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There it was, emblazoned across the front of the tent: The Homicidal Hillbillies. How could I not go in? The friendly barbecue maven from Round Rock emerged from behind the counter to answer my smart-ass question. Does their name imply something about their culinary skills? “No,” Jan Barnes laughs, “just creative minds.” So Barnes and I get to talking about spring in Austin and the annual stampede of foreigners so rampant this time of year. There’s SXSW, the Mayan Conference at UT, the UIL Girls and Boys State Basketball Championships…. Has she noticed many exotic newcomers or transient out-of-towners at the rodeo? “Oh, yeah,” Barnes affirms without a hint of irony, “Houston, Elgin… folks come from all around.”
It’s rodeo time.
Barnes and her hubby Greg (“We actually met out here in ’93!” she beams…) come out every year to compete in the Austin-Travis County Livestock Show & Rodeo’s annual Barbecue Cook-off. “Last year, we probably served over 400 people even though it rained all day.” That was down by half from the previous year, due to the weather, Barnes remembers. And this year looked like a similar forecast. “You come out here and work. It’s hard work, but it’s for a good cause.”
The entire rodeo is for a good cause, as a matter of fact. The annual roundup of farmers, ranchers, cowboys, and cowgirls raises big dough for scholarships and prizes for area youth. Their topics of study aren’t limited to agriculture. Some of the money goes to FFA/4-H-types, but over 80% of the awards go to kids pursuing non-ag disciplines.
This rodeo has roots that go back to 1938, the first year of the provocatively named Travis County Baby Beef Show. The show evolved and moved under different jurisdictions, officially becoming the Austin-Travis County Livestock Show in 1977.
The scent is unmistakable and timeless in a way – a scintillating blend of diesel, deep fryers, sheep dip, stale beer, and tangy barbecue. Almost every festival goer knows it. This sum smell is greater than its parts. From the carnival midway on over to Kids’ Town, the smells and sounds trigger memories and create an atmosphere of cheesy fun.
The rodeo has seen 60 years in Austin. This year they celebrate their Diamond Jubilee. It’s not your father’s rodeo, however, not by a long shot. But daddy and grandpappy won’t feel out of place at all; this party is steeped in honored tradition, some of the most subtle rituals remain intact. Justin Ropers abound with fringe left on, Wranglers are creased just so, and you can’t get two vehicles deep in the parking lot without smacking into a herd of trucks.
Change, however, is in the air, and its aroma is decidedly tres nouvelle. Espresso stands, gourmet wine sauce meat sandwiches, and “ethnic” sausage don’t exactly displace the standard fair fare, but these new-fangled concoctions make for odd bedfellows with the corndogs, funnelcakes, and everlasting Henry VIII turkey legs.
Fashion in the rodeo world has also evolved. Surprising for this city-slicker was the seeming disappearance of the “rooster-bangs” hairdo (also known as the “Aztec Princess” in some circles). Piled-high hair is as “out” as those jeri-permed crinkly wet-look tresses which were so popular but a few moons ago. Straight hair with modest, tasteful bangs is definitely “in,” even in rural America. After all, this is Austin’s version of rural, right? There weren’t nearly as many Achy-Breaky mudflaps (Billy Ray Cyrus-inspired hair-don’ts) on men as I expected to see. Country gentlemens’ hair this year is positively GQ. Perhaps Target or Friends can be thanked, but strangely, I find myself pining for those distinct country-western ‘do’s.
Perhaps these trends reflect an overall change in livestock and rodeo attitude. Alongside the livestock celebration of carnivorous delight were lessons of conservation, preservation, and respect for animals. It’s an irony the most political vegans will still find hard to swallow, but it’s a far cry from the beef industry machismo for which rodeos are known. In one evening’s calf-roping competition, a cowboy’s forfeiture of points was lauded enthusiastically by the announcer. The calf was in a “stressed” position, and to continue the roping might have harmed the animal. I had a hard time understanding why lassoing a baby cow’s neck at a full gallop and yanking it yards off the ground wasn’t considered “stressed,” but hey, I’m a concrete jungle monkey, what do I know?
The old and the new coexist as sweetly as lions and lambs in an idyllic peaceable kingdom. The typical livestock favorites – goats and horses and bunnies – draw as much attention and giggling from kids as do the exotic Bengal tigers brought in from a conservation park. The rodeo, despite keeping up with the times, holds fast to the past. As a curio, a slice of Texana tradition, it’s the best deal for the dollar. Folks from all over will come – Houston, Elgin, hell, maybe even from some of those far-out places like San Francisco or New York City. Yee-haw.
Photographer Mary Sledd was a flag bearer in the 1996 Austin-Travis County Livestock Show & Rodeo.
At presstime, the Homicidal Hillbillies made a noble showing but were beaten out by Alamo Title’s La Pasadita in the Barbecue Cook-off. At first count, an unconfirmed $180,000 was raised by the barbecue.
This article appears in March 20 • 1998 and March 20 • 1998 (Cover).