Funny Men - The Unsung Rodeo Hero

PHOTO COURTESY TIM OYLER

BY AMBER DALEY

Any rodeo fan knows that eight seconds can mean the difference between triumph and defeat for a bull rider. And despite the potential for serious harm (or worse), thousands of intrepid cowboys reenter the arena every year, eager to demonstrate their mastery of the sport.

But while bull riders are typically the stars of the rodeo, there are others behind the scenes — and sometimes in plain sight — who are integral to keeping the competition running smoothly. And for some of these individuals, the same rules apply: they must be able to anticipate a 2,000-pound bull’s next move and be quick on their feet. No one would know more about these unusual and unsung rodeo heroes than a retired rodeo clown/bullfighter and Idaho Rodeo Hall of Fame inductee.

Meet Tim Oyler, retired rodeo clown (a title synonymous with “bullfighter” until the 1970s). He began his career around the age of 12, while helping his father run the world’s first Miniature Rodeo Company. After finding himself underfoot one too many times, he remembers his dad saying, “Why don’t you go out and learn to be a clown and you can entertain the rodeo?” So that’s what he did.

PHOTO COURTESY TIM OYLER

Oyler recalls, “Some friends who were clowns in big rodeos took me under their wing and taught me how to be a clown. My best friend in high school, Jim Udy, and I developed a clown act. Jim became a barrel man and I started working larger amateur rodeos, and I learned to start fighting bulls.” The work came naturally to Oyler, who worked 34 years in the rodeo circuit. “That’s what my love was. Plus, I was the world’s worst bull rider,” he jokes.

But just as bull riding demands physical strength, skill, agility, and fortitude in the face of mortal danger, so too does bullfighting/clowning. Oyler recalls several serious injuries over the years, an all-too-common result of his profession.

“I lost my knee to a big bull in Calgary that stepped on me and took out my ACL,” says Oyler. “And in St. George in 1973, a Scottish Highlander put a horn between my legs and threw me 45 feet in the air. I remember looking down at the rodeo announcer and saying, ‘Oh, shit.’ He caught me again and threw me head-first into the bucking chutes — beat me up badly before the cowboys could get him off.” That rodeo, Oyler suffered a fractured wrist, a broken hand, a broken foot, and broken vertebrae.

PHOTO COURTESY TIM OYLER

“If you’re a bullfighter, you’ll realize the second time you get injured whether or not you want to continue,” he says. “I’ve got pictures of myself fighting bulls with a big cast on. I’d go through two cases of athletic tape every summer. That’s just part of the life. When you’re healthy you tend to think you’re bulletproof. Now I have arthritis from broken joints, so you pay for it in the end. But it’s worth it when you’re doing it.”

Despite several painful, life-altering injuries and the solitary, sometimes lonely, traveling with the rodeo circuit, Oyler looks back fondly on his years as a bullfighter, and “still misses the clowning, the comedy, and the kids.” And he has no regrets. “I loved to entertain, to be in front of a crowd,” he says. When asked what he’d tell a young person looking to go into his field, Oyler says, “I’ve tried to teach my kids and grandkids one thing: Decide what you want to do, give it a try, and do your absolute best.”

So what made Oyler decide it was time to hang up his clown hat? “I once told the young man I was teaching, ‘The day I no longer want to be in that arena is the day I will quit.’ Well, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, I was doing the Island Park Rodeo and I looked at Henry’s Lake and said to myself, ‘What are you doing here? You should be fishing.’ We had two more rodeos to do, but as soon as they were over I retired.”

THE NEW ERA OF CLOWNIN'

These days, it’s uncommon to see a clown doing any bullfighting — these are now two separate roles. “I’m one of the last of the rodeo clown bullfighters,” Oyler explains. “It was us guys who would go out with a barrel man and would entertain the crowds during the rodeo and the slack time. Then we’d switch to being clown bullfighters. Now you don’t see the bullfighters until the the bull ride,” he says. “But the new, young bullfighters now are very courageous. They work in teams, which allows the clowns to focus on entertaining and not being hurt by the bull.”

For many bull riders over the years, the technical prowess of bullfighters and clowns of yesteryear was sometimes the only thing preventing them from serious injury or even death. And knowing he was not just entertaining the crowd but keeping competitors safe was part of the appeal. “The greatest pleasure is having a cowboy walk up and say, ‘thank you,’” says Oyler. “That’s a great pat on the back.”