The Suicide Circuit

The scrawny cowpoke draped over the bars of the end stall looked like anything but a big money man. His ancient riding boots were scuffed and patched; the brown leather chaps over his faded Levi's had seen better days. But he had the casual swagger of a champ. He ran a cool eye over Gold Dollar, a mean-looking palomino, and climbed aboard. Outside the chute, San Francisco's Cow Palace echoed to the voice of the announcer: "The first three-time all-around cowboy champion in history--Jim Shoulders!"

Gold Dollar bucketed into the glare of the arena. For eight frantic seconds the wild-eyed animal whipped into impossible contortions, trying to unseat its bareback rider. But Shoulders stuck like hide. When the whistle blew, he slid easily to the tanbark, looking suddenly unnatural, only a man walking on his own two legs.

Take Care. Making such breakneck gyrations look like doing what comes naturally has boosted Jim Shoulders, at 29, into the biggest-money-winning rodeo rider on record. Last year he was top bareback rider, top bull rider and top all-around cowboy for the second time, and he earned $43,381. This season, injuries have slowed him down. He may earn a little less money, but when the season ends this week in Harrisburg. Pa. he should be at the top of the lists once more in bareback bronc and bull riding.

A steak, gravy and potatoes man from breakfast to dinner, 5-ft.11-in. Jim Shoulders stokes up with a will, but somehow he stays at his 145-lb. working weight. He seldom smokes or drinks. "I take good care of myself," he insists--a disingenuous way of describing a career that has already cost him two broken collarbones, two broken arms, two broken legs and two broken ankles. Both knees have been sprung so that he has to tape them before riding; one thigh muscle has been pulled so often that it has to be strapped down. "Shucks," says Shoulders, "I've never been hurt seriously. Lots of the boys who've been traipsin' around this suicide circuit have to tie their legs on before they ride. It's not the years," he says sorrowfully, "it's the mileage."

Wear & Tear. Rodeo riding, Shoulders argues, is the roughest racket in sport. But it is not the physical danger that concerns him. "There is absolutely no money guarantee," he complains. "You've even got to furnish your own equipment, and you have to pay entry fees to compete. If you're hurt, you have to sort of scuffle around for yourself."

So far, for all his accidents, Jim Shoulders has had to do precious little scuffling. Riding the suicide circuit from New York to California, hitting all the dusty little cow towns in between, he has come to know most of the rodeo stock well. Usually he knows which bronc will give him a good, fishtailing ride; which bull will come out of the chute bucking, or which will plunge several feet and then start spinning. Most of the time he knows the safest side for dismounting when the horn sounds the end of the ride.

When the wear and tear of suicide-circuit mileage signals the end of his competitive career, Cowboy Jim Shoulders should have few worries. He will tie himself together for the last time and retire to his well-stocked Henryetta, Okla. ranch. "I keep a few calves so I'll be able to do a little ropin' and bulldoggin' of an evening," says Jim. But all that bone-breaking bareback riding will be behind him for good. Says he: "All the horses, on our place are usin' horses."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.