My Cheyenne Frontier Days 5 life phases – Movie making and interviewing drunks

Posted on July 27, 2025 by Alan O’Hashi, Whole Brain Thinker

They say life comes full circle, but I prefer to think of mine as a five-part mini-series with each episode set during Cheyenne Frontier Days (CFD).

By the time I hit Phase 5, I wasn’t just riding in the parade or hawking ice-cold soda pop, I was behind the scenes, calling the shots through a camera lens.

Media passes were my golden tickets that got me into all kinds of events. Organizations and events that issue passes all have different criteria. CFD required that I send a letter on official letterhead with a synopsis of the project.

Like most high-profile events, organizers want to weed out the freeloaders who want to get in for free.

Since my projects generally included shots of the rodeo, I also had to get permission from the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association (PRCA).

Speaking of CFD photographers, in the background is the Wyoming State Tribune, and Wyoming Eagle photographer Francis Brammar, who is pictured taking in the action.

They were more concerned that I wasn’t going to make a movie that was anti-rodeo, like about the abuse of animals.

The PRCA should be more concerned about the bootleg smartphone camera operators in the crowd recording the broncs, steers, and bulls being ridden or thrown to the ground.

I got to know the members of the CFD Public Relations Committee and didn’t have to go through the formal process, and was issued day passes.

My camera crews are always a mobile magnet for the curious. In a small town like Cheyenne, as well as other places around Wyoming, a guy with a boom mic and a clipboard might as well be Spielberg. Venues and cities rarely require permits to shoot.

5. Movie Making: I’ve made a couple of short movies in Cheyenne using CFD as a backdrop. In 1947, beat writer Jack Kerouac made a road trip from New York City to Denver. He was dropped off in Cheyenne.

On the Trail: Jack Kerouac in Cheyenne (2010) is about the night Kerouac’s alter ego, Sal Paradise, spent in Cheyenne during Wild West Week, an homage to CFD. Watch the movie by clicking the image.

I imagined the locations where he may have stopped, and went to the Mayflower, the Crown Bar, and the Plains Hotel, where I grabbed random people to read the script.

I covered the audio with 1940s images of Downtown Cheyenne and CFD. A Colorado PBS producer, Josh Hassel, may you Rest In Peace, introduced me to John Cassady, son of Kerouac’s friend and colleague Neal Cassady. He was the narrator.

The Rose Garden (2012), directed by Pamela Cuming, is a short narrative that had a cast and crew of thousands. The CFD parade and the carnival at Frontier Park are the backdrops. Watch the movie by clicking the image.

I was working on a documentary about the wild horse race, but I’m having a little trouble coming up with a story. It’s not really a race, but more of a battle between man and beast. A team of three men (I’m not sure if women have been involved) must steady, saddle, and ride a rough-stock horse around the arena.

I also worked on a few projects for the CFD Old West Museum and created the CFD Volunteer Crisis Fund’s annual tribute video until the COVID-19 pandemic. Wyoming Lifestyle magazine also produced short CFD videos featuring local businesses.

I’ll be in Cheyenne for Cheyenne Day on Wednesday. I doubt I’ll wear jeans, boots, a long-sleeved shirt, or a hat, which are the required uniform items. I won’t be swinging by the media trailer to pick up credentials. My guess is that all my cronies have aged out, and my colleagues won’t be around.

Incidentally, my CFD handle is “Bud,” which is one of my best-kept secrets derived from John Travolta’s character, Buford “Bud” Davis, in Urban Cowboy (1980).

This phase taught me that filmmaking isn’t just about what’s in the frame. It’s about showing up, staying curious, and knowing when to record life’s unscripted moments.

Even after moving to Boulder, I kept my Wyoming connections strong, proving you don’t have to live in Cheyenne to live for Frontier Days.

Besides, when you’ve got a camera on your shoulder and a story to tell, the world becomes your set, and Cheyenne always gives you willing, spontaneous actors and great lighting.

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My Cheyenne Frontier Days 5 life phases – ‘Bedpan! Bedpan!’

Posted on July 22, 2025 by Alan O’Hashi, Whole Brain Thinker

There’s something special about friends you’ve known since kindergarten, those bonds forged before life got complicated. For me, those friendships were built not just in classrooms, but on hay wagons and behind parade floats during Cheyenne Frontier Days. Going on 70 years later, we’re still connected through memories, tradition, and Cheyenne Day reunions.

I’d ridden in the parade before as an elementary school-aged kid. My mom was a member of the X-JWC (Ex-Junior Women’s Club), which sponsored a singing group called the Dearies, consisting of her fellow club members.

The X-JWC entered a float in the Cheyenne Frontier Days (CFD) Parade. All the Dearies had kids – Murrays, St. Clairs, Nichols, Lummises – and we all hung together during the summer, including during the construction of the annual float. My dad, who worked for Coca-Cola, provided a flatbed trailer that he hauled over to the Lummis’s barn.

I don’t recall any of the dads helping out much, except to attach the chicken wire skirt around the trailer. The kids weren’t very tall, and we were the best at stuffing white napkins through the wire.

