Ned Andrews of the Bar 37

The Bar 37 is both a cattle ranch and guest ranch with equal dexterity. The ranch is located on the Western slope of the Santa Maria Range in what is known locally as Wolf Flat. It is in the Camp Wood country forty miles north of Prescott in Yavapai County. Here live Ned and Frances Andrews, "pardners" owners and operators of the Bar 37. Ned says that when he married Frances he made a "pardner" of his best paying dude. Frances merely smiles.

Ned Andrews is a cowboy, boss of a guest ranch, author (having three successful books to his credit), artist, illustrator and lover of the West. He was born in East Orange, New Jersey, and spent his youth in New York. There he was introduced to Western cowboy life by Col. William F. Cody, better known as Buffalo Bill, whose annual pilgrimage with the circus took him to Madison Square Garden. Ned became imbued with a desire to follow the earlier admonition of Horace Greeley, "Go West, young man" and so westward he went to become a cowboy. He first went to Colorado and on to Montana. There he was wrangling cattle on the Musselshell when in 1918 there came into his hands a pamphlet about Arizona in which L. L. Harmon of the Yolo ranch was mentioned as President of the Arizona Cattle Growers' Association. Ned tells about what followed, "I thought I'd take a chance and write for a job. His answer kind of surprised me, for he wrote to come on down and he'd give me a job at his Yolo ranch at Camp Wood. I packed up and started, and I've been in Arizona ever since."

He stayed with the Yolo for some time and then took his saddle and bed roll to the Cross Triangle ranch and went to work for the Stewarts. It will be recalled that the Stewarts as the Dean and Mother Baldwin were the characters in Harold Bell Wright's "When A Man's A Man" and it was at this ranch that Wright lived and wrote much of the book taking the locale of Williamson Valley for the setting.

"After a while I decided I'd better be getting a place of my own," continues Ned, "I had always been attracted to a piece of land referred to by the cowboys as Wolf Flat and so in 1920 I homesteaded the little spread now known as the Bar 37." He pitched his tent beneath one of the ponderosa pines on the place, staked his claim, and so began his settling down. This last was not entirely complete until 1931 when Frances came to be the "pardner" of the Bar 37.

In telling of the development of the Bar 37, which is one of the unique guest ranches he explains, "when I first started in, all I wanted to do was run cows. As time went by, I pictured out in my mind a little Western town, and the more I got to studying on it, the more I thought it would appeal to Easterners. I built three cabins and the next year, I had a few guests. As time went by, more people came to visit the ranch, so I kept adding new cabins right on up the street. Each one represents a building you'd see in an old Cow Town. There's the sheriff's office, bank, blacksmith shop, the Gold Nugget cafe, and the Frontier saloon which in reality is the recreation hall and the 'only saloon in Arizona where you can't buy a drink.' All of these buildings are usable buildings, either as guest cabins or for special purposes such as the bank, which is the linen closet, and the cafe, which is the ranch dining hall." Ned has collected many momentos and relics and his collection of early Arizonia recalls many stories of the past, its foibles and its strength.

But withal Ned is still a cowboy and still runs a herd of cattle. He twirls a steady rope, his loops fall accurately, his brand marks show the skill of a seasoned hand, he rides with careless ease and alertness, and the headquarters corrals, barns, blacksmith shop and saddle room are indicative of the care of a pride and concern in the job. He is equally at home on the range doing the daily round or in the lodge exchanging stories with the guests. Milking the Holsteins, shoeing the horses, butchering the hogs, or writing stories and making

Charcoal or pen and ink sketches are taken instride as the day's work.

In the summer, after the spring work of the cattle ranch is over, the dudes come and this continues through the time of fall roundup and the hunting season. Then as the days shorten and the air becomes quite chilling in the evening hours Ned has more time for his avocations -writing, sketching, drawing and pastels. The snow comes, the coyotes howl, the dogs bark, and the cats yawn lazily from their cushions around the stove, the drawing easel comes from hiding, and the typewriter and table are moved to the center of the great room. When the morning chores are done and breakfast finished Ned and Frances turn to manuscripts and plots.

Frances is collaborator on all of Ned's stories, and he says, "If it were not for Frances, I would not get very far with my writing. She takes my dictation, assists with the continuity, and helps revise all the manuscripts. Her help and advice and interest have inspired me to do my best, and I am sure that I would never start another book without her help."

We have trailed Ned Andrews from New Jersey to Arizona and the Bar 37 ranch but we have yet to learn about the emergence of Ned Andrews, author and illustrator, and the process by which an author comes from the chrysalis of the hibernating cow-poke. One who loves the West suspects that there is something about Arizona that brings forth the potential or latent creativity in many who otherwise might never have attempted any such excursions of boldness.

