About Louise L. Serpa
"Louise Serpa turned a hobby into an award-winning rodeo career", Mitzi Lucas Riley said about this 2002 recipient of the Tad Lucas Award. Given annually by the Rodeo Historical Society, the award recognizes the contributions and achievements a deserving woman has made to rodeo.
Louise Serpa is a pioneer in the truest sense of the word; she embodies those special talents and accomplishments that connect and unite past Lucas Award winners.
An accomplished photographer, Serpa’s rodeo images cover more than 40 years of rodeo and exude energy, excitement and emotion. Perhaps perennial emcee host, Clem McSpadden, said it best. "She is the Ansel Adams of our sport!"
Serpa was born in 1925 and grew up in the high society world of New York City. But a trip to Nevada when she was just a child made a lasting impression. "I thought I had died and gone to heaven," she recalled.
A rebellious spirit and confident independence runs deep. At her debutante party, she shocked guests when she slid down the banister at the Waldorf-Astoria and tore out the back of her ball gown. At 17, she took a summer job working at a Wyoming dude ranch where she met Lex Connelly in 1943.
Then, she didn’t think much of those who devoted their lives to rodeo, and told Connelly that rodeo was a "waste of a life!" Nevertheless, Connelly introduced her to the world of rodeo, a world she would come to love.
In fact, the attraction was like a strong opiate. While studying opera at Vassar, where she graduated with a degree in music, Serpa often interrupted her studies to watch rodeos at Madison Square Garden. Although she sang and danced in nightclubs and performed at USO shows on the East Coast during World War II, music would not become a career for her.
After graduation, she made her family happy when she married a Yale graduate. Unfortunately, the marriage lasted only a few years.
Newly divorced, Serpa followed the sun. Like the pioneers of old, she, too, went in search of opportunities and a fresh start, a place where she could exercise her freedom, exert her independence and begin anew.
In Nevada, she married a local cowboy, Gordon "Tex" Serpa, in 1953 and they had two girls, in 1956 and 1959.
But, sadly that marriage also ended; Serpa and the girls moved to Tucson, Arizona in 1960.
In Tucson, she attended her first junior rodeo to watch the child of a friend compete—until then she had never heard of junior rodeos.
It was also at Tucson she turned a hobby into a career. She first began dabbling in photography in Nevada, taking pictures of cowboys competing in local rodeos.
"They bought the film and bought me beers," she quipped, explaining these photographs were not artistic but were used by the cowboys for training purposes.
In Arizona—and a little desperate for money after her youngest developed rheumatoid arthritis—Serpa turned pro, taking photographs one weekend and selling 5x7 copies the following weekend for 75 cents each.
"I shot from the side and through the fence, and I did anything I could to make money with a camera," she said.
Although she never trained professionally, Serpa’s shutter skills and a natural instinct for anticipating the action quickly gained her entry into the professional arena in 1963. Rodeo photographer Devere Helfrich’s retirement was her chance to shoot inside the arena and her chance to make history.
George Williams gave her a press card, a pink card she recalled, from the Rodeo Cowboys Association, making her the first woman ever permitted inside the arena.
"I was told I could get in the ring, but not to get in the way. If you get run over, that’s too bad. So I learned pretty quickly not to get in the way. If you do, you get run over. The worst things are saddle broncs. They’re here and then they’re there," Serpa said.
But you don’t spend that many years in the rodeo arena with bucking broncs and snorting bulls without accumulating a few bragging rights, or at least a couple of black and blue spots. Serpa has had her share of kicks, bruises and tight moments.
An angry bull once broke her sternum in Boulder City, and she was once "squeezed like a tube of toothpaste" up against a fence. In her book, Rodeo, she warns, "Never don’t pay attention."
Promoted as the most dangerous sport in the world, Serpa had reservations about a woman in the rodeo arena, but she wanted to take good photographs and saw it as a challenge. It wasn’t long afterwards that the television show, To Tell The Truth, got wind of this East Coast girl inside the rodeo ring and invited her to appear on the show.
"I didn’t fool the panel. So, I asked Kitty Carlisle how they knew? She told me ‘You look like a Vassar girl!’ And I’ve been trying to live that down ever since."
