It’s been said, “Clothes make the man.” I think that’s close to the truth. It might be more accurately stated as “We are what we choose to wear.” And sometimes neither is true. Most of have ample photo evidence that we are often not who we appear to be. We have a lot of disguises.
I have several cowboy hats, for example, but I’ve never been a cowboy, though I’ve wrangled a few steers.
What I’ve mostly been is a country newspaper editor, but I’m not sure what hat that requires. Nothing I wear says “editor” the same as a Stetson says “cowboy,”or at least “Hollywood cowboy.”
What we wear makes a difference in how we are seen, no matter who we really are. Some of us wear so many different hats, we’re not always sure ourselves – speaking as a country boy with a history of city jobs that fit like two left boots.
Not everyone dealt with that sort of confusion. They’re always who they choose to be. I know some guys who will wear nothing but Levi 501 blue jeans (button fly) and would never be seen in tight-fitting Wranglers, and vice-versa.
I know some who prefer plaid flannel shirts over solid colors, others who would never wear a tee shirt with any kind of cute message. I know some who will wear only cowboy boots, no matter how much they pinch their toes. I used to be one of those guys, until I discovered slip-on sneakers.
As a rule, I’ve never been too fashion conscious – though I used to think I had to wear a ties to the newspaper office.
These days I mostly wear whatever I get for my birthday or Christmas. If I’m doing the buying it has to be comfortable and cheap. Overalls and cargo pants make a lot of sense with all those pockets.
Whatever my wardrobe, it may or may not define me.
My case in point is the accompanying photograph of the Hamilton “outlaws” from nigh 50 years ago. I’m the guy on the left in a stocking cap, denim vest and jeans. I’m not sure what the clothes say about me, but “newspaper editor” is not it. That guy is nearer the real me.
Next to me is younger brother Russell, in this photo an artist back for the holidays from New Mexico, but still a farm boy. But, I reckon the hair is a dead giveaway to his artist genes.
Now, next to Russell is David. In a beat-up cowboy hat, he looks bit like a gunfighter, but he’s not. He’s just an Ozarks “good ol’ boy” with no fetters on his hunting and fishing whims. Nothing in his appearance reveals his skills as metal worker and horse trailer builder.
The boy on the end is our late kid brother, Stephen. As the US Cavalry hat might indicate, Stephen was a Civil War and military buff. Stephen was headed for college, as I recall. He had done a short stint in the U.S. Marine Corps, but didn’t find it challenging enough. Unless I’m mistaken, the pistol in his holster is his cap-and-ball Remington Navy revolver. To any who knew him, this picture says, “Stephen,” to a tee.
As for the group as a whole, I made a mock wanted poster of this “County line gang” that hangs on my wall to this day. But it doesn’t really define us. — or maybe it says more about who we were, and not so much about how we made our livings.
And, for the record, not one of us was ever an Ozarks outlaw, though it likely didn’t hurt that we looked like we could be.
A former feature writer for Ozarks Farm and Neighbor, Jim Hamilton is a retired newspaper editor/publisher. Hamilton was reared on a small dairy farm in Dallas County, Mo. Contact Jim at [email protected].
