Frankly Speaking

My friend Gene Bryan calls him “the gentle giant” and Frank Shepperson carries that title well. He is to me what represents the very best of Wyoming’s ranching roots. His family had to work off the ranch most of their lives in order to keep the place afloat. By the 1970s, Frank had gone down the road throwing steers at pro rodeos long and hard enough to be able to take a run at a world championship at the national finals in Oklahoma City. He won his gold in 1975. The buckle and saddle were nice keepsakes. The money winnings didn’t compare to today - $14,500 a round now; $900 then – but he met the main goal Shepperson was reaching for all along. “We wanted to get together enough to where all we had to do was ranch. And that did it for me. It really worked well. I haven’t been back in the oil field or driving Caterpillar for other people,” says Frank with a smile.

Steer wrestlers often remind me of offensive lineman and linebackers in football. They are big men who do the little things right. They are a brotherhood of quiet, resourceful fellows. Often times you think of rodeo as the epitome of individual human endeavor versus an animal. In bull dogging there is the absolute need for teamwork. The hazer and dogger and their two blazing quick horses have to be in sync. It all happens so fast. Just one small error can throw the run into a wreck. More often than not they manage to make it work. Practice matters. Wyoming’s two steer wrestlers competing at the 2008 national finals worked many steers with friends in Texas and California before making the trip to Vegas.

Jason Miller, the reigning champ, was practicing in Casper within a short time of winning the title last December. Frank Shepperson was there watching. His son had brought in some “sorry and tricky” steers and they were run out of chutes at the small, indoor arena. Frank says Jason dropped on one and took awhile to muck him down. “He came over to me afterward and said ‘Frank, what do you reckon I did wrong?’” Frank gave his opinion but wanted to say: “You go back home and go into the bathroom, look in the mirror and ask that son-of-a-gun,” Frank told me. “I was the same way. It doesn’t sink in immediately that you are the champion, numero uno,” Shepperson recalls. Especially for Wyoming’s ranch cowboys who wrestle rodeo steers. There are cows to doctor and hay to buy, fence and windmills to fix.

This is going to be a very special finals for Frank. His son, Les, qualified for the first time. The 30-year-old has mostly answered to “Frankie” growing up but he is Les today and he can’t wait to display his own steer wrestling prowess. He is doing it for Dad. “He’s helped me a lot. I’ve always looked up to him. It’s a neat deal because I can practice so easy with a world champion right there at home,” Les said.

Home is 80,000 acres of Powder River country ranch where the cattle are rangy and the cowboys stout. Frank Shepperson wrestled rodeo steers to keep, and build upon, the family operation. Now it is Les’ turn. More power to him.