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Showing posts with label Ugly Betty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ugly Betty. Show all posts

The Beautification of Ugly Betty, Part 1

September 06, 2018
If you read the previous post about my saddle day trip, you know I got a used saddle for my mom I named Ugly Betty. Why? Because Betty is straight up ugly.

Saddles can tell you a story, or a lot of stories. I think Betty's goes something like she was the victim of a vicious divorce, where the opposing spouses were instructed by a court-appointed therapist to relinquish their cutlery and firearms and take out their frustrations on an inanimate object. One spilled soda pop on the fleece, the other turned her over and doused her with a chocolate shake. They took turns dropping her and stomping her in the dirt, then one threw dye on her to up the ante. When the divorce was final and they hugged out their differences, they sprayed lacquer up one side and down the other to symbolically entomb all the bitterness they'd moved past. In the end, Betty was carelessly cast aside like a dread trigger object as each chose their path toward a new life.

Or something like that.

Betty had suffered, that was evident. No saddle, not even a model I don't like, deserves that kind of treatment. I'm pretty sure when Saddlesmith took Betty off the bench and boxed her up to meet her future, they never anticipated just how much misfortune lay ahead, or how much abuse a little ole production model like Betty could endure.

It's like the tale of Black Beauty, but with a saddle.

All the dirt and filth was sealed under a haphazardly applied layer of lacquer, making it nearly impenetrable. This is an area just above the rigging.
Betty's safe now, and will once again be beautiful, but it's going to be a hard-fought battle to bring her back.

On the plus side:
  1. There is very little actual damage to the leather, it's virtually all cosmetic
  2. The tree feels and sits solid
  3. Most all the stitching is intact, save for typical wear areas on any saddle
  4. It doesn't need refleecing
  5. The seat is fully intact
  6. There is plenty of adjustment in the fenders, they go quite short for smaller riders like my mom
  7. New latigos on both sides
  8. Nothing wrong with the stirrups
  9. None of the silver plated concho tips are missing

Betty's roughout seat was every bit inviting as a Honey Bucket. No thank you!
On the minus side:
  1. All the lacquer needs to be removed before the dirt will come off
  2. The dirt is substantial - more than I've ever seen on any saddle
  3. Dirt is deeply embedded in the basket stamping, which means a lot of detail work with a soft toothbrush 
  4. Bad dye job attempts are irreversible, it cannot return to its original mahogany color 
  5. The seat is stained so badly it will need to be dyed
  6. Fleece is matted hard and absolutely filthy
  7. Blevins buckles on fenders corroded so badly the prongs have broken off and need replacing
  8. Missing a concho - they all need replacing because of tarnish and flaking of silverplate
  9. Skewed skirts need to be reshaped and set
Before anything can proceed, Betty needs to be cleaned from stem to stern. This is not going to be a simple once-over with Pears Soap or generic leather cleaner; Betty requires industrial cleaning.

Sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind. Betty was hardcore filthy - so filthy she made my skin crawl. This calls for super strength cleaning products not normally associated with cleaning leather.
My industrial cleaning kit includes a bucket, Dawn dishwashing detergent, a couple drops of chlorine bleach, a microfiber scrubbing mitt, a soft toothbrush, a spray bottle, and a super strength sprayer on the garden hose.

Yes, I said garden hose.

I have to wash Betty similar to how you'd wash a car or a filthy horse: lots of water, lots of cleaning product, and lots of scrubbing and rinsing. There's no way around it.

Betty's fleece has been packed down so hard for so long with so many different substances soaked in, it would not even scratch up fluffy with fingernails, and spraying with the hose alone did nothing to release it. The fleece was like hideous old carpet, and I was not completely sure it could be salvaged.

The synthetic fleece underneath actually photographed much better than it really was. It was matted hard to the tree and skirting, and saturated with mystery filth.
I ended up loosening the fleece with fingernails while the hose was directed at full blast, working in Dawn mixed with extremely diluted bleach to suds up and kill any cooties. This went extremely slow, inch by inch, until the fleece allowed the cleaning product to work all the way through.

Mud poured out of the fleece in frothy waves for several minutes. I probably rinsed through the fleece for 10-15 minutes afterwards to make sure there was no trace of product remaining.

Even with the nice summer weather, I knew it would take Betty a few days to completely dry underneath. Fortunately, I have a slatted saddle rack that would allow air flow to the fleece and still provide a horse-shaped form to prevent the skirts from warping as it dried.

I put Betty on the slatted rack in the shade to dry to avoid any further spotting and hardening of the leather. At night, Betty got covered up with a lightweight blanket to prevent dew from saturating the leather. Betty was tended like a pet parakeet, covered and uncovered.

