Olaf Wieghorst

"I have often felt that my goal is an impossible one. But if I can succeed in putting a tiny fraction of nature's wonders on canvas and into people's homes, whether they be mud huts or mansions; if my paintings add some enjoyment and pleasure to people, and dignity and warmth to their homes, then I will be content that my effort has not been in vain."

"When the time comes for me to put away my palette and unsaddle my pony for the last time, I hope that my canvases will in some small measure add to the historical recording of an era the cowpony, the cowboy, and the Great American West. As a by-product of this philosophy, fame has come to Olaf Wieghorst. Although somewhat embarrassed by the sudden ness of it all, Olaf is not surprised. For he has accepted his talent with the same candor with which he accepts his strength."

"I agree with Charlie Russell, that a man can't be blamed for the talent he is born with. He sure is to blame, however, if he doesn't work with that talent. God gave the farmer the earth, the sun and the rain. It is up to the farmer to seed and harvest the crop. That takes work; lots of it! It's been a rewarding life. Wieghorst sat back and began to reminisce about that life..."

To Karl and Anna Wieghorst on April 30, 1899, in the village of Viborg, Jutland, Denmark, there was born a son. Karl Wieghorst was delighted. Much as he loved his young daughter, there were many things a man could not share with a girl. Karl beamed at his wife. "He is a strong boy, Anna. I will name him Olaf. I will teach him many things." Karl believed that, next to art, one of the most important things in life was to keep physically fit. Accordingly, by the time Olaf was three years old his father began training him intensively in such acrobatic feats as handstands and the use of trapeze-rings. Since Karl had become friendly with the instructors at a nearby army cavalry garrison, he also intro duced Olaf to horses the biggest thrill of all! Olaf never forgot the day his father took him for a ride on a big Danish Dragoon horse. It was love at first sight and it was a love which would last a lifetime.

The next few years saw a move to Aalborg, then back to Copenhagen, with one business failure after another. During these lean years, Karl managed to eke out a living for his family by designing and manufacturing elaborate signs for display in shop windows and by doing retouching work for other Copen hagen photographers.

Karl tended to withdraw from the world of business more and more. He worked only when the creative spirit was upon him and spent much of his time on the living-room couch making plans for new coups.

Apparently this was of little concern to Olaf. He lived in the happy, carefree insulation of a boy's world, still too young to understand the conditioned fear adults feel in the face of adversity. Besides, he had again discovered horses!

"Directly across the street from the schoolhouse," Olaf recalled, "was a stable which imported horses from Russia. The stableowner, a Mr. Vestergaard, often hired assorted drunks and bums who hung around the waterfront to unload the horses from the ships and lead them to his stable through the streets of Copenhagen. The horses, skittish and hard to manage after a trip across the Balkan Sea on a freighter, invariably bolted at the slightest disturbance, dragging those drunks all over the cobblestone streets. It was the damndest circus you can imagine.

"I was so crazy about horses that I went to the stables almost every day after school to offer my services. Mr. Vestergaard chased me away at first, but I was persistent and he finally gave in and permitted me to hang around and do odd jobs. I often helped the veterinarian treat the horses that were sick or injured from being on the ship, and he then let me exercise them."

Finally, instead of simply visiting the stables after school, Olaf began to play hooky especially on those days when a new shipment of horses came in. This was a relatively serious offense in Denmark, and word soon reached his father through the truant officer. "I will never forget it! I was down there one day, riding a horse, and here came my old man, madder than hell! He was so mad he couldn't talk and he just drag me across the street to the classroom and turned me over to my teacher.

I was afraid of going home that night, because I just knew I was going to get a licking. Funny thing was, he never mentioned it again. Although I was holding my my breath all evening, he just acted like it had never happened. He told me years later that if he had found me anywhere other than with the horses he would have beat hell out of me. Although Karl understood his son's love for horses, he was convinced that there was no future and no money to be made working around stables. The place for Olaf, he decided, was on the stage.

He does not paint because he knows a certain subject will sell. He paints because the subject has such a powerful attraction for him no other subject would offer the same challenge, or would give him such satisfaction. When the artist is so motivated his work is outstanding.

OLAF WIEGHORST by William Reed

For some two years, Olaf had been in training under a professional Russian acrobat a friend of the family, named Pontius. Karl decided to intensify this training and launch Olaf on a career as a professional. Carefree and adventuresome himself, Pontius understood boys. Reputed to be one of the best acrobats in Europe, he on one occasion created quite a stir în Copenhagen by doing a one-armed handstand atop the highest flagpole in that city sans safety net. In spite of the fact that he worked Olaf relentlessly, the boy loved it, and grew to consider Pontius his second father. It was about this time that Olaf discovered the hobby of pencil sketching a discovery which would play a most sig nificant role in his future life. He drew horses on every scrap of paper he could find. Finally, in 1908 when Olaf was nine years old, Karl decided it was time for him to make his professional debut as an acrobat. Pontius agreed that he was ready. His first appearance was at the old Tivoli Theatre in Copenhagen, where he was billed as "Little Olaf - the Miniature Acrobat." In 1910 Olaf was asked to perform at the International Fair in Aarhus. His education from then on was hit and miss. Karl wasn't about to let the demands of education interfere with his new-found success. He did, however, encourage his son to take up oil painting. At first Olaf painted scenes from postcards; occasionally he added a horse or two, "just as a point of interest." It was a proud day for the young artist when, at twelve years of age, he ran home to inform his parents that he had just sold his first painting for two Danish crowns the equivalent of some forty American cents! Then, in the summer of 1912, the Jack Joyce Circus and Wild West Show came to town. Olaf had no money, so he sneaked in under the tent. After he saw the bucking horse act there was no way to keep him out. When caught he would offer to water the horses or "just anything," but please, couldn't he stay? Finally the circus bouncers gave up and Olaf became a permanent fixture. "I'll never forget it," he reminisced. "It was a small one-ring circus; that's the only kind they had in Europe. Jack Joyce was dressed in goatskin chaps, a big 20gallon' cowboy hat and a bright red shirt with leather cuffs. He was the grandest thing I had ever seen! "Of course, the only horses that I had ridden before then that might 'cut up' a bit were the Russian horses at the Copenhagen stables. Like most European horses they weren't really buckers. European horses just don't have the background that American horses have. Mostly stable-bred, they just never seem to have developed that wild orneriness of a mustang, used to running free on the open range. Anyway, after that, I spent part of every day at that circus!" In the spring of 1913, the Wieghorst family held a conference to decide on Olaf's future. It was the practice in Denmark at that time to encourage children to break away from the family unit as quickly as possible and support themselves. Customarily, when a boy was fourteen years old the age of confirmation he would be given a cigar-holder, an umbrella, a suit of clothes, his first long pants, and told to get out and shift for himself. Karl thought this was an especially good idea; acrobatic bookings were becoming increasingly scarce and his son was growing into a very big boy indeed. At times he consumed as much food as the rest of the family combined. Eventually, however, at his maternal grandfather's insistence, it was decided that Olaf would enter training as a businessman. His first venture into the world of business was as an apprentice in a small country store located in the town of Rudköbing. The main interest of this new and somewhat unruly apprentice seemed to be more in playing with the delivery horse than in learning how to weigh flour and coffee. In his spare time, when not reading "Buffalo Bill" western magazines, he made a lasso out of a clothesline and rode the delivery horse bareback around the backyard, roping pigs, chickens, ducks, and anything else that moved. On Sundays he took the horse to the beach and rode him in the water.

Next door to the store there lived a veterinarian who also had a horse and buggy. He asked Olaf to exercise his horse when he was not making calls. Here was an unexpected bonus, and this horse even had a saddle which he might use. The veterinarian soon regretted his decision when the constable came knocking at his door. "I think you had better come take a look, Herr Doktor. I've had complaints that some crazy boy is riding your horse up and down the streets at a full gallop, yelling like a wild Indian!"

Back in Copenhagen, the Wieghorst family began to receive rumors that all was not going as expected. Olaf's mother, on her way to visit her parents, decided to stop by and see how her son was coming along. When she found Olaf in the backyard roping pigs, his business education came to an abrupt halt. He was taken home and subjected to another family "conference."

After some deliberation it was decided that he should go to work on a farm where, his father commented, "He'll get his fill of working with horses!"

