Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo: The History Is Legendary

Wild horse races, cowboy football, dog-riding monkeys, and even a singalong breakfast with a former president, they all have a place in the history of this illustrious event.

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Once upon a time in 1896, two dusty Texans met on a sidewalk in the Fort Worth Stockyards. Cattle bellowed in the wooden pens behind them, and a beasty bouquet of manure wafted through the air. The two men squinted into the sun, kicked the dirt, and spat. One was Charles French, an indefatigable pork-loving mover and shaker who had cowboyed in the Dakota Territory in the 1870s. The public relations director for the Stockyards, French was quite the talker — and right now he was chatting up another Charles: Charles McFarland. A cattle rancher from Weatherford, McFarland was a visionary who had introduced several new-and-improved breeds to the state. Cattle were already big business in Cowtown, but both men’s dreams were even bigger.

McFarland and French concocted an idea to promote purebred cattle with a Stock Show that would educate breeders and buyers — and generate opportunities all around. Cattle had defined Fort Worth ever since cowboys on the Chisholm Trail began stopping here to buy supplies, get sauced, and shoot guns in the street for fun. After the railroad arrived in 1876, the livestock industry took off, and businessmen began building pens north of the city to create the Stockyards. But the idea of purebred “fat stock” (animals specifically raised to eat) was relatively new to Texas, then known for its wild-eyed, rough-and-tumble longhorns. Purebred beef tasted better and was essential for attracting major meatpackers to Fort Worth, a priority for both French and McFarland.

This annual tradition of the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo continues starting on Saturday and running through Feb. 3. A look back.

Strangers to the comb

They set a date for mid-March and invited Texas ranchers, local bigwigs, and VIPs from railroad and meatpacking companies. They planned to show the cattle on the banks of Marine Creek, just east of Main Street, approximately where Saunders Park is today (between Lonesome Dove and Mule Alley).

When the morning of the Stock Show rolled around, it was cold, snowy, and sleeting. There were no enclosures or buildings, just a handful of oak trees for shelter and a rickety grandstand in the mud (which a steer later charged and destroyed). A “few animals,” somewhere between 20 and 100, shuffled together “pitifully” in the frigid air. Most were bulls, many were purebred shorthorns and Herefords, and all were crusted with a thin coating of ice. “A rough lot,” recalled French, “strangers to the comb” that engendered “disgust.” The event was tiny and uncomfortable, with nary a funnel cake or Ferris wheel to be seen. It didn’t even have a real name — but it caught on.

The second Stock Show added a parade to kick things off, a tradition that continues today. While sources are sketchy for the early years, the parade marched down North Main Street with a brass band, mule-drawn floats, and whooping cowboys firing six-shooters from horseback. Ranchers hitched their cattle to hotel fences, and merchants donated prizes for the show, including saddles, spurs, and random merchandise like windmills. One rancher was particularly confused by his award, a wooden bathtub. After all, who on earth needs a special tub for bathing when you have a perfectly good horse trough and a nearby creek?

Cowgirls and Comanches

The Texas Fat Stock Show (its first official name) expanded quickly from an informal exhibition of bulls to an all-out celebration of agriculture. Its founders achieved a significant goal in 1903 when two major meatpacking companies opened their doors in the Stockyards. Swift & Company and Armour & Company represented a huge boost to the Fort Worth economy, bringing in $6 million during the first month of operations alone.

Now a bona fidesuccess, the Stock Show’s festive atmosphere and fantastic shopping attracted people who knew little about the cattle industry — they just wanted to have a good time. And, boy howdy, they did, watching dramatic sideshows of trick roping and riding, cutting horses, and bronc busting. Cowgirls rode wild steers, and Comanches appeared in full war paint. Mules vied with horses in pulling contests. You could rent an automobile for an hour, listen to a Mexican band, and catch a vaudeville production in one afternoon. But the main attraction was still on the hoof. Countryfolk and city slickers alike climbed catwalks in the livestock tents to view prize cattle, horses, mules, sheep, and swine.

