I love the writings of Roy Bedichek. It’s hard to explain the fascination to people who are not from Texas.
A while back, a friend and I were talking about Stanley Walker’s Uncle Ernest, an old cowman who, when he was old and broken down, shot himself. He didn’t want to be a burden to others.
My friend said, “Uncle Ernest may have been a West Texas cowboy but he seems Greek to me.”
I knew exactly what he meant. Bedichek was the same sort of fellow.
Texas is known for its egregious politicians whose moral sentiments are unhelpful, sanctimonious, platitudinous and often hypocritical. But there have been people who have looked at this vast, harsh and wonderful landscape with clearer eyes. These people observed, questioned and thought.
Bedichek was like that.
J. Frank Dobie, a better-known writer who was perhaps Bedichek’s closest friend, would tell how Bedichek loved to camp. Bedichek bought a ’51 Dodge pickup to haul stuff around in, including camping gear. The gear included field guides for flora and birds.
Dobie said: “He always took along something to read as well as to consult; above all, he took along the most richly and variously stocked mind I have known.”
I wanted to get to know a man with such a mind. And so I began to read Bedichek, first his essays and then, wonderfully, his letters.
There is a difference between getting acquainted with someone and becoming familiar. I’ve read enough to be familiar. Sometimes, I go to the bookshelf to see what Mr. Bedichek had to say.
I’m marking his birthday, June 27, 1878, as a way to honor someone who influenced my thinking.
• Sources: The quotation comes from J. Frank Dobie, Out of the Old Rock; Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1972, p. 121.
My essay on Bedichek is at https://www.hebertaylor.com/roy-bedichek.
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