Serpa has had many firsts. She was the first woman permitted on the course of the Grand National Steeplechase in England in 1970. She was the first female to shoot in the ring at the Dublin Horse Show. A national documentary, When the Dust Settles, was shown on PBS, and in 1995, Aperture published Rodeo, which also includes commentary from Larry McMurtry. Serpa was also inducted into the Cowgirl Hall of Fame in 2000.
Serpa loves the excitement of being in the thick of the action and the rush of adrenaline. Her eye seems to catch everything—action, shadows and emotion—including the eye of famed photographer Bruce Weber in 1982.
Weber and his crew were in Tucson for a shoot and were relaxing at the Hidden Valley Inn. While walking down the hall on his way to the restroom, he saw Serpa’s work hanging on the wall. "Bruce told the bartender he wanted to meet the man who took those photographs. It was around 11 that night when he called and said he wanted to meet and see my portfolio. Well I didn’t have a portfolio. If the picture was good it sold!"
When Weber called it was late Thursday evening and Serpa already had weekend plans and told Weber she could not meet him until Monday.
"I didn’t know who he was." Serpa joked. Meeting Weber was a milestone event, one that expanded her influence and launched her photography into new areas. "It opened up so many doors."
At 80, Serpa likes to think she is slowing down. "I get mad when my knees don’t work," she stated matter-of-factly. Yet she has many projects in the works, including plans for a new book of photographs featuring western faces.
While the work will include cowboys of all sizes, Serpa worries "we are running out of faces" and promises the book will include plenty of faces that will depict a life well lived.
At the RHS awards banquet, Serpa was grateful to the entire rodeo family. "They were kind and supportive" and "let me be a part of so many peoples’ lives, their children, grandchildren, and now great grandchildren. Rodeo has been the greatest thing for me. I loved the people and the sport. But it never occurred to me that I would be any part of it. I shot it because I loved it!"
Reprinted from the Spring 2003 issue of "The Ketchpen", published by the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum.
Louise Serpa Receives Tad Lucas Award
Text by Alan Ball
"Louise Serpa turned a hobby into an award-winning rodeo career", Mitzi Lucas Riley said about this 2002 recipient of the Tad Lucas Award. Given annually by the Rodeo Historical Society, the award recognizes the contributions and achievements a deserving woman has made to rodeo.
Louise Serpa is a pioneer in the truest sense of the word; she embodies those special talents and accomplishments that connect and unite past Lucas Award winners.An accomplished photographer, Serpa’s rodeo images cover more than 40 years of rodeo and exude energy, excitement and emotion. Perhaps perennial emcee host, Clem McSpadden, said it best. "She is the Ansel Adams of our sport!"
Serpa was born in 1925 and grew up in the high society world of New York City. But a trip to Nevada when she was just a child made a lasting impression. "I thought I had died and gone to heaven," she recalled.
A rebellious spirit and confident independence runs deep. At her debutante party, she shocked guests when she slid down the banister at the Waldorf-Astoria and tore out the back of her ball gown. At 17, she took a summer job working at a Wyoming dude ranch where she met Lex Connelly in 1943.
Then, she didn’t think much of those who devoted their lives to rodeo, and told Connelly that rodeo was a "waste of a life!" Nevertheless, Connelly introduced her to the world of rodeo, a world she would come to love.
In fact, the attraction was like a strong opiate. While studying opera at Vassar, where she graduated with a degree in music, Serpa often interrupted her studies to watch rodeos at Madison Square Garden. Although she sang and danced in nightclubs and performed at USO shows on the East Coast during World War II, music would not become a career for her.
After graduation, she made her family happy when she married a Yale graduate. Unfortunately, the marriage lasted only a few years.
Newly divorced, Serpa followed the sun. Like the pioneers of old, she, too, went in search of opportunities and a fresh start, a place where she could exercise her freedom, exert her independence and begin anew.
In Nevada, she married a local cowboy, Gordon "Tex" Serpa, in 1953 and they had two girls, in 1956 and 1959.
But, sadly that marriage also ended; Serpa and the girls moved to Tucson, Arizona in 1960.
