Saturday, March 28, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Obituary
F. Neil Hinck, 79, founder and retired president of the Blazer Horse Association, passed away Saturday afternoon, Feb. 14, 2009, at his home in Adrian, Ore.
Neil was born Jan. 27, 1930, at Circle, Mont., the second child and oldest son of Marion L. "Dime" Hinck and Zella Perkins Hinck. He grew up at Star Valley, Wyo., where the family engaged in farming and ranching. From the day Neil got his first horse in 1937, he knew that his life would be deeply woven into the history of horses, and he aspired to establish his own breed of usable ranch-style horse, with a sound conformation, good mind, and a gentle, willing disposition.
In 1950, Neil enlisted in the National Guard and served on the front lines of the Korean War. He was a decorated combat vet who survived some of the worst battles of the conflict. Returning to Star Valley after the war, he married his sweetheart, Norma Louise Wheeler, on Oct. 17, 1952, and a few years later brought his small family to Star, Idaho.
In 1959, Neil's lifelong dream of innovative horsemanship was realized with the birth of Little Blaze, who would become the foundation stallion of the Blazer Horse. Neil has been active in the world of horses as a breeder, trainer, teacher and scholar his entire life. He had a worldwide reputation for his gentle touch with horses and his unique training methods. He is one of only a few, ever to train an adult zebra to be ridden.
Neil founded the Blazer Horse Association in 1967 and served as its president until 2005. After his retirement, he served as emeritus director and an adviser until the time of his death. In 2005, Neil and Norma sold their ranch at Star and relocated to Adrian, where he continued training horses as his health allowed.
Survivors include Norma, his lifelong sweetheart and wife of 57 years; a son, Troy (Terri) Hinck, Cascade; daughters, Linda (Dave) Crawford, Emmett, Debra (Lonnie) Mashburn, Adrian, Brenda (Larry) Harper-Church, Meridian, Tammy (Chris) Warr, Nampa, Teresa (Mike) Jardine, Nampa and Sherry (Doug) Brotherson, Emmett; as well as 15 grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren. Also surviving are brothers Harry Hinck, Brigham City, UT, Loo Hinck, Layton, UT, Arno Hinck, Hyrum, UT and Roy Hinck, Cheyenne, WY. Neil was preceded in death by his son Rusty Lee Hinck, and son-in-law Larry Nelson.
Neil's life and career will be honored at 2:30 p.m. Thursday, Feb. 19, at the Star LDS Church. A memorial gathering of friends and family will take place from 1-2 p.m. at the church, prior to the funeral service. Burial to follow at the Star Cemetery. Cremation is under the direction of Bowman Funeral Chapel, and a portion of Neil's ashes will be scattered over the grave of his trusted mount and lifelong friend, Little Blaze.
Neil was born Jan. 27, 1930, at Circle, Mont., the second child and oldest son of Marion L. "Dime" Hinck and Zella Perkins Hinck. He grew up at Star Valley, Wyo., where the family engaged in farming and ranching. From the day Neil got his first horse in 1937, he knew that his life would be deeply woven into the history of horses, and he aspired to establish his own breed of usable ranch-style horse, with a sound conformation, good mind, and a gentle, willing disposition.
In 1950, Neil enlisted in the National Guard and served on the front lines of the Korean War. He was a decorated combat vet who survived some of the worst battles of the conflict. Returning to Star Valley after the war, he married his sweetheart, Norma Louise Wheeler, on Oct. 17, 1952, and a few years later brought his small family to Star, Idaho.
In 1959, Neil's lifelong dream of innovative horsemanship was realized with the birth of Little Blaze, who would become the foundation stallion of the Blazer Horse. Neil has been active in the world of horses as a breeder, trainer, teacher and scholar his entire life. He had a worldwide reputation for his gentle touch with horses and his unique training methods. He is one of only a few, ever to train an adult zebra to be ridden.
Neil founded the Blazer Horse Association in 1967 and served as its president until 2005. After his retirement, he served as emeritus director and an adviser until the time of his death. In 2005, Neil and Norma sold their ranch at Star and relocated to Adrian, where he continued training horses as his health allowed.
Survivors include Norma, his lifelong sweetheart and wife of 57 years; a son, Troy (Terri) Hinck, Cascade; daughters, Linda (Dave) Crawford, Emmett, Debra (Lonnie) Mashburn, Adrian, Brenda (Larry) Harper-Church, Meridian, Tammy (Chris) Warr, Nampa, Teresa (Mike) Jardine, Nampa and Sherry (Doug) Brotherson, Emmett; as well as 15 grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren. Also surviving are brothers Harry Hinck, Brigham City, UT, Loo Hinck, Layton, UT, Arno Hinck, Hyrum, UT and Roy Hinck, Cheyenne, WY. Neil was preceded in death by his son Rusty Lee Hinck, and son-in-law Larry Nelson.
