Les Vogt Biography

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I was raised around traditional California bridle horses in California's Central Valley where my Dad farmed and ranched. I was an inquisitive kid and got the kind of horseman's education you couldn't buy, then or today. My dad, Norman, hired on with several ranches after the war and I can remember watching him with the other cowboys as they worked in the corrals and feed lots. I'd hide and watch them, because they had no time for a kid. It was like a secret club they were all in, and I knew from the first moment that their work with the horses and the cattle was what I wanted.

It's natural that I ended up riding because my Dad and my Grandpa were horsemen, and I always admired them, worshipped them almost. I fell in love with western horses watching John La Mothe, a cowboy and horse trainer who worked with Dad. John's horses were so soft, so confident in their work. I still remember how tall and proud he rode, and I knew that I was seeing my destiny.

I can remember my Grandpa Chet, who was a real old-timey horse trader who handled most of his work from his office, which was the local saloon. He'd get to trading with some of the other guys, and holler out for one of the kids- usually my Dad- to get one of the horses and bring it around. They did a lot of trading sight unseen, too- like a blind horse for a runaway team, that kind of real horse trading that was helped along by drinking and ego. But they really were knowledgeable about horses- it was in their blood, and mine too.

My Grandma, who lived to be over 100 years old despite Grandpa, used to tell us stories about the days when Grandpa was into harness racing in Ohio. They lived in the tack room at the track, and Grandpa was obsessed with his horses. He had a world's champion pacer too- a horse called Chet Volo. Grandpa gave me a bottle of liniment that he said would cure anything- he claimed it would even dissolve ring-bone. I've never had the nerve to use it, especially since it's been fermenting all those years, but it sure worked for Grandpa. He was one of the real horse whisperers.

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This article is excerpted from David Stoecklein's book The Western Horse. For more information about world renowned western photographer David Stoecklein's work, visit Stoecklein Publishing. Reprinted with permission, Stoecklein Publishing and author. © 1998 Suzanne Drnec