Bridle Man

Always Something to Chase
‘Bridle Man’

By Gerry Gesell

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a bridle man. I wanted to be that horseman with a tack room full of bridles, handmade bridles of every kind. Stiff bits, snaffle bits, gag bits, hackamores, spade bits; the list goes on. The possibilities are almost limitless. There are those who are purely collectors, and then there are those who are obsessed with the form and function of every bit, and in turn, it fuels their desire to have more and more. The endless search for what works, what will work, and how we can improve our bridles in order to improve our horses. I am simply obsessed. 

Growing up, I didn’t care much about horses or what was hanging in Mom’s tack room. I remember walking in there from time to time and wondering what all those bridles and hackamores were for, but I didn’t know one from the other. My curious nature would bring me back periodically, and my sense of observation would often make me notice that something was different. A certain bridle might be hanging in a new place or have a different curb chain, a new set of reins, or maybe something a little more severe. At the time, I didn’t know what those things were, but I became interested nonetheless. As I grew into my teens, that same curiosity grew as Mom’s interest in teaching me more deepened. I still remember the day she asked me to start helping her with the horses. Part of that would be learning more about the form and function of all those rigs hanging on those walls. Little did she know, she was fueling my lifelong obsession for bridles. Maybe she did know. 

I was fortunate enough to grow up roughly two miles from two of the best horsemen I would ever meet. Tommy Wayman and his father Billy were not only amazing horsemen, they were amazing bridle men. With a history and careers in polo as well as cutting horses, the amount of bridles was mind blowing. I can still recall the day I walked into the big barn there in Adkins, Texas, and saw hundreds upon hundreds of complete polo bridles. Bridles hanging on top of bridles. Clean leather, shiny stainless steel bits, braided rawhide. There were bits of every kind. I would soon learn the names of most of these bits: Pelhams, double bridles, full bridles, Hitchcock gags, big ring gags, Barry gags, Miller doubles. The names go on. I was mesmerized and could hardly comprehend what I was looking at. 

Walking into the other side of the barn and then out into Billy’s barn, I was introduced to the likes of Adolph Bayers, Billy Klapper, Lee Friend, Tommy Spraberry, and more. I was witnessing the history and future of silver and steel and the connection of hands to horse. Little did I know at the time, I would have the opportunity to work for and ride with both Tommy and Billy. Once again, my obsession would be fueled. 

Over my lifetime with horses so far, I have had the opportunity to meet horsemen from all over the world. I have been able to ride with them and learn from them. Conversations about training horses with these horsemen would always lead to conversations about bridles and bridling horses. It is amazing to see how different each horseman is, even within the same discipline. The end result would always be a well-trained horse, maybe slightly different in style and with a slightly different approach to getting there. But the common denominator was always the obsession with the bridles. Every discipline has its standards in bridles. You are not going to watch a polo game and see a polo pony playing in a Klapper 27, partly because the rules do not allow it, but also because it simply is not part of that culture. Just like you are not going to a cow horse show and see a horse making a run in a gag. Again, partly because of the rules, but also because it is not part of the culture. 

The twist is, those disciplines will use variations of the bridles not typically used or allowed to train their horses. English versus Western, or English and Western. Every bridle works. 

When I say every bridle works, there are definitely exceptions to that rule. The endless creation of one hit wonders and miracle bridles and all the gimmicks that every trainer has hanging in their arsenal will always lead to that one bear trap bit somebody came up with in a time of desperation. Will it work? It might only have to work once. And that bridle is relegated to the back wall or trunk, where it might not ever see the light of day, until somebody comes to you and describes a problem with a horse. You know what, I have something that might work. How many times have we said this or heard it? Out of all the bridles we have hanging in our saddle houses, there are those we might only use a couple of times a year, but those unsung heroes are always in the back of our minds. We hope and pray for a horse to come along that requires us to use that bridle. We want those challenges and those reminders that it is not always easy, and that is why we have those bridles. They remind us of the form and function, the purpose, and the hopeful outcome. A positive result. 

Form and function are the cornerstone of any good bit. The evolution of training and the bridles we use in training comes from the constant discussions on form and function. We go to the arena with a handful of bridles, all the same but slightly different. We ride one, and it just does not feel quite right. We swap it for another with maybe a half inch shorter shank. That half inch shorter shank comes from a discussion with a horseman and a bit maker. They talk about it in detail. That half inch can make all the difference in the world.