`CAT RANCH' COLUMNIST AN OZARKS ORIGINAL

Tom Runnels hands Gov. Mel Carnahan a copy of his latest book, "Slipshod But Not Shabby." He also loaned the governor a drawing and a sculpture when they met Jan. 12.

Tom Runnels and his dog, Shadrack, relax near Runnels' welded metal sculpture of a bucking bronc. The sculpture sits in the front yard of Runnels' "Cat Ranch."

He's hopped freight trains to Kansas, cowboyed in Colorado, panned for gold in the West, dug for opals in the Australian Outback and recently met with Gov. Mel Carnahan.

An admirer of Will Rogers' down-home wit, he's authored two books, and for the past 17 years he's written weekly columns for area newspapers. He's worked as a sculptor, welder and commercial artist. He wears a Hoss Cartwright-type, beaver felt Stetson that was made in 1951.

Tom Runnels lives on the "Cat Ranch" in Marble Hill. He didn't name it that -- the appellation came with the original 40 acres. There's another place in the area called the "Goat Ranch."

In his front yard stands a metal sculpture of a bucking bronc. It weighs about a ton and is 18 feet long and 12 feet high.

In his workshop visitors are greeted by a big buzzard -- created with concrete, it appears cartoonish with its gaping grin.

Runnels, 61, once painted a sign in the Shannon County town of Eminence for $15, breakfast and a pack of Camels. Another time he drew a portrait as a trade-off for $10 worth of gas. In 1962 he lettered trucks in a building that's now a pizza parlor.

He studied art at Southeast Missouri State University and the Kansas City Art Institute, and he has dyslexia -- reading is difficult because letters often appear garbled.

"Some days are worse than others," Runnels said of his dyslexia. "There'll be o's when there should be n's and z's look like n's and c's look like o's."

Yet, for 17 years he has written folksy, funny, irreverent columns -- always accompanied by an illustration -- for area newspapers. He currently writes for the Banner Press in Marble Hill, the Cash-Book Journal in Jackson, the Ozark Gazette in Fredericktown, the Puxico Press in Puxico and the Advance Statesman in Advance.

"I used to work for the Poplar Bluff paper. They fired me. I get fired a lot," said Runnels, smiling, leaving one to wonder if the last statement is true. He also wrote for the Standard-Democrat in Sikeston.

His columns are proof-read by his wife of 33 years, Sandy, and his friend, Sharon Hopkins.

"I write my way and they proof my stuff," he said. His "way" includes ample use of the word "ain't," and dropping the "g" on such words as riding, moving and talking so that the spellings -- ridin', movin' and talkin' -- reflect his pronunciations.

His column is called "Before TV." Some excerpts:

Money -- I don't take American Express or VISA and I don't plan to. I like to hear a few coins rattle in my ol' Levi's when I'm lucky enough to have some. Plastic don't rattle real good.

Clothes -- Of all the things that I don't like to do, I guess cleanin' my car and buyin' clothes are at the top of the list. Both are very obvious, I don't know if you can call me tight, but at least snug.

I guess one of the nice things about bein' flabby, if there is a nice thing about bein' flabby, is you can kinda push it around to fit the garments.

Travel -- Yep! I guess I'm pretty much of a world traveler. I'd been to the Pilot House, Muddy Waters, Happy Holler and a few other points of interest. My life is still chunked full of stress and problems as with all world travelers.

News and Weather -- I always like to get the TV news and weather, not that it affects me much or even makes any difference. The news always tells me who killed who or how our politicians are goin' to cut my taxes.

The weather, when they are right, tells me what I'm goin' to get to do for the next few days. If it's cold, I'll drag out more clothes and build fires. If it's hot, I'll take off more clothes and turn on the air. After all these years I've found there is nothin' I can do about any of this stuff except learn to live with it.

Runnels, who was born in Marble Hill, left for Louisiana when he was 14. At 15 he hopped a freight train to Kansas where he harvested wheat. He joined the Air Force at 17 and while stationed in Japan and Korea, he painted some murals.

After being discharged, he studied art at SEMO and in Kansas but quit in the middle of his senior year, although he was close to receiving a teaching certificate.

"If I had got my degree to teach, I would have wound up living in an apartment at some college ... teaching for a pittance.

"I didn't come back here to be an artist. I came back to get away from being an artist, to make just enough money to fish, hunt, trap and keep myself in .22 shells.

"I came back with the intention of starving to death, only I didn't know it was going to take so long," said Runnels, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

In 1979 he published his first book, "Before TV." It contains vignettes of his childhood -- memories of Grandma Fox, going to church (he was raised a "foot-washin' Baptist"), making mud pies and having sling shot wars with friends.

Sales from the book financed his six-week trip to Australia. He wandered around the Outback looking for opals, which he brought back and gave to his friends.

Runnels has worked as a commercial artist in Little Rock, Ark., helped renovate the birthplace of President Ulysses S. Grant in Point Pleasant, Ohio, and has created huge metal sculptures that have been sold to collectors in many states.

Runnels downplays his painting prowess: "I don't paint. I just throw paint and smear it around. I'm not a painter. Painting to me is a real pain in the a--."

About four years ago, Runnels published his second book, "Slipshod But Not Shabby." It's a collection of tales based on columns he wrote for the Banner Press the past dozen or so years.

On Jan. 12 Runnels met with Governor Carnahan in his office in Jefferson City. Runnels' friends, Bill and Sharon Hopkins, made an appointment for him to show the governor some of his artwork.

Runnels ended up loaning Carnahan a sculpture and a drawing.

The sculpture is called "Wanna Boogie?" and it's of a little old bald-headed man with two front teeth missing and a lusty look on his face.

The drawing is of a creek baptism. It shows a fat woman in a polka dot dress about to be submerged in water by a fire and brimstone preacher.

"He seemed to like them pretty much," said Runnels, cocking his Stetson over his eye. "I loaned 'em to him for three months. I wasn't goin' to give 'em to him!"