Texas Bruce

Watch Dean’s Wrangler's Club on television for real western thrills. WBKB, 5:45 p.m. Monday through Friday   ― Chicago Tribune, Oct 21, 1949

The Wrangler's Club aired on Chicago television from 1949 to 1951. Chicago born Bruce Roberts hosted the show as "Texas" Bruce Roberts. Dressed in western garb, Roberts played the guitar and told western stories in between segments of western films.

The program, only 15 minutes in length and geared toward youngsters, was sponsored by Dean's Dairy and branded Dean's Wrangler's Club. When Dean's began marketing a chocolate drink product in the late 1940s, the company branched out to St. Louis.
 

Chicago Tribune, Nov 16, 1950
 
Texas Bruce Roberts, 1951 Chicago Tribune, Oct 21, 1949

Dean's Chocolate Dairy Drink arrived on St. Louis grocery shelves in 1949. To help market their product, Dean approached KSD-TV about bringing their successful Wrangler's Club from Chicago to St. Louis. KSD-TV, which had only been broadcasting since 1947 and was hungry for local content, brought the Wrangler's Club to their airway on March 6, 1950. And since Dean already had the marketing materials, "Texas Bruce" was the show's host.

I must say, I'm not from Texas, and I didn't want to be called Texas Bruce. But I needed the job. Dean Dairy of Chicago was the first sponsor, and they had the first Texas Bruce, guy named Bruce Roberts, who'd never been west of the Mississippi, much less on a horse. But they had all this point of purchase material made, so I became the St. Louis Texas Bruce.

― Harry Gibbs, St. Louis Post-Dispatch, May 5, 1996


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Harry Cochran Gibbs was born on March 21, 1917 in Wagon Mound, New Mexico. His father, a physician, had moved with Gibbs' sister and mother from Colorado by train, stagecoach and buckboard. Among his earliest memories were cattle drives through Wagon Mound's main thoroughfare, with his mother standing guard at the fence to prevent steers from breaking through and trampling her flowers.

Gibbs started riding the neighbors' calves, then transferred to his mother's cow. By the time he was four, he was riding a horse. When he was five, the family moved to Las Vegas, New Mexico, a town 45 miles south of Wagon Mound, where there were schools for Gibbs and his sister.
 

Wagon Mound, New Mexico Harry Gibbs, 1930

Gibbs finished high school at Las Vegas, and then worked on ranches and chased cattle as a cowboy. He loved the freedom and vigor of the work, but forty dollars per month, plus room and board, didn't seem to offer much of a future.

Gibbs made his way to St. Louis and entered Washington University, intending to study medicine. But the stage bug struck him and he never recovered.

Guess it just wasn't in me to-be a doctor, just like some doctors can't stay on a horse.

His first role was a cow-puncher in a play produced by Thyrsus, the Washington University drama society. Gibbs went on to win the Wilson Award for Acting, the highest honor at the university in the theater field. During one production he met another student, Jean Fisher, who he would marry.

While in school, Gibbs worked as a laborer in a steel mill, punched cattle in New Mexico, directed drama projects, played stock in Michigan and worked with the Hollywood Community Theater. He graduated with a degree in dramatic art in 1941, six years after he started.

Gibbs enlisted in the Marines upon graduation and emerged in 1946 as a major. Back in St Louis, he free-lanced as actor, narrator, disc jockey or whatever was needed at virtually every radio station in town.

When KSD-TV began operation in 1947, Gibbs immediately got onboard, appearing with Dottye Bennett in a quiz show sponsored by Union Electric. And when KSD premiered Dean Dairy's Wrangler's Club in 1950, the cowboy from New Mexico was a natural to step in as the St. Louis Texas Bruce.

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The Wrangler's Club was initially broadcast Monday through Friday from 5:00 to 5:15, following Howdy Doody. Gibbs, who was six feet two inches tall and weighed 200 pounds, approached the wranglers with a disarming semi-drawl which was part New Mexico and part Missouri. Outfitted in authentic cowboy garb, from sombrero to boots, he glided through the 15-minute program, deceptively crammed with personal greetings to his wranglers, western lore, plugs for undertakings by the Boy Scouts, tips on the cattle business, a movie, the inside dope on Indians, a Spanish lesson, advice on woodsmanship and rope tricks. Gibbs ended the show in Spanish with his catchphrase, "Hasta la vista, vaqueros."
 