To insure good treatment for his son, Karl apprenticed Olaf to a farmer, about twenty miles outside Copenhagen, as an agricultural student. The horses were big, clumsy, Belgian work horses and no fun to ride.

After that, there was an assortment of jobs on farms. On one occasion Olaf worked for an old cavalry officer who had become a gentleman farmer after his retirement. This man boarded horses for the cavalry, with the understanding he could use them for pleasure riding, light buggy work, or any other use except farm work. The farmer was to provide feed and care, and the horses were subject to recall to active duty when needed. It was on this farm that Olaf received his basic training in equitation. The old man would put him up on a horse bareback, then run the horse around the corral with a whip. He would snap the whip and the horse would stop short, sending Olaf head over heels. "He kept this up," remembered Olaf, "until I learned how to properly sit a horse."

By the spring of 1916 he had definitely made up his mind that he would not be a farmer. He moved to a cheap neighborhood in Copenhagen, rented a small room and began to concentrate seriously on oil-painting.

Recalling this years later, Olaf said, "Although I was forced to supplement my income with other jobs, such as a delivery boy for a sundries house, and later as a worker in a macaroni factory, I did manage to sell quite a few paintings. I was especially influenced during this period by the paintings of Frederic Remington. He was very popular in Europe during the early part of this century. I think it was through the realism and drama of his Indian-campaign work that I first fell in love with the horse cavalry. In Denmark there was a terrific interest in art at that time; I imagine that is why I was able to sell my earlier works, some of which were pretty awful. People wanted original oils. Even now you can rest assured that any Danish family, no matter how poor, will have original oil paintings of some kind on the walls of their home."

During the latter part of 1917 and throughout 1918, Olaf had been trying to obtain a passport to come to America. The American West was in his blood; he wouldn't rest until he could see it for himself. Unfortunately, there was a war on. He had already registered for the draft and the Danish Government wanted him on hand when his number came up.

Time and again he applied for employment as a seaman aboard American-bound ships; if he couldn't get permission to travel as a tourist, he would work his way across and then "jump" ship. When Karl was sent to Germany to work with the UFA Film Company in 1918 Olaf applied for special permission to work for six months on the Danish steamer, United States. Permission finally came through and on December 14, 1918, he set sail from Copenhagen for the first port of call - New York City.

Although the war had ended more than a month before, the United States was still under a wartime security status. The docks in New York were heavily guarded against illegal ingress and egress. It was just too dangerous. Olaf was apprehensive about trying it alone; he had to turn elsewhere for help.

"There was a young fellow, an American, on board. On the way over I talked to him and tried to pick up a few words of English. The only English I knew was 'yes,' 'no,' and 'sure.' I remember 'sure' was a key word. When I didn't know anything else to say, I would say 'sure!' I tried to make him understand and he was very patient, but he would go on. Any way I kind of confided in him."

Once the American understood what Olaf had in mind, he agreed to help him by debarking first and then arranging, by some pretext or other, to meet him on the dock. And so it happened. Olaf donned two changes of clothing, gathered what meager belongings he could carry without appearing too conspicuous and, with his heart in his throat, walked down the gangway. After meeting on dock, the two quickly ducked around the corner of a warehouse, made their way to the ferry, and crossed from Hoboken to downtown Manhattan.

Olaf counted the money in his pocket - he had exactly $1.25. It was New Year's Eve, 1918, and New York was in a party mood. To the young Danish newcomer it was exciting indeed, but also very confusing. How was he to find his family? Uncle Oscar lived somewhere in New York, but he hadn't the slightest idea where. He had the address of his mother's sister, Aunt Olga, but how could he go about asking directions when he couldn't speak English?

"My friend tried to help. First he took me to one of those all-night automats and we had some pancakes. Then he took me to this big hole in the ground.

"There I was in this hole, among hundreds of strangers. All of a sudden a train came roaring in, stopped, and a whole army of people came rushing out. I was almost knocked to the ground. Then people started pushing and shoving to get inside the doors. By the time I got there, the doors closed in my face. Finally I managed to get inside. I spent all that night, the next day, and part of the next night, getting on and off subways. I'm sure I must hold the record for the longest "underground sightseeing tour" of New York. I would get off, show this piece of paper to someone and they would say, 'Oh no! You get another train, the BMT, not the IRT, blah, blah, blah!' Of course I didn't know what they were talking about. Finally I found a soldier who spoke Danish. He drew me a map and wrote out an explanation in Danish. When I finally found my aunt's home, she and her husband Uncle Alfred - were out to a party. I sat on the doorstep until they returned the following morning.

Aunt Olga introduced him to a young girl named Mabel Walters. Olaf was smitten with her immediately. The two became close friends and Mabel undertook to teach him English.

After the ship departed Uncle Alfred took Olaf to the immigration station on Ellis Island and, through the efforts of a friend who worked there, arranged to have his nephew "legalized."

As his English improved, Olaf took Mabel more and more into his confidence. One day, while they were sunbathing on the roof of the apartment building in which Mabel lived, Olaf told her of his dreams of going West and working as a cowboy, or in any other capacity as long as horses were involved.

As his English improved, Olaf took Mabel more and more into his confidence. One day, while they were sunbathing on the roof of the apartment building in which Mabel lived, Olaf told her of his dreams of going West and working as a cowboy, or in any other capacity as long as horses were involved.

In a movie date with Mabel, the course of Olaf's life was abruptly changed. Watching a newsreel of the United States Cavalry chasing Pancho Villa across the Mexican border, he decided this was the answer. He would join the Cavalry! He persuaded Uncle Oscar to accompany him to the recruiting station the following day, to act as interpreter. As it turned out, Olaf's army career almost ended before it got started. "It seems we had troops stationed in Russia at the time; it had something to do with the Bolshevik Revolution. They wanted to send me to Siberia! I said nothing doing. Either I got the United States Cavalry and duty on the Mexican border, or I wouldn't enlist. They finally agreed and I signed up, took my preliminary physical and went home to await orders."

A few days later he received orders to report to Fort Slocum, Long Island, New York. He said goodbye to friends and family. Mabel tearfully agreed to wait for him. Olaf hated to leave her and the security of the only family he now knew, but his regret was overshadowed by the excitement of the adventure that lay ahead. At last his dream was to come true. He was going West!

Two weeks later, the group of some one hundred fifty rookies was ferried over to New Jersey, hustled aboard a train, and they were on their way to Fort Bliss, Texas, where they were to receive basic cavalry training.

Fort Bliss was a large, well-established military post which, besides its many other functions, had served as a Cavalry training camp for many years. It was here that selections were made for assignments to various field units. Olaf, because of his size and strength, was immediately picked for assignment to a machinegun troop. It took a lot of muscle to load and unload tripods, ammunition cases, and heavy machine guns on and off a train of skittish pack mules. It was for this reason that the machinegun troop had first pick of the recruits. The method of selection was unique.

"The little captain named Harper lined us all up on the parade ground the first day after we arrived and walked down the line looking each man over carefully. He stopped in front of this big, husky guy and began to feel his muscles. It was just like selecting a horse for a particular job. Then, just as he started to walk away, he turned abruptly and hit this man right in the pit of the stomach just as hard as he could! The man doubled over, and the captain walked on down the line. I was watching out of the corner of my eye as he approached, and I began to get the picture. If you doubled over you weren't selected. I tightened my stomach muscles. After he hit me he looked me right in the eye and grinned. 'You'll do,' he said. I was pulled out of the line to stand by with the other 'selectees.'"

"Of course," recalls Olaf, "I was completely taken with those cavalry horses. They were beautiful animals. Generally they were from four to eight years old, and the ideal horse was over 15 hands, short-coupled and at least 1000 pounds.

"I learned a great deal about drawing horses during this period. I would sketch them at every opportunity, and with whatever medium was at hand."

"Cavalry horses were purchased by remount officers who knew their business. General rules for determining good conformation were developed over the years through experience. These procurement officers used the following guideline, which was published in manual form: Length of head from poll to extremity of upper lip should equal the line from top of the withers to the point of the shoulder, which should equal the distance from the lowest point of the back to the abdomen, which should equal the distance from the point of the stifle to the point of the hock, which equals from the point of the hock to the lower line of the hoof and that equals the line from the shoulder blade to the point of the haunch. After checking those equivalents, two and one-half times the head should equal the height of the withers above the ground, which in turn should equal the height of the top of the croup above ground and almost equal the length from the point of the shoulder to the point of the buttock.

