Articles

From October 2003 Roundup Magazine:

      The Helena Conference From a New Member’s Viewpoint  

By Bill Markley

Butterflies flew in my stomach as I walked into the lobby of the Red Lion Colonial Hotel. I’m here I thought. Look! People who look like Western writers!

I was pumped up after driving 814 solo miles from Pierre, South Dakota to Helena, Montana. Outside Gillette, Wyoming, an angry storm spawning high winds and hail had chased me. Sheridan, Wyoming was a pit stop to visit friends. They took me to the Pony Bar and introduced me to Moose Drool Beer. After a few, I promised to help move heavy furniture into their new house with a view of the Big Horn Mountains. On a side trip to the Battle of the Rosebud, my trip nearly ended by stepping on a rattlesnake. I stopped at the Little Big Horn to visit an old friend working there as a ranger. We swapped tall tales and then it was back on the road for me.

So when I entered the Red Lion I was pumped up; but at the same time uneasy entering an entirely new situation. The first people I met were Karyn Cheatham and her folks. They were friendly and efficient as they registered and provided information to a slightly bewildered writer.

Larry Brown found me and took me to the new member orientation. Larry welcomed us and introduced us to other new members and old hands. What a great way to start the conference. The badges identifying us as new members were a helpful touch. Larry said not to be concerned if we were accosted by members grabbing our badges and examining our names and faces. Each neophyte had been assigned a mentor.

Lucia Robson was assigned to me. She was a great mentor, introduced me to a lot of people, gave me good advice, and even made me run clomping along in my cowboy boots down the hallway to sign up with an editor whom no one else knew had arrived yet.

The opening entertainment was great fun. Stan Lynde invited me to sit at a table with him, Candy Moulton, Mike Logan, Pat Mulrooney, and others. The poems and songs whether humorous or serious were done well.

The panel discussions were useful. Panelists were relaxed and answered questions frankly and at times humorously.

What great receptions. If you left hungry or thirsty it was usually your own fault. The Russell exhibit was a spiritual event to see his works up close and personal. Mike Logan’s poem “Men of The Open Range” came to mind.

 While many people chose the field trip to Deer Lodge, I chose the road less traveled to Butte. One of my ancestors had been a miner who settled down in Butte at the end of his days. I had found in the 1900 census he owned a boarding house that is now part of the Berkley Pit. Lenore Puhek overheard me say this and laughingly introduced herself. She said in Butte “boarding house” was a euphemism for house of ill repute. The next day she took me to the Montana Historical Archives where we tried to further track down this interesting, elusive ancestor.

I love auctions. The Homestead Foundation Auction has to rate as one of the best. Dusty Richards, as auctioneer, kept the action rolling. I knew it was going to be good when he announced “You can bid on anything in this room,” and Mike Gear from Wyoming jumped up, pointed at man wearing a shirt with buffalo on it and shouted “Alright then I want his shirt!” The bidding proceeded and they sold the shirt.

The book signing event was a success. I know because I bought more books than I sold. The grand finale, the Awards Banquet, was the capstone of the conference. To be present to see the best in Western writing honored was inspiring.

I have been to more conferences than I can count. This was by far the best conference I have ever experienced. The older members were friendly and went out of their way to get to know new members. Just the conversations in the lounge were worth the trip, such as debating David Crockett’s death at the Alamo. I learned an awful lot—things I can use to improve my writing. I was even handed an idea for a novel. By far the best I got from the conference was a new batch of friends. See you in Mesquite if the Lord is willing.

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© Bill Markley 2003
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