Neil's life and career will be honored at 2:30 p.m. Thursday, Feb. 19, at the Star LDS Church. A memorial gathering of friends and family will take place from 1-2 p.m. at the church, prior to the funeral service. Burial to follow at the Star Cemetery. Cremation is under the direction of Bowman Funeral Chapel, and a portion of Neil's ashes will be scattered over the grave of his trusted mount and lifelong friend, Little Blaze.
Friday, February 20, 2009
His Way
Life Sketch of Franklin Neil Hinck - Presented Thursday, February 19, 2009 at Star, Idaho, by his grandson, Brian Harper
To sum up my grandfather’s life in a few short words, seems impossible. There’s just so much to tell, and some of it doesn’t bear repeating inside a chapel. But I’m honored by the opportunity to speak here today, so I’ll try to articulate his life and character as best I can. If I get a few things wrong, or if I misinterpret, I assume he’ll forgive me. Since he forgave me for being a Democrat I trust he can get over most anything.
The fact that Neil did things his own way should simply go without saying, but to break apart his life piece by piece, you gain a real appreciation for a man who shunned the ordinary, challenged the impossible, and made a career and a life by betting on the odds of faith in the face of doubt. To understand Neil, you have to understand where he came from, where his family came from, and who his people were, so I guess that’s where we’ll start.
The first time that the United States of America met a Hinck was in 1855, and they haven’t gotten rid of us yet! It was in that year that Andrew Christopher Hinck, a fifty year old immigrant from Denmark, landed at New York harbor, and headed west to meet up with the Mormons who were just getting settled out in Salt Lake City. In Utah, Andrew found himself a wife or two, and eventually homesteaded at Star Valley, Wyoming along with a handful of other families. The purpose of the Mormon settlement at Star Valley was to harvest timber in the area, mill it, and send it south to Salt Lake. This made sense because timber was in abundance and the journey from Star Valley to Salt Lake was nearly all downhill. In fact, if you’ve ever been to Star Valley, you know the term “valley” doesn’t exactly fit the place… It’s really just a low spot between two very high peaks on the east side of the Grand Tetons. Snow might fall in every month of the year at Star Valley and people who are raised there tend to be, well… tough.
Fast forward a few generations and you have an energetic young man named Marion Lyman Hinck leaving Star Valley to head north for Circle, Montana – country even less hospitable, and more remote. Of course I’m sure his pregnant wife Zella didn’t object at all to the move in the dead of winter. And she was likely overjoyed at the prospect of giving birth in the backseat of an open bobsled in the middle of the night during a Montana blizzard, which is exactly what happened on January 27, 1930, when Franklin Neil Hinck made his debut. Grandpa always said that he came into the world staring at a horse’s behind, and then spent his life looking between their ears.
Like most of the Hinck boys, he would go by his middle name and his tough entrance into the world seemed a harbinger of the way he would experience life… his way! While Neil was still a baby, his parents gave up on Montana (I wonder whose idea that was), and headed back to Star Valley. That’s where Neil grew up, as his ancestors had, working the fields, mowing hay, and training every variety of livestock. From an early age he had a special relationship with horses and found his most serene moments and his greatest accomplishments in the company of his equine friends.
In 1937 when he was seven years old, Neil spent an entire winter cleaning stalls at a neighbor’s ranch with the promise of a stocking-legged sorrel stud colt for his labor. As it turned out, there was no stocking-legged stud colt, and Neil’s payment came in the form of a rather unimpressive bay filly. She was scrawny, mangy, and when she was relaxed, her bottom lip tended to droop a bit. And even if she had been pretty, no self-respecting cowboy rode a mare! But with no better offers in sight, he set his mind to training the little bay filly, whom he would call Lightning. The first time he rode her, she tried to buck him off, but he stayed up there, which probably surprised them both. A mutual respect was instantly recognized, a lifelong friendship was established, and a dream was born.
Lightning got better looking as she grew up, though she was never what one would call “pretty.” But what she lacked in beauty she more than made up for in heartfelt disposition and pure guts. She would become Neil’s best friend, and a piece of the prototype that would one day evolve into the Blazer Horse. It would be many more years before his ambitions fully manifested themselves, but his course was set on that day in 1937.