Modern Fort Worth was being born, but the city wasn’t quite out of the Wild West just yet. Streetcars ran from downtown to the Stock Show all day long, but many people came in wagons or on horses, trotting over from Mineral Wells, Alvarado, and Weatherford. Most animals arrived by train, but some herds were still being driven in on cattle trails. Saloons, brothels, and gambling parlors did brisk business; gunshots weren’t uncommon.

Lavish fancies at the North Side Coliseum

The Stock Show took a substantial step forward in 1908 with a new indoor judging arena, the North Side Coliseum (now the Cowtown Coliseum). Hailed as the “most opulent and dynamic livestock pavilion in the Western hemisphere,” the venue brandished broad skylights and elegant incandescent lighting.

With the new home came a new name, the National Feeders and Breeders Show. The name change was a necessity because many of the newly accepted animals (like poultry) no longer qualified as fat stock. Cattlemen had vehemently opposed letting chickens into the show for years, but they could no longer fight the tide. “We can’t have some six-bit rooster waking up my $1,000 bull,” grumbled one old hand.

But six-bit roosters weren’t the only things stirring up the bulls. Nightly revels kicked off with a 36-piece band marching into the coliseum playing “Dixie” and the packed house going wild. A 60-person choir sang to the rafters. Flashy diversions like fashion shows and automobile exhibitions captivated the 50,000-strong crowd. Guests could watch a Civil War battle reenactment or a fascinating demonstration of “fireless cooking” on a newfangled electric stove. Outdoor vendors fueled the masses with coffee, beer, and corn on the cob. The aroma of barbecued ribs and fried meat drifted through the air.

High-society types dressed to the nines to nibble hors d’oeuvres and sip champagne at the Kirmiss beauty pageant, which saw the coliseum decked out with elaborate decor. Each year had a different theme, such as Ancient Rome or Persian Garden. Dancing, theatrical numbers, and “lavish fancies” ensued. The horse show was another chance for the wealthy to see and be seen, and the newspaper published guidelines for proper behavior: Don’t hiss at the judge’s decisions; Don’t call a private city stable a barn.

Events expanded every year, from a sing-along breakfast with Teddy Roosevelt to a live panther riding on horseback. Chief Quanah Parker led dozens of Comanche and Kiowa braves in the 1909 parade, then set up an “Indian village” nearby. The “electric tandem” featured a rider draped in hundreds of red, white, and blue lights — and carrying a 225-pound battery to power them. But the best addition was yet to come.

This is my first rodeo

Trick riding and roping had long been part of the sideshows with sword swallowers, acrobats, and dancing “hoochie” girls. In 1904, Black cowboy Bill Pickett introduced bulldogging: biting a steer on the lip and manhandling it to the ground (later to become steer wrestling). Through the years, cowboys and cowgirls performed bronco bustin’, hurdle jumping, and shearing wild mules. In the potato race, riders competed to move the most spuds across the arena, one by one.

It all came together in 1918 with the world’s first indoor rodeo at the rechristened Southwestern Exposition and Fat Stock Show (name No. 3). Organizers weren’t sure what to call this new competition — maybe jaripeo? But they settled on the Spanish name for a cattle roundup: rodeo. Most people had never seen that word before, however, so promoters decided to pronounce it phonetically: ro-dee-oh instead of ro-day-oh … and a Texas legend was born.

This was no mere spectacle but an official, tooth-and-nails competition with bucking bronco (men and ladies) and steer riding (men and juniors). There was also a wild horse race: A herd of unbroken horses was let loose in the arena, and cowboys had to jump on one and then leap to another without touching the ground — no bridles or saddles allowed. Most contestants were Wild West performers who competed for a share of the $3,000 prize. Fort Worth’s population had grown younger in previous decades, and the rodeo caught the imagination of those who idealized the now-closed Western frontier. It was a smashing success, with 250,000 people attending the six-day Stock Show that year.

