Rodeo Year 1985: Mentioned in program:

 

The townspeople loved the homespun humor. They always chuckled at the story of Oliver Harris hollering from the barn, "Get the seperator ready Pearly, I've got the cow milked - never mind she kicked it over." There were calves "raised on Milk of Magnesia" too, and probably a hundred and one other crazy tales and questionable anecdotes that kept the crowd entertained for hours.

 

Actually, a whole generation of McCammonites grew up on being awakened on a certain Saturday morning each July by the music of Eddy Arnold record on the arena sound system, and by the familar voice of Rodeo Announcer Leo Bullock "tuning things up" for the big performance later in the day.

It was the pleasant sound to awaken to, - a peaceful sound in a way, that made life seem carefree. It was a sound that made a youngster's mind skip ahead to the day's festivities, -- a parade, the program at the school house, the candy and hotdogs and pop, to the games at the park, the friends that would be in town, the cowboys, the clowns, the bulls! It was a sound that soon made you fly out of bed to get the fun rolling!

 

The Marsh Valley Rodeo had been offically formed way back in the 1940's and young Leo, just barely 17 years old, was enlisted to announce the show that year. Things were a bit different back then - informal and makeshift, but still a rollicking good time. Rodeo stock had to be found locally from various farms and ranches, and then gathered and driven to the arena. Volunteers spread out in many directions and did a lot of hard riding at times to find enough animals to put the show on.

 

A pretty, young local girl, Blanche Romriell, was chosen as the first rodeo queen. Blanche didn't do much horse riding, but that fact didn't enter in. After all, homecoming queens usually don't play football either.

 

No one bothered with things like admission charges or cowboy entry fees, they just passed a hat for donations, and then split the booty among the top scoring cowboys in each event. Not much fuss was given Leo either, - just a megaphone, an occasional cool drink, and a "thank you" when the show was all done.

 

Well, little did Leo know at the time that he had just inherited a job that would last nearly thiry years, and would see the birht of all six of his kids and even a couple of grand kids. During ten of those years he served as chairman of the celebration, and his wife, Helen was the bookkeeper and timer. During Leo's years as chairman, the rodeo was changed to a two-day event, and was held at night under the lights. Through a light of hard work and personal sacrifice of their time they contributed greatly to the success and continuation of rodeo celebration. Being chairman required Leo to take time off from his job to help take care of last-minute preparations of the show. Quite often they dipped into their own pocket to cover an entry fee for a contestant who might call in just before the books closed. "But we never got stuck," Leo says. "The cowbys always reimbursed us."

 

Leo and Helen's names became almost synonymous with the Marsh Valley Rodeo. They still get calls from out of town people asking for information about the rodeo.

 

Leo speaks fondly of those years with the rodeo. His heart was really in it: "People don't know it, but I rode every horse and bull, and roped every calf and steer that wnet out of those chutes. I did it from right up there in the announncer's stand. I felt like I was right with every cowboy that rode."