During his youth, Neil spent every hour he could with horses. He rodeo’d, tamed his share of broncs, and competed in about every way that there was to compete on a horse’s back. I asked him once if he ever rode bulls in his rodeo days, and his reply was “not that I’d ever admit to.” His passion was always with the horses. When he was 15 years old, and slightly under 100 pounds, he became a jockey, and was able to travel around the country riding race horses. When he got too big to jockey, he became a champion endurance rider, and trained under Frank Hopkins, whose story would later be made into the movie Hidalgo. In 1948, Neil helped to establish the All American Cutter Racing Association. That same year, he signed up for a two-year enlistment in the National Guard.
But by 1950 America had become deeply involved in the Korean Conflict, and when President Truman issued an executive order extending National Guard enlistments, Neil found himself aboard the USS Anderson, bound for Korea, a journey that would alter his life.
To listen to Neil talk about his experiences in the war is surreal. Of the large company that he left the states with, he was one of only a few that walked home. Some of the luckier ones came home blind, or in a wheelchair. Most came home in boxes.
At the Battle of Heartbreak Ridge, for which a movie was later named, Neil commanded a unit that experienced complete annihilation that left most every soldier under his command dead or mortally wounded. When reinforcements were sent to the lines, they were killed too. The ending figures showed Neil’s platoon with 200% casualties. In spite of the incredible carnage Neil managed to survive the month-long skirmish, shaken and injured, but alive.
On another occasion during his service, the tank he was riding in struck a landmine. When Neil woke up after the blast his clothes had been burned from his body, every tooth in his head was shattered, and his fellow officers were dead – all of them. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live with those kinds of memories. To be honest, I think he carried the scars, not only physically, but emotionally. He hid the pain behind kind eyes, and off-color jokes, as he went on to raise a family, and fulfill his dreams. But in many ways I don’t believe the Korean War ever really left my grandfather.
Still, during perhaps the darkest time of his life, he sought out an old companion. At the end of a particularly brutal skirmish, Neil saw a riderless horse scurrying frantically around the abandoned battlefield. It was a Mongolian pony, a temperamental breed from the Asian interior which the Chinese antagonists often used in battle. With his rider either dead or wounded, the pony was alone in the world and Neil saw an opportunity to find comfort in the familiar. Though initially resistant to Neil, the pony quickly learned the persuasive ways of Wyoming cowboys, and Neil had himself a mount for the remainder of his tour of duty. He called the pony Round About because that’s what would happen when you tried to climb on.
In 1952 with his enlistment complete, he received an honorable discharge and returned to Star Valley where he met Norma Louise Wheeler, who had just moved to the area from Moab, Utah. I saw a picture the other day of a young Neil leaning against a hot rod Chevy wearing a white t-shirt, arms folded, hair slicked back, and looking rather disdainfully at the camera. Since I’ve only ever known Neil as a cowboy, this image made me laugh… He could have been James Dean, and I’m sure that’s what Norma saw in him too. They were married October 17, 1952 at Etna, Wyoming. Neil once said that he fell in love with Norma the first time he saw her, and for 56 years, 3 months, and 26 days, that never changed.
The first home they owned was a one-room cabin, which Neil built on his parents’ farm at Bedford. Four of the Hinck children would be born at Star Valley: Troy in 1953, Linda in 1954, Deby in 1956, and Brenda in 1958. If you can imagine a family of six living in a one-room cabin, think about how luxurious the 700-square-foot home at Star must have seemed when they arrived in 1958, shortly after Brenda’s birth.
To be sure, it was never Neil’s intention to live in Idaho. But when he brought Norma and the kids down to visit his in-laws, his stubborn little filly planted her feet firmly on Idaho soil, and had no desire to return to the ice-box at Star Valley. So, being outnumbered by Norma and her mother, Neil bought a 32 acre dairy farm west of Star, and moved there with his wife and kids, their horses, and a few cows. It also bears mentioning that Neil’s dreams did not include milking cows (much as his father-in-law might have liked them to) and since he always tended to do things his own way, the dairy years really didn’t last too long.
Still, Troy and the older girls grew up learning the basics of a dairy, and they came to reflect their father’s creed – Things must always be done Neil’s way! Somewhere there is a picture of Troy riding Little Rex, Neil’s very intimidating, saddle-worthy, Texas long-horn bull. Even with their hands in the milk jar, the Hinck family’s dreams were firmly rooted in riding. Despite some initial reservations, Idaho quickly became home, and the little dairy farm at Star would grow into something of a Hinck Mecca for the three generations that followed. Years later, son-in-law Mike would affectionately dub the place “Hinckville.”