From the White House to wild cow milking

By now, the Stock Show was big news not only around Texas but across the country. President Woodrow Wilson launched the event from Washington, D.C., in 1919 by pushing a button in the White House to turn on the coliseum’s electric lights. The addition of bull riding in the Roaring 20s gave crowds the thrills they craved, as did another new attraction: the Midway. Rodeoers could ride the Ferris wheel and merry-go-round or admire the Follies, pretty young women posing against a painted backdrop. Rides were lit with kerosene lanterns, and calliope music filled the air.

When the Great Depression arrived in the early 1930s, the Fort Worth Fat Stock Show (name No. 4) reduced admission prices and added novelties to attract the crowds — like cowboy football. Teams of mounted riders tried to move a 20-foot-diameter ball to the arena’s endzones, playing with the same basic rules as regular football but far more broken bones. Tackling your opponent meant throwing him off his horse. In another competition, cowboys had to rope a wild cow, milk it, and carry a bottle of milk to the judges.

Even with the Depression stunting attendance, the Stock Show was outgrowing its home on the North Side. Most visitors and animals now arrived by vehicle instead of rail, but there was precious little parking. Herds of horses and mules brought traffic to a standstill, and mounted riders befouled hotel lobbies with “horse apples.” Packs of wild dogs roamed dark alleyways, and families avoided the wild-and-wooly area at night. The fresh offal and manure dumped into Marine Creek didn’t help.

Airlifted ham hocks

Still, the idea of moving the Stock Show to its current location on the West Side was highly controversial. Even after Will Rogers Memorial Center was built in 1936, it took a devastating flood on the North Side and the outbreak of World War II before the Stock Show decamped to its new digs. Following a hiatus in 1943 (the only one until 2021), the event returned in fine form with Gene Autry on stage in the opulent new venue.

With war on everyone’s minds, displays included jets, heavy military machinery, and even the bulletproof limo owned by Nazi war criminal Hermann Göring. To highlight Fort Worth’s role at the forefront of aviation, a live hog was delivered to the Stock Show by helicopter. The city was eyebrows deep in the war effort, with many citizens working overnight at aircraft factories and unable to attend the evening rodeo. Special performances were held at odd hours so that everyone could enjoy the show. Without enough structures to house the animals, 28 big-top tents were erected, tents that recalled the earliest days of the event.

To better coincide with the national rodeo circuit and spring bull sales, the Stock Show moved from March to January in 1948 — the date of one of the worst winter storms in Fort Worth history. Thankfully, six recently built livestock barns kept man and beast warm; many more would be built in the decades to come.

From a couple dozen animals to 20,000 today

“Eat a pound of beef every day,” urged the Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association in the early 1950s, aiming to bulk up a slumping beef market. But the Stock Show was going strong, with celebrities like Roy Rogers and Dale Evans adding sparkle. Fifty million television viewers tuned in for the first national broadcast in 1958. The silver screen was America’s latest obsession, and the 1961 Show featured a recreation of “Ben Hur’s” chariot race with the same teams of horses from the movie — complete with a dramatic staged crash.

Delighting fans even more were dog-riding monkeys dressed in tiny cowboy hats and chaps that herded sheep to much applause. With names like Zippy and Whiplash, these adorable little buckaroos rode from the 1960s to the 2000s. By that point, the event was called the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo (name No. 5) although the official corporate entity is the Southwestern Exposition and Livestock Show (name No. 6) — which is why for simplicity’s sake most people just call it the Stock Show, now and forever.

With Dickies Arena opening in 2020, another great era of the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo has begun. In 2024, rodeoers will compete in 25 performances for a $1.2 million purse, and over 20,000 animals will strut their stuff for the judges, a far cry from the couple dozen cattle of 1896. While spoken in 1908, one stockman’s words ring ever true today:

“It is hard to imagine that from a few scrawny cattle, standing around a bunch of scrub oak in the snow, surrounded by mud, trash, and a handful of rough cowhands, that something like this could ever come about.”