by Erin Eddins
I am a country girl. Though most often in business attire, my Wild West childhood runs deep through me. I have a quiet appreciation for all things rustic. And nothing emphasizes this better than a true cowboy hat. A cowboy’s hat tells what kind of man he is, how hard he works and where he’s been. Chris Ledoux made this point in the very unassuming song “This Cowboy’s Hat.”
(Lyric excerpt:)
Now partner, this old hat’s better left alone.
You see, it used to be my daddy’s, but last year he passed on.
My nephew skinned the rattler that makes up this old hat band.
But back in ‘69, he died in Vietnam.
Now the eagle feather was given to me by an Indian friend of mine.
Someone ran him down somewhere around that Arizona line.
And a real special lady give me this hat pin
And I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again.
You’ll ride a black tornado across a western sky.
Rope an old blue norther and milk it ’till it’s dry.
Bulldog the Mississippi, pin its ears down flat
Long before you take this cowboy’s hat.
So, what does this song have to do with Old Joe? A one word answer: Stetson. Sure Ledoux’s lyrics speak of the sentimental items accompanying the cowboy’s hat but I’d bet you 100 to 1 that the hat was a Stetson.
I, like Ledoux, call Wyoming my home. It was the place of my birth, a part of my childhood and my “going back home” place now. In Wyoming a cowboy hat is always a Stetson. Sounds like the long standing motto, “Stetson, it’s not just a hat, it’s the hat.”
And as most of you know Stetson and St. Joseph are often in the same sentence.
John B. Stetson, son of Stephen Stetson, a master hat maker, left the East Coast for the Wild West, which at that time meant Missouri. He was in poor health, many say it was tuberculosis, and needed to abandon the eastern seaboard so he heeded the advice “head west young man,” and settled in St. Joseph.
This proved to be a pivotal move for John. Many trail parties left from St. Joe, which served as a trading post as they readied for travel. The allure of the trail and the unknown Colorado Rockies sparked his interest but his work at a local brickyard was going well. As time went by he eventually managed and then owed the business. That is until the flooded Missouri River reclaimed her mud and John was left with nothing.
As the Civil War was raging at full throttle John decided to join and fight, though he was prevented from enlisting due to his health and the resulting disabilities. With nothing in St. Joe for him to be leaving behind, he outfitted with a team headed to Colorado and with Pike’s Peak in his mind’s eye.
Despite the rugged travel and harsh conditions it is reported the John’s health improved with life on the open range. Some say it was the drier air and increased physicality of his life style while others are certain it was a healing of the heart. Those that have stood in the few remaining areas of undiscovered beauty know that it has nothing to do with the muscle in your chest that pumps blood, but rather the metaphorical meaning of heart. You stand in awe, the world embraces you and a quiet centered feeling of peace takes over.
Regardless of the reason, John was thriving on the trail. But, just as with any traveler, the wilderness was not always kind to him. Sleeping under the stars was great, but sleeping under the rain and snow proved to be too much. Drawing from the trade he and his twelve siblings had learned from his father, he set to work making felt from some beaver and rabbit skins. Working and reworking the fur, while continually dropping it into boiling water above a campfire, eventually the hairs began to matte and then turned to a solid piece of material and then into felt. That first piece of felt served as a makeshift tent but soon he began to work on a wide-brimmed hat.
John B. Stetson’s hat was unlike anything being worn on the trail. It was a modified sombrero to say the least. The tall crown provided stability to pull it down against the head in high winds, the wide brim shielded him from rain and snow. And shortly after creating his cowboy hat, a passing bull driver insisted on buying it and paid John with a $5 gold piece. That was the first John B. Stetson hat ever sold.
Time went on, the trail party made it to Pike’s Peak and after a short residence there, Stetson set up shop in Philadelphia and the beginning of The John B. Stetson Company was rolling. Admittedly his first attempts were near misses. Local shops and dealers were not sold on this new hat style and were unaccustomed to the idea of an American designer; at that time nearly all hats were fashioned in Europe and then concept sold in the United States.
Stetson, being a hard-working and creative man, sunk every last dime he had (and some he didn’t) into making what would now be called demos for every dealer out west, and then sent the hats out free of charge. Thankfully orders began to come in, first for a few to each dealer and then orders by the dozens. And that was all John needed, he was off and running.
The Stetson hat took on a meaning for the folks of the Wild West. It was utilitarian, much like they were; it was unique, much like they were; it was innovative, much like they were. This parallel made Stetson hats the only hats for the Westerners and eventually the Easterners and as the decades past it spread beyond its American tradition to the rest of the world.
While the bulk of this story has not been in the familiar St. Joseph setting I think it lends incredible merit to our fair city. John Stetson’s decision to head west was based out of his life here in town and the activities he witnessed while here. And the desire was not based on wanting to leave and say good riddance to St. Joe but simply a drive to see more. This area must have resonated with the ideals of that young man. As a self-educated and self-made business man he had but one requirement of all of the Stetson products…quality.
Stetson wearers know this, not just because it is on the gold label inside the band but because they can see and feel the craftsmanship in their hat, not to mention their hat is twenty years old and still riding down the trails with them. It speaks volumes about St. Joseph that we not only were apart of the humble beginnings of this story but also as a calculated destination in its end. John B. Stetson chose to bring his company back to his one time home for a simple one word reason…quality.
And yes, the trials of time and hardships of economy have brought us up to a time without the Stetson factory here in town. But that cannot negate the heart, that heart I mentioned earlier as you stand in beauty of the wilderness and find your center; it is that heart of our city that John B. Stetson felt. And it’s still here today.