This was before electric pianos, so the Dearies had to belt out a cappella, their old time classics like Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue, and Jadda, Jadda, Jadda Jadda Jing Jing Jing.

The moms brought us kids to the parade. Most of us rode the entry-level hay wagons. Back then, nobody minded gender identifying stereotypes. That was an initiation for kids to get involved with CFD.

The boys dressed up in their cowboy duds – hats, jeans, boots, maybe a bolo tie and western belt.

The girls wore long dresses, ribbons in their hair, and bonnets. The boys were instructed to be boisterous and yell “Hee Haw!” while the girls carried hankies and politely waved them at the crowd.

I grew out of selling pop at the parade and honed my social chops working at the Hitching Post. My next CFD phase was riding a wagon in the parades.

My CFD friends and I have kept in touch after all these years. That’s one of the good things about living in a relatively small town. We attended the same neighborhood schools and progressed through the grades together.

Our elementary schools fed into the same junior high school, which in turn fed into the high school. We are still in touch during Cheyenne Day, which is on Wednesday during Frontier Week.

3. High School Parade Rides: One of my East High School classmates, named Janice Benton, had the pull to get me and my friends into the parade.

Her mom was a volunteer on the CFD Parade Committee, and for three summers through high school, we rode in the horse-drawn field ambulance wagon.

Janice dressed up as a Civil War nurse, and two guys moaned in pain with bandaged limbs hanging out of the windows. My crew over the three parade days comprised Jan, Eddie Frye (pictured in full regalia), and Tad Leeper.

We had messy jugs of red-colored water and let it run out of the corners of our mouths – pretty graphic for a family-friendly CFD, but the crowd loved it.

We also had this “bedpan” schtick, but I don’t need to go into any of the details about that!

We didn’t know it then, but all those summers of float-building, hayrides, and CFD antics created more than just parade entries. They created lifelong connections. Every Cheyenne Day, we pick up where we left off, as if no time has passed at all. That’s the magic of small towns, old friends, and staying rooted in your past.

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My Cheyenne Frontier Days 5 life phases – Entrepreneurship at a young age

Posted on July 19, 2025 by Alan O’Hashi, Whole Brain Thinker

Before I knew what “entrepreneur” meant, I was hauling red wagons of Shurfine soda along the Cheyenne Frontier Days (CFD) parade route. The image features me, my sister, Lori, and our friend Carol Lou posing before heading to a CFD activity.

That side hustle as a sixth grader taught me more about business than any textbook ever could.

Growing up in Cheyenne, CFD wasn’t just a rodeo and huge crowds, it was a rite of passage. For me, that passage started in grade school with a red wagon, a stash of off-brand pop, and hot asphalt in front of the parade-goers along the route.

I didn’t know it then, but that scrappy little side hustle was the beginning of my entrepreneurial spirit. Long before I understood words like “margin” or “market demand,” I understood this: people were thirsty, and I had something to sell.

Phase I – Parade Pop Sales: When I was in the sixth and seventh grades, one of my golfing pals, Pat, my sister Lori, and cousin Matthew from Salt Lake City sold ice-cold pop along the parade routes. My family was heavily involved with CFD. My sister and I are pictured getting ready to ride in one of the parades. Sitting in the hay wagon on a straw bale gave me my first look at CFD as a participant. From my perch, I noticed older kids pulling wagons and selling pop.

“I can do that,” I thought. My dad worked for Coca-Cola, and we could purchase products at a discount. Despite the wholesale price, I opted for a higher profit margin. Besides, thirsty parade-goers weren’t interested in brands. Coca-Cola did have bags of ice and cups. None of the other kids had those.

Two months ahead of time was spent hoarding all the cheap off-brand sodas, such as Shurfine and Cragmont, to sell at each of the three parades that wound through downtown Cheyenne.

They just wanted something wet and cold. This was well before bottled water. I think it was before flip tops, and we had to open them using a can opener.

In our first year, we ran out of pop and wasted at least half an hour running over to Brannen’s Market on Carey Avenue, which is now a Wyoming state government office.

During subsequent years, three red wagons were dispatched, and cars with additional supplies were strategically parked along the parade route. My cousin saved the bag of loose change from his first take as a reminder of his first entrepreneurial project. I wonder if he still has it.

These days, kids must obtain a permit and be accompanied by an adult. Plus, there is no selling in the street in front of potential customers, only on the sidewalk behind them.

Sheesh – talk about overregulation.

Looking back, selling Shurfine soda from a wagon might seem trivial. The lessons were lasting: prepare ahead, work as a team, and always stay close to your customer. It was my first taste of hustle, and it stuck with me.

As you think back on your own childhood, what lit your fire? What small moment—maybe overlooked at the time—nudged you toward the person you’ve become? Sometimes, it’s not the big milestones, but the hot July mornings with sticky fingers and jingling pockets of change that shape us most.

If the world needs more cowboys, maybe it also needs more kids who get their start selling pop at a parade.

Boulder Community Media – BCM

Creating the New Creative Economy One Story at a Time

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