Author: Ruth Nicolaus

For seven of his eight decades, J.W. Stoker has entertained rodeo and western fans.
The Weatherford, Texas cowboy has criss-crossed the nation and the globe, trick riding and trick roping for hundreds of thousands of people.
Born in 1927, it began for J.W. when his parents moved from Colorado Springs to Kansas City when he was eight. J.W. attended the Santa Fe Trail Riding Club in Kansas City, and one week, a cowboy by the name of Pinky Barnes came to town. Barnes, a trick rider and trick roper, gave lessons to the club kids. “I liked it real well, and he was a good teacher, too,” J.W. remembers. Even though he didn’t know it yet, his career path was born.
J.W. took to the roping, spending his lunch times and recess at home practicing.
The next spring, Pinky brought a guest to town. Clyde Miller, who put on rodeos and Wild West shows, had heard how good J.W. was. “I was practicing, and they asked me if I’d take them down to the house. They’d like to see my parents.” Clyde wanted to hire J.W., who was the tender age of ten years old. “Of course my folks weren’t going to send me down the road at ten.” So Clyde had a different proposal for them. It was the Depression days, and money was scarce. He offered the whole family a job: J.W.’s dad could haul the bucking chutes, his mother would care for kids, and J.W. and his sisters Frankie and Bessie would trick rope.  His parents decided to do it. It brought him notoriety and fame. In 1939, he was billed as the “Juvenile World Champion Trick Rider,” with his picture featured on a box of Wheaties. To his knowledge, he is the only western lifestyle person to be put on the iconic cereal box.
J.W.’s work with Miller continued till Miller suspended his rodeos during World War II due to gasoline and tire rations. Stoker had begun booking his own shows as a brother/sister act with his sisters. One of his first rodeos was Burwell, Neb., in 1940, which he worked for 25 years.
He continued to trick rope and ride till he was drafted for the Korean Conflict. Basic training was at Ft. Benning, Georgia then he was sent overseas, where he was put in the Special Services, the entertainment division of the Army. “I was wanting to trick rope, the same thing I’d been doing in the States,” he remembers. “They auditioned me, and said we’ve never had a trick roper before, but we’ll try it and see what happens. I trick roped and got along real good.” Stoker spent his entire time overseas entertaining the troops, with artillery fire occasionally going on overhead during shows.
He was discharged in 1952, when he came home and his career continued.
In addition to rodeos, Stoker worked Wild West Shows and served as a stuntman in movies. He went to Europe with Rodeo Far West in 1970 for Buster Ivory, and in 1973, worked with Casey Tibbs at a Wild West show in Japan. When the show didn’t go well, Casey got him a job promoting Las Vegas and Nevada outside a log cabin, similar to the one from the Bonanza TV show.
He worked in the movie “Bus Stop” with Marilyn Monroe  in 1956 (“she was late every day,” he says, and much shorter than he expected), in “The Kansan” in the late 1940s, where he trick rode and roped, and in “Bronco Billy,” where he doubled for Sam Bottoms, who played Lariat Leonard James in the movie. Stoker taught Bottoms basic spins and for the more difficult spins, trick roped and was filmed from behind him.
Stoker trick roped in Harry Truman’s inaugural parade in 1948. That was back when news reels were shown prior to movies, and Stoker’s trick roping showed up in those reels. He entertained President Ronald Regan and future president George H.W. Bush at the 1984 Republican convention in Dallas. He’s also entertained in nine countries: Venezuela, Germany, England, France, Switzerland, the Dominican Republic, Finland, Japan, and Cuba. He served as entertainer at the Calgary Winter Olympics in 1988, and worked on Michael Martin Murphy’s West Fest for a decade.
Stoker served as a stunt double for Roy Rogers, and Roy even rode one of J.W’s horses. It was while Stoker was working the Houston Rodeo in 1969. Rogers was there, and he’d been told by his doctor he shouldn’t ride because of heart problems. On the second performance, he said to J.W., “I don’t feel right walking out (in the arena to do the Sons of the Pioneers). Can I use your horse to enter and leave on?” J.W. was honored to share his horse.
He made his own trick riding horses, and two of them stick out as favorites. One of them was Pumpkin, the same horse that Roy Rogers rode. He was a palomino with stocking legs and a wide blaze, and “he really ran,” Stoker says. Pumpkin was purchased from the famous woman trick rider and bronc rider Tad Lucas.
Another favorite horse was Hot Diggity. Hot Diggity was purchased from Rex Rossi, another famous trick rider who worked a lot of shows with Stoker. Stoker’s trademark was white horses and Hot Diggity fit the bill. His current horse, Romeo, a paint stallion, is exceptionally intelligent and has a big personality. “I wish I’d had that horse decades ago,” Stoker says.
Living 50 miles from Dallas, he had the opportunity to work conventions as well.
About six years ago, he was forced to slow down and eventually retire. He was diagnosed with spinal stenosis, which pinches nerves and causes leg pain. He can walk to the barn, but once he’s there, he has to sit down for a bit before he can continue. “You can’t trick rope sitting down,” he says.
But Stoker hasn’t quit for good. He has been willing to help anybody who asks. “People would call up and say, ‘I need help with the roping.’ I’d say, come over. I didn’t charge them. I figure it’s been good to me.” He currently works with the Cowgirl Chicks, an entertainment and trick riding group. He and the Cowgirl Chicks are on RFD-TV weekly.
The 87-year old cowboy has had numerous honors and awards. He’s been a two-time Pro Rodeo Cowboys Association Entertainer of the Year. He’s inducted into the National Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma City, the Texas Cowboy Hall of Fame, the Texas Rodeo Cowboy Hall of Fame, and the ProRodeo Hall of Fame.
And life’s been good for the entertainer. “I’ve done so many things, there’s no end to it,” he recalls. “I just lived life, and lived it good.”

