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The Running Y’s cowboy
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| H&N photo by Andrew Mariman Jack Dershimer, 67, spent most of his life working ranches across the U.S. before his children convinced him to come to the Basin and work for the Running Y. |
Jack Dershimer has worked all across the country as a cowboy and rancher
By STEVE KADEL
H&N Staff Writer
The 1989 Lincoln limousine in front of Jack Dershimer’s house is a clue.
Its front license plate reads “Cowboy” and a pair of bull horns are anchored to the hood. Inside, several lariats lie on the floor between seats.
If there still is a doubt about Dershimer’s occupation, his wardrobe provides the answer: cowboy boots, blue jeans with large Western buckle, leather vest over a denim shirt, and a purple bandanna around his neck.
Dershimer, gray-bearded at age 67, is a cowboy — or as close to one as you’ll find at the Running Y Ranch. He’s been a resident cowboy since June, doing everything from feeding the resort’s 30 horses to taking tourists on trail rides.
During winter months, feeding and watering horses is the only daily chore, so Dershimer has time to remodel his rental house near the resort. The cowboy likes his furniture rough-hewn, including an oak stump supporting a television set in the corner and two rustic oak bar stools with bark still on them. A juniper and oak bench stands against a wall. Lengths of pine serve as trim around doors. Spurs hang from a protruding piece of wood in the kitchen doorway.
“They told me I could fix it up anyway I wanted as long as it was rustic,” he said of the house, owned by Running Y. “I’m turning it back into a cookhouse.”
In fact, the structure used to serve as the Geary Ranch cookhouse. The big, black wood-fired cooking stove is still there, dominating the kitchen. A wood heating stove in the living room sends warmth through the house on a cold December afternoon. Country music plays on the radio.
For Dershimer, the fit is right. It’s basic, just as he likes it. After all, he’s a guy who lived in his own covered wagon for six years prior to arriving in Oregon. He keeps the 8-foot by 20-foot wagon parked on resort land now, and enjoys giving visitors a look at it. There’s a wood stove, bed, cupboards, cooking stove, and a loft inside where his grandchildren sleep when they visit.
His daughters, Samantha Patterson and Tara Booth, live in Merrill, with his other 11 children scattered farther away. He jokes that Samantha and Tara visit for dinner, but never to help him with work, such as hauling the logs he turns into furniture.
His daughters were the ones who urged him to talk to Running Y officials about a job.
On-the-road adventurer
Before that, Dershimer’s life was an on-the-road adventure, seeing him through cowboy jobs, cross-country trips in his covered wagon pulled by horses, and ownership of a ranch in California for eight drought years. He still owns six horses, which he keeps on the Running Y grounds.
He says he was born in Harvey’s Lake, Pa., in 1941 and his parents each rode a horse to the hospital. That might be correct, but as Dershimer warns, “Some of my stories are actually true.”
The family lived on a dairy farm until Dershimer was 5, when his dad bought a hotel in Milton, Pa. Dershimer said his daily chores were cleaning and stocking the bar.
“I got paid 25 cents a week allowance,” he said, adding that was enough to get himself and a friend into the movies and buy popcorn.
His father introduced him to horses, a love he maintains today. Dershimer recalls sitting by the radio as a child and listening to stories of Roy Rogers, Gene Autry and the Lone Ranger.
Dershimer’s parents divorced when he was 14, and he lived with his mother. He graduated from high school in 1958 and enlisted in the U.S. Army, eventually serving in Korea.
“I did reconnaissance into North Korea,” he said. “I told them (U.S. officers) whatever I saw.”
Dershimer was discharged in Oakland, Calif., and planned to stay there only until a friend arrived on another U.S. troop ship.
“By the time he showed up, I had a job I liked driving truck,” Dershimer said, “and I was living with four beautiful women.”
He bought a horse and kept it on an acreage owned by a friend near Napa, Calif., where he fixed fences and moved cattle from pasture to pasture on weekends.
“That’s when I became a cowboy,” Dershimer said.
In 1965, he began a fulltime cowboy job in Napa, making $300 a month with free housing. By then, he’d already been married twice, but neither one lasted.
Later he took a job on the Wine Cup Ranch in Wells, Nev., making $1,200 a month.
“I stayed in my wagon and they fed us in the cook shack,” he recalled.
He worked on a ranch near Cle Elum, Wash., from 2001 until last summer, when he migrated south at his daughters’ urging.
He’s clearly happy about being at the Running Y, where he lives alone, acknowledging, “It’s hard to find a woman who will live this lifestyle.”