Neil’s band of horses was small but mighty in 1958: Lighting, who was then in her 20s, her daughter Star, and a palomino mare named Goldie. For those of you who knew Neil’s old place and walked those fields of horses, I want you to image for a moment just three lonely horses standing out there in that pasture. Somehow I just can’t quite grasp it.
Nineteen fifty-nine saw two additions to the family, with the birth of daughter Tammy, and of Little Blaze, Star’s first foal. At the time, Neil was still tinkering with his dream of creating the ideal horse, which he could call his own, and share with the world. It’s the dream he had held onto since the first day he climbed on Lightning’s back when he was seven years old. Well, when Neil took his maiden ride on Little Blaze in 1961, he came back to the house, kissed his wife, and said, “Honey, I found him!”
And that was that. Although the Blazer Horse Association wouldn’t be officially established until 1967, Neil had found the vehicle to his dreams. He began to challenge the logic of everything he had ever learned about horses, and with Blaze, he could do it… and win! Blaze was the kind of horse that was so well trained and responsive he could literally turn out from underneath you, yet he was a good babysitter with the kids. The man and the horse wove so deeply into each other’s lives that in many respects, it’s impossible to think of one without conjuring up images of the other.
So with Norma at his side, and Blaze in the barn, Neil’s dream became bigger, as his family grew. Teresa was born in 1961, and Sherry in 1965. Having no brothers myself, I can sympathize with Troy, growing up in a house full of girls. Of course, I had one sister… Troy had six! As you would expect, the Hinck kids became experienced riders and in many ways re-wrote the expectations of Treasure Valley Horsemanship in the 60s and 70s.
Of course in those days, money was tight and there were no fancy trailers, extended cab 4x4s, or chrome-covered SUVs… not for the Hinck family. They would traditionally show up to local playdays in a rusty blue GMC pickup truck with a homemade rack built up around the sides, and about five horses in the bed (good thing Blazers are small). As the story goes, the trick to getting the rig started was to have one person working the throttle and cranking the starter, while another stood watch under the hood with a box of soda and a blanket to smother the ensuing carburetor fire. As Norma always said, “Everything we have works…if you hold your mouth just right.”
When the truck-full-of-horses showed up at the arena, Neil would emerge from the driver’s seat, followed by Norma on the passenger side, and then Troy, Linda, Deby, Brenda, Tammy, Teresa, and Sherry… All in the cab! I have no idea how they accomplished this without the help of Crisco, but I wish someone would have taken a picture. A former rival who lost a good many trophies to the Hinck family once told me, “It wasn’t that Neil was good, it was just he brought the whole damn county with him.”
The competition continued for years until all of the kids had grown up and started families of their own. But retirement wasn’t in the cards, just then. In fact, up until last Saturday, retirement was never in the cards for Neil. He continued to raise and train horses, and expand on his dream.
In 1981 he took a chance with a unique opportunity and became the first man ever to saddle-train a wild adult zebra. Not, a zebra-cross, or a Tijuana striped donkey, a real zebra mare. The feat he accomplished, which played out on national television, won him praise around the country and for the fifteen years that followed, the Blazer Ranch was the home of Starburst, The Magical Zebra. People who think Blazers are too small to be tough, have clearly never met a zebra.
In 1990, Neil began to experience his first round of heart problems, and I’ll never forget the Christmas of 1995, when the VA doctors in Salt Lake told us he might not make it through the night. He pulled through that episode, with a pig-valve in his heart, but a renewed energy in his soul, and for another 10 years he continued to expand the vision he had created, which was now not only his dream, but so many other people’s as well. During these later years, Neil and Norma came to rely heavily on the wonderful and caring support of their daughter Deby, who has worked tirelessly to help her father recognize his dreams. And Deby, though it’s often gone unspoken, our family will always be grateful for the support and comfort that you’ve provided to your parents over the years.
Selfishly, I see those years after that first heart surgery as bonus years, because they gave me an opportunity I would never have had if we had lost Neil 14 years ago. Early in 1997 I went to work for him. The deal was that I would keep all the stalls cleaned out and he would teach me about horses. Well, at least he kept his end of the bargain.
The years that I spent working with Neil & Norma on the ranch in my early 20’s were some of the best in my life. The memories that I hold and the friendships I made will last a lifetime, and I’m humbled to see so many of those friends in the audience here today. I worked hard during those years, and I made my share of mistakes, but the education that I received – and not just about horses – was more than I could have ever hoped for. I learned about breeding, and bridles, riding, roping, and how to fit four ton of hay on a ½-ton pickup. But I also learned about honor and integrity. I learned about history from eyes that had seen it, and I built a bond that changed me and helped to steer the course of my life.
