vividly. “I was trying to keep my feet up above his shoulders when he came out and dropped his head. Where did he go? Where is he heading? I lost him,” Rip laughed. He never made the whistle on any of his pro rodeo attempts but had a big time trying. “When you first get on in the chute there is a ton of adrenaline running through. It’s exactly the same feeling I had standing on the sidelines with the Vikings during the national anthem,” he said.
Rip still rides. He has a horse called “Bo Bo.” They enjoy their time together on a Devils Tower, Wyoming ranch. Horses have given Rip a way of life he would never trade for the myriad of past occupations that have included seven years as a prosecutor in Fulton County, Georgia. Rip really enjoyed one of his jobs in Wyoming – head wrangler at the A Bar A Ranch. It was a heaven-made match of caring for horses every day. “There is a mutual trust and respect you learn for each other. You like the fact that they’ll put themselves in your hands,” he said.
Rip is down to about 210 pounds now and he sits quietly for a moment before our conversation continues. He thinks out loud about the old saying that being on the back of a horse is good for the inside of a man. “Whenever I was with a horse I was never lonely. You have to look after them. Be responsible. I guess it took some of the aching out of what I wasn’t getting somewhere else.”
A friend at the Wyoming Transportation Department, Rick Carpenter (whose photos you’ll often see on our web pages), told me about this Rip fellow who was a commissioner for his department. Our office was heading to Minnesota for a winter sports show and I thought maybe Rip would join us to add some flavor to the promotional mix. He agreed to help out by appearing in the Wyoming booth and signing autographs. We placed his old football shot on a picture of Devils Tower where Rip and his wife Mary have a ranch about a mile from the country’s first national monument. Rip signed and chatted with Vikings fans. He was well received and remembered.
I spent time with him in rides to and from the airport. He said that after the sudden death of his first wife he had to make a choice. Rip was just 25 but knew he should be there to take care of his family. “Football was a game to me. It was time to get on with life. I had to go out and make a living like everybody else,” Rip recalled. There is nothing self-aggrandizing in his tone but he occasionally thinks about what it would have been like to continue playing pro football. Could he have gained the notoriety of other linebackers of his era who played longer – Dick Butkus, Tommy Nobis? It was not to be. And the money, well it was different then. Rip’s first contract offered a $3,000 bonus and annual income of $12,000. It was really different. He was named to the pro bowl one year and led the Vikings in interceptions one season as well. I watched highlights from the 1965 season and Rip was one tough cat. He was big too – 6’ 3” and 250 pounds of hard-charging muscle.
Before getting on with Rip’s many life situation changes it would be best to go back to the beginning. His given name is Ross and Rip has nothing to do with football. His dad was a concrete salesman and baby Ross was always sleeping so far as Dad knew. The baby was sawing logs when Dad left for work and asleep when Pa got home. So, the forty winks of Rip Van Winkle gave Ross a new first name forever.
The Hawkins family resided in North Carolina during Rip’s toddler days but moved back to their roots along the base of the Cumberland Mountains in Tennessee. Rip was ten, at home alone with his Mom, when she died of a heart attack. Shortly thereafter, a cowboy was born. Christmas was coming and Rip’s father wondered how he might cheer his son in the aftermath of the family’s tragic loss. Would he like a motorbike? Or did he want a horse? Rip asked for a horse.
Enter a one-eyed pony named Charlie. You can see the scene. Young Rip strapped with his two toy guns and sporting a cowboy hat. “I got on Charlie and went on down the road with no idea what to do,” Rip said. He tried to turn Charlie but with the eye situation being what it was the pony did not know what his rider wanted. So Charlie just sat down in a ditch. “I thought I’d killed him or something,” laughed Rip. Charlie lived many years, so long in fact Rip had to resort to a bucket of corn mush mixed with hot water for feed. “He was my first love. After that, everything that I wanted to do it had to be with a horse.”
Rip had an older, mentally retarded, friend named Marvin Ray as a mentor. He answered to “Pee Wee” and they first met one day when Pee Wee came hollering up the road to the Hawkins place riding an old, bridled, plow horse. “I want to take Baby Rip for a ride!” Pee Wee told Rip’s father. Rip was placed on the horse, held on, and they rode around the hills for hours. “From then on, Pee Wee was sort of my guardian,” Rip said.
Many other horses followed. There had to be walking horses, this was Tennessee remember, and for Rip and his friends horses served as the boys’ legs. “We were on horses every chance we got. We rode all around those mountains. Played cops and robbers, chased each other to try and tag. Played every possible game on them,” he said.
After football Rip even took a shot at rodeo in Minnesota. Imagine a big middle linebacker on a bareback horse. The former pro gridiron star was now 30 years old. “I should have been bull dogging but didn’t know how to do that.” He joined the Pro Rodeo Cowboys Association nonetheless and recalls his first ride vividly. “I was trying to keep my feet up above his shoulders when he came out and dropped his head. Where did he go? Where is he heading? I lost him,” Rip laughed. He never made the whistle on any of his pro rodeo attempts but had a big time trying. “When you first get on in the chute there is a ton of adrenaline running through. It’s exactly the same feeling I had standing on the sidelines with the Vikings during the national anthem,” he said.
Rip still rides. He has a horse called “Bo Bo.” They enjoy their time together on a Devils Tower, Wyoming ranch. Horses have given Rip a way of life he would never trade for the myriad of past occupations that have included seven years as a prosecutor in Fulton County, Georgia. Rip really enjoyed one of his jobs in Wyoming – head wrangler at the A Bar A Ranch. It was a heaven-made match of caring for horses every day. “There is a mutual trust and respect you learn for each other. You like the fact that they’ll put themselves in your hands,” he said.
Rip is down to about 210 pounds now and he sits quietly for a moment before our conversation continues. He thinks out loud about the old saying that being on the back of a horse is good for the inside of a man. “Whenever I was with a horse I was never lonely. You have to look after them. Be responsible. I guess it took some of the aching out of what I wasn’t getting somewhere else.”
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