“Everything in life can be compared to working with a horse; if you keep doing it the same way and get the same bad result, change what you’re doing.”
When Vernon reached the age of five, his father Lyle made a somewhat compulsive decision that would ripple through future generations in ways that he couldn’t have foreseen. He sold their combine for a truckload of horses. Although it shocked his wife Evelyn, who had not been consulted, Lyle simply stated that he did not want to be a farmer anymore.
Out of that truckload came a weanling stud colt, Billy. Vernon, who recovered from polio acquired at the age of four, started this colt himself. Both youngsters, and thick as thieves, they went everywhere together: into the local Chinese restaurant to terrorize the owner and, occasionally, they were even allowed into the house.
What polio took from Vern, the horse made whole. The horse gave him a childhood overflowing with freedom. Vernon’s youth took him West to Alberta, and he took a job with Jack Longmuir starting colts. The famous Longmuir Bar 4 brand was proudly displayed on the jaws of many of the best rope horses in Alberta in those days. Jack’s son-in-law took advantage of a Ray Hunt clinic and brought that knowledge back to Longmuir string. It became a turning point, and Vern credited Ray Hunt and others for turning the lights on for so many working cowboys: “My God, you could get on these horses without getting half killed.”
Many years later, Vern attended the last Ray Hunt horsemanship clinic put on North of the Medicine Line with a three-year-old roan he called Douglas. On the last day, Ray gently put his hand on Vern’s shoulder. Not a man known to give compliments freely, he said, “You’ve done a helluva good job with that colt.”
I was fortunate enough to watch Jay Contway form the rough draft of this bronze. If memory serves me correctly, it was the 75th anniversary of The Calgary Stampede chuckwagon races. We were there all ten days, running a single heat in the old-fashioned way to honor the beginnings of chuckwagon racing. I think about how Jay ran his fingers through the clay for the first time to create the basic form. In much the same way, a horseman, a father, a mentor, a hero, does the same. The rough form gets refined over time; mistakes are repaired. Intricate details are gently perfected until a thing of sheer beauty emerges.
“When I wanted to do a sculpture of a cowboy, I asked Neil McKinnon who I should do. He told me Vern Lonsberry was the best cowboy in Alberta. I learned that Vern loved to trade … just like me. We didn’t trade with each other, but during our lives we had traded hats, horses, guns,art, any anything else that made life fun.“
– Jay Contway