I believe the thing I will remember most poignantly from my years on the ranch is the appreciation I developed for the relationship between Neil & Norma. To tell the story of Neil and his life is, by any account, a testament to the woman he loved. Anyone who knows the pair has heard them bicker on a few occasions, and in some ways they could have been the original odd couple… The Cowboy and the Lady. But there was a presence between the two of them that not every couple achieves… In fact, most don’t. As I think back through the years, I find more and more examples of how they were each other’s support. I remember Neil painting Jafra on women’s faces, when Norma was too ill to put on clinics by herself. And I think about Norma standing on the bed of a pickup truck, pitching hay in the middle of a blizzard. These two were each other’s rock, and though I know that the respect and understanding I saw in them may have taken years to build, I believe there was an unyielding bond, from the very start.
Of course I’ll always love the horses, and I’ll hold a special spot in my heart for Little Blaze, and how he seemed to be so connected to my grandfather. Blaze was a part of the Hinck family’s life for 39 years. He was there when Neil’s children were born; when he buried a son; when he gave his daughters away; when he made his lifelong dream a reality.
My grandfather taught me about passion, because he lived it every day. Passion, to him, meant being your craft, being your dreams, living your life at its very best…where every moment is yet another step closer to perfecting the tenor of your soul! That passion manifested itself not only in the product of his life, but in the quality and character of his children. Neil’s sense of passion in life is something I will miss very much.
Some of the other things I’ll miss most, I’ve been missing for a while now, like Blaze… Fannie… the barn… walks in the pasture… irrigating… pollywogs… the old red car. I will always see Neil when I look at a jar of generic-brand instant coffee and someday I’m going to write a book on Neil Hinck’s 1001 uses for left over bailing twine.
Without a doubt, Neil was a piece of living history that in one way or another touched the lives of every person here. There were things about the man we might never understand, but perhaps we just weren’t meant to.
When I got the call last Saturday that the end had come, in that moment when it felt as though time stopped and the world spun beneath me, I suddenly had a crystal clear image in my mind. It’s an image of Neil with a twinkle in his eye, a grin on his face, a cigarette pierced between his lips, sitting on top of old Blaze… Those stoic companions who grew old as I grew up, riding off into their final sunset.
It bears mentioning that as Neil’s earthly body was being loaded up to leave his ranch for the last time on Saturday, a sudden heavy snow and howling wind swept across the ranch. The stubborn old cowboy went out of the world the same way he came into it – in a blizzard!
Few people can say they have lived as much as Neil Hinck lived, and from beginning to end, he did it his way.
To sum up my grandfather’s life in a few short words, seems impossible. There’s just so much to tell, and some of it doesn’t bear repeating inside a chapel. But I’m honored by the opportunity to speak here today, so I’ll try to articulate his life and character as best I can. If I get a few things wrong, or if I misinterpret, I assume he’ll forgive me. Since he forgave me for being a Democrat I trust he can get over most anything.
The fact that Neil did things his own way should simply go without saying, but to break apart his life piece by piece, you gain a real appreciation for a man who shunned the ordinary, challenged the impossible, and made a career and a life by betting on the odds of faith in the face of doubt. To understand Neil, you have to understand where he came from, where his family came from, and who his people were, so I guess that’s where we’ll start.
The first time that the United States of America met a Hinck was in 1855, and they haven’t gotten rid of us yet! It was in that year that Andrew Christopher Hinck, a fifty year old immigrant from Denmark, landed at New York harbor, and headed west to meet up with the Mormons who were just getting settled out in Salt Lake City. In Utah, Andrew found himself a wife or two, and eventually homesteaded at Star Valley, Wyoming along with a handful of other families. The purpose of the Mormon settlement at Star Valley was to harvest timber in the area, mill it, and send it south to Salt Lake. This made sense because timber was in abundance and the journey from Star Valley to Salt Lake was nearly all downhill. In fact, if you’ve ever been to Star Valley, you know the term “valley” doesn’t exactly fit the place… It’s really just a low spot between two very high peaks on the east side of the Grand Tetons. Snow might fall in every month of the year at Star Valley and people who are raised there tend to be, well… tough.