Olaf pointed out, "You must keep in mind that this is the ideal. Horses are like people all shapes and sizes. Granted, if you follow those rules you will come up with a pretty sound, standard horse. If you understand those rules fully, you will also be able to draw a pretty good 'scale' horse. Of course, I believe anybody can draw or paint to scale. You put a horse in a situation in which you are trying to tell a story, and you had better know something about horse-psychology as well as anatomy. A horse shows his character through his eyes, nostrils, and the position of his ears. If you want to demonstrate in a painting the correct equine expression of excitement, aggressiveness, fear or whatever, you must understand how these three nostrils, ears and eyes work together to express emotion."

He added: "If you really want to be accurate, you should also know something about colors. It was a long-established

custom for each cavalry regiment to have as many troops as possible with horses all the same color. Mostly the horses were browns, sorrels, light, dark and blood-bays and chestnuts. At one time the Cavalry even had a few gray-horse troops; called by some, 'white-horse' troops. They abandoned this practice because of experience gained in the Civil and Indian wars. Gray-horse troops were too easy to spot at a distance. During the time I was in the Cavalry, buglers still rode grays for easy identification in the melee of battle. Once in awhile you would see them among horses assigned to the medical corps, but there were no gray-horse troops.

"We never used the so-called pintos, or piebalds. Of course there were horses with nips or streaks of white on the face, or with white stars, or stockings, but fundamentally they were solid-color horses. It is essential to know something about the colors, sizes, and shapes of horses used during the different periods of the Cavalry if you hope to paint them with any authenticity. It is one thing to read about it, but there is no substitute for experience. This is one reason why I consider my cavalry training as one of the most important constructive background factors in my career as a painter."

As time went on the novice cavalrymen began to develop a sense of camaraderie. At first they were pulled together by a need to share their misery; later they developed through their shared experiences a true esprit de corps. One of the men whom Olaf especially liked was Claude Austin Jones, commonly called "Bud."

Bud Jones had an edge over most of the recruits, since he was raised on a cattle ranch near Elida, New Mexico. He had been riding horses since he was able to walk, and the men looked to him as an intermediary leader. Olaf was equally at home in the saddle, but he was accepted less readily because of the language barrier. Bud undertook to help Olaf with his English, and the two became very good friends, and remained so. Mr. Jones, who in the 1960s owned and operated a cattle ranch on the Tonto Rim near Payson, Arizona, recalled with humor his early association with Olaf Wieghorst: Shortly after I met Olaf he confided in me that he had a girl named Mabel back in New York. He wanted to write to her but he couldn't read or write English very good. I agreed to help him and for some time I wrote all of his letters to Mabel, and read hers to him. I guess I done a good job, 'cause Olaf and Mabel showed up at my ranch thirty years later, and they was man and wife!

Upon completion of basic cavalry training, Olaf's regiment the 5th United States Cavalry was ordered to Marfa, Texas, in the Big Bend district, to relieve the 8th Cavalry. There was a continuing need at this time for cavalry units to patrol the Mexican-American border to guard against surprise raids into United States territory by Mexican terrorists.

On September 25, 1919, Olaf's unit the machine-gun troop was ordered to proceed to the border and relieve the garrison at Presidio, Texas. The first night's camp was at Childer's Tanks, the second was spent near the little silvermining town of Shafter, and on the third day, near exhaustion, the troops reached the outpost at Presidio their home for the next seventeen months.

The routines which spelled boredom for many of the troopers were translated by him, through his love of horses and the atmosphere of the Old West, into events of excitement and adventure. He had a way with horses. It was almost as if he could speak with them.

His superiors saw that Olaf could work effectively with those animals which the average trooper had dismissed as totally hopeless. Perhaps for this reason they chose him to attend horseshoeing school at Camp Travis, just outside San Antonio, Texas. Despite his lack of formal education and poor command of the English language, Olaf graduated with the highest mark achieved to that time in the four-month course. As a specialist his pay was now increased to the same as that of a sergeant $43.00 per month.

Upon his return to Presidio he was assigned to the stable gang, which consisted of the stable sergeant, stable police, two horseshoers, a packer, and a saddler named Fred Stark. Olaf, Bud Jones, and Fred Stark soon became an inseparable threesome. They began to discuss the idea of forming a team and doing some "cowboying" together following their discharge.

Since it appeared that there would be no major campaigns, or even any significant local fighting in which Olaf could demonstrate his cavalry skills, he spent most of his spare time roping, riding, and developing cowboy skills.

It was welcome news to Olaf when, in September, 1921, word was passed that the regiment was to be reorganized. In accordance with General Orders No. 45, Headquarters Eighth Corps Area, most of the troops were to be inactivated. Machine Gun Troop 5th Cavalry was, however, to be to be part of a newly organized command. Redesignated Troop "C" First Machine Gun Squadron, Olaf's troop was ordered to proceed to Douglas, Arizona. There they would meet with other machine gun troops and implement the new squadron.

The trip was to be a memorable one for Olaf.

Leaving Marfa that same month, Troop "C" First Machine Gun Squadron proceeded northwestward to Fort Bliss. There was a two-day layover at this command to rest horses, repair equipment, and collect supplies for the rugged trip ahead through the New Mexico and Arizona desert country. Olaf had many horses to re-shoe. Rather than unpack the tools which he needed, he borrowed equipment from the supply officer of the 8th Cavalry at Fort Bliss. When his outfit left the morning of the second day, he was left behind to return the borrowed equipment. "I had picked out a horse to ride that day. We men in the stable gan had charge of all the extra horses and mules. Just for the fun of it we would pick out a different horse to ride each day. Sometimes we even rode a mule. The little horse I had picked out this day was a smarty S.O.B., and as soon as I got on him he started bucking all over the place; he hadn't been ridden in several months. Finally I got him straightened out and headed down towards El Paso. I was in a hurry to catch my outfit, now some two hours ahead of me."

Wieghorst continued, "When I got on the streets of El Paso I turned a corner and a trolley car came rolling by. My horse jumped and all four feet went out from under him. I caught my left foot in the stirrup right across the instep, but out of force of habit I hung onto the reins. Then he really started cutting up. He was dragging me all over the street. Of course, I wouldn't let go of the reins, and every time I started to get up he reared back and pulled me some more.

"A crowd started to gather and a number of people tried to get near to quiet him. He was too spooked for that. Finally he reared back and caught his hind feet on the edge of the sidewalk. He fell over backwards, and one of the men there managed to hold him down and quiet him. An Army lieutenant came over and asked if I was hurt. I tried to get up and found I couldn't put any weight on my left foot at all; I had broken my ankle.

YAQUI EASTER from Page 11

The Chapayekas are not allowed to speak at any time while they wear their wooden masks. It would be virtually impossible for them to do so since they wear a crucifix and hold the cross in their mouths at all times when they represent the evil forces which persecuted Jesus. They pray constantly or repeat the name of Jesus. The Yaqui people believe that Jesus himself instituted these rituals, and they perform their acts of evil at His command. Muriel Thayer Painter describes this aspect of the observances as follows: "When the Maestro (on Easter Sunday) describes Jesus as passing the evening praying under a tree, he refers to the universal conception that He wandered from place to place, from pueblo to pueblo all over the world, through forests and rivers, over deserts and across mountains, scratched and bleeding from brambles and thorns. He rested wherever He happened to be at the fall of night, blessed all people and as a hitebi, or curer, healed the sick. A few of the older people think that Jesus was a Yaqui; many that He passed through the Yaqui villages in Sonora. It is thought that Jesus and Mary gave the first fiesta, and legends attribute to Jesus the creation of all the original participants in the ceremony, the dances, the musical instruments and the regalia, with the exception of the Matachin dance society and their paraphernalia, music and dances, which Mary is thought to have originated as her army."

About the Chapeyekas, she says, "Specialized behavior and taboos surround the mask and if these are not observed and if he does not wear his mask 'with good heart' the Chapayeka risks serious supernatural sanctions. The mask itself may also retaliate, which is not true of the regalia of any other participants. Since he must never speak with mask on, he utilizes his sword and dagger and rattle belt in pantomime as mentioned by the maestro when he says 'having that holy insignia for tongue."