In Tucson, she attended her first junior rodeo to watch the child of a friend compete—until then she had never heard of junior rodeos.
It was also at Tucson she turned a hobby into a career. She first began dabbling in photography in Nevada, taking pictures of cowboys competing in local rodeos.
"They bought the film and bought me beers," she quipped, explaining these photographs were not artistic but were used by the cowboys for training purposes.
In Arizona—and a little desperate for money after her youngest developed rheumatoid arthritis—Serpa turned pro, taking photographs one weekend and selling 5x7 copies the following weekend for 75 cents each.
"I shot from the side and through the fence, and I did anything I could to make money with a camera," she said.
Although she never trained professionally, Serpa’s shutter skills and a natural instinct for anticipating the action quickly gained her entry into the professional arena in 1963. Rodeo photographer Devere Helfrich’s retirement was her chance to shoot inside the arena and her chance to make history.
George Williams gave her a press card, a pink card she recalled, from the Rodeo Cowboys Association, making her the first woman ever permitted inside the arena.
"I was told I could get in the ring, but not to get in the way. If you get run over, that’s too bad. So I learned pretty quickly not to get in the way. If you do, you get run over. The worst things are saddle broncs. They’re here and then they’re there," Serpa said.
But you don’t spend that many years in the rodeo arena with bucking broncs and snorting bulls without accumulating a few bragging rights, or at least a couple of black and blue spots. Serpa has had her share of kicks, bruises and tight moments.
An angry bull once broke her sternum in Boulder City, and she was once "squeezed like a tube of toothpaste" up against a fence. In her book, Rodeo, she warns, "Never don’t pay attention."
Promoted as the most dangerous sport in the world, Serpa had reservations about a woman in the rodeo arena, but she wanted to take good photographs and saw it as a challenge. It wasn’t long afterwards that the television show, To Tell The Truth, got wind of this East Coast girl inside the rodeo ring and invited her to appear on the show.
"I didn’t fool the panel. So, I asked Kitty Carlisle how they knew? She told me ‘You look like a Vassar girl!’ And I’ve been trying to live that down ever since."
Serpa has had many firsts. She was the first woman permitted on the course of the Grand National Steeplechase in England in 1970. She was the first female to shoot in the ring at the Dublin Horse Show. A national documentary, When the Dust Settles, was shown on PBS, and in 1995, Aperture published Rodeo, which also includes commentary from Larry McMurtry. Serpa was also inducted into the Cowgirl Hall of Fame in 2000.
Serpa loves the excitement of being in the thick of the action and the rush of adrenaline. Her eye seems to catch everything—action, shadows and emotion—including the eye of famed photographer Bruce Weber in 1982.Weber and his crew were in Tucson for a shoot and were relaxing at the Hidden Valley Inn. While walking down the hall on his way to the restroom, he saw Serpa’s work hanging on the wall. "Bruce told the bartender he wanted to meet the man who took those photographs. It was around 11 that night when he called and said he wanted to meet and see my portfolio. Well I didn’t have a portfolio. If the picture was good it sold!"
When Weber called it was late Thursday evening and Serpa already had weekend plans and told Weber she could not meet him until Monday.
"I didn’t know who he was." Serpa joked. Meeting Weber was a milestone event, one that expanded her influence and launched her photography into new areas. "It opened up so many doors."
At 80, Serpa likes to think she is slowing down. "I get mad when my knees don’t work," she stated matter-of-factly. Yet she has many projects in the works, including plans for a new book of photographs featuring western faces.
While the work will include cowboys of all sizes, Serpa worries "we are running out of faces" and promises the book will include plenty of faces that will depict a life well lived.
At the RHS awards banquet, Serpa was grateful to the entire rodeo family. "They were kind and supportive" and "let me be a part of so many peoples’ lives, their children, grandchildren, and now great grandchildren. Rodeo has been the greatest thing for me. I loved the people and the sport. But it never occurred to me that I would be any part of it. I shot it because I loved it!"
Reprinted from the Spring 2003 issue of "The Ketchpen", published by the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum.
Louise Serpa Receives Tad Lucas Award
Text by Alan Ball
