Gordon Mark has fond memories of the grandstands in Miami, Man.
It was here that a younger Mark surged into the arena astride a horse, twirling a rope overhead. He may even have won some prize money at this small town in south-central Manitoba.
It was also here that Mark was hired for one of the first gigs that gave rise to a new persona — a name that would one day be equated with hilarity across Western Canada — rodeo clown Gordo Bones.
“I remember it like it was yesterday,” he said, as he looked over the maze of fences and livestock chutes erected for the Miami Fair and Rodeo in late June. “I was out in that arena, standing on top of my barrel, wearing a gray mini-skirt with a T-shirt and some inflatables on top (and a) red wig.
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“It was kind of a launching pad” for the clowning aspect of his career, he added.
Miami was among Mark’s first five shows as a clown once he moved away from rodeo competition.
Originally from Winnipeg, Mark said he has always been a country boy at heart. He never liked the traffic that clogs city limits, and crowds – unless they’re a crowd he’s performing for – have never been his cup of tea.
Why it matters: Gordon Mark has hung up the grease paint, but the competitor turned long-time rodeo clown turned announcer is still a pillar of the sport across the province.
After returning to Manitoba after several years in British Columbia, Mark settled in Petersfield, near the south end of Lake Winnipeg. There, he and his wife started a hobby farm, running a few head of cattle and horses during his competition years. He also juggled a day job at a vehicle dealership in Beausejour.
At age 25, Mark threw his hat in the ring for team roping and tie-down roping events, and also did some bareback riding, but the prize money didn’t come in steadily enough to support a continuing career.
After about a decade, he decided a shift might be in order, so he moved to support roles where he could participate in rodeo and get paid for the privilege.
“(Rodeo) was costing me money, and then I realized that I could get paid to be a fool,” he said.
It was the start of a career that would eventually take Gordo Bones into the world of professional rodeo.
First appearing in 1996, Mark worked his way up the ranks. In time, he built a schedule that regularly pulled him into Alberta and British Columbia as well as repeated appearances at Manitoba’s only professional rodeo, the Manitoba Stampede in Morris. While he never worked the Calgary Stampede, he did spend time with the event’s contractors at the Calgary Stampede Ranch.
Over almost three decades, Gordo Bones built a reputation for his energy and connection with his audience.
In 2018, the Manitoba Stampede described him as “one of Manitoba’s very few born and raised professional rodeo entertainers,” and “known for his many different costumes and his love for working with the crowd, where he quite often can be found.”
Video from that year’s event saw him pull out what can only be described as a toilet go-cart or, as he declared, a porta-potty, from which he could call out litterers using a built-in bullhorn.
Adrenaline was part of the draw for clowning, he admitted. There’s a thrill when a ton of raging bull bears down on his barrel, with him inside, and is hit.
Bigger than that, though, was the entertainment aspect.
“To see a smile on a face that maybe wasn’t smiling and you think, ‘I did that.’ It could be one person, and if the rest of the audience joins in, well that’s all a bonus, that’s the gravy, but there’s no better feeling in the world than to make someone feel good, even just for that two hours of rodeo,” he said.
A rude ‘wake up’
Gordo Bones was born at grassroots, community-level rodeos, but a jump into semi-pro bull fighting brought a less pleasant experience. Soon after picking up his makeup, the still-rookie rodeo clown was brought in for the Northwest Round Up, a three-day event hosted annually in Swan River.
“I thought I made the big times, for sure,” he recalled.
It was not what he had hoped. A seven-year-old watching his shtick later told him that he wasn’t very good, and Mark left Swan River disheartened.
“It was probably the best thing that had ever happened to me,” he says now, although it was discouraging at the time.
“What I had been doing in the past, I was so dependent on other people to make me funny, and it helped me turn around my way of entertaining.”
The following years saw Mark hone his act. Among other things, Gordo Bones became known for his pet duck, a bird named Romeo that Mark had raised out of the egg. He also employed his dogs, Wrangler and Tripod, and a pet bull he would ride out of the chute, delighting the crowd.
“It was a whole educational deal … He’d come out bucking and I’d be hanging on for dear life and then I’d say, ‘Well, this is why he’s bucking.’ And I’d pull the shank off the back and then you’d ride him around like a pony.”
“Peaking duck” became one of his running gags, although he noted that increased scrutiny on animals used in shows has led to less pet-participation and more “blowing yourself up and running around the arena.”
Picking up the mic
Today, Mark’s comic talents come on the other side of a rodeo announcer’s mic, and his new costume is western formal wear.
He attempted to retire about five years ago, although Gordo Bones later returned to the arena. That second wind was derailed by COVID-19, when social gathering restrictions wiped out the 2020 and 2021 rodeo seasons.
When things opened up again, the now-61-year-old had been advised that, medically, he should no longer take the risk.
“But you can’t get it out of your blood,” Mark said. “I had a good run with the makeup on and I always did a bit of announcing, but now I’ve got to step away from the makeup.”
He’ll be a regular face and voice through the rest of Manitoba’s rodeo circuits this summer as an announcer. While not tied up with duties every weekend, Mark does expect to do seven events for the Heartland Rodeo Association and Manitoba Rodeo Cowboys Association.
He laments that there are few to replace him in the arena as he heads into retirement.
Oh, there are bullfighters, he said, but the comedy aspect has fallen by the wayside. He estimates there are only three or four across Canada with a fully developed dual skill set.
Even though he is out of the rodeo clown game, he still gets calls from people looking to hire him.
“Anybody can tell a joke, but it’s when you put passion, feeling,” he said. “When you touch the crowd, when you reach the crowd, you know when you do that. You can see it in their eyes.”
More than 35 years since starting with rodeo, Mark is back in Miami. This time, he’s the one egging people on from the sidelines while the bull riders secure their grips and the bullfighters stand ready.
“We need to blow the roof off this grandstand,” he challenges the audience, with AC/DC pounding in the background. “We need enough noise that we’re going to inspire that young fella’ to sit there and ride for eight seconds.
“I don’t care how you make the noise. You can clap your hands, you can stomp your feet, you can yell your lungs out, but either way, when I give you the cue, I want to hear each and every one of you in your own little way.”
The chute opens. The bull surges out. The crowd roars.
