As a little tyke, Richard Oliver took naps on the woolskins in his father’s Prescott, Arizona, saddle shop, surrounded by tapping hammers and buzzing sewing machines. Today, he’s a fourth-generation saddlemaker whose shop has become world famous among connoisseurs of fine leather work.
Chip Chandler: What was your reaction when you learned you were getting this award?
Richard Oliver: Well, what happened was Lenny Sadler (an Amarillo resident and museum board member) came in the shop and said, “Richard, I got something to talk to you about. Have you ever heard of the Chester A. Reynolds Award?” And I said, “Well, yes, I’ve heard of it.” And he said, “Well, you just got it.” I didn’t have any idea I had been nominated. Friends of mine were contacted, and they wrote letters of recommendation for me, and everything was secretive. My wife and kids knew about it, and I had no idea.
CC: What does it mean to you to be recognized like that?
RO: How can you put it into words when it’s what you’ve done for a lifetime? It’s my living, it’s what my family has done since 1917. I just come down and work and support our cowboys and Western way of life anyway I can. What an honor it is to be recognized for that. I wasn’t running for the position. I didn’t know anything about it. It just came about. And to be recognized for that, gosh, it’s a dream come true.
CC: I was looking at the rest of the honorees for the class of 2026, and there’s some pretty big names in there: (former U.S. Secretary of State) Rex Tillerson, (actor) Ed Harris, (country singers) Toby Keith and Kenny Rogers. What does it feel like to be part of that class?
RO: It is amazing. Everybody there was top-notch people. Rex Tillerson was super nice to me. I walked in, and I didn’t know where I was supposed to go, and I saw he had a director’s badge on. I just went over to him and asked if he knew where I was supposed to be. He helped me find my way around and was so nice to me. Those guys were humble. It was a real experience to be around those folks and to be in that same crowd.
CC: Your grandfather started the business, right?
RO: Yes, in 1917, my granddad started us in Vernon, Texas. Dad moved us up here in 1960, and we’ve been here ever since.
CC: And there was some time in Arizona?
RO: We spent five years out in Prescott, Arizona, from ’50 to ’55, and I have good memories of that. Prescott was a neat cowboy town.
CC: What was the first saddle shop you remember being in?
RO: The one I remember being in is the Prescott location, because I was born in ’49. My first five or six years of life were there, and I had great memories. It’s amazing: I remember that better than what I had for supper last night.
CC: What’s your earliest memory in your dad’s saddle shop?
RO: Taking naps on woolskins. It was a comfort zone to me. It was a safe zone. Everybody took care of me. I had my tricycle, and I’d ride my tricycle up and down Whiskey Row. That’s where we were, right next to the Palace Bar. I’d ride in there every afternoon, and the bartender, Blackie, would fix me a sarsaparilla, and so then I’d ride out underneath the double swinging doors, and everybody on the block knew me. I still remember their names and faces. It was quite a town.
CC: How did you learn how to make a saddle?
RO: Growing up in it, you just learned as you went along. Dad had me doing little stuff to start out with. My boys, both Brian and Zeb, did the same thing, and both of them built their first saddle when they were 16 years old. I didn’t know if they would want to stay in the business or not, but I wanted them to have it to fall back on if they ever wanted to. They’re both way better than me, actually. They have the same pride in our tradition. The whole family does.
CC: When did you realize that this is what you wanted to do with your life?
RO: I graduated from WT, and I had some offers to go into construction. I had worked for Wiley Hicks during college, and Wiley could pay me more than my dad could. He paid me a dollar and a half an hour. It just didn’t fit me, and this fit me and Dad needed the help. Dad and Mother needed the help. I love my clientele. They’re the salt of the earth. Their handshakes are better than a contract.
CC: How has the business changed over the years?
RO: Well, I’m a lot bigger than when it was just my dad and I and my mother. I’ve got two, maybe three, part-time employees, and then six or seven full-time employees. We’re building more of our own goods than we were able to back then. Styles have changed and techniques have changed on the saddles. We’ve got a lot more equipment than I used to have. It helps a whole lot, and it’s made better products. I’m able to do office work, I’ve been able to do my craftsmanship at the bench, and I’ve been able to sell up front. I mean, what more could you ask for?
CC: Still taking naps on the woolskins?
RO: I’d like to. I don’t fit on the woolskins anymore. But my boys did, and my grandkids slept on the woolskins. So that’s a tradition that hasn’t changed. And I hope they have memories like I did of hearing us working, and the sewing machines, and sleeping, and knowing that they were in a safe place, you know?
CC: What sets an Oliver saddle apart from the rest?
RO: Over a hundred years of experience. My experience has been basically 55 years. Both boys, they tried some other stuff for a little while, but Zeb’s been back here 25 years, and Brian’s been here 20, so we’ve got 100 years of experience right there. Another thing is that when you order, you’re looking at the guy right straight in the eye that’s building your saddle. And he’s got to answer to you if there’s something wrong. We’ve got families with three and four generations coming back, having the kids’ and grandkids’ saddles built, so what does that tell you?