In other words the forces of evil have been ordered by God to perform their acts of derision and obscenity in the ceremonies, and all the people pray for pardon for them. The Chapayeka keeps the cross in his mouth "to fix his mind on his obligations and to keep the evil from entering into the heart."

The Yaqui observance of Easter begins with Ash Wednesday and the traditional marking on the forehead of penitents with holy ash. It continues until Easter Sunday. Each Friday of Lent the "good" people make the Stations of the Cross. They are accompanied by a group of Chapayekas who taunt and deride them. Each Friday has its own traditional processions in which one or more large crucifixes and one or two small ones belonging to the Fariseo society are carried. The Three Marys are carried on litters, and there may be small images of the Virgin. The Virgin of Guadalupe is a small figure in an open-faced box decorated with flowers.

Flowers are a basic part of the Yaqui religion and predate its Christian aspect. When the Yaquis accepted Catholicism they adapted their idea of the hereafter to envision Heaven and a land full of flowers. They believe the throne of God is surrounded by flowers, and one belief is that when Christ was dying on the Cross His blood dripped down and mingled with the earth and was miraculously transformed into flowers which then "filled the earth." Flowers or sewa are considered blessings. During parts of the ceremonies participants are told "I give you a flower."

On Thursday of Holy Week, ceremonies begin just before dawn with morning devotions. A box covered with white cloth in the center of the church altar bears a flat, red silk heart with links of green painted on it. Silver-colored rays emanate from it. This represents the heart of Jesus, which is said to be a "prisoner in the box." Late in the morning it is carried in procession around the plaza, then returned to the church altar, where flowers and confetti are scattered over it.

On Thursday afternoon an event takes place which is typical of the Indian's respect for the old. The Yaquis sometimes portray Jesus as a very old man, calling Him by the diminutive "Viejito" as a term of respect and affectionate devotion. A Chapayeka represents Him in a ceremony which is a prelude of the actual crucifixion. He is crowned with cottonwood leaves and across his shoulders is placed a horsehair rope. The other Chapayekas take away his weapons and give him a switch. As Mrs. Painter says in a moving description: "Trailing his rope, he trots to the first station, followed by his companions. One Chapayeka lies down by the cross and the Viejito sits on his back, reciting prayers to himself. The others lie in parallel rows. After a brief interval the Viejito rises, switches each Chapayeka in turn, and trots to the next station. This is repeated at each station. As they return the Viejito, showing signs of fatigue, is carried to the church cross. The others fan him in mockery, pretend to feed him and to quench his thirst. Finally they pull him up, tottering, to his feet." He then goes among the crowd and asks for contributions to be used for the ceremonies.

In the early evening, a figure of the Nazarene is taken to a bower of cottonwood representing the Garden of Gethsemene. The figure is placed on a table and guarded by a sacristan. At about nine o'clock the church group, carrying lighted candles, form a ring behind the Garden.

The Fariseos (Pharisees), officers of the army of evil, and the Chapayekas march to the church and are told that Jesus is not there. The evil forces then march to the east end of the compound and send a Chapayeka to spy on the Garden. This is repeated three times. Each time the spy returns saying that Jesus is in the Garden. The final spy brings back a twig as proof. The Fariseos, Caballeros, and Chapayekas then march to the Garden to capture Jesus. Caballeros (Cavalry soldiers) are associated with the Fariseos until Good Friday afternoon when they join the forces of good.

The head Fariseo called Pilate strikes the ground three times with his lance. The sacristan asks him whom he seeks. Pilate answers "Jesus of Nazareth," using His name for the first time. This is repeated three times, with marches growing closer to the Garden each time. Finally the sacristan replies that Jesus is inside, and the officers surround the Garden while the Chapayekas throw themselves on the ground and howl. They then rise and tear down the Garden. The Captain of the Caballeros ties a horsehair rope around Jesus and hands the end to the Chapayekas. Four Chapayekas carry the figure to the church, followed by a group of mourning church people.

The Rosary is said throughout the night while Chapayeka guards, nervous and afraid, guard the church. They swagger about with bravado, but start at any sudden noise. One tells his relief in pantomime to be alert or he will have his head cut off.

"The lieutenant wanted to send me back to the hospital at Fort Bliss, but I said, "No, my outfit is just up ahead; help me on my horse and I'll catch up with them.' Once in the saddle I rode out of town and picked up their trail. That little horse carried me all that day through the New Mexico desert. It was one of the hottest days of that year. I began to get dizzy, and discovered I had also hurt my head in the fall.

"Towards evening both my horse and myself were pretty well fagged out. We couldn't stop to rest because I was unable to dismount and remount with my broken ankle. Finally I could see that my horse had just about had it. Several times he faltered and tried to lay down, but I jerked him up and spurred him on; I knew if he lay down we were both done for. Gamely, he kept going.

"Late that night, I finally saw the troop campfire ahead. It looked closer than it actually was. It seemed like hours later when I heard someone yell, Halt, who's there? That's the last thing I remember until I woke up later that night in the Captain's tent. They had cut my boot off, and my leg was splinted and bandaged. I slept under a wagon that night, and the next morning I hobbled over to the picket line to see how my horse was coming along. I was told he had died during the night. That little horse died probably saving my life."

Late the following day Olaf's troop passed through Columbus, New Mexico. Olaf had to do some tall talking to convince his commanding officer not to leave him in the hospital there. As a cavalry officer the "old man" could hardly disagree with his argument that "I'm going to be ridin,' not walkin'!"

After resting for a couple of days, Olaf moved out with the troop across the New Mexico desert to Douglas, Arizona.

During their off-duty time troopers Wieghorst, Jones, and Stark started doing a little cowboying. They not only worked part time for various ranchers near Douglas, but they also rode miles to enter rodeos and bucking-horse contests. Since they were all to be discharged within a week or so of each other, they finalized their plans to team up and give ranch life a try. If they were going to cowboy, however, they would need some good horses.

Upon inquiry, they heard of an old ex-Ranger who raised Steeldust-strain quarter horses back in the hills.

Olaf and Jones rode over one day to see about buying some horses. "We looked them over and picked out two. I bought a sorrel and Jones chose a red-sorrel by the name of Red Bird. We also bought a small mule. The price for the three animals was $140.00, with the agreement that he would board them, until we got out of the Army, for $2.50 a month. I still have the bill of sale.

And and then the big day arrived! On June 29, 1922, Olaf was mustered out. He waited around Douglas for a week or so until Jones and Stark were discharged. "I met some interesting old-timers in that town; old sheriffs, bullwhackers, hunters, professional gamblers, and the like. I would often sit for hours listening to their reminiscences about how it was in the old days, when they helped tame this territory. I occasionally saw old John Slaughter, of Tombstone fame, when he came into town to chew the rag with his cronies. Finally, however, Jones and Stark were mustered out, and we started getting our equipment and supplies together for the trip."

In mid-July, 1922, the three headed north, across the Pedregosa Mountains of southern Arizona. Everything they owned was either in their saddlebags or on their little packhorse and mule. There was a long, difficult trail ahead, and the July sun beat down mercilessly. Olaf didn't mind. Looking down at his lariat looped on his saddle, and feeling his six-gun hanging heavy on his hip, he thought to himself, "It's no longer a dream. By God, it's happened! I really am a cowboy!"

Averaging about twenty miles a day, the three camped wherever nightfall found them, usually right out in the middle of nowhere. They slept on the ground in their bedrolls, around an open campfire, and cooked their meals in a Dutch oven. Biscuits, beans, and bacon were the standard fare, and more often than not, the food was shared with strangers who rode into their camp.

After their provisions began to run low, Olaf shot a big jackrabbit with his 30-30 Winchester. "Of course, there wasn't much left of him, but we went around picking up pieces of meat and cooked him anyway. He was tough as shoe-leather! Finally we came across this one-armed man who was skinning out a beef he had hanging in a tree. We stopped and helped him, then spent the night there. Noticing we were almost out of grub, he cut off a big chunk of beef and shared it with us. I don't think I've ever had a better meal in my life."

Moving on up through the mountain country of central Arizona, they began to encounter trading posts and small towns.

Somewhere near Springerville, Arizona, the three "drifters" turned east. A few days later they pitched camp on the San Francisco River, near the little town of Alma, New Mexico.