Every day, for a several days, I'd take Betty off the rack periodically and rough up the fleece as it dried. I wanted to be sure the fleece would not compress against the slats, plus keep the air flowing all the way through.

Betty's fleece looked, smelled, and felt remarkably better after a thorough shampoo and dry.
I feel the synthetic fleece has recovered enough to provide the protection it was intended. At some point it will need replacing, but the fleece on any western saddle isn't eternal. For now, Betty's undercarriage is looking fab!

Because the saddle leather is so filthy under that lacquered surface, cleaning each section has been an arduous task. First, water. Once it's good and wet, then carefully scrubbing with diluted Dawn and a very soft baby toothbrush. Only when the surface dirt is gone can I follow up with deglazer to remove the remaining lacquer, then attack all the dirt that was sealed under the lacquer.

A preview of things to come: the right rear skirts are mostly clean. Compare to the dirt-encrusted seat jockey area on the right.
Betty has a long way to go, but I'm delighted how she's responded to even nominal TLC. This is by no means a one or two day rehab, but her future looks brighter every day.

Betty will be a swan again.

Daytrippin' for Diamonds in the Rough

September 03, 2018
Saturday I went on a rescue mission. Not in the noble sense, but in the saddle sense. I went to take a look at a couple saddles in need of rescue and rehab, and made a day trip of it.

I have to admit, I have more fun on these day trip saddle excursions than anyone. I get to see new places, explore the countryside and meet people with interesting stories.

To start, I map all my saddle stops out on my phone, get a good playlist loaded, grab some coffee, gas up, and I'm off for adventure. Other than my scheduled stops, I play it by ear.  If I see a neat little roadside restaurant, that's where I eat. If I pass an estate sale that looks interesting, I stop. By the end of the day I've likely made some great memories and discovered some new favorite haunts.

More fun than a barrel of monkeys, it is.

The first saddle on my agenda was an old roper I saw on Facebook Marketplace. Really, not much to look at, but I had the feeling it was a diamond in the rough. Really rough, at that, but still a diamond.

Sometimes listing photos leave a lot to be desired, and a lot to the imagination. It pays to be able to identify what you're looking at despite how they're presented by the seller. For anyone with OCD, you have to accept you don't control the photos the seller takes. The photo you need ain't the photo you'll get. It is what it is. Use your best guess, go with your gut. Roll with it.
To the casual, not-saddle-savvy observer, they might see a dusty old piece of leather not worth bothering with, and certainly not exciting. What did I see from the ad? A darling old roughout roper with the pelican horn I love. Being a roper, likely an adult-size seat and probably a decent gullet width and bar spread that would fit modern day horses. I could make out the saddle had brass hardware and the cantle wasn't warped, so the basics were there. Though not evident by the photos, I could assume the fleece would need replacing $$$, it would need new saddle strings $$, and might need some work on the rigging $$. Definitely worth a look-see.

Why, you ask?

If everything about the saddle checked out, it meant I just found my new, punchy, ranch riding class saddle.

Was it a new Bob's or Jeff Smith or Harris ranch rider? Absolutely not, but that's not what I was looking for. Was it a maker-marked Wade from the shop of some mustaschio'd buckaroo? Again, not on my radar.

No, this was a late 60's Western Horseman readin', amber glass ashtray smokin', cheatin' heart songs on the jukebox, steak night at the roadhouse, whiskey drinkin', pickup truck drivin', round skirt roper. Authentic as hell. Exactly what I was looking for.

If you were born after 1980, you probably have no idea what I'm even talking about, but trust me, it's what I was looking for.

The old roper was in East Olympia, an area I'm unfamiliar. I got there by way of the main drag through Rainier, turned on Minnesota Street N, and headed out on Rainier Road SE to Fir Tree Road (becomes 89th Avenue SE), from 89th Avenue SE to Rich Road, to places I haven't been and things I haven't seen before. Did I mention how much I love these day trips? This is why.

Along the way, I passed award-winning Lattin's Country Cider Mill. Here I was, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and that place was an obvious hotspot of activity. Granted, it was a beautiful sunny day, but I was still surprised how many people were there. Apparently, they have a fall festival and are open through the winter too. I can't wait to return to the area and visit when I have more time and fewer saddles to rescue.

Lattin's Country Cider Mill. Another gem I found by accident in my saddle travels.
I arrived at "the saddle place" and saw the old roper in the flesh for the first time. Yup, it was just what I thought it would be, right down to needing new fleece. Delighted, "Punchy" became my saddle. Bonus: Punchy came with his own saddle rack, gratis. One more reason I take my Astro van on these day tours. You can always make room for unexpected treasures.

