The legendary Billy Mack

by Michael Moore
Wednesday, July 11, 2007 1:11 PM MDT

P.J. McIntosh came from Canada in the late 19th century to take up residence along the lower reaches of the Sweetwater River. There, he and his wife, Lois, raised six children.

One of them, William, was the first white child on the Sweetwater born of resident parents. William McIntosh and his wife, Bessie, subsequently presented ol' P.J. with seven grandchildren, one of whom they christened William Morgan.

By the time I came into the country in the mid-1950s, William Morgan McIntosh was running the Hat Ranch n- so called because the brand resembled what used to be called a "skimmer."

He was known to folks all up and down the river as simply "Billy Mack."

Billy Mack was fond of good times and alcoholic beverages. My boss, Jim Grieve, who ranched further down the valley, had known Billy from birth and proclaimed him "wilder'n a hawk and crazy as a pet coon."

I was to learn this might be an understatement and quickly decided I wanted to be Billy Mack when I grew up.

Among Billy's many and varied exploits, my favorite involved him and his top hand, Elmer. Elmer was a Shoshoni Indian, one helluva cowboy and, like Billy, an enthusiastic consumer of brown liquor.

To celebrate the end of the 1956 spring roundup, these two men launched into one of their legendary "rolling-thunder" drink fests. Unfortunately for them, Billy's wife, Virginia, having seen this all before, gathered up the ignition keys to the several cars and trucks scattered about the place and sequestered same.

Sure enough, Billy and Elmer quickly drank up all the available liquor and then decided to drive the 60 miles to Lander for re-supply. They had not, however, anticipated the extent of Virginia's treachery, and no amount of threat, coercion or cajoling could persuade her to reveal the location of the keys.

Unfortunately, Virginia had underestimated the persistence and guile of these inebriated miscreants who, in a remarkably short period of time (considering their condition), discovered the old John Deere tractor in the corner of the barn still had a key in the ignition.

They fired the thing up and headed for Lander. It is about 500 yards from the barn at The Hat to where the ranch road meets Wyoming Highway 287, and that is exactly how far they got. Turning west on to the highway, they collided with a tanker truck going east.

As luck would have it, the only casualty was the tractor. Elmer, however, did suffer a broken left femur. Billy carried him back to the house, and Virginia drove them to the hospital.

They say "all's well that ends well," and Elmer healed soon enough to ride the roundup that fall. Billy bought a new tractor. Virginia got over being mad at the both of them.

The Sweetwater folk had another Billy Mack story to tell. As for me, I was soon involved in an all, expense-paid stay in Korea, courtesy of my Uncle Sam. Still later, courtesy of the GI Bill and lots of student loans, I terrorized both Casper College and the University of Wyoming.

Following that, I took a job in Cheyenne where one day at the airport I ran into Billy Mack (who, believe it or not, was in the State Legislature) and Gov. Ed Herschler.

Billy insisted I come into the bar for a drink with him and the governor. I had "tipped a few" while in the Army and in college, but those two guys were way out of my league. They were still going strong when my wife came to take me home and pour me into bed.

Damn, I love Wyoming! Where else would something like that happen?

This column was adapted from an anecdote in Doug’s book, “A Growing Season.”

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