TV Review, Oct 6, 1951 Texas Bruce

Proper handling of a rope was a serious art with Gibbs. He started learning how to use a rope when he was two years old. He knew that catch-roping by youngsters could be dangerous.

I try to convince the kids that there's no sport in roping a cat or a playmate. I show them how to spin a rope. It's fun and a cheap sport.

Gibbs regarded the daily Spanish lesson he offered the wranglers as a genuinely educational part of his program.

It makes up in part for the fact you have to have a commercial. I get cards from some teachers who object because the wranglers are not hearing pure Castilian Spanish. But even these folks admit that we are stimulating interest in the language.

Gibbs' Spanish was a concoction of Indian, Spanish, Mexican and English which he had to learn as a boy in New Mexico if he was going to have the maximum number of playmates. He called it border Spanish.

Half the kids spoke Spanish and half spoke English. We learned Spanish and they learned English. That way we doubled the number of our friends. Grown-ups might give that some thought.

Texas Bruce's Spanish Lesson, Early 1950s

The western movie portion of the show, which was serialized throughout the week, was a cause of constant vigilance and concern, and had to be remodeled to conform to Wrangler's Club standards. Gibbs insisted on eliminating sequences which exhibited can-can girls, wanton killings and any suggestion that lawlessness led to any but a bad end.

Gibbs' fan mail was enormous and a great deal of it was scrawled messages requesting personal recognition by Texas Bruce during the telecast. It snow-balled to such proportions that Gibbs had to make a choice between acceding to the demand or dropping most of the features of his program. As a gesture of appeasement, he opened an observation booth at KSD-TV studios, which was jammed with wranglers for each show. They generally attended in organized groups, such as Boy Scouts and Cub Packs.

But not everyone was happy with Texas Bruce, or at least the way he promoted Dean's Chocolate Dairy Drink.

I don't wish to seem a crank, but could you please ask Texas Bruce on the Wranglers' Club to consider what he is doing to the mothers of three- and four-year-old children when he drinks a can of Dairy Drink right out of the can. Couldn't he please use a straw or a glass? I know a lot of us would certainly appreciate it if he would stop this.

You have no idea what a mess a three- or four-year-old child can become trying to drink out of a can with two holes punched in it. It also makes it very hard when you are trying to teach a small child proper eating habits when someone they think is wonderful does just the opposite.

Regardless of this fact, the children certainly do enjoy the showing of Western pictures, and, I might add, so do the adults.  ― MRS. W. JOHNSON.

St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Apr 30, 1950

Within a year after the Wrangler's Club went on the air, Dean's Dairy dropped its sponsorship and Adams Dairy acquired the property.
 

Early 1950s Postcard

Gibbs had a full schedule of special appearances for Scouts, Cubs and Brownies, parades and benefit performances. For outdoor appearances, he was accompanied by his horse Trusty, a five-gaited show animal.
 

Texas Bruce and Trusty Texas Bruce with scouts

In about 1953, a live studio audience was added to the Wrangler's Club. For the most part, they were the same organized groups that had filled the observation booth. But now, in addition to watching the show, they could interact with Texas Bruce.

At some point in the show, Gibbs would ask each wrangler what they wanted to be when they grew up. Then they got to say hello to their friends, often with the familiar refrain, "Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. Hi, everybody."
 

The Wrangler's Club Studio Audience

Legend has it that one afternoon a precocious member of the audience intoned his salutations to his mom, dad and everybody, and then pausing for dramatic effect, gave the universal middle-finger sign and said, "This is for you, Herbie!"

Gibbs was asked about the incident many times over the years.

It really didn't happen. But so many people believe the story, it has a truth all its own. What the heck.

The most colorful version is after the kid says, "This is for you, Herbie," the screen went black. When the show came back the kid was gone.