On my way from the old roper saddle stop, I somehow got turned around the wrong way on Rich Road, which southward becomes Old Hiway 99, and passed a sign for Nelson Ranch, which I later learned was one of Washington State's Centennial Farms. This was not just a ranch sign, but a sign for a ranch having a ranch dinner! I was all set to return later that evening and dine on the prairie, but the dinner had been the weekend before. Dang!

From East Olympia I traced my way back to Rainier, and stopped to consider my plans for the rest of the day. I knew I had to travel across the Narrows Bridge to Belfair to look at a saddle for my mom, but I'd passed so many garage sale signs on my way to the first saddle I decided to hit a few before I headed north.

After picking up Punchy, I was really on an estate sale quest to find the perfect amber glass ashtray to commemorate the occasion (as long as it was $1 or less), but after several stops came up empty. Undaunted, I continued my course to cross the Narrows Bridge.

Galloping Gertie herself. I happen to have a bridge crossing phobia, but when on a quest you gotta do what you gotta do.
The saddle in Belfair was another Facebook Marketplace discovery with a terribly vague and unflattering listing photo. What I could see, however, was the saddle was easily identified as a Saddlesmith Bob Loomis Reiner.

This poorly staged critter was simply represented as "vintage" and "all leather." To the trained eye, it's a Saddlesmith Bob Loomis Reiner that has seen much, much better days. Rode hard and put away wet is an understatement.
Truthfully, I've never been any kind of fan of the Saddlesmith Bob Loomis Reiner, but it's apparently my mom's Holy Grail saddle. She's been using my 16" Billy Cook Classic Pro Reiner for awhile now, hates it, says the seat's too big and it's too heavy (it is), she wants the stirrups to be able to go even shorter (they won't), but absolutely loved the little Bob Loomis Reiner of a friend's she rode in. That's what she wanted, and that's what she was getting. Essentially, I would get the saddle I like back, and she would get the saddle I dislike. Sounded like a fair trade to me.

On its best day, a new Saddlesmith Bob Loomis Reiner would look similar to this. Though I never cared for the model, it was quite popular with a lot of ladies, my mom being one of them. Then again, I like how my Billy Cook Classic Pro Reiner looks and rides, and my mom detests nearly everything about it. To each their own... Photo: Google Image Search
I breezed over the scary bridge, hooked a left at Bremerton, and proceeded to Belfair to the second hand store that listed the saddle on Facebook Marketplace. I spied my mom's dream saddle unceremoniously plopped flat on a table between shelves of used cookware and old books.

Probably, for the first time I could recall, the saddle was even worse in person than its blurry listing photo.

I cruised into Belfair expecting another diamond in the rough. Little did I know, how rough.
The saddle was ugly. As in, I never liked that model's looks to begin with, but this saddle was downright scary.

The leather on the second hand Loomis Reiner worse than neglected, dried so hard it would cut glass, so hard it sounded like knocking on a wooden door. It was covered with peculiar coatings and substances, and bore the efforts of a bad dye job. It appeared, sometime long ago, a chocolate shake had spilled and become part of the leather. The braided rawhide horn had been painted black, and poorly. Worst of all, there was a clear mystery coating over the entire saddle, basically like sealing the whole shittin' horror story in Jurassic amber. Underneath, the fleece was matted hard and caked with other substances, likely including soda pop, horse sweat, and various dirts from unknown locations.

It was putrid.

I made an offer.

They accepted.

I immediately had buyer's remorse.

Resigned to my purchase, I christened the saddle Ugly Betty, and in the van she went, next to Punchy. Suddenly, Punchy looked pretty outstanding by comparison. While Ugly Betty The Loomis Reiner was supposedly "vintage" per the seller, Punchy The Roughout Roper actually was vintage, and easily twice the saddle.

Is this not the cutest cantle you've ever seen? It may not be Vancore style shapey, but it's doggone shapey for its era. Punchy promises to be a gem after a little TLC.
Punchy would take a little cash and TLC to rehab. Ugly Betty would take a miracle and her own prayer circle. Ugly Betty might very well prove to be the saddle I lived to regret.

(If my mom is reading this, pretend you didn't see anything about Ugly Betty. I got you your dream saddle. It just needs a little... ummmm... "this-and-that" before you can see it.)

With my van full of the day's catch, I dashed homeward back across the bridge. My outing resulted in another 225-plus miles on the odometer, newly discovered places in mind to revisit, and two filthy saddles to refab. Chalk up another great adventure under my belt.

Life is good.
 

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