My uncle Jack Burres was probably one of my first heroes and
in my mind is still held in that esteem even at my later time in life. The funny thing is he is still alive at this
time but we do not touch base any too often.
Probably what has prompted this writing today is a recording project I
am undertaking to combat my inclination to procrastinate. Some twenty years or so ago Jack put his
early memories into a collection of cowboy poems, Reata Buckeros, which I intend to record vocally for him and his remaining family.
Jack was born to my grandparents as one half of a set of
twins, his sister Louise shared his spot in the line-up behind Lewis, Chester
(my dad), and Loretta, and was followed by Kenneth, and Jay. The common practice in those days was for
families to lend their children to relatives and neighbors as a means of labor
and as training for the child. This is a
practice that is probably frowned on by our politically correct society today,
but as in Jacks case it made him into the hero my memory cherishes today. Jack and his younger brother Kenny spent time
under the tutelage of a turn of the century cattleman John Shelton Burres whose
name uncle Jack was given at birth.
Shelt, as he was called, was a true pioneer type cattleman. Shelt ran his cattle on a rough and rugged
portion of the John Day river, in
Eastern Oregon, and it was this part of growing up that made Uncle Jack into
who he was. This time is the time that
Jack was always able to recall vividly. He could paint historical pictures with
the stories and tales that almost made imagination seem real. These were the
stories told in his cowboy collection.
If I get time and inclination I will re-write and include this in my
writings. Jack had this collection published and is sold with all proceeds
being donated to the Veterans of Foreign Wars from WWII who have had to fight
to get their medical conditions cared for by the VA.
Jack and his brothers Kenny and Jay had joined in the fight,
against the German onslaught in Europe, as sailors in the United States
Navy. I never got much of a story from
Kenny about his service time, Jay from
what I heard was kind of wild one spending a lot of brig time, but Jacks was a
different story altogether. Jacks time
in the service put him in the position of mechanic on the large diesel engines
that powered the ships on which he served.
He never really talked a lot about the war, that I heard anyway, but
over time I learned that he had three ships blown out from under him. During one of these Jack was blown into the
air over a hundred feet and came down landing on his head. As his shipmates were leaving the ship he was
passed by as being dead until someone noticed he was still alive. That occurrence put a steel plate in Jacks
head. In later years that brought
another battle to Jacks life which was enjoined by his son Jimmy against the VA
to receive the benefits he should have received for this injury. He and Jimmy prevailed in this fight and they
continue to fight for others who faced similar situations. This War occurred prior to my ability to
understand but, as in all things, history is necessary for perspective.
I really knew very little about my uncle Jack until he
started working for us on our ranch and even now my early focus was on what he
did more than who he really was.
Physically he was bigger than life to me and certainly compared to his
siblings he was the cream of the crop.
He had a great sense of humor and, as I said earlier, he had a knack for
story telling that excited the imagination.
I was probably around eight or nine years old when he started working
steady with dad. We had moved from a
farm that dad was renting, something in the order of sharecropping, to an
adjacent place called the Couture ranch and Jack moved into the place we moved
from. The two ranches were adjacent and
so it was natural for the brothers to work them together and did so for the
next fifteen years or so. Without really
understanding everything that was going on I in effect had two great men as my
teachers. It wasn’t until just recently
that I understood that Jack was more than just someone I admired and wanted to
be like, he was in fact a second father to me.
Jack was there for me to emulate until we sold out and moved to Canada
in my early twenties. It wasn’t that he
out shined or replaced dad it was more like a different perspective on life and
doing. Dad did everything Jack did but
dad was dad and Jack was a hero.
Our life was that of most eastern Oregon ranchers, a mix of
farming and raising cattle. Our ranch
was fifteen miles from the nearest little town and sixty from a city of any
size. There was a necessity of self
efficiency that required the ability to repair our equipment with whatever was
closest at hand as it took time and money for part replacement. Throughout the years I watched Jack answer
situation after situation with a determination and can do attitude that showed
me things don’t always have to be perfect in order to work and that just about
anything can be fixed. Jack taught me
how to weld and use acetylene and many times I watched him take mangled and
broken to make useable and functional parts so we could continue our
tasks. He taught me there are solutions
if you look for them, He helped me to understand how things work together. That was mostly learning from what he had
learned as a machinist in the Navy mixed with what he had learned from his dad
and his uncle. You survive by
proceeding. The cowboy part I learned
from both dad and Jack and I have ridden many miles up and down many canyons
with them both. Dad was probably a far
better cattleman than Jack and a better rider.
I think Jack had probably gotten his fill of being a cowboy when he
worked for uncle Shelt, and after reading Jacks collection of stories I can
understand why. There were a couple of
things that Jack did, on the cowboy side of things, better than anyone I have
ever known. He had an uncanny way of
understanding the sneaky and contrary side of the cattle we were working and
was usually able to get himself and his horse where he had to be. The main thing though was Jacks ability to
train horses. Today we are aware of guys
like the horse whisperer but that was not common knowledge when I was growing
up. The first horse I saw Jack take from
raw to useful was my own horse little Joe.
Most all of the horses I had been in contact with prior to that time
were already saddle and rein broke so I didn’t have any idea of what made them
that way, now I know. Jack removed the
element of fear from Joe by using hobbles on him then rubbing and petting him
from top to bottom, showing Joe that we meant no harm and by the end of that
process we could do anything around that horse without spooking him and that
included being able to walk back and forth under him. This got Joe used to people and used to his
saddle but his training didn’t stop there he still had to learn to take
directions. There are a lot of different
ways to teach a horse to do what you want him to do, some hard handed and some
gentle. Jack seemed to be quite a bit
toward the gentle side. Just as he
eliminated fear in the horse by creating trust his guidance was easy and
painless. Instead of starting Joe out
with a steel bit in his mouth, a quirt to his rump and spurs in his side Jack
used softer methods. Joe was trained to
rein with a hackamore and this was pressure enough for him to take directions
without making fearful. All in all I
think Jack taught me with the same degree of gentleness and all the while I
never knew that was happening. It just
did.
Don’t misunderstand me, Jack was not perfect he had a horrific
temper and out of him could spill a lot of language that I really didn’t need
to learn, but for the most part what he taught was good. I have been fortunate in life by having not
just one but two great father figures, my own dad and one of my first heroes, Uncle
Jack.
