Words To My Friend, Art Crofutt

You’re one of the best illustrators I’ve ever seen.  Fact is, you do the old west better than anyone I’ve seen.  And I enjoy listening to your tales, arguing with you and aggravating you. I suppose when one is sanctified with a long life it is privileged? Depending on the condition of the body in which one travels of course. To me, it’s been a little like a train ride through beautiful and varied scenery with something grand and wonderful around every bend.  But I know for some of my friends it hasn’t been such a good deal.  At least to hear them tell.

As the years have slipped past and things are born each day that are beyond my comprehension, I can easily understand why the creator of all this has limited my stay here.  Already I have seen some beautiful architecture built in my early years, torn down and new designs erected to proclaim whatever it is the designer wishes to declare.  Which, needless to say to me, is disagreeable.  This procedure is included in all that is taking place around me and naturally renders me simply archaic.  And so my better judgment tells me that I too, must rather soon find another location in which to wander about. Not wishing to dwell too long on the subject, but still recognizing the fact that the longer we live the more often we say good-bye to those we have come to know and claim as friends.  We stand quietly head bowed, our minds groping for words to apply to the occasion, but unable collect them.  Then later as time permits, come to realize that this particular character we mourn has taken a part of us that we will no longer have.  Then the sadness starts because we know our tears are really for ourselves.  Our loved one is gone.  Yes – and we also realize that we did indeed love them.

A lot is said at this time about heaven and just rewards and a better place, but we all have that little measure of doubt about where it is we are going.  Even the most devout  cannot explain exactly what lies beyond.  And certainly myself, being the Irish heathen I have ever been, holds a great abyss of doubt within my perception. But I have given this a lot of consideration and have seriously questioned what might be heaven to me.  And the reader must understand that this is strictly my own version being naturally unable to give anyone else’s. 

Standing alone and divested of all the worldly possessions I have ever owned, looking into the face of eternity I would pray my reward for serving my years upon this amazing planet will be a cool shady tree lined country road and as I look I see in the distance coming to greet me, all the ones I have ever loved and known, all the animals I have owned, and all the things that have pleasured my mind during my short visit in life.  For I can think of no greater reward for anything I have ever experienced.  To stand among my loved ones, to touch their faces, to hold them in my arms again and to walk with them one by one once more, is, to me, the full measure of the supreme intelligence said to govern the world as I have seen it.

Now, hand me a beer and tell me I’m full of it. ~ Weakeyes Cody 2007

Ah. Shucks!

The first time I met Art was at Calico Ghost town and as always Art was in rare form. Here I was walking up the main street of Calico dressed in Navy blue running shorts, tank top and carrying a fanny pack. Not exactly sure anymore the actual time but, it was sometime in the spring of 1999, and the last time I can remember for a fact to never again go for a run. I officially retired that day and took up gun fighting.

Anyway, Art took one look at me and in no uncertain terms let me know I looked more like someone from Key West, Florida or San Francisco, California. He was not convinced that I was a true for sure gunfighter. He was leaning strongly in the other direction, most notably a girl man. Anyway the laugh was on me and that was okay as long as I could wear my guns and fall down in the streets of Calico. I also made a good friend that day in one hombre named "Smokey Jack." I believe that Bob, Apache Kid and Cliff were there for the ruckus I created that afternoon.

As best I can remember Art was leaned back playing his squeeze box and looking at me like I was in need of serious and immediate counseling. However, if that did not work a new rope and tree would for sure cure what ailed me. It was good to be the object of so much polite ridicule. I did not mind the ribbing and found Art to be both colorful and humorous. Over the years that I have known Art he remained colorful, humorous, and cantankerous, which was part of Art's character.

I will miss Misfire Mel, the few days I had in Calico, and all of the good times shared with Art and the whole Muleskinner family.  I really will miss seeing him sitting by the campfire early in the morning. ~ Josh West and Lilly 2007

I am proud to say Art was my friend. I, like many others, remember first encountering him on the front porch of the Calico Jail. I told him I was a seamstress who had just returned from living in Montana for many years and wanted to reacquaint myself with Calico. He spoke to me of the gunfighters and the re-enactors and said they would appreciate my sewing for them. We were instant friends as we shared that great love of history that most re-enactors share. Art was the first person I did any sewing for at Calico. He gave me his high praise and he was the first person in my entire life to tell me I had talent. For that one kind gesture, I will forever be indebted to him and I will always cherish his memory. ~ Miss Abigail Lacey 2007

"Remember me, when the candle lite is waining.
Remember me, at the close of a long long day.
Twould be so sweet, knowing all the while I'm sleeping.
Here in my heart, that you'll remember me."