"We were just getting ready to eat when this man rode up on a big sorrel horse. He introduced himself as Elton Cunningham, owner of the Quarter Circle 2C Ranch over on Whiteriver Creek, and asked if we had seen some horses which had strayed away from his place. We told him no, and asked him to step down and eat with us. After we ate we chewed the fat for awhile, and finally decided to ride into town. Cunning ham said he reckoned we might scare up a poker game there."

It was dusk when the weary riders reined to a stop and tied their horses to the hitching rail in front of the Alma saloon. Once inside, Cunningham and Bud Jones immediately hustled a poker game with two of the local residents; Olaf and Stark had a drink or two and started a conversation with the bartender.

“Yes, sir,” nodded the bartender, “this used to be a tough town. Butch Cassidy and his gang used to hang out here quite a bit, also Black Jack Ketchum and his brother, Sam. Cassidy worked as wrangler for old Captain French out on the WS Ranch after he came down here from the ‘Hole-in-the-Wall’ country in Wyoming. Of course he didn't use that name around here; he was going by the name of Jim Lowe. Before Old Man French realized it, Cassidy had hired on half of his gang on the WS Ranch. They was pretty well-behaved around here, however, except for a couple of train robberies over near Folsom and Springer.” Later that same evening, Cunningham told Olaf he was short-handed at his place; he could use some help if they were interested. After talking it over, Olaf, Jones, and Stark decided they would first ride on up to Reserve and see Jones's sister. If they found no work in that area, they would return to Cunningham's place.

Olaf decided to stay, and Jones and Stark elected to move on Jones to Elida, and Stark to his home back in Cape Girardeau, Missouri.

Furthermore, neglect his art during that period. He drew pencil sketches of horses, cattle, corrals, barns and the old ranch house. When he could not find adequate pencil and paper with which to work, he burned pictures of horses on the sides of the barn with a hot running-iron.

Finally, however, the tension between Olaf and Cunninghamham reached the breaking point. “We were cutting alfalfa, and he was pitching hay up to me. I was driving the team of horses with one hand, and trying to stack hay with the other. He got angry about something or other, and began to yell at me. Suddenly I had had it. I threw the reins at him, jumped off the hay wagon and stalked back to the bunkhouse. I gathered all my belongings, saddled my horse and rode off. Capitola tried to talk me out of it, but I was fed up with the old man.” Olaf now settled down to the life of a working cowboy. Cunningham ran a number of Hereford cattle on his ranch and on the nearby Forest Reserve area, and they needed a lot of care. There were salt-licks to keep supplied, and fences and corrals to mend; hay had to be cut and stored for winter feed, and an endless number of other ranch chores needed daily attention. It was hard work, but Olaf loved it even if Old Man Cunningham was not the easiest man to work for.

Elton Cunningham, reticent and independent to an extreme, was not well liked by his neighbors.

As time passed, Olaf began to develop into a first-rate cowhand. He had worked with horses all his life, but now he was learning something about cattle. There was, however, one drawback. Since the Quarter Circle 2C was a small, two-man operation, he was compelled to perform tasks which were humiliating to a “sure-nuff” cowboy. A real cowboy would never do any kind of work that couldn't be done from horseback. Olaf got his share of cowpunching of course; he was good at breaking broncs, and he'd done an excellent job on the big roundup that fall still, “this ranch-hand business was enough to get under a fellow's skin. It made you feel like you were just almost a cowboy.” Although growing increasingly dissatisfied with his employer, Olaf enjoyed the life of a cowboy. He did not, Olaf had left in such haste that he had made no plans as to where he might go. On impulse he rode to the town of Mogollon and started to look around for work.

Olaf had been in Mogollon but a short while when he ran into Cunningham's son-in-law, Walter Lipsey. Lipsey was a superintendent at one of the mines, but he also ran cattle on the Bucket L Ranch down on Alma Mesa. He hired Olaf to help him tear down one of his cabins, located on a Mogollon hillside, and move it down to the mesa. The cabin, the first structure to be built on Alma Mesa, was finally completed some months later, and Olaf then began punching cattle for Lipsey.

“Lipsey's wife, Marvel Cunningham's daughter was one of the finest women I have ever met. I thought to myself, 'That's the kind of a wife a man ought to have!' I began to realize that without a wife and family, a man's life wasn't really complete. Finally I made the decision to go back to New York and see Mabel.” For the next few weeks he drifted from town to town, doing a little sightseeing, and finally wound up in Clovis, New Mexico. There, for twenty dollars, he took a job as a “cattle guard” on a train headed for Chicago. Then he bought a ticket on a passenger train from Chicago to New York.

When Olaf stepped off the train in New York, he was still wearing his cowboy clothes, a black cowboy hat, and his six-gun. People stared at him in surprise, and he was asked if he was part of the "Wild West Show" then being exhibited in Madison Square Garden.

A few days later Olaf went to work as a machinist's helper at a railroad shop in Long Island. After two months he quit to take another job painting overhead elevator structures. This, too, lasted but a short time. During the winter of 1923, work was scarce in New York. Finally Olaf took a job shoveling snow for fifty cents an hour.

In the early part of 1924 Olaf answered an ad for a brick-layer. Although he had never laid a brick in his life, he assured his prospective employer that he was experienced and quite capable of building any structure he might desire. "I was promptly given the job of building a large garage, by myself. It was a bit awkward at first, but when I got the hang of it I managed to straighten it out. Actually it turned out quite well and, to the best of my knowledge, it is still standing today."

In the summer of 1924 Olaf met Arthur Loew, whose uncle was chief of detectives for the New York Police Department. He approached Olaf one day at the local streetcorner hangout. "I'm going down to put in an application for work with the police department, Olaf; why don't you come along?" Olaf didn't think he wanted to be a policeman, but there was nothing else available at the moment. "Maybe it would be all right for just a few months," he said. The two men went down to fill out the necessary applications. In the fall of 1924, he received word that he had been accepted. He stood 444 on the list of 1200 selectees, and was notified that he was subject to call on December 6.

"On the basis of that, Mabel and I decided it was time to get married. We wanted to keep it a secret because Mabel was nearing her fifth year of employment with the telephone company, and it was the policy of the company to award a hundred dollar bonus to unmarried employees after five years service; we needed that hundred dollars badly.

Olaf was called to active police duty on December 6, and assigned to the Police Academy for training. He immediately applied for mounted duty but after graduating from the academy in March, 1925 he was first assigned to foot patrol in Brooklyn. This wasn't to his liking at all, for he was eager to "get in the saddle." Before being accepted into the Mounted Division, however, it was necessary that applicants demonstrate that they could ride a horse. This was accomplished during a 30-day course of instruction at the School of Equitation. It was quickly evident to the school instructors that Patrolman Wieg-horst could ride a horse. In fact, because of his background and demonstrated ability at trick riding, he was graduated within one week and immediately assigned to the Police Show Team.

It was on this team that Olaf's experience with horses showed to best advantage. This select group of riders exhibited their skill before the public and visiting dignitaries at Madison Square Garden, the Jamaica Race Track and throughout New York. Olaf, who was constantly devising new and complex trick-riding exhibitions, was cited by the New York newspapers for many years as the outstanding horseman in the New York Mounted Police.

It wasn't long before Olaf's fellow officers in the Mounted Division began to look to him for guidance in complex problems of equitation, and he was invariably assigned the "problem" horses in the unit.

Olaf's first assignment with the Mounted Division was in the 31st Precinct, patroling the streets and territory of Sheeps-head Bay. The pay was $37.00 a week, and from this we were required to purchase our own uniforms, guns, ammunition, rain-coat, rubber boots, hats and so on. In fact, the only thing we didn't have to buy was the shield; they lent you that, but it cost six cents for a pin to hold it on!"

Obviously, Patrolman Wieghorst was an independent, hard-headed Dane perhaps it would be best to leave him alone with his horses. Between tours of more pedestrian duty, such as traffic control in downtown Manhattan, during 1928-29, Olaf spent more and more time with the Show Team, participating in exhibitions in Syracuse; the State Fair in Philadelphia; Madison Square Garden; and the New York National Horse Show.

Although he had always had a keen eye for a good horse, Olaf now began to systematically train himself to observe those details which any artist who would presume to paint a horse well must know as he knows the back of his hand. And, he began to paint. In his spare time he frequented museums and art galleries, where he studied carefully the composition, color, and brush techniques of the masters.

