“I wanna be a fly on the wall when they go to move all of this stuff out of here.”
Billy Klapper said that to me in August of 2022. I had gone up to Pampa, Texas, to pick up a #27 bit that he had made for me. I was headed that direction, and it was a good time to visit with him and pick up my bits. Mr. Billy had called me a couple of weeks before and told me that my bit was almost ready and that he wanted to make sure how I wanted it mounted. “Yessir, all I want is a single flower mounted on the shank,” I reassured him. I could hear him thinking over the phone: “Well, it’ll be the first one I ever mounted like that.” I had had 10 years to think about that—from the time I ordered it to the time he finished building it. But I knew, even back then, how I wanted it mounted. This Klapper #27 would be unique to me.
I was nervous as I walked into his shop. I had spent plenty of time sitting and talking with Billy, but this was different. I was in his shop, where he had spent 30 years building bits and spurs for horsemen, cowboys, polo players, and collectors. He had been building much longer than that, but this shop was where he would not only craft his hand-forged bits and spurs, but also forge a legacy. I was nervous because I knew I would be interrupting his workday. I stepped through his office and down into his shop. I looked down the way, past a long workbench on my right, machines of every size to my left, and his massive wood-burning stove. There he was, forging out a pair of one-piece Chihuahua-style spurs. Billy set the spur down and let the fire calm. I met him in front of the stove, and we shook hands.
We stood and talked about horses, horsemen, polo players, and cowboys. From what I had gathered over the years of visiting with Billy, there weren’t many people around that he could talk polo with. I liked the idea of having that in common with him. To see Billy light up sharing stories of polo players was heartwarming. He would laugh so hard he’d have tears in his eyes. I’m lucky to own a bit that brought back those memories and stories. Before I left that day, my attention turned to his wood-burning stove. Billy told me the story of that stove. As he finished, I spoke up and told him how there’s nothing like the smell of wood smoke and how much I loved it.
“Oh boy, me too. There’s nothing like that smell,” Billy said, with a sincerity in his voice that gave me chills. Out of all the stories of bits and spurs, it was as if I had shared something with him that no one had ever shared. It was as if the smell of wood smoke was more special than anything he had ever done—or maybe the smell reminded him of all the things he had done.
When Mr. Billy mentioned being the fly on the wall, there was a reality that I, along with the rest of the “western” world, would have to face: one day, the legendary maker would no longer be here. We lost Billy Klapper in September of 2024, but his legacy lives on.
With that being said, I was on the fence about Episode 9, Season 5 of *Yellowstone*. I think most of us know the episode. Cole Hauser’s character, Rip, stops in Pampa and picks up a Klapper #27 for Forrie Smith’s character, Lloyd. To see Billy sitting there, talking softly as he did, and to know that he was gone was hard to handle. But I have to give a nod to Taylor Sheridan for what he did. Whatever his reasons or motivations might’ve been, Taylor brought Billy and his legacy to the masses. No, the masses will still never grasp the importance of who Billy Klapper was or what his bits and spurs mean to our horse and cowboy culture. This was evident by the phone conversations I had with complete strangers days after the episode aired. People from all over the country were doing anything they could to try and buy a piece of the legend. “What makes it worth that much?” was a common question. My response usually went something like: “If you have to ask that, then there isn’t anything I can say to help you understand.”
I have bought, traded for, and sold a lot of Klapper bits over the years. Do I regret selling or trading them off? Not at all. If I sold a bit, it was because I was in a bind or I simply didn’t use the bit. Yes, I’ll always be part of the story of that bit, and that means a lot to me. That is worth more to me than the price. I am not a collector in the true sense of the word. If I don’t get along with a bit, I either trade up for another that I need or sell it and wait for the right one to come along. I ride these bits. They go with me to horse shows, horse sales, the neighbors’ places, or anywhere else I might be—horseback. I cherish the bridles that are unique and special to me. The only thing more important than the form and function of those bits is the stories and legacy they leave behind.
Rest easy, Mr. Billy. I’ll think of you when I smell the wood smoke.