Ned's account of his metamorphosis or development of a new talent is the best report. "I started my first book back in 1932. Before I had written one page I knew it would be named 'Jerky.' I labored on it for a week or two, and when I got through, I had eight pages written. It began to look as though I wasn't cut out to write anything, so I slipped the manuscript in a desk drawer, and figured maybe I'd go ahead with it some day, when I got the inspiration. Those eight pages laid in the drawer for the next three years, and the muse of art and writing, whoever she is, passed me by like a steer in the road. I was thinking about the story though, all the time, and finally, I reckon, this goddess of writing took pity on me.

"One evening, about dark, a car with a New York license drove into the ranch. A man and his wife, named Hobson, got out and said they wanted to be dudes for a while. That suited me, so they stayed with us for quite a spell, and all the time I never suspected my goddess of writing had sent them there on purpose, you might say. "Well, one day the subject of business came up, and Frances, my wife, asked Mr. Hobson what line of business he followed. If you can believe it, he turned out to be Mr. Thayer Hobson, president of the William Morrow and Company. I didn't think much about it, but Frances did, and while I was wrangling the horses, she told him that I had started a book. Maybe he was just being polite, but he acted quite interested, so Frances brought out the eight pages for him to read.

"When I got back to the corral with the horses, Mr. Hobson came out to the saddle house, and we sat and talked for an hour or two. He seemed to like what I'd done, and encouraged me to go ahead with it. He said if I would write fifty pages and send them on to him, he would know whether it was material they could use or not. I went to writing then, after they'd gone, and I think it was about four months before I got the fifty pages done. Then they wrote back and told me to go ahead with it that is if the rest of the book was as good as the first, they would publish it. So I went ahead and in time sent in the rest of the script. They accepted it and thus William Morrow and Co. became my publishers and 'Jerky' came from the press in 1936. It was certainly a thrill for me.

horses, Mr. Hobson came out to the saddle house, and we sat and talked for an hour or two. He seemed to like what I'd done, and encouraged me to go ahead with it. He said if I would write fifty pages and send them on to him, he would know whether it was material they could use or not. I went to writ ing then, after they'd gone, and I think it was about four months before I got the fifty pages done. Then they wrote back and told me to go ahead with it that is if the rest of the book was as good as the first, they would publish it. So I went ahead and in time sent in the rest of the script. They accepted it and thus William Morrow and Co. became my publishers and 'Jerky' came from the press in 1936. It was certainly a thrill for me.

So in 1936 Ned Andrew gave his first book "Jerky," a story of two young boys in old Arizona, in a striking orange on black jacket, to the juvenile reading public. The book has now sold over 17,000 copies and is now published under an English as well as American imprint. In commenting upon the English edition Ned remarked, "I often wonder if it's ever helped to cheer up some little kid in an air raid shelter with the bombs dropping all around."

The title of this first book brought forth considerable discussion between the publisher's sales department and the author. The sales people thought that "Jerky" was not sufficiently familiar in common parlance to be a sales asset, but the author had christened his first born literary child and was audacious in his reluctance to having it re-named. It was all finally settled and a ten word telegram came from Mr. Thayer Hobson to the author, as follows: "JERKY JERKY JERKY JERKY JERKY JERKY JERKY JERKY JERKY JERKY."

"Jerky' elicited many exciting comments and much praise. It received the commendation of leading librarians, so essential in the sale of juvenile books. Zane Grey wrote "JERKY' is surely a splendid book for boys. I sat down to glance over it and read it with absorption. I am happy to recommend it to both young and old." Colonel Theodore Roosevelt gave his view by writing, "I read 'Jerky' with keen interest. It is a vivid and picturesque account and brings back vanished days." And Gifford Pinchot had this to say, "I like 'Jerky' first of all for this reason, that it is written by a man who really knows the West. It has much of the flavor of 'Huckleberry Finn,' and I could not say more."

But of all the commendations the letter from a little "fan" is best. Writing from Murphy, North Carolina to Ned, she said,

"Dear Mr. Andrews:

"I've just finished reading 'Jerky' and I think it's just swell. This is the first time I've ever written a letter like this, but please write more about Bud and Chappo and Ace and all the others. I enjoyed 'Jerky' more than almost any book I ever read... Please write some more about these characters! 'Jerky' was one swell book!

Mary Porter Fain."

With "Jerky" launched Ned and Frances turned to another project and "The Lost Chicken Henry" which made its debut in 1937 was another rollicking story of Bud and Chappo and their adventures concerning a lost mine. When this book appeared, Phil Strong, author of "County Fair" and numerous other books wrote to the publishers: "Don't send me no more of them Ned Andrews cayuses. I start lookin' at 'The Lost Chicken Henry' in my blankets last night and I just finished him up for feedin' time. I got a little ranch of kittens and spaniels up here in Connecticut that has to be rode. I don't want no more distractions. And any hombre can tell you that these Andrews yarns is distractions."

In 1938 Ned became a leading character and "hero" in a book, "The Cowboy Book," which is a picture and story book written by W. C. and H. S. Pryor and was published by Harcourt Brace Co. in 1938. The setting for the book is the Bar 37 ranch and the Prescott Frontier Days Celebration. Many excellent pictures are included and the story of cowboy life is well presented for younger readers. (Continued on Page Thirty-nine)