Story also available in the July 1, 2015 issue.

Jim Aplan grew up in Casey Tibbs’ shadow.
The Rapid City, S.D. cowboy was born in Casey’s hometown of Ft. Pierre, S.D., and Jim followed Casey and his rodeo buddies down the rodeo road. But since Tibbs was two years older, Jim’s mother wouldn’t allow him to travel with the soon-to-be-famous cowboy, and Casey went on to national fame and recognition while Jim stayed closer to home.
Jim was born in 1931, the youngest child of Frank and Helen Fischer Aplan. His family owned Fischer Bros. General Store in town, and anything that happened in the county was “duly reported in the general store,” Jim said. “I was always kind of thrilled with the cowboys who came into the store,” he remembered, “much to my family’s dismay. They were dead set against anything rodeo.”
Jim’s mother’s family, the Fischers, also owned two large ranches, and even though they were in the cattle business, there was no tolerance of rodeo. “Of course, wherever the cowboys were, you could find me.”
The rodeo bug had bitten Jim, and he loved to follow Tibbs and another South Dakota cowboy, Billy Myers, as they went to rodeos. Tibbs and Meyers won money at the Ft. Pierre rodeo, and went on to Huron, and Jim followed. He was only sixteen, and hadn’t gotten permission from his mother, so she sent after him to come home. Tibbs and Meyers went on to compete across the country while Jim stayed home.
His mother sent him to a boarding school in Canon City, Colo. The school had its own herd of horses, with students caring for them, and it had its own rodeo. The first rodeo paycheck Jim won was in the wild cow milking at that school. He graduated from boarding school and went on to junior college in Trinidad, Colo.
That’s where his pro rodeo began in earnest. He was befriended by stock contractor L.D. Ward, and traveled with Ward and rodeoed. It got him away from his family, which was an advantage. “I couldn’t rodeo in South Dakota. Too much pressure. A lot of families encourage their kids in rodeo. Nobody encouraged me, they discouraged me.”
He worked all the events as he traveled with Ward, but the saddle bronc riding and bull riding were his strength. He was best at the bucking horse riding, mostly because he’d grown up breaking horses. “I could ride a tough horse, but nobody ever showed me how,” he said. “I never looked very good doing it. I could usually place because I didn’t buck off. That’s how I got by.”
Jim’s rodeo life might have looked a lot different if he’d have gone to North Dakota in 1955. All-around hands Jim and Tom Tescher, excellent bareback, saddle bronc and bull riders and bulldoggers as well, asked him to come north with them for the summer. “Had I done that, it would have helped me,” Jim said. Instead, he went to work for East Coast rodeo producer Jim Eskew, who was well-known for the western entertainment at his rodeos. Aplan fought bulls and clowned for him, and competed as well.
In those days, nearly anyone would work as a bullfighter, and at some rodeos, the cowboys would stand in the arena, in front of the chutes, and randomly step out in front of a bull during a ride. “It sure made me mad when they did it to me,” while he was riding, Jim said, as it could ruin a ride and the score.
There wasn’t much training for bullfighting in those days. “It wasn’t like today, where they go to school for it and learn moves. Then we just got out there and did it and hoped we didn’t get killed or get some rider hurt. That’s the nightmare of all bullfighters.”

Full story available in our June 15, 2015 issue.

