Lyndon Johnson, Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush all had their ranches (and their signature Stetsons), but America has only had one cowboy President. Though others embraced the cowboy persona and its symbolism, Theodore Roosevelt genuinely lived the life, suffered its hardships, and emerged with the scars and stories to prove it. By his own admission, it marked the turning point of his existence. Beginning this July, the new Theodore Roosevelt Presidential Library in Medora, North Dakota brings his legacy front and center, along with a timeless call to action that feels especially relevant as America celebrates its 250th anniversary.
“I do not believe there ever was any life more attractive to a vigorous young fellow than life on a cattle ranch in those days,” Roosevelt wrote in his 1913 autobiography, “It was a fine, healthy life, too; it taught a man self-reliance, hardihood, and the value of instant decision.”
Though the TRPL covers the complete Roosevelt story, its stunning location in the Badlands allows visitors to experience firsthand the area and landscapes that would come to shape his personality, his governing style and ultimately the laws of the land. “I would not have been President had it not been for my experience in North Dakota,” he said during a speech in 1910.
Roosevelt moved to the Badlands in the spring of 1884, grieving the dual loss of his mother and wife, both of whom had died tragically on Valentine’s Day. There, the homebound asthmatic boy who read tales of cowboys became one himself. The man who would espouse “Get action” would see more of it in his two years living there than most see in ten lifetimes.
While he lived in greater comfort than most, he threw himself into the daily toil of ranch life. He stopped stampedes and took part in months-long cattle round-ups, working alongside the cowboys, bronc-busters and flash riders of the day. He also encountered the old-timers—grizzled hunters and trappers that still lived in the backwoods and were among the true frontiersmen. As a rancher, he formed and was unanimously elected head of the area’s first stockmen’s association and became a deputy sheriff for Billings County. With two ranch hands, he chased and captured three riverboat thieves during the freezing winter of 1886 before leading them on a 45-mile journey to the nearest judge. He lost 60% of his cattle herd to the catastrophic conditions of that same season. Yet he returned to New York—and to political life—a harder, more resilient man with renewed purpose, a stronger sense of justice, and a deeper connection to the country’s great open spaces.