David Allen Coe had a hit song with “Ride em’ Cowboy.” The key lyric is:
I used to be the best they say
Ridin’ young wild horses for my pay
Now I’m much too old it seems
I only ride wild horses in my dreams
Those lyrics epitomize the life of Ronald “Ron” E. Crawford. Ron turned 91 in July, and the
Wyoming Cowboy Hall of Fame inductee remains amazingly vibrant and a regular fixture on one of the far stools at the counter in the Trailhead Restaurant every morning.
Ron was born in 1934 in Holt County, Nebraska, near the little town of O’Neill. His parents, Floyd and Thirza, had a farm where they grew rye, corn, wheat, and they had a small cattle herd. O’Neill is approximately 45 miles from the South Dakota border and east of the Sand Hills. When Ron was a boy, the area was all dryland farming. Today, it is surrounded by center pivots.
“You don’t have to dig very deep to find water,” Ron said.
Ron was the second youngest of eight children. His father’s first wife, Gracie May Haynes Crawford, died in 1917. Ron had three half-brothers and a half sister from Floyd’s first marriage. Helen, born in 1904, Lawrence, 1907, Theodore, 1909, and Harold, 1910.
Floyd was born in 1876, but started a second family just before he turned 50. Ron’s sister Clara was born in 1925. Brother Veldon LeRoy “Vel” in 1931, Ron in 1934, and his younger sister Carolyn in 1941.
Ron lost his little sister Carolyn in 1945, when she was just four years old. Aside from Carolyn, longevity runs in the Crawford family, with everyone living into their late 70s or into their 90s.
Ron wasn’t born on a horse, but he was on horseback soon after he learned to walk. He began working cattle on drives for his family and neighbors when he was just nine years old. At 13, he broke his first horse, a nine-year-old mare.
Ron attended a rural, one-room schoolhouse near the family farm, completing the eighth grade before he began working full-time as a cowboy at 14.
From an early age, he was fearless on the back of a horse. He once bull-dogged a jack rabbit.
At 16, he had his first job, working for the L.D. Putnam Ranch near O’Neill. He moved a few miles north into South Dakota, working for another ranch.
“There was a buckskin that looked like the one Matt Dillon rode on Gunsmoke,” Ron said. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Nobody at the ranch could ride him. He was saddle-broke once, but his rider was killed by lightning. After that, no one could ride him. Three young guys, saddle bronc riders, came to the ranch, and he threw all three of them.”
That didn’t deter Ron.
“The foreman said, I see you looking at that buckskin. If you ain’t afraid of getting hurt, why don’t you ride him,” Ron said. “I’m no Kaycee Tibbs, but he was a good-looking horse.”
Ron rode him and turned him into a saddle horse, working him off for the rest of the year.
Uncle Sam called him in 1953. Ron was drafted into the U.S. Army, serving his entire enlistment in the continental United States.
“Two months after I was in the Army, I got a letter from the foreman,” Ron said. “He said we sold the buckskin nobody could ride him.”
It was in the Army where he first hopped on a bull at an amateur rodeo. He liked it.
“I really loved riding bulls,” Ron said.
After being discharged, Ron began riding bulls regularly at local rodeos, then moved on to bigger venues like Cheyenne Frontier Days.
“I had a world champion bull rider, I forget his name, come up and shake my hand after a ride one night,” Ron said. “He said you’re as good a bull rider as anyone in the world.”
Ron worked and rodeoed when he could afford it until he was 41 years old. He took to the senior circuit as a bull rider in 1975, and rode for another 10 years, retiring for good at 51.
In 1961, he moved to Riverton and began working in the Gas Hill drilling for uranium.
Ron had tried other jobs over the years, but being a cowboy was all he ever wanted to do.
“One rancher I worked for had a son who took over the place. He was more of a mechanic than a cowboy. He had me working on trucks all the time; I didn’t like it,” Ron said. “I finally told him I’d rather have a horse turd in my teeth than grease under my fingernails and quit.”
During his career, he worked for Bernice Salts from Casper, spent a little while as a range detective for the Midvale Grazing Association, and worked for the Quarter Circle Five Ranch in Daniel.
He worked as a cowboy for many other ranches in Central Wyoming and was a familiar face working the sales ring at the Riverton Livestock Auction.
He also worked as a farrier, a skill he learned on his own.
Ron was never seriously injured riding bulls, but he suffered a few broken ribs and a broken collarbone.
“One night, I was in the chute with a horned bull,” Ron said. “As I settled in on him, he jerked back, hit me in the head with his horn and knocked me out cold. I woke up in the bottom of the chute with the medical guys working on me. “
His mother never liked him riding bulls.
“One night, mom came to watch me ride,” Ron said. “I got hung up in the rigging. I knew how to protect myself, running along with the bull until I could get free, but all I was thinking of was ‘damn I wish my mother wasn’t here’.”
Thirza moved to Casper later in life, and Ron was able to see her often when he traveled through. Many of those trips were to rodeos.
“I wouldn’t stop on the way to the rodeo, I’d just drive through Casper,” Ron said. “On the way back home, I’d stop in and she’d always know I’d been at a rodeo.”
While in Riverton, Ron became best friends with another legendary Fremont County cowboy, Darrell Winfield, the “Marlboro Man.”
“Darrell hired me, I worked for him. He was one of my very best friends,” Ron said. “I woke early one Sunday morning and something told me I needed to see Darrell. I went out and saw him and we had a good visit. A little while later, he had a stroke. They called me and said he had passed away.”
He died the day after Ron’s visit.
Ron Crawford started many youngsters on horses – h/t Ron Crawford 
Ron was an outstanding bull rider, broke hundreds of horses, and taught many children to ride. His skill as a trainer now resides in his two dogs, Appy and Spike. The pair is the most well-behaved, well-mannered dogs you can find. With just a quiet command, they come running, hop into the truck, or trail Ron on his frequent bike rides along the Riverwalk near the Riverton Livestock Auction.
Ron is an amazing bike rider at 91 years of age. He flies down the asphalt lane of the Riverwalk with Appy and Spike sprinting behind him.
“I read in the paper about a guy in his 80s that was still riding a bike. They made a big deal out of it,” Ron said. “I’m 10 years older than him and still riding.”
Ron has a sense of humor, and it came through when he was talking about his life.
“I can train horses, I can train dogs, I just can’t train women,” Ron said. “I tried but they both divorced me.”
Ron is a real cowboy. His photo albums and the photographs lining his living room tell the story.
“I was a real cowboy, that’s all I ever wanted to be,” Ron said. “I loved riding bulls and I was pretty good at it.”
I used to be the best they say
Ridin’ young wild horses for my pay
Now I’m much too old it seems
I only ride wild horses in my dreams
If a man can live a song, Ron Crawford has done it.
Editor’s Note: This article previously stated Ron was the last surviving member among his siblings. A family member let County 10 know Ron’s sisters, VaLaura and Velma, are “alive and well,” and the article has since been updated. We apologize for the confusion/error.