Howard Barker lived out his dreams.
Ever since he was a little boy, he wanted to be a cowboy, and he wanted to fly, and he did both.
The Houma, La. man spent his time flying through the air on bareback and saddle broncs and bulls, and when his rodeo days were over, he spent the rest of his life flying through the air in sprayer aircraft.
He spent seven years full time rodeoing, and when he was done, came home to begin an aerial application business.
He was born in Yumatilla, Fl. in 1937, the oldest child of Howard, Sr. and Adelade Barker. Soon after he was born, the family moved to Groveland, Fl., where he spent most of his growing-up years.
His interest in rodeo stemmed from being around cattle, and even though no one in his family competed, he wanted to. “It interested the heck out of me,” he said. His dad didn’t approve. “My father always told me I needed to quit that foolishness and get a job.”
At the age of fifteen, he entered his first rodeo. He didn’t have the entry fees, so he went to the bank to get a loan. “I just went in and talked to the president of the bank,” Howard recalled. “He took the money out of his pocket and loaned it to me.”
He also entered high school rodeos, of which there was one a year, hosted by the FFA chapter in Inverness, Florida.
At first, Howard rode bareback broncs and bulls. There wasn’t a lot of saddle bronc riding in Florida, but when he could find it, he entered it, choosing to quit riding barebacks.
By the time he graduated from high school in 1956, he was competing in amateur rodeos across the state. He worked on large ranches in Florida, some with spreads as big as 500,000 acres. He loved the work. “I was happy in the woods, working cows, just about as happy doing that as being at a rodeo.”
When he was nineteen, he left Florida to rodeo. He didn’t make a big splash, but made enough to pay entry fees and living expenses. “You’d be broke one day, then have a pocketful of money the next, then broke again.”
In 1958, he joined the Rodeo Cowboys Association, forerunner to today’s Pro Rodeo Cowboys Association, and competed full time. Most of Howard’s rodeos were in the Northwest and Canada. By then, he had quit the broncs and was riding bulls only. In the winter, he’d come home, get a ranch job, and save up money to leave again in the spring.
He traveled with good friends Ronny Welch, Tex Martin, Winston Bruce and his brother Duane, and bull rider Leo Brown, “one of the best hands to ever come out of Canada, maybe the best,” Howard said.
Then, after being on the road for most of seven years, he decided to retire.
In 1966, he got his pilot’s license and begin a crop dusting business two years later. He lived in Belleglade, Fl., at the time, and sprayed not only crops but for mosquitoes. He sprayed over a million acres a year, with contracts with county, state and federal governments. In the summer, his business went west and he sprayed for grasshoppers in the western states.
In 1991, he moved to Houma and his business changed. He sprayed oil spills with dispersants, chemicals that break oil into tiny droplets that suspend in water so naturally occurring bacteria eat the droplets. His company, Airborne Support, was instrumental in the BP Oil spill in 2010. A picture of one of his planes spraying was on the front page of the New York Times and a South African friend even saw the picture in a newspaper in that country.
Howard never suffered any major injuries in his rodeo days. Sprains and a broken cheekbones and a couple of concussions were it. He had temporary amnesia twice, due to the concussions.
The Calgary Stampede was his favorite rodeo because of all the activities. “It was  like a three ring circus,” Howard said, with bucking stock in the arena, “some movie star singing a song, and a horse race going on all at the same time.” And his favorite bull was HB, owned by Howard Harris. Howard drew him three times: once in Cowtown, N.J., and in the West, after he was sold to someone else. Very few people covered HB, but Howard did it three times, as did a friend, Joe Chase, who Howard gave advice as to what to do when riding HB.
In 1968, he married Evelyn, and they had four children, two boys and two girls: Vance, who lives in Minnesota, Laura Beth, who lives in Boston, and Brad and Nancy, who both live in Houma. He and Evelyn have seven grandkids, with a grandson, Reese Barker, who rides bulls and is a three-time state champion junior bull rider in the Louisiana Little Britches Rodeo Association.
It was tough quitting rodeo when he did it in 1966. “I had to stay away from it completely,” he remembered. But he had a business to run. “I couldn’t afford to get hurt and not be able to fly.”
Three years ago, his health forced him to retire from the aerial application business, and now son Brad runs it.
Rodeo was a passion he loved. “When I’d make a good bull ride, I don’t know of a better feeling in the world.”
But he loved flying too. “A lot of people go through life with a job they don’t like,” he said. “But I’m the luckiest man in the world. I got to do two jobs I really liked. I’m glad I rodeoed. I wasn’t a champion but I got to ride with those that were.”

Story is also available in our June 1, 2015 issue.