Fast forward a few generations and you have an energetic young man named Marion Lyman Hinck leaving Star Valley to head north for Circle, Montana – country even less hospitable, and more remote. Of course I’m sure his pregnant wife Zella didn’t object at all to the move in the dead of winter. And she was likely overjoyed at the prospect of giving birth in the backseat of an open bobsled in the middle of the night during a Montana blizzard, which is exactly what happened on January 27, 1930, when Franklin Neil Hinck made his debut. Grandpa always said that he came into the world staring at a horse’s behind, and then spent his life looking between their ears.
Like most of the Hinck boys, he would go by his middle name and his tough entrance into the world seemed a harbinger of the way he would experience life… his way! While Neil was still a baby, his parents gave up on Montana (I wonder whose idea that was), and headed back to Star Valley. That’s where Neil grew up, as his ancestors had, working the fields, mowing hay, and training every variety of livestock. From an early age he had a special relationship with horses and found his most serene moments and his greatest accomplishments in the company of his equine friends.
In 1937 when he was seven years old, Neil spent an entire winter cleaning stalls at a neighbor’s ranch with the promise of a stocking-legged sorrel stud colt for his labor. As it turned out, there was no stocking-legged stud colt, and Neil’s payment came in the form of a rather unimpressive bay filly. She was scrawny, mangy, and when she was relaxed, her bottom lip tended to droop a bit. And even if she had been pretty, no self-respecting cowboy rode a mare! But with no better offers in sight, he set his mind to training the little bay filly, whom he would call Lightning. The first time he rode her, she tried to buck him off, but he stayed up there, which probably surprised them both. A mutual respect was instantly recognized, a lifelong friendship was established, and a dream was born.
Lightning got better looking as she grew up, though she was never what one would call “pretty.” But what she lacked in beauty she more than made up for in heartfelt disposition and pure guts. She would become Neil’s best friend, and a piece of the prototype that would one day evolve into the Blazer Horse. It would be many more years before his ambitions fully manifested themselves, but his course was set on that day in 1937.
During his youth, Neil spent every hour he could with horses. He rodeo’d, tamed his share of broncs, and competed in about every way that there was to compete on a horse’s back. I asked him once if he ever rode bulls in his rodeo days, and his reply was “not that I’d ever admit to.” His passion was always with the horses. When he was 15 years old, and slightly under 100 pounds, he became a jockey, and was able to travel around the country riding race horses. When he got too big to jockey, he became a champion endurance rider, and trained under Frank Hopkins, whose story would later be made into the movie Hidalgo. In 1948, Neil helped to establish the All American Cutter Racing Association. That same year, he signed up for a two-year enlistment in the National Guard.
But by 1950 America had become deeply involved in the Korean Conflict, and when President Truman issued an executive order extending National Guard enlistments, Neil found himself aboard the USS Anderson, bound for Korea, a journey that would alter his life.
To listen to Neil talk about his experiences in the war is surreal. Of the large company that he left the states with, he was one of only a few that walked home. Some of the luckier ones came home blind, or in a wheelchair. Most came home in boxes.
At the Battle of Heartbreak Ridge, for which a movie was later named, Neil commanded a unit that experienced complete annihilation that left most every soldier under his command dead or mortally wounded. When reinforcements were sent to the lines, they were killed too. The ending figures showed Neil’s platoon with 200% casualties. In spite of the incredible carnage Neil managed to survive the month-long skirmish, shaken and injured, but alive.
On another occasion during his service, the tank he was riding in struck a landmine. When Neil woke up after the blast his clothes had been burned from his body, every tooth in his head was shattered, and his fellow officers were dead – all of them. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live with those kinds of memories. To be honest, I think he carried the scars, not only physically, but emotionally. He hid the pain behind kind eyes, and off-color jokes, as he went on to raise a family, and fulfill his dreams. But in many ways I don’t believe the Korean War ever really left my grandfather.
Still, during perhaps the darkest time of his life, he sought out an old companion. At the end of a particularly brutal skirmish, Neil saw a riderless horse scurrying frantically around the abandoned battlefield. It was a Mongolian pony, a temperamental breed from the Asian interior which the Chinese antagonists often used in battle. With his rider either dead or wounded, the pony was alone in the world and Neil saw an opportunity to find comfort in the familiar. Though initially resistant to Neil, the pony quickly learned the persuasive ways of Wyoming cowboys, and Neil had himself a mount for the remainder of his tour of duty. He called the pony Round About because that’s what would happen when you tried to climb on.