I wouldn't have removed the boy. I'd probably think it was funny.

In 1955, the program was extended to a half hour and rebranded the "Wrangler's Cartoon Club." The western movie was replaced by Daffy Duck and Porky Pig.

For a brief time in 1957, the Wrangler's Cartoon Club could be seen Monday thru Saturday. Little Lulu was added to the mix and the show was extended to 45 minutes, from 5:00 to 5:45.

In 1958, the Little Rascals began airing on the show. The Our Gang series and Bozo the Clown were added in 1959. In 1959, wranglers at home could see Texas Bruce in color – if their parents owned a color TV.
 

St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Jan 20, 1957 St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Aug 12, 1958

Gibbs was protective of his wranglers and concerned about the medium that broadcast his show.

It was amazing in those early days, advertising something on TV. And those kids would buy it. They'd watch so carefully and closely. It was a dangerous medium at the time.

I really liked when the kids came on but I also liked it in the early days before it got so heavily commercial. There were just too many spots. Don't get me wrong. The KSD folks were good folks, but all those commercials really aggravated me.

What irritated Gibbs most were some of the products being sold on the show, especially the toys that promised to do things they didn't or couldn't do. He recalled a rocket that claimed to simulate a real launch. The suggestion was that kids could blast the rocket to Mars if they wanted.

The thing went a few inches off the ground. The advertisement was really unfair to the kids and I said so.

Another toy, said to be unbreakable, broke into smithereens when it hit a concrete floor. Gibbs dropped it on the air to prove the claim was untrue.

Strange things happened on the show. Things you'd expect from kids jammed into studio bleachers filled with ice cream and Twinkies.

I've been vomited at a lot of times, but only hit once. You can see that look in their face when it's about to happen.

Sometimes, when it was a beautiful day, Gibbs would suggest to the kids watching at home that they go play outside.

I'd tell them to get some exercise and not sit at home on their butts watching TV.

In 1960, the Wrangler's Cartoon Club had become so popular the it was expanded to an hour, from 4:30 to 5:30. In 1961, it was expanded to 90 minutes. Wranglers had to wait from six months to three years to attend the show.
 

St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Sep 19, 1960 St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Jul 17, 1961

Texas Bruce told his television audience "Hasta la vista, vaqueros" for the last time on January 25, 1963. Gibbs left the Wrangler's Club to take a position with Sunnen Products. Clif St. James (as Corky the Clown) would take over as host of the show.

As far as Texas Bruce is concerned, as far as television is concerned, I think I've gone as far as I can go. This is no criticism of television. I hope my little friends understand that.

I haven't the make-up, the temperament, to play cowboy all my life. There's not enough scope, enough breadth, enough life to it. It just doesn't satisfy anymore.

It was getting to where I bored myself badly. And I figured the last thing I wanted to do was to bore the kids.

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Gibbs' stay with Sunnen Products was short lived. Gibbs had begun working with an advertising agency in 1959, along with hosting the Wrangler's Club. By the beginning of 1964, he had returned to that agency. He worked in advertising for the next 20 years.

After leaving the advertising business, Gibbs did freelance talent work as an actor and on radio. He also was active in many community groups. He lived with his wife in Webster Groves in the same house their four sons had grown up in. There wasn't a television set in that house for two years after Gibbs became Texas Bruce in 1950.

My wife got tired of seeing our kids going next door to see their dad on TV, so we finally bought one in '52.

Gibbs was reluctant to ride again as Texas Bruce. He likened such a comeback to "desecrating your own grave."

From what people tell me, Texas Bruce was pretty popular and I don't want to destroy any good memories. I don't want those kids, who are adults now, to look at me and think, "That's what I was so enamored of?"

Harry Gibbs, Ad Agency Exec Harry Gibbs, 1994

Harry Gibbs said his final "Hasta la vista" on July 18, 2008. He passed away at the age of 91.

His son David remembered watching his father’s show with friends when he was a child.

Even though it was an exciting atmosphere in the studio, he was still just my dad. And for him, Texas Bruce was just a part to play.

Harry Gibbs had finished playing his part. Texas Bruce lived on.
 


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