Where the Buffalo Roam

I was reminiscing recently over the most random event from my childhood. You’ll never believe me when I tell you about it, but it was a real thing as I was growing up. I could be remembering the details all wrong, and my mother will call me the minute she reads this blog to fill me in on what’s missing, but I was old enough to be involved in some of the action so I can’t be too far off. This event went on for years, and as I recount the goings-on, I am surprised at how organized I remember it being.

Our small town used to host an annual Buffalo Roast. Yep, you read that correctly. It was hosted by one of the same men’s groups my dad belonged to that also brought the circus to town (see my blog The Circus is Coming to Town). This group seemed to do many different events for the town, raised money for various causes, and kept my dad busy several nights a week. It also gave my dad the opportunity to channel his “inner event planner” when by day he was a traveling salesman and volunteer EMT.

For this event, the group bought a live buffalo (or two). These animals are huge, especially when you’re 13 or 14 years old. As a small farm town, we had a community slaughterhouse. No surprise. Most families in our town during this time survived on meager incomes and lived on the meat of one cow or hog or deer for months. How else do you think the freezers got filled? To prepare for the main event, we used to go to the slaughterhouse to watch the buffalo get “dressed for dinner.” We’re going to leave it at that. These days, if I had to plan an event including a live buffalo, I wouldn’t even know how to go about procuring one.

Some of the men would dig a huge pit in the backyard of the high school, and I mean big. They would drop in wood and coals and light it up. For days, men and their families would bring lawn chairs and yard games and hang out while tending the coals with a tractor and chain/dredging apparatus to get them just right to receive the buffalo for roasting. Once perfect, they’d place the buffalo meat in, and for 24-hours a day for another few days, the guys would cover, uncover, check, dredge coals, and repeat until just right. 

In the meantime, other men were busy putting up fliers and leaving tickets at all of the local businesses for them to sell. Remember, the internet, cell phones, and computers didn’t exist. We’re talking REAL old school here. Somehow the entire town knew the buffalo roast was happening, when it was, and purchased a ticket. The terms “marketing and advertising” were not invented yet but that is what was happening.

Then, at the appointed time, the buffalo was brought up out from the deep and dismantled. In the high school gym, wives and teachers and students organized tables, chairs, and tablecloths, plates, napkins, and forks, buns, coleslaw, drinks, and a partridge in a pear tree. Madge sat at a table and took tickets. Betty served up buffalo. Henrietta packed up to-go containers for the volunteer police and firemen. The football team cleared tables and took out the trash. The music teacher coordinated background music and the 4H Club repaired the damage done by the roasting pit.

The entire town and neighboring communities participated. Everyone ate their fill and then some. It was one of those events that you see on the Hallmark channel or in an older movie and think, was this real? To make an event like this happen without the world wide web, we had to have relationships. We made phone calls, had conversations, sent hand-written invitations, and went around knocking on doors personally asking someone to come to the event. These were the way events got done. 

Do you have a unique childhood event story? Share it here or send me an email.
I’d love to hear it!

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