In 1952 with his enlistment complete, he received an honorable discharge and returned to Star Valley where he met Norma Louise Wheeler, who had just moved to the area from Moab, Utah. I saw a picture the other day of a young Neil leaning against a hot rod Chevy wearing a white t-shirt, arms folded, hair slicked back, and looking rather disdainfully at the camera. Since I’ve only ever known Neil as a cowboy, this image made me laugh… He could have been James Dean, and I’m sure that’s what Norma saw in him too. They were married October 17, 1952 at Etna, Wyoming. Neil once said that he fell in love with Norma the first time he saw her, and for 56 years, 3 months, and 26 days, that never changed.
The first home they owned was a one-room cabin, which Neil built on his parents’ farm at Bedford. Four of the Hinck children would be born at Star Valley: Troy in 1953, Linda in 1954, Deby in 1956, and Brenda in 1958. If you can imagine a family of six living in a one-room cabin, think about how luxurious the 700-square-foot home at Star must have seemed when they arrived in 1958, shortly after Brenda’s birth.
To be sure, it was never Neil’s intention to live in Idaho. But when he brought Norma and the kids down to visit his in-laws, his stubborn little filly planted her feet firmly on Idaho soil, and had no desire to return to the ice-box at Star Valley. So, being outnumbered by Norma and her mother, Neil bought a 32 acre dairy farm west of Star, and moved there with his wife and kids, their horses, and a few cows. It also bears mentioning that Neil’s dreams did not include milking cows (much as his father-in-law might have liked them to) and since he always tended to do things his own way, the dairy years really didn’t last too long.
Still, Troy and the older girls grew up learning the basics of a dairy, and they came to reflect their father’s creed – Things must always be done Neil’s way! Somewhere there is a picture of Troy riding Little Rex, Neil’s very intimidating, saddle-worthy, Texas long-horn bull. Even with their hands in the milk jar, the Hinck family’s dreams were firmly rooted in riding. Despite some initial reservations, Idaho quickly became home, and the little dairy farm at Star would grow into something of a Hinck Mecca for the three generations that followed. Years later, son-in-law Mike would affectionately dub the place “Hinckville.”
Neil’s band of horses was small but mighty in 1958: Lighting, who was then in her 20s, her daughter Star, and a palomino mare named Goldie. For those of you who knew Neil’s old place and walked those fields of horses, I want you to image for a moment just three lonely horses standing out there in that pasture. Somehow I just can’t quite grasp it.
Nineteen fifty-nine saw two additions to the family, with the birth of daughter Tammy, and of Little Blaze, Star’s first foal. At the time, Neil was still tinkering with his dream of creating the ideal horse, which he could call his own, and share with the world. It’s the dream he had held onto since the first day he climbed on Lightning’s back when he was seven years old. Well, when Neil took his maiden ride on Little Blaze in 1961, he came back to the house, kissed his wife, and said, “Honey, I found him!”
And that was that. Although the Blazer Horse Association wouldn’t be officially established until 1967, Neil had found the vehicle to his dreams. He began to challenge the logic of everything he had ever learned about horses, and with Blaze, he could do it… and win! Blaze was the kind of horse that was so well trained and responsive he could literally turn out from underneath you, yet he was a good babysitter with the kids. The man and the horse wove so deeply into each other’s lives that in many respects, it’s impossible to think of one without conjuring up images of the other.
So with Norma at his side, and Blaze in the barn, Neil’s dream became bigger, as his family grew. Teresa was born in 1961, and Sherry in 1965. Having no brothers myself, I can sympathize with Troy, growing up in a house full of girls. Of course, I had one sister… Troy had six! As you would expect, the Hinck kids became experienced riders and in many ways re-wrote the expectations of Treasure Valley Horsemanship in the 60s and 70s.
Of course in those days, money was tight and there were no fancy trailers, extended cab 4x4s, or chrome-covered SUVs… not for the Hinck family. They would traditionally show up to local playdays in a rusty blue GMC pickup truck with a homemade rack built up around the sides, and about five horses in the bed (good thing Blazers are small). As the story goes, the trick to getting the rig started was to have one person working the throttle and cranking the starter, while another stood watch under the hood with a box of soda and a blanket to smother the ensuing carburetor fire. As Norma always said, “Everything we have works…if you hold your mouth just right.”
When the truck-full-of-horses showed up at the arena, Neil would emerge from the driver’s seat, followed by Norma on the passenger side, and then Troy, Linda, Deby, Brenda, Tammy, Teresa, and Sherry… All in the cab! I have no idea how they accomplished this without the help of Crisco, but I wish someone would have taken a picture. A former rival who lost a good many trophies to the Hinck family once told me, “It wasn’t that Neil was good, it was just he brought the whole damn county with him.”
