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Jerry Derby | The art of ‘hattery’ still exists in Grand Junction
By Regan Tuttle ....................................................................................................................................................................................................... n October, I was set to show the last of the Western Slope Reining Horse Association’s club series at the Mesa County Fairgrounds. The WSRHA produces three big club shows each year, two in Grand Junction, Colorado and one in Rifle, Colorado. As show time drew closer to the Harvest Buckle Bonanza, I realized I didn’t have a decent felt hat to show in. I’d ridden in a straw hat all summer, but the October show really called for a nice, felt, winter cowboy hat. Earlier this year, I’d already been hat shopping. I’d made a trip back home to Tulsa, where I worked throughout college in a western store there. In the old days, that store had a fulltime hat expert, someone who knew what they were doing, cleaning and shaping hats. To my disappointment, I couldn’t find anyone in the Tulsa store help me select the right hat, let alone shape one the way I wanted it. I kept delaying my hat purchase. When I arrived in Grand Junction on Oct. 19 for the paid warm-up at my reining show, I saddled my horse, Heza Nu Chex Rebel, and wore a ball cap. Realizing I was running out of time, I googled my local hat store options. As it turns out, Grand Junction Western Wear exists about a mile north of the fairgrounds, and I’d seen the signage there before probably 100 times. Walking in, I was impressed with the number of hats available. I asked myself why I’d never stopped in. When I began speaking with the sales attendant, he told me the hats are made locally — in Grand Junction — and finished on the spot for customers. Then, I met the owner, Jerry Derby. The old man impressed me, mostly because he seemed like a real hand. But, also because he knew what he was doing. Derby’s been building, customizing and shaping hats for a lifetime. He talked me into a 5X beaver, one he made, and he assured me he’d shape it up nicely, quarter-horse style, the way he did for Marvin Kapushion and the other horse trainers he helps. He told me stories about his customers over the years: barrel racers who made the big money, team ropers who are members of the PRCA, and some other cowboys that I know down where I currently live around Norwood, Colorado. Derby took his time with my hat, and he talked my ear off about his younger years spent in Texas and his rodeo days riding broncs (he’s got the pictures to prove it). And we talked about the dying art of a real hatter, one who makes and sells hats. At the same time, I watched him run my hat’s brim under the thick vapor that billowed out of the metal pipes on his counter. His large fingers worked quickly pressing the brim’s creases over and over.
54 Working Horse Magazine 2018 December
He strategically inserted a piece of foam inside the satin, and he assured me my hat wouldn’t get caught by the wind gusts and blow off in the middle of my reining pattern in the arena down the road. When he was finally finished, he showed my name embossed in gold letters inside the brim. “That’s a winning hat,” he told me. He went on to explain that he makes a deal with all of his customers. When they leave his shop to go on and compete, they must bring him back a beer in celebration of their victory. I told him not to plan on my coming back anytime soon. My riding coach couldn’t come to my reining show, and my horse was unpredictable anyway. I told him “Rebel” had a lot of talent (he’s a big stopper), but he’s kind of a hard horse to ride. Circles are the hardest maneuver to execute on him, and sometimes I can’t keep my horse collected up and looking good. “It’s alright,” Derby said. “You just remember, when you win, you bring me back that beer.” I headed back to the fairgrounds and showed several classes — the limited, the rookie, novice horse and green reiner — at that last WSRHA show. “I’m just here to show,” I told myself. “I’ve got a nice horse, and whatever happens — well, I’m gonna just ride. There’s nothing else I’d rather do this weekend anyway.” My scores for the two days were very average. I never DQ’d, and I marked anywhere from a 64 to a 68.5 that weekend. On Sunday afternoon, I tabbed out with the ladies in the show office, and thumbed through the results book to look at some of my penalties. Upon doing so, I was surprised to see that I’d won the rookie class. Somehow my 68.5 was good enough to take first, which reminded me that we never really know how things are going to end. Sometimes we do better than we think we did; sometimes an average ride can make for a winning ride. “Oh, yes,” the office ladies assured me. “Head to the awards table and pick up your plaque.” I had collected my award, loaded my horse, called my dad and was almost finished with my two-hour trip home when I realized I’d forgotten something. I owed Jerry Derby a beer. That was a winning hat.
.......................................................................................................... Top Right | Jerry Derby bull riding during his rodeo days [late 1950’s] Bottom right | Jerry Derby finishes a customizes a firstplace cowboy hat. (Photo by Regan Tuttle)