It was during this period that Olaf met Will Rogers. "I used to tie my horse in the alley and watch some of the Broad-way shows from backstage," he reminisced. "I met Will Rogers one evening as he was walking through the alley to the back-stage entrance of the Old Globe Theatre, where he was pinch-hitting for Fred Stone. I was coming out of the alley as he was entering, and we did a little 'dance-shuffle' trying to get around each other. He laughed and introduced himself, and then we squatted down 'cowboy fashion' and got to talking about horses and cowboyin', and we completely lost track of time. One of the stagehands came running out and told Will he had to get dressed, so we went into his dressing room where we continued our conversation until he went on stage. After that I used to visit with him often. He was one of the friendliest and most interesting persons I have ever met."

The New York City Mounted Police were often hailed by the newspapers of that metropolis as "New York City's Finest." By the standards of the Mounted Division itself, however, there was one choice assignment which was reserved for

"The Finest of the Fine," and that was duty on the bridle path in Central Park. Here, one was constantly before the public eye many of the most wealthy and influential personages in New York frequently rode in the park and both men and horses of this select detachment of the Mounted were carefully chosen for their appearance and demonstrated ability.

By 1937 Olaf and Mabel had moved into a home in East Elmhurst and decided they had saved enough money to take a vacation. Olaf wanted to return to Denmark for a vacation, but Mabel was apprehensive. "Olaf, maybe they are still looking for you for jumping ship! What will I do if they induct you into the army when we get there?" But Olaf was adamant. He wanted to visit the family; besides, Karl had written that he was doing extensive work in etchings, and Olaf was interested in learning the art. It was also a good opportunity to visit some European art galleries, where he might pick up a few pointers. Accordingly, they booked passage and within a few days were on their way to Copenhagen.

Mabel was still worried that "something terrible" would happen, so Olaf "took the bull by the horns" as soon as they landed. He marched directly to the Copenhagen Police Headquarters and requested an interview with the Chief of Police. "My name is Olaf Wieghorst," he informed the Chief. "I'm with the New York City Mounted Police Division, and I thought that while visiting in your country I might be able to study the Danish methods of police work especially the Mounted Division."

The Chief was delighted. He instructed his aide to give Olaf the run of the place and "provide him with all the assistance he requires. As a matter of fact, Mr. Wieghorst, my limousine and chauffeur are at your disposal during your stay with us." Throughout the following week Olaf and Mabel nudged each other and giggled every time they rode in the car. The Chief's chauffeur thought they were the happiest and most pleasant couple he had ever seen; always laughing!

Besides etchings, Karl had been busy for the past few years doing copies of the works of the "Masters," and had become quite adept at it. He took Olaf around to a number of Copenhagen art galleries and instructed this "young upstart in painting" in a few of the little-known subtleties of the art. Olaf expressed an interest in learning the process of etching, and his father showed him how to make the cuttings, wax and smoke the copper plates, as well as instructing him in the many other complicated and intricate steps in the etching process. Olaf was determined that he would try it for himself.

Around 1940 Al Simpkin, an artist for the American Artist Company of New York, saw some of Olaf's paintings and convinced Olaf that he should let him take a few to the American Artist Company for possible resale. "I thought nothing about it, but about two weeks later I got a check for two hundred and fifty dollars. I couldn't believe my eyes! Then I got busy and really started painting. Mostly it was calendar art, but it sold well. For the next few years, the American Artist Company sold my paintings to the Toronto Star Weekly, Shaw-Barton Company, Murphy Company, Art Calendars, and as illustra-tions for Western magazine publications. I realized that I hadn't made my 'second career' decision any too soon. For the first time in my life I was beginning to realize some significant income from my paintings; although I was approaching retire-ment eligibility from the police force, I now had the confidence that I could make it as an artist."

Olaf received additional encouragement as the result of numerous private commissions he was given to do portraits and bronzes of horses belonging to influential and well-known persons. For Audrey Davies he did a small bronze for the radiator cap of her automobile, then a number of portraits of her horses. This led to a meeting with Paul Whiteman, who in turn introduced him to other wealthy horse owners. He did a special portrait of a stallion belonging to Tom Morgan, of the Sperry Gyroscope Corporation, for which he received his highest fee to that time five hundred dollars! Things were indeed looking up for this emerging Western artist.

In December, 1944, Olaf retired from the New York City Police Department with an annual pension of $1,500.00. From his meager savings he bought a used house trailer for $850.00.

After spending Christmas with the family in New York, Olaf, Mabel, and Roy now fourteen headed westward. They sallied forth with high hopes on New Year's Eve, 1944. It was twenty-six years to the day since Olaf Wieghorst had come to America with a determination that he would "find the country of Frederic Remington," and once more he was headed West. This time to stay.

The "New Olaf Wieghorst Style" has changed little since 1944, except in terms of maturity. Warm in tonality, composition and color, his later paintings impart breathtaking realism, but at the same time emulate the Impressionistic effect of leaving something to the imagination of the viewer.

"One of the hardest things for a painter to learn," Olaf added, "is when to stop. It is most important to know what to bring out and what to leave alone, so that the viewer can 'finish' the painting himself. Otherwise, you might as well use a camera.

"I don't like to paint by guess and approximation," he added. "That just isn't fair to the serious student of history. All the information the future generations will get of the passing of the West must surely come from the pen of the author and the brush of the artist. I will often spend more time researching a painting than I do in painting it." Olaf has repeatedly emphasized that research should not only strive for artifactual accuracy, but also historical accuracy of events depicted, and an educated "feel for the climate" of the place and period involved.

"I don't have much patience with those painters who let their artistic license run away with their common sense, and with reality. I've seen, for example, paintings by some very well-known Western artists which have mistakes that are just inexcusable. Horses with no rein-control running with their mouths wide open streaming froth and lather. Anybody who knows anything about horses knows that they never run with their mouths open unless it is due to the interference of a controlled bit. And lather, of course, only comes from friction of some type, as in between the thighs where a horse's legs rub his body.

"I've seen pictures of Indians standing upright on a pony while shooting a bow and arrow at covered wagons. Can you imagine standing on a pony over which you have no control while that pony is dodging in and out between sagebrush? Or, can you imagine an Indian 'stuck' on the side of a horse like he was pasted on while using both hands to shoot a bow and arrow under the horse's neck? I've been a trick rider most of my life, and I say that's a damned physical impossibility! Still, you can see that kind of nonsense in any number of paintings by well-known artists who are supposed to know better. Consequently, I base all of my canvases on personal experience, observation, and careful research."

Olaf's original intention was to settle his family in Arizona, but they pulled into Tucson in the middle of a desert sandstorm. Mabel balked. She wanted nothing to do with all that heat and dust. Besides, they had never seen Hollywood, or any of those other romantic places in California; why not look a little further? Olaf relented, and early the following morning they continued their trip westward.

By the middle of October, 1945, Olaf had settled his family in a trailer court just east of El Cajon, and enrolled Roy in high school. Now it was time to go to work. Again, he set up a makeshift studio outside the trailer and began to spend long days at the easel. He was still sending paintings back to the Grand Central Art Gallery and the American Artist Company in New York, but he was eager to establish a few local outlets and do some exhibits in the Southwest. In this he was aided by Jack Schrade one of the first persons he met in El Cajon, and later to become a California state senator. In 1945, Jack Schrade owned and operated a small Western shop in El Cajon, where he sold such items as Western clothing, saddles and other horse equipment. Schrade vividly recalled his first meeting with Olaf Wieghorst: He met Olaf when he came into my store one day. He was dressed in Western clothes, and had a couple of paintings under his arm. He seemed very interested in my operation, and wondered if I would display his paintings in my showcases. We soon discovered that he was a marvelous storyteller. He had such a good sense of humer, and his stories were so entertaining, that we invited him and his family back very often after that. During the ensuing years we became very close friends.

I started displaying his paintings at my store, and we sold the first few for $75.00 each. I could see that this was a ridiculous figure, so we talked about it, and eventually worked them up to around $300.00. He did not, of course, have much exposure at that time, so I began taking him around and introducing him to a number of my friends who were collectors of Western art. Gradually he began to build a name for himself. He painted a number of Western scenes for me on the plywood panels of my showcases, and on one occasion he painted two beautiful steerheads, one on each door panel of my pickup truck. I have often wondered what ultimately happened to that truck those two doors would be worth a small fortune.

By 1947 he had begun to give a few showings locally, and in Los Angeles, Las Vegas, and Scottsdale, Arizona, and he was turning out a considerable volume of paintings. It was time to expand his operation.