Wayne Cornish followed in his dad’s footsteps, and the rodeo world was a better place because of it.
Born February 2, 1935 in Waukomis, Okla.,, the son of Cecil and Juanita Cornish, Wayne grew up doing the same thing his dad did. His dad had a variety of famous specialty acts, and after high school, Wayne joined him, criss-crossing the country with the Cornish animal acts, and working as a barrelman as well.
He was part of his dad’s acts, but made his first rodeo money when he was five. At Ponca City, Okla., barrel men and bullfighters Hoyt Heifner and John Lindsay put him on a Brahma bull calf. Wayne rode him all the way across the arena, lost his boots, but didn’t fall off the calf. And he won his first rodeo check with that ride, after Heifner and Lindsay gathered money to pay him for his effort.
At age thirteen, Wayne began clowning. He put on a “dude” suit and rode into the arena on a donkey, carrying a suitcase. Someone behind the scenes would shoot a gun, the suitcase would open, and live chickens would fall out.
Wayne graduated from high school in 1954, but barely. He had missed several days of school while on the rodeo circuit, and the school board threatened to dismiss him. Wayne’s dad told the principal his son had learned more in those few days he was gone than he did in school.
After high school, Wayne hit the road with his dad. Together, they had a variety of acts, mostly involving animals. Cecil had started in 1935 or ’36 with his trick horse Smoky, which would become his most famous act. But the family had a lot more up their sleeves. There was Danger, the Brahma bull who jumped over a car, and six golden liberty horses. They had a bull that pulled a cart, and a roman team that Wayne rode called the Golden Eagles. Wayne had a pig he put in a suitcase and called the “Handy Dandy Garbage Disposal,” and a skunk whose act was called Mr. Stinkbottom. He had a roman team named Susie and Sally, sisters, who he called the Flying White Clouds. They did figure eights, jumped through hoops of fire, and re-enacted the Days of Ben Hur. Wayne, like his dad, had an affinity for training animals, and Juanita made their flashy costumes.
He kept up his specialty acts, mostly his roman riding, but because of his early friendship with Heifner and Lindsay, he preferred to be a barrel man and clown.
Together, Wayne and his dad traveled across the nation and Canada, working big rodeos and small ones alike. One of his favorite stories is that he drove a load of bucking horses and his barrelman equipment to a rodeo in northern Canada. He was supposed to leave the truck and horses and meet his dad at the North Platte, Neb. rodeo, but he had no way to get there. He called his dad and asked him to pick him up in Calgary. He told his dad, laughing, “did you ever try hitchhiking with a barrel?”
Being a barrelman came with the usual broken bones, and Wayne had his share. He broke his neck in Carlsbad, N.M., in 1962, when a bull stuck his horn in the barrel. The bull threw him into the air, and even though his neck hurt, he went on and rode his roman team that same night. After the injury continued to ache, he decided to have it checked out.
Another time, he broke a shoulder in Crockett, Texas, when a bull did the same thing. And he suffered so many broken ribs, he learned to bandage them himself.
Wayne would work as a barrelman at the same rodeos where his dad and he entertained. He got his Rodeo Cowboys Association card in 1953. About twenty years later, after the Evanston, Wyo. rodeo, Cecil had had enough. He came home and decided to retire. Wayne quit then, too. His roman team was old, and having to train a new team would be time consuming.
That was in 1971, and he began driving. He hauled horses for Hull and Smith out of Ashland, Neb., one of the nation’s largest horse haulers. He hauled livestock for A.J. Foyt, Dale Robertson, and race horse breeder Walter Merrick. He hauled horses for Dee Raper, and hauled cattle. Driving was something he enjoyed, and even though he can’t drive now, he can still tell his wife Jackie what roads to take, and when to turn.
And, in typical rodeo style, Wayne has lots of stories to tell. He traveled with Slim Pickens, who told him he was glad God gave him such an ugly face so he didn’t have to paint it up like Wayne did. And once, at a rodeo in Independence, Mo., the hometown of Harry Truman, he came home and told his wife he’d have to shoot his dog, because Margaret Truman, who was in the stands watching the rodeo, had stepped on its tail and the dog had yelped, “Ike, Ike, Ike” (the nickname for Dwight Eisenhower.)
He and Jackie, who were high school sweethearts, went their separate ways after school but were reunited and married in 1995. They each brought three daughters to the marriage: Donna Kay, Shawna and Jacquetta from Wayne, and Jackie’s Kelly Ann, Kimberly and Karen. Two of the six girls have passed: Donna Kay and Kelly Ann.
Two years ago, Wayne suffered an aneurysm that nearly killed him. It has affected his eyesight and speech, but he is able to get around. Jackie serves as his eyes and voice, and is happy to do it, because she’s glad he’s still alive.
Wayne is proud to have worked for some of the best rodeo producers in the business: Beutler Bros., Harry Knight, Todd Rodeo, Jim Shoulders, Gerald Roberts, Casey Tibbs and Associates, Beutler & Son, Ralph Collier, Neal Gay, Lawrence Winfrey, Harry Nelson, Reg Kesler, Tommy Steiner, and Summit Rodeo, among others.
And he’s glad to have worked with some big names: Slim Pickens, Gene Autry, Marty Robbins, Rex Allen, Roy Rogers, Michael Landon, Jack Lord, and Edgar Buchanan.
If he could, Wayne would still be on the rodeo trail. “He’d still be rodeoing if he possibly could,” Jackie said. “That was his life. He just loved it.”
And he’s still living the memories.

Story also available in our March 2015 issue.