His wandering days are apparently behind him.
“Why would I care to go anywhere else?” he asks, looking to the low, snow-covered hills south of the Running Y. “I like the freedom that I feel. I’m here until I die.”
Its front license plate reads “Cowboy” and a pair of bull horns are anchored to the hood. Inside, several lariats lie on the floor between seats.
If there still is a doubt about Dershimer’s occupation, his wardrobe provides the answer: cowboy boots, blue jeans with large Western buckle, leather vest over a denim shirt, and a purple bandanna around his neck.
Dershimer, gray-bearded at age 67, is a cowboy — or as close to one as you’ll find at the Running Y Ranch. He’s been a resident cowboy since June, doing everything from feeding the resort’s 30 horses to taking tourists on trail rides.
During winter months, feeding and watering horses is the only daily chore, so Dershimer has time to remodel his rental house near the resort. The cowboy likes his furniture rough-hewn, including an oak stump supporting a television set in the corner and two rustic oak bar stools with bark still on them. A juniper and oak bench stands against a wall. Lengths of pine serve as trim around doors. Spurs hang from a protruding piece of wood in the kitchen doorway.
“They told me I could fix it up anyway I wanted as long as it was rustic,” he said of the house, owned by Running Y. “I’m turning it back into a cookhouse.”
In fact, the structure used to serve as the Geary Ranch cookhouse. The big, black wood-fired cooking stove is still there, dominating the kitchen. A wood heating stove in the living room sends warmth through the house on a cold December afternoon. Country music plays on the radio.
For Dershimer, the fit is right. It’s basic, just as he likes it. After all, he’s a guy who lived in his own covered wagon for six years prior to arriving in Oregon. He keeps the 8-foot by 20-foot wagon parked on resort land now, and enjoys giving visitors a look at it. There’s a wood stove, bed, cupboards, cooking stove, and a loft inside where his grandchildren sleep when they visit.
His daughters, Samantha Patterson and Tara Booth, live in Merrill, with his other 11 children scattered farther away. He jokes that Samantha and Tara visit for dinner, but never to help him with work, such as hauling the logs he turns into furniture.
His daughters were the ones who urged him to talk to Running Y officials about a job.
On-the-road adventurer
Before that, Dershimer’s life was an on-the-road adventure, seeing him through cowboy jobs, cross-country trips in his covered wagon pulled by horses, and ownership of a ranch in California for eight drought years. He still owns six horses, which he keeps on the Running Y grounds.
He says he was born in Harvey’s Lake, Pa., in 1941 and his parents each rode a horse to the hospital. That might be correct, but as Dershimer warns, “Some of my stories are actually true.”
The family lived on a dairy farm until Dershimer was 5, when his dad bought a hotel in Milton, Pa. Dershimer said his daily chores were cleaning and stocking the bar.
“I got paid 25 cents a week allowance,” he said, adding that was enough to get himself and a friend into the movies and buy popcorn.
His father introduced him to horses, a love he maintains today. Dershimer recalls sitting by the radio as a child and listening to stories of Roy Rogers, Gene Autry and the Lone Ranger.
Dershimer’s parents divorced when he was 14, and he lived with his mother. He graduated from high school in 1958 and enlisted in the U.S. Army, eventually serving in Korea.
“I did reconnaissance into North Korea,” he said. “I told them (U.S. officers) whatever I saw.”
Dershimer was discharged in Oakland, Calif., and planned to stay there only until a friend arrived on another U.S. troop ship.
“By the time he showed up, I had a job I liked driving truck,” Dershimer said, “and I was living with four beautiful women.”
He bought a horse and kept it on an acreage owned by a friend near Napa, Calif., where he fixed fences and moved cattle from pasture to pasture on weekends.
“That’s when I became a cowboy,” Dershimer said.
In 1965, he began a fulltime cowboy job in Napa, making $300 a month with free housing. By then, he’d already been married twice, but neither one lasted.
Later he took a job on the Wine Cup Ranch in Wells, Nev., making $1,200 a month.
“I stayed in my wagon and they fed us in the cook shack,” he recalled.
He worked on a ranch near Cle Elum, Wash., from 2001 until last summer, when he migrated south at his daughters’ urging.
He’s clearly happy about being at the Running Y, where he lives alone, acknowledging, “It’s hard to find a woman who will live this lifestyle.”
His wandering days are apparently behind him.
“Why would I care to go anywhere else?” he asks, looking to the low, snow-covered hills south of the Running Y. “I like the freedom that I feel. I’m here until I die.”
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