His new studio completed, Olaf began to put in long hours at the easel. His paintings now were beginning to catch on. He won numerous first prizes in the popularity or Western classes at the San Diego County Fair, and he began to give a number of one-man shows. He exhibited in such places as the Laguna Beach Art Association Gallery; Palm Desert Art Gallery; Camelback Gallery in Scottsdale, Arizona; Francis Webb Gallery in Los Angeles; and the Desert Gallery of Kathalwales in Tucson, Arizona. Not all galleries were as receptive, however. The Director of the Los Angeles Biltmore Art Gallery told Olaf to "come back in a few years, after you have matured a bit."

Undiscouraged, Olaf decided to hold his own showing in October, 1951an outdoor affair in the patio of his home. He had brochures printed, advertising the Adobe Wall Art Exhibit, sent invitations to all of his friends, and advertised in the newspapers. For entertainment he hired guitarists, and brought an old cowboy friend, Al Kay, down from Hollywood to put on a show in trick-roping. He spread Navajo blankets over bales of hay for seating, arranged some thirty-five paintings along the inside of the adobe wall surrounding the yard, concocted a few gallons of rum punch, set up an outdoor barbecue, crossed his fingers, and opened the doors. The show was an instant success. More than 700 people walked through the first day for an invitational showing, and many hundreds attended the following Sunday for a public showing. He sold a number of paintings and received excellent reviews. Critics began to speak of Olaf Wieghorst as one of the finest painters of the Western scene.

In 1952 the Wieghorsts took their second trip to Europe. After visiting in Denmark they traveled by car throughout the Continent, visiting the Louvre in Paris, and galleries in Rome, Germany, and Switzerland. Olaf studied the works of the "Masters," sketching and making notes wherever he went. Then, after three weeks of lying in the sun at Majorca, he was ready to return home and get to work. His briefcase was bulging with new material, and his head swimming with new ideas which he must try.

The next ten years were golden ones for Olaf Wieghorst. An exhibition at Castle Hot Springs, Arizona, exposed his paintings to collectors such as J. P. Morgan, Acton Griscomb, and K. C. Li, who in turn introduced him to many other private collectors. By 1955 his paintings were in such demand that he had a waiting list of buyers. President Eisenhower admired

RESTIN' and REMINISCIN'

Wieghorst bronzes are highly prized by galleries and collectors.

The artist in his den museum-studio.

Olaf's painting Field Branding (owned by the Griscombs, arid hung in the President's suite during a Palm Springs vacation), so Olaf sent him a painting entitled The Roundup, which the President hung in the White House office. President Eisenhower later acquired other "Wieghorsts," and he and Olaf corresponded frequently. "Imagine me writing to the President of the United States!" laughed Olaf. "That's a long way from a Danish boy who once couldn't read or write enough English to find his way on and off a subway!"

Not content to rest on his already impressive experiential background, Olaf purchased a small house trailer and, during the summer months when Roy was out of school, traveled with his family throughout the Western states sketching, painting, and collecting data and ideas for future works. With fellow artists such as George Thackery and Maus Palmer of San Diego he frequently traveled to the back country to sketch old barns, corrals, livestock, and desert scenery. He revisited the Mogollon area of New Mexico, where he and Mabel stayed with Old Man Cunningham and Capitola while Olaf made notes and sketches.

Each year, for weeks at a time, he stayed at the Fred Utter and Mackay ranches in Montana, and at the ranches of other friends from the Canadian to the Mexícari borders, sketching, painting, making notes, and collecting artifactual material. Today, as a result of his own experience and this twenty-fiveyear period of collection and observation, Olaf not only has an impressive knowledge of Cattle Country, but he also has enough authentic artifactual material to fill a small museum. None of it is for "show." At one time or another all of it has been used, and may be observed either in terms of technique or detail in each of his many hundreds of paintings. "I figure a man can't be too careful in researching authentic detail in a Western painting," Olaf has said. "This especially It holds true when trying to depict costuming and weaponry of the various tribes of the American Indian."

There were few one-man shows or exhibitions after 1956. Original "Wieghorsts" were becoming very scarce and very expensive. Private collectors such as Clint Murchison, Leonard Firestone, Barry Goldwater, Earl Adams, Sam Campbell, Jack Goodman, Read Mullan, C. R. Smith, Bruce Gelker, Fred Utter, and many, many others, were buying his canvases faster than he could paint them.

There was no doubt that Olaf Wieghorst had developed into one of the outstanding artists in the country. But there were other reasons less tangible but significant for his sudden popularity. Like a young giant rousing from slumber after a hard-fought battle, America was beginning to look around for a chronicler of its deeds.

In 1962 Olaf was invited to Denmark by the Director of the Danish-American Society to attend the fiftieth anniversary of the Danish celebration of the United States Independence Day. The event was held at the Rabilbakkar American Historical Museum, located on a 150-acre site in Jutland. At the ceremony, which Olaf and Mabel attended with the Richard Nixons, Olaf presented a painting to the museum entitled The Trail West. The outside border of the frame was overlaid with sand which Olaf had collected from California, Arizona, and Texas. That evening the Wieghorsts and the Nixons were invited as dinner guests of the King and Queen of Denmark.

Remembering the occasion, Olaf laughed. "I couldn't help wonder what the King would have done had he discovered that I was still technically missing from his country!"

There were many other forms of recognition attendant to success in the late 1960s. A number of Olaf's works were on permanent exhibit in the Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma City, and serious historians such as the San Diego Corral of the Westerners who in 1964 featured a number of color plates of Olaf's paintings in their annual Brand Book began to recognize the incalculable significance of Wieghorst's contri bution to the preservation-in-art of the Great American West. Through it all, he remained simply Olaf Wieghorst; refresh-ingly uncomplicated, and with a disconcerting habit, to some, of giving forthright and honest expression at all times of exactly how he feels about any given subject. Wieghorst's strong convictions concerning the subject matter ingly uncomplicated, and with a disconcerting habit, to some, of giving forthright and honest expression at all times of exactly how he feels about any given subject. Wieghorst's strong convictions concerning the subject matter and technique of his art are readily apparent to even the casual observer.

"I'm particularly sensitive when it comes to painting horses," the artist said during a long conversation in his studio. "A lot of people believe, like Joe Paulio, that a horse is a horse.' That just isn't so! Horses are just as different as people. Before I do a portrait of a horse I study that particular animal. At the El Chico Ranch, outside Fort Worth, Texas, I spent three weeks paintWorking until I touched a brush to canvas I observed that horse for days to learn his peculiarities, personality, and character. I did the same with Roy Rogers' Trigger, Gene Autry's Champion, and Tom Morgan's stallion; not because they are outstanding horses owned by famous persons, but because each is an individual.

"People can look at a thing and not see it. I try to paint the little natural things that the inexperienced observer isn't aware of; the way a horse turns his tail to the wind on cold nights; the way he flattens his ears in the rain; the white of his eyes; position of his ears, and the configuration of his nostrils when he is frightened or angry. It's just as important, for example, for an artist to know something about such things as seasonal changes in the coat of a horse, and the psychology of his behavior, as it is to know the precise structure of his anatomy. Some artists actually use an anatomy chart as a guide when painting a horse! They highlight the static muscle structure, making the animal look slick and unreal. A horse is just as unpredictable in appearance and behavior as a woman, and you can't find an accurate representation of either one in a book on anatomy!

"Although a range-horse can be slick coated in the summertime," Olaf continued, "he still has a certain amount of hair to absorb the sunlight and to subtly disguise his muscle structure. In the winter he looks altogether different often with a shaggy, dull coating of hair which has a distinctive textural quality of its own. Yet, how many paintings have you seen of slick-coated 'summertime' horses pulling a stagecoach through drifts of snow?"

Discussing his approach, Wieghorst said, "When I start painting a horse I naturally consider the anatomy first. Sometimes I make preliminary sketches and then change them around change in conformation until I get what I want, but usually I have the conformation, bone and muscle structure, pretty well in mind. Sometimes I go into great detail to get the unique configuration I want, but then I 'rough it over' so it will not appear as an 'anatomy' horse."

