His Home Was On The Range
Tom Mattingly
Big Timber, MT
As Tom Mattingly recounts his early years, visions of a life a century ago emerge. On the ranch where he and his family lived, work was done by horses, there was no telephone, television, or mobile radio for communicating and there were certainly no cell phones. The days started before dawn and often ended after dark. But it was in this lifestyle Tom thrived, evidenced by the light in his eyes as he recalls fond memories.
In a small town in central Illinois, Tom’s childhood days were filled with carefree play with his best friend, a little blond girl several years younger than him. Growing up together, the two became sweethearts as they reached their teens.
At 18, Tom had finished three semesters of college while his buddy was serving in Vietnam. Upon his return, he planned to go to school on the GI Bill.
“He was killed two weeks before he came home,” Tom said. “It really tore me up.”
So, Tom packed his things, quit school, and on the way home he stopped at the recruitment office. When Tom was just 11, his father passed, so he knew his mother wouldn’t be happy about his decision to enlist.
“I couldn’t join the Army without my mother’s signature,” he explained. “When I showed her the papers, she wouldn’t sign them. I worked on her for a month before she finally agreed.”
Tom spent four years in the Marine Corp and did a tour in Vietnam in 1970. On one of his leaves, he returned home to marry his lifelong sweetheart, Diane, and they spent the next 46 years together.
After his service, when he resettled in Illinois, he had $1,500 for a down payment on a home. The couple found one for $23,000 and it was there they started a family. Tom was working in a plant manufacturing underground cable, but Diane knew he longed for something different.
As fate would have it, she saw an ad in the Western Horseman Magazine seeking cowhands on the Padlock Ranch in Dayton, Wyoming, and encouraged Tom to apply. With no ranching experience, Tom presumes it was his shared military background with the manager which landed him the job. Whatever the case, Tom began a “Cowboying Career” that lasted for the next 40 years.
“I have initials behind my name,” Tom laughed. “DAC: Dumb Ass Cowboy. I’ve earned it over the years too.”
In the late 70s, the Padlock Ranch encompassed 500,000 acres and ran 15,000 cows. It extended from Hardin, Montana to Sheridan, Wyoming, and included leased land on the Crow Indian Reservation.
“I have no regrets. Even when times have been tough, I couldn’t quit. No, I don’t have a single complaint about my life.”
“I brought my family by U-Haul from Illinois to Wyoming and started working for $500 a month,” Tom said. “I worked hard every day, but you know, I loved what I did. I couldn’t wait to get up and go to work.”
The Padlock Ranch worked cattle only on horseback and when Tom was promoted to head one of the many “cow camps,” he spent most days riding as he checked cattle health and the condition of the grass, water and fences. In the winter, feeding hay started at 7:00 in the morning, when Tom backed a horse-drawn wagon into the hay corral and used a cable and pulley system to load the 4x4 bales. The work was strenuous and to feed the 500 cows he was responsible for took the better part of the day – every day.
Tom didn’t mind the long days, nor did he mind spending the month of June riding vast pastures on the ranch with a crew to gather pairs and brand calves. The men slept on the ground under tents and ate meals prepared on a propane stove in the cook tent.
“We were lucky to get a shower on the weekends. That is if we went home. Otherwise, it got a little ripe around there,” Tom said with a laugh. “Still, we had three meals a day; 4:00, noon, and 6:00. Our cook was a heck of a guy, he’d be up at 2:00 a.m. making coffee and getting things done.”
The men were tough. Work was expected in the heat of summer and the dead of winter. One winter, Tom remembered the mercury being so low on the thermometer that it wouldn’t rise out of the bubble.
“It was stuck at -40,” he recalled.
His lifestyle was remote, and he liked it that way. With no phones or radios, communication occurred only face to face.
“I had no one looking over my shoulder,” he said. “It was hard work, but very satisfying. I never owned a single cow, but they all felt like mine.”
The 20 years spent at the Padlock Ranch brought Tom and his family a lifestyle they all enjoyed. His kids grew up helping and Diane worked as a counselor at the high school in Hardin, 60 miles away. After two decades, Tom and Diane moved to several other ranches before she passed away in 2012.
“That was a really hard time,” he said, holding back tears. “I wasn’t done living with that woman.”
His two sons and his daughter keep him grounded today, each taking responsibility in his life.
“All three are in the medical field, I don’t recommend it,” Tom joked. “They just look for ways to keep me alive. ‘Don’t eat that. Quit chewing. Work out.’”
Still, it’s evident in his voice the pride he has for each of them.
Today, Tom works as an office manager for Frontier Productions in Big Timber, Montana. He answers the phone, ensures the television works when cattle video auctions are broadcast, and keeps the coffee pot filled. He’s also the scale master at the local stock yard and helps a neighbor feed his horses.
‘Tom’s office’ has become somewhat of a hangout for local old timers who don’t mind his coffee and enjoy “shooting the breeze.” Every day the chairs around his desk are filled and Tom holds court.
“I have no regrets,” Tom said. “Even when times have been tough, I couldn’t quit. No, I don’t have a single complaint about my life.”