Art Crofutt, you're my friend. And I will remember you everywhere I look.
~ Lucky Sumtyms 2007

Muleskinners,
Ranger and I met Art the first time at Calico in 2001, I think. We often talked about that first time. Art didn't have a lot of time or patience with anyone who was not really serious and we had to prove ourselves. I can remember thinking "what an ole grump"!

This impression didn't last long! I always looked forward to our long talks over a beer. WHAT AN AMAZING MAN! I never grew tired of his stories and seeing his beautiful artwork. His creative mind was amazing to me and Ranger loved the skits he would come up with.

He often talked about his love, his daughter, Sara.  Last time I saw them together was Pioneertown, some time around the coming out of the 2nd Harry Potter book.  He was so proud of her.

Our last talk was German Pete's memorial weekend in 2006. It was a beautiful weekend. My heart was heavy for him as he showed me the deterioration of his hands. I don't believe he ever knew how much we loved him and how he would be missed. Art, Misfire Mel, God Bless and be at peace.
~ Acton Ranger and Soledad Sandi 2007

I hope your destination to the future is as elegant as your presence of the past. ~ Spider 2007

Dear Friend's of Misfire Mel,

I'm writing because I've just learned about my brother's, Art Crofutt, untimely death. My name is Ken Crofutt and I live in Italy, so I'm a little out of the loop as far as keeping up with things back there in the states. Sadly, Art and I were estranged for the last couple of years, but during our lives we were very close and I can't describe how grief-stricken I feel at the moment.

As we were growing up, we were each other's main playmate because we were just a year apart in school and our father was a civil servant working for the U.S. Air Force, so the family moved around quite a lot. This closeness continued through high school where played together on the school's varsity football and soccer teams and our perspective girlfriends (both cheerleaders) were best friends.

We went to college together back in the 60s and as young adults, he and his wife Kat were were two of my wife's and mine best friends. After we were both divorced, Art moved in with me in Forest Falls, CA and in the mid-70s we opened up the Saddletramp Saloon there as partners. I don't know if Art ever mentioned this place to you Muleskinners, but it was a raucous, boot stomping place with live music, hotly contested horseshoe matches and a yearly woodsman competition. As always, Art and I fought like cats 'n' dogs, but I have many fond memories of him and that ole mountain man hang out.
 ~ Ken Crofutt 2007

Windy Bill told me about Art and visiting Calico Ghost Town when I was still living in Indiana. I was tickled to finally meet him and he definitely was the character and storyteller that I had heard about. Though I have some very fond memories of Calico Ghost Town, my most favorite memory was back in 1999 when practically the whole group made the trip out to Virginia City , Nevada to celebrate our ( Windy Bill & myself) one-year anniversary, rob the train and take in the sites. It was our last day and several people had already left. We  were just waiting for the others to finish packing. when Windy Bill, Misfire Mel and I decided to park ourselves on a  balcony to view the beauty of  the valley and reminisce about the weekend and stuff in general.  Art, with that twinkle in his eye, was keeping us entertained  telling us  his tales and making us laugh when a storm rolled in producing a perfect double rainbow that stretched from one side to the other side of the valley. It was an awe-inspiring moment and it just seemed like a fitting end to a wonderful weekend - something just the three of us shared together . May you rest in peace, Uncle Art. You are in our hearts and we miss you. ~ Cutter & Windy Bill 2007

 

Thank you, Sugarlump & Lead-Bottom Lucy for your photos!

© Arthur M.Crofutt

Some examples of his work for sale...

First Lesson
Self portrait with daughter, Sara

Deadwood

Jerome

Holdin em Off

Barter

Clint Eastwood

Golden Powder

End Of Trail Posters

American Cowboy - January/February 2002
Photo by © J.C. Leacock

Paintings by Patti Doolittle