I.
Origin
My mother brought home the VHS on a Tuesday: The Legend of The Lone Ranger. I watched it once, twice, three hundred times. Until it was embedded in my mind like an equation. The scenes still follow me like a Sunday school lesson. They arise unexpected, demanding re-entry. They cross painted landscapes in a prairie dress. They ride side saddle with bullet holes in their waistcoat. They stand from bent knee and turn to reveal a handsome jawline. They arrive tired and thirsty, having saved the president’s life. Sunsoaked and soundtracked by a singing steel guitar. I let them in and watch. One by one. A picture inside a picture.
II.
Blues for Klinton Spilsbury
Klinton Spilsbury had just turned thirty when he accepted the role to play the masked man in The Legend of The Lone Ranger. Like any good son, he called his mother to tell her the news, and she could hear the familiar song in his voice.
He had never acted before.
His Bringham Young blood boiled with excitement. He packed his bags and headed for Monument Valley. On screen he was immaculate––long and lean and angelic like a Mormon Marlboro Man. But there was one problem: His voice. It was like a dead C on a saloon piano. Like outlaw guts. Like horse fat.
So they cut out his tongue. The masked man spoke with a false mouth. On premier night his mother wept. Where is the voice I know so well like a hymn? Voices clamored in thick, declarative sentences along Sunset and in industry parties. It was decided––the masked man was a laughing stock.
Klinton Spilsbury never acted again. He could not be reached for comment.
III.
Cease & Desist
The old man used to take out the mask from its hiding place. He wore it breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It never left his face when friends dropped by to check on him, or when family came over for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
One day he found the mask gone and a note slid beneath his door stating: The mask is under new ownership. No further images shall hereby be used…
He was unrecognizable to himself. His grandchildren would cry at the sight of him. Even strangers could see he was a man without a country—lost to wander what little was left of his life in a land that had once cherished his allegiance.
His funeral was well-attended. It was a closed casket service.
IV.
The Stuntman
He was no stranger to death. The stuntman had been a rodeo clown who traded the circuit for Rodeo Blvd. Scenes from Stagecoach flooded his mind like Ezekiel’s visions—giant horses and wagon wheels tore through the sky. In Monument Valley he gave a prayer: I am no stranger to death.
Wrath was delivered. Horse hooves and wagon wheels crushed his legs like jackfruit. Desert sky swallowed what was left of him.
In Egypt another vision—Tunisian horses with resurrected pharaohs as riders. He gave no prayer. He was no stranger to death.
V.
Klinton Spilsbury’s Imaginary Razzie Award Acceptance Speech
With monotone delivery:
The Lone Ranger is a modest character. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t use foul language. He doesn’t shoot to kill. He loves Tonto like a brother. He’s not your typical cowboy. When I think of The Lone Ranger, I think of a man who speaks matter-of-factly. He doesn’t get agitated. He doesn’t shout. But he doesn’t speak softly, either. He just delivers the facts. Take em or leave em.
So I spoke the facts. The thing is––you didn’t hear them. You heard the facts with sugar on top. Well, that’s not the same thing. One day, someone’s gonna tell you the facts and you won’t hear them because they’re not sweet enough. And that’ll be your problem. Not mine.
Wes Tirey is a musician based in Asheville, North Carolina. In urgent and ongoing response to the devastation caused by Hurricane Helene, and through the end of 2024, all proceeds from the sale of his new record, Wes Tirey Sings Selected Works of Billy the Kid, will be donated to BeLoved Asheville, as well as to North Carolina Disaster Relief Fund. Please consider supporting folks in NC. It would be much appreciated if you order through Bandcamp to help us keep things orderly here at Sun Cru… Thanks in Advance – Sun Cru Music
High Horse 