He continued, "I've been observing horses for so many years that I guess I've begun to think like one. That's what I mean when I say that the horse has been my greatest teacher. Horses have been my companions under nearly all possible conditions. I have frozen with them at night in sub-zero weather; ridden across the desert in some of the hottest days on record; starved with them and hunted water with them longer than I care to remember. I have nailed shoes onto hundreds of them; been kicked, bitten, squeezed, bucked off, stepped on by them, and fallen from them, but in spite of all the hurt and broken bones, I have no regrets. Any measure of success that I now enjoy, I owe to them. Horses have been my life!"

The preceding story has been condensed from the book OLAF WIEGHORST, published by Northland Press of Flagstaff. Awarded Best Western Art Book of the Year by the Western Heritage Center, National Cowboy Hall of Fame, this book traces the life of the foremost contemporary western artist. It also received the Publisher's Silver Medal as "an outstanding contribution to our western traditions." Text is by historian William Reed, foreword by Senator Barry Goldwater. 194 pages, 33 full-color reproductions of Wieghorst paintings. $25.00 (None of the 33 paintings are duplicated in this issue.) Also reproduced through the courtesy of the artist and Mr. Paul Weaver, Publisher, Northland Press, are several drawings from the book. The trophy, a replica of "The Wrangler" (shown at left) Charles Russell's famous bronze, was presented to Paul Weaver, Publisher, Northland Press, and another to Raymond Carlson, editor of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS Magazine for 45 years of outstanding Western Publication. The presentations were made April, 1970 at the National Cowboy Hall of Fame and Western Heritage Center, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

YAQUI EASTER MATACHINIS WIND THE TRENZA Ted De Grazia - FROM HIS BOOK THE YAQUI EASTER

On Holy Saturday night the Matachinis dance around their gay and colorful May Pole.

The path from the church to the east end of the compound is lined with fresh cottonwood twigs and marked with ashes or lime marking the “battleground.” A line of lime is painted across the compound about fifty feet to the east of the church. This is the border of the “holy ground” which reaches to the entrance of the church. Once this line is drawn, no unauthorized person may step inside it.

The Pascola dancers appear together with the Deer Dancer in front of the church. The Deer Dancer, a force of good, wears a deer's head and ribbons symbolic of flowers around his head. He represents a deer which has been blessed by God and is supposed to have a powerful influence upon the outcome of the impending battle. He dances with each of the Pascola dancers in turn to the music of flute and drum.

Leaves have been stripped from cottonwood branches and mixed with confetti, representative of flowers. This mixture is placed on a canvas sheet in front of the church and is guarded by the Pascolas. The forces of good are ready for the battle. The church cross is placed in position about fifteen feet inside the east entrance of the compound. The Maestros and sacristans led by acolytes march to the church cross and a brief ceremony of blessing is held.

Sometime during the morning the Chapayekas begin their “parading” of Judas. Carrying the man-sized stuffed effigy of their saint, they parade around and through the crowd of spectators. They make their way around the stations of the cross in reverse order. “St. Judas” is dressed as a Chapayeka and wears the same mask. The masks of the Chapayekas may be adapted to interpret any unpopular figure. During the second World War, some of them were made to resemble Hitler and Hirohito. Judas is decked out with many objects. During Holy Week officials of the village go through the streets at night. If a child has left a toy in the yard of his home it may be picked up. The family is given the chance to redeem it, but if they cannot or do not choose to do so, the toy will be attached to Judas and burned with him.

After Judas has been paraded the Chapayekas bring him to a forked stick just behind the cross. They fasten him to this stick and then dance around him, touching him gently with their daggers and swords, patting him, embracing him and generally showing their obeisance to him.

About noon on Good Friday, a procession with the Chapayekas carrying the Nazarene begin the Via Cruces. At the eleventh station, Calvary, the Way cross is laid in front of the station. The Pilates make the sign of the cross and tap the cross three times at the foot and at the end of each arm. A Chapayeka pretends to hammer a wooden nail in each place. This is symbolic of the Crucifixion. The group then proceeds to the church and the sacristan fastens the cross to a stake in the ground in front of the altar. He then places the figure from the large crucifix on the altar on the cross and gently binds it to the cross. The cross is then covered with green branches.

In the afternoon the evil forces return to the church. The Fariseos' faces are covered with black scarves. The head Pilate advances to the cross three times, where he makes the sign of the cross and taps the ground with his lance. This signifies the lancing of Jesus. At this point, while the Fariseos run around the stations of the cross in fright, the Caballeros remain in place and turn the points of their weapons to the ground. This signifies their separation from the evil forces.

Four men in white robes then remove the figure from the cross and place it on a white cloth with a silk pillow in front of the cross. The people file by, kneeling in reverance, and are blessed. Finally the same four men lift the figure and place it in a specially prepared bier and cover it with a silk robe. Another procession around the Way of the Cross symbolizes carrying Jesus to the tomb.

At midnight the crucified Christ is replaced in the bier by a statue of the Infant Jesus. Again in procession around the Via Cruces, the men carrying the Infant and the women carry-ing the Three Marys meet and the statues bow to each other three times. This is the supreme moment of the Resurrection, when Jesus is born again as a baby.

At dawn of Holy Saturday, the village becomes charged with a feeling of urgency. This is the day when the crowds will come; when they must be welcomed and at the same time not permitted to interfere with the progression of the ceremonies. This is the day of the "burning of Judas."

In the morning the Fariseos go around the Way of the Cross, pausing at each station to stomp on the ground and "wake up the crosses" which have been "asleep" since Good Friday afternoon.

At about noon or soon after, the Fariseos appear and line up in military fashion. The Chapayekas fall in line behind them and they begin to march in columns, or "menace the church." This is a ritual dance-like shuffling movement from the east end of the compound to the line in front of the church. The Chapayekas beat the time with their swords and daggers. Each time they reach the edge of the holy ground and turn away from it, the sound of rattles and drums is sharply increased.

Three times they are given a written message asking them to surrender. Each time they pretend to read it and then throw it to the ground.

After the third reconnoiter the Maestros begin to sing the Gloria and the church bell sounds. This is the signal for the army of evil to run furiously at the church. They are charging the church and are determined to destroy it. Each time they are met by the Matachinis, who pelt them with the leaves and confetti. After the third repulse they run to their "Saint," tear off their heir masks, and throw them and their swords and daggers violently at his feet. The pile around Judas is ignited and he and all his evil symbols are burned away. As the flames increase, the impression of a man being burned at the stake is almost believable.

As the Chapayekas grovel on the ground their god-parents rush in and cover them with coats or blankets and hurry them off to the church to be re-dedicated to Jesus. The Fariseos and Chapayekas have been "killed" by flowers or blessings or symbolically by the blood of Christ.

Two masks are saved because if any participant should die during the year following he must be buried in the regalia he wore in his last performance.

After the prayers of purification in the church, all participants join a procession in which the Infant Jesus is carried to the Fiesta Ramada. He is placed on an altar there and ritual dances of celebration begin. The Pascolas and the Deer Dancer dance all night in the fiesta ramada. At sundown the Matachinis perform their beautiful Maypole dance in front of the church.

On Sunday morning little girls wearing beautiful Easter dresses and crowns of flowers bring the news of the Resurrection. One carries a red flag, another a small figure of the Virgin which represents Mary Magdalene. At the altar one girl waves her flag, the other moves the Magdalene in the sign of the cross before the Infant Jesus. The head altar woman pins a pink rose on the Infant and showers it with confetti. The girls run back with the news of the Resurrection to the waiting people. The Maestros and singers sing the Alleluia. The rose signifies that a message has been sent from Mary to her Son.

There is a final procession in which the Infant is carried by the Pascolas and the Three Marys by the women. Again as the two processions moving in opposite directions meet, the statues bow to each other three times. This is the sign that Mary has met her resurrected Son. The images are then returned to the church.

The last observance is the "Thank You Circle," in which the head Maestro delivers a traditional Easter sermon, explains the meaning of the ceremonies, and thanks and blesses all those who have taken part in them.

On Sunday morning two little girls nice and cleanly dressed, with flower crowns on their heads, run three times to the church and back. They tell the good news of the Resurrection. Now it is Easter Sunday, and the good news is echoed, "ALLELUIA!" "Christ is in Heaven!" The birds are singing. All around there are huge beautiful flowers in rainbow colors, and in heaven too the Deer Dancer dances, and the Indians are angels, and they play angel music. For the best Heaven to the Yaquis is "a place of flowers."