As a young lad living in Los Angeles and Palm Springs, then Everett, Washington I fell in love with the Wild West, nurtured by such cowboys as John Wayne, Gene Autry and Roy Rogers. I was ready for action when I wore my white straw cowboy hat, blue jeans with rolled-up cuffs, jean jacket, and had my “exact replica” Colt-45 tucked in its holster. I told my parents, “When I grow up, I’m going to own a cattle ranch and be a cowboy!”
One can imagine my excitement when, on a family vacation, we stopped to visit a relative who actually did own a cattle ranch in Montana. I told him, “I want to own a cattle ranch just like you.” He said, “it’s a lot of hard work.” I said, “I can handle it.” Obviously impressed with my bravado, he handed me a branding iron as we parted, “let this branding iron always remind you of your dream, little pardner.” Or something like that. As I got older my dream of being a cowboy bit the dust replaced by cold, hard reality, grown-up style.
After receiving a degree in Broadcast Communications from Washington State University, I worked for a couple of television stations in the Pacific Northwest, then an advertising agency in Seattle before starting P’Chelle International, a marketing consulting firm in Kennewick, Washington. I got involved in a number of themed development projects, where my mind would invariably return to the greatest of them all — Ghost Town at Knott’s Berry Farm. I itched to know more about the founder – Walter Knott.
As I flipped through the pages of Walter’s life, I gained an appreciation for his vision, perseverance and the Providence that guided him. I also learned about his passion for the Wild West, inspired by “frontier yarns” spun by Grandma Rosamond and Uncle John. Walter shared that passion, attraction by attraction, with their rollicking stories about Wild West “fortune seekers.” Many of those stories, lost in the dusty saddlebags of yesteryear, are found at Ghost Town..
My white cowboy hat is long lost as is my Colt-45. My blue jeans and jean jacket stopped fitting decades ago. I never did own a cattle ranch or become a cowboy. Worst of all, I misplaced the branding iron symbolic of my “cowboy dream.” But my love for the Wild West never waned. It is now focused on a small corner of the southwestern United States, known by most as Southern California, preferred by me as the Wild West of Walter Knott.
