The road goes on forever, and the party never ends

The rodeo arena proves therapeutic for ailing world famous bullfighter

By John Ludlum
Special to LIVE!

Photo by David Jennings (click image to enlarge)

Four rodeo bullfighters in teams of two rotated distracting the bulls while the two other barrel men entertained the audience with humorous antics practiced over decades of arena exposure. J. G. Crouch, 6 feet 3 inches, and Michael “Smurf” Horton, 5 feet 5 inches, alternated telling jokes from the arena with ventures into the Val Verde County Fairgrounds grandstands to enforce audience participation. Laughter followed the two funny men who spared no one in their sights from practical jokes and not-altogether voluntary participation. The two pros worked the audience with the advantage of years of experience. Humor kept fresh by the joy of doing what they loved to do: Make people laugh and forget everything except bull riding and laughing at two men who laugh at themselves. A painted face, however, belied the suffering felt by one of the funny men that had been taking place for three years and a body that was racked with pain.

Three years earlier, in 2003, J. G. Crouch had an eleven-pound football sized cancerous tumor removed from his stomach. Told he might have three months to live, Crouch, 52, has continued to mystify medical professionals - and three years later is still dodging bulls and making adults and children alike laugh and respond to his self-deprecating humor.

THE FORMER TCU football scholarship player and team captain received his degree in 1977 in physical education with a minor in history to teach high school. “It was an insurance policy,” he reasoned. He taught school in Killeen for one year after graduating just to pay bills until he had booked enough rodeos as a clown and bullfighter to make a living.

His passion, desire and goal was to rodeo for a living and that dream had been formed when he was 13. At his first teenage year, J. G. saw the Kajun Kidd pull up to a rodeo in Killeen in a red Chrysler New Yorker with license plates that read, “Kajun.” He continued, “It made an impression on me. I admired his work and studied every move he made thinking, what a great job he had. Then, at that moment, I knew I was destined for this craft and hopes of being hired at the biggest rodeos in the country. My dreams have come true ten times over.”

That dream was to make people laugh and forget their daily concerns, to save bull riders when enraged animals wanted to gore and trample a bucked off contestant, and to take a hit when necessary from an angry bull to save a competing cowboy. All these desires were then, and are today worthy of a lifetime of dedication as far as J.G. is concerned.

Standing in a rodeo arena in Florence, Texas about 1972, J. G. told a rodeo announcer, whose schedule was full announcing rodeos all year, of his desire to fight bulls. J.G. asked if he would help him in his quest. The announcer responded by telling J. G. to come up with new acts, not copy old ones, tell fresh new jokes, study bulls and learn the instinct of knowing when a bull rider was headed to the ground, then how to move in and distract the bull. He listened and developed new acts, learned the art of distracting bulls and found his place in the arena inside the barrel, an island of safety for bullfighters and often cowboys as well who are escaping mean-spirited bulls.

Success came and contract offers were numerous: so much so that there were too many to go every place stock contractors and rodeo committees wanted him to perform. Often times, he would respond, “I can do your rodeo in three years, but until them I am already booked.” The road became his home and it was sometimes months before he could return to Killeen, Texas, where he grew up and lived.

J. G. worked over 45 rodeos a year and over 200 performances. Some of the bigger rodeos he worked are the Fort Worth Livestock Show and Rodeo in Phoenix, Arizona, and The American Royal in Kansas City, Missouri. Some rodeos lasted three weeks with two performances a day. The entire United States and much of Canada became familiar to a man who was constantly on the move, as life on the road kept him in constant motion. The refrain from the song, “The Road Goes on Forever and the Party Never Ends” meant something to the men and women who traveled the rodeo circuit for months at a time. Accolades and awards came to the vagabond rodeo clown. Twice being selected to work the National Finals Rodeo, the Super Bowl of Professional Rodeo, in 1982 in Oklahoma City and then after it moved to Las Vegas in 1986, were just two of many instances of his burgeoning success. J. G.’s acts were legendary. His fan favorite, “Ben-Hur,” was an act with mule drawn chariots racing. Among his other crowd-pleasers were his miniature stagecoach act and his dancing kids act.

SOON, ALCOHOL BECAME a way to cope with being on the road and away from family. It also became a way to cope with a marriage that was no longer capable of being held together, because of the constant strain of absenteeism. The committees and some stock contractors that hired Crouch started to notice changes in his behavior due to alcohol, and contracts were not renewed or were no longer being offered.

Bottom is where one hits when falling and when space has run out, but… the road goes on forever and the party never ends…

To admit that one has lost that spark, the reason for doing one’s work, is often the last stop before the bottom is hit. The road back is long and the memories of those who have witnessed your decline keep them from giving you a chance to redeem yourself. Slowly, some long time contractors and cowboy friends gave Crouch an opportunity to work the arena he so desperately had missed since achieving a state of sobriety.

Then came pain. One day, J.G. was going through too much pain for a normal stomachache, and he made a visit to his doctor. The ultimate discovery was that of a nightmare of a disease. Cancer - the six-letter word that brings many to their knees - was the diagnosis. A limited time to live was the prognosis. “I’m not ready to lay down and die,” became his cry. Telling himself “I may die some day but NOT today,” became his morning ritual - although some days he wondered if he would make it. But, J. G. often said, “Heaven is not ready for me and Hell’s afraid I’ll take over.” There were all-too-many trips to the hospital: sometimes every day, then every other day, and then every other week, then every other day again. Still, between hospital-visits it was grease paint, oversized baggy Wranglers, colorful shirts, a wig, the ever-present broom to swat bulls, and the indescribable joy of making people laugh - which made life bearable and worth living for this suffering bullfighter. For a moment – while forgetting his pain and giving joy to the thousands that watched him perform - he was whole again.

NOT LONG AGO, surgery was recommended for the treatment of his cancer. This time, J. G. said, ”No. I’m not quitting, not giving up. I’m just not going under the knife again.” His wife of seven years, Tracy, stays at his side constantly, making sure his every need is taken care of as more rodeo contracts come in. Just inducted into the Texas Rodeo Cowboy Hall of Fame in February of this year, awards continue to honor a lifetime of dedication to the sport of rodeo and the ability to make people enjoy themselves, if only for a few hours. It’s Crouch’s gift to the fans who buy a ticket and seek some relief from their daily routine, or whatever ails them.

The Sunday afternoon performance of the 29th George Paul Memorial Bull Riding continued and bulls bucked to the rock ‘n’ roll music blaring from finely tuned loud speakers. Soon the last rider had ridden, the winner of the event received accolades from the audience and the crowd began to leave. A friend and fellow rodeo cowboy who was tabulating scores for the officials stood next to the rodeo funny man, a friend of thirty-five years. The event-ending song that is always played at a Bad Company bull riding event echoed loudly and crisply through the public address system. The song: “The Road Goes On Forever,” as the last refrain punctuating each verse admonished, “and the party never ends.” Crouch turned to his friend of so many years and said, “The road may go on forever, but the party does end. But, just not today.”

J. G. Crouch continues to battle cancer each day with medication and courage. He still continues to enter the arena in grease paint and makes people laugh working as many rodeos and bull riding events as his energy and heath will permit. Tracy is his constant companion and nurse. He left the sick bed to work the 29th George Paul Memorial Bull Riding. He said he had to work it again because this was the first “big time” event he ever worked in his long and storied career so long ago. He called over his shoulder to his friend as he left the arena, “God willing, I’ll be back next year.” God willing, he will be.

Questions or comments? Contact John Ludlum directly.