The competition continued for years until all of the kids had grown up and started families of their own. But retirement wasn’t in the cards, just then. In fact, up until last Saturday, retirement was never in the cards for Neil. He continued to raise and train horses, and expand on his dream.
In 1981 he took a chance with a unique opportunity and became the first man ever to saddle-train a wild adult zebra. Not, a zebra-cross, or a Tijuana striped donkey, a real zebra mare. The feat he accomplished, which played out on national television, won him praise around the country and for the fifteen years that followed, the Blazer Ranch was the home of Starburst, The Magical Zebra. People who think Blazers are too small to be tough, have clearly never met a zebra.
In 1990, Neil began to experience his first round of heart problems, and I’ll never forget the Christmas of 1995, when the VA doctors in Salt Lake told us he might not make it through the night. He pulled through that episode, with a pig-valve in his heart, but a renewed energy in his soul, and for another 10 years he continued to expand the vision he had created, which was now not only his dream, but so many other people’s as well. During these later years, Neil and Norma came to rely heavily on the wonderful and caring support of their daughter Deby, who has worked tirelessly to help her father recognize his dreams. And Deby, though it’s often gone unspoken, our family will always be grateful for the support and comfort that you’ve provided to your parents over the years.
Selfishly, I see those years after that first heart surgery as bonus years, because they gave me an opportunity I would never have had if we had lost Neil 14 years ago. Early in 1997 I went to work for him. The deal was that I would keep all the stalls cleaned out and he would teach me about horses. Well, at least he kept his end of the bargain.
The years that I spent working with Neil & Norma on the ranch in my early 20’s were some of the best in my life. The memories that I hold and the friendships I made will last a lifetime, and I’m humbled to see so many of those friends in the audience here today. I worked hard during those years, and I made my share of mistakes, but the education that I received – and not just about horses – was more than I could have ever hoped for. I learned about breeding, and bridles, riding, roping, and how to fit four ton of hay on a ½-ton pickup. But I also learned about honor and integrity. I learned about history from eyes that had seen it, and I built a bond that changed me and helped to steer the course of my life.
I believe the thing I will remember most poignantly from my years on the ranch is the appreciation I developed for the relationship between Neil & Norma. To tell the story of Neil and his life is, by any account, a testament to the woman he loved. Anyone who knows the pair has heard them bicker on a few occasions, and in some ways they could have been the original odd couple… The Cowboy and the Lady. But there was a presence between the two of them that not every couple achieves… In fact, most don’t. As I think back through the years, I find more and more examples of how they were each other’s support. I remember Neil painting Jafra on women’s faces, when Norma was too ill to put on clinics by herself. And I think about Norma standing on the bed of a pickup truck, pitching hay in the middle of a blizzard. These two were each other’s rock, and though I know that the respect and understanding I saw in them may have taken years to build, I believe there was an unyielding bond, from the very start.
Of course I’ll always love the horses, and I’ll hold a special spot in my heart for Little Blaze, and how he seemed to be so connected to my grandfather. Blaze was a part of the Hinck family’s life for 39 years. He was there when Neil’s children were born; when he buried a son; when he gave his daughters away; when he made his lifelong dream a reality.
My grandfather taught me about passion, because he lived it every day. Passion, to him, meant being your craft, being your dreams, living your life at its very best…where every moment is yet another step closer to perfecting the tenor of your soul! That passion manifested itself not only in the product of his life, but in the quality and character of his children. Neil’s sense of passion in life is something I will miss very much.
Some of the other things I’ll miss most, I’ve been missing for a while now, like Blaze… Fannie… the barn… walks in the pasture… irrigating… pollywogs… the old red car. I will always see Neil when I look at a jar of generic-brand instant coffee and someday I’m going to write a book on Neil Hinck’s 1001 uses for left over bailing twine.
Without a doubt, Neil was a piece of living history that in one way or another touched the lives of every person here. There were things about the man we might never understand, but perhaps we just weren’t meant to.
When I got the call last Saturday that the end had come, in that moment when it felt as though time stopped and the world spun beneath me, I suddenly had a crystal clear image in my mind. It’s an image of Neil with a twinkle in his eye, a grin on his face, a cigarette pierced between his lips, sitting on top of old Blaze… Those stoic companions who grew old as I grew up, riding off into their final sunset.
It bears mentioning that as Neil’s earthly body was being loaded up to leave his ranch for the last time on Saturday, a sudden heavy snow and howling wind swept across the ranch. The stubborn old cowboy went out of the world the same way he came into it – in a blizzard!
Few people can say they have lived as much as Neil Hinck lived, and from beginning to end, he did it his way.
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