by Randy Willis
The legendary cowboy, Bailey’s Prairie Kid, was my special guest a year ago on April 25, 2024. I spoke at the Brazoria County Fairgrounds in my hometown of Angleton. This was for the annual Brazoria County Library System Foundation annual event.
I called him the afternoon before the event. I wanted to remind him that he was my very special guest. The 92-year-old said, “I will be there as soon as I finish working out this colt.”
“Breaking a green colt in this 90-degree heat?” I asked.
“Yes sir, I had to take a break though after four hours.”
I explained that I understood. I was mounted on a rank chestnut quarter horse (aka my ole red GMC pickup). I was headed to Brazoria County. I’m not sure if he got my feeble attempt at humor.
Tomorrow, the legendary cowboy will return to the same auditorium. This event will happen on Wednesday, May 21, 2025, at the Brazoria County Fairgrounds. It’s his funeral. He was 93.
Taylor Hall Jr. was known by everyone as Bailey’s Prairie Kid. He was just learning to walk when his daddy lifted him onto the horn of a saddle. His dad took him to work at the Stanger Ranch back in the 1930s.
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At dinner, at the Brazoria County Fairgrounds, I asked Bailey’s Prairie Kid how he got that name. “I gave it to myself,” he said. Real cowmen are honest that way.
“Should I call you Mr. Hall?” I asked.
“No sir, “Kid will do.”
That reminded me of the first time I met him in 1962. Daddy told me we were headed to the Munson Ranch at Bailey’s Prairie five miles from Angleton. “Do you want to meet Bailey’s Prairie Kid?” Daddy asked.
“Oh wow, I have always wanted to meet him. What should I call him?”
“Sir,” Daddy replied with a stern look as if to say hopefully you already know the answer to your question.
Randy Willis, 1962. The Munson Ranch. Bailey’s Prairie, Texas.
When we arrived the first thing I noticed was the muscles in the 30-year-old cowboy’s arms. And his smile. —Randy Willis
“The best men I’ve known have been cowmen. There’s a code they live by—it’s their way of life. It starts with an abiding reverence for the Good Lord.
They’re taught to honor and respect their parents and to share both blanket and bread. Their words are their bond, a handshake their contract.
They’re good stewards of His creation, the land. They believe the words in His Book.
Learn from these men—from their stories of triumph over tragedy—victory over adversity, for the wisdom of others blows where it wishes—like a Texas Wind.” —Randy Willis
This is the story of such a man.
Bailey’s Prairie Kid
When I was a kid, I heard Catherine Munson Foster tell the story of Baileys’ Light. (You can find it on YouTube). She was also the author of the locally notorious little book “Ghosts Along the Brazos,” which contains this legend. She was a mesmerizing storytelling.
Catherine Munson Foster said Bailey’s Prairie is haunted by the ghost of one Brit Bailey – for whom the area was named (Bailey’s Prairie). According to legend, the ghost, carrying a lantern, roams across the flat land of Brazoria County – at night, constantly searching for a jug of whiskey.
It appears as a bouncing, white ball of light floating about four to six feet off the ground. It occasionally makes an appearance somewhere between West Columbia and Angleton. A large number of folks have seen the phenomenon known as “Bailey’s Light.”
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My best friend in high school, Billy Adams and I got the “bright idea,” pun indented, to scare my date. Billy drove in advance to a side road next to the Munson Ranch and hide in the woods. As we approached in my dad’s old rusty Ford pickup, Billy flashed a flood light. He shone it up and down in the trees.
Our plan appeared to work. I suggested she slide closer to my side of the pickup for protection from Bailey’s Light. My planned backfired when she revealed she knew more of the legend than me. “You know Brit Bailey demanded that he be buried standing straight up and facing the West. He’s buried on the Munson Ranch. Let’s find his grave.”
What could I do? We set out in the dark through the woods in search of Brit Bailey’s grave. Just when I began to gain courage, Bailey’s Light came straight towards us. I said, “Let’s run.”
“No, I want to talk to him,” my date said.
There I stood shaking in my boots as the light approached. There stood Bailey’s Prairie Kid. That surpassed the first time I met him, but not the last.
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Over the next 63 years I discovered Bailey’s Prairie Kid was a man that was difficult to dislike. Everyone loves him. When Lisa Greak from the Brazoria County Library Foundation asked me to speak, I said I’d be honored. One of her first questions was whether I thought I could get Bailey’s Prairie Kid to come.
I asked him and he said yes.
After Lisa Greak introduced me to the audience that night, I began with a series of questions that I suspected made no sense. “How many of you over 40 rode a horse today?” A small number waved in the cowboy, cowgirl dominated audience. Brazoria county has been historically heavily influenced by farming and ranching.
I then ask how many over the age of 60 worked cows this week. Much fewer hands were raised. I then asked how many over 90 broke a horse this year? No hands were raised.
“Ladies and gentlemen meet my guest of honor, and friend not one, two, or three, but four different Cowboy Hall of Fame member, Bailey’s Prairie Kid who has spent much of the day breaking a yearling colt. By the way he 92 years young.”
At 19, the Bailey’s Prairie Kid started competing in local rodeos and later in the Southwestern Negro Cowboys Association (at the end of segregation, the name changed to Southwestern National Cowboys Association-SNCA.)
- 1966 Champion Saddle Bronc Rider
- 1968 Champion Bareback Bronc Rider
- 1972 Champion Steer Wrestler
- 1973 Champion Steer Wrestler
- 1975 Champion Bull Rider
- 1978 All Around Champion in Saddle Bronc, Bareback, Bull Riding & Steer Wrestling
The “Kid” getting Joe Munson’s “Empty Saddle” ready for Joe’s graveside service. Courtesy, George Munson. Notice the boots in the stirrups. 2024
Always teaching young cowboys and cowgirls what it means to be one.
Bailey’s Prairie Kid was closer to my brother Jerry than anyone in our family. He told me last year how much he respected him. He mentioned how much he missed him. He expressed his love before I spoke at the annual Brazoria County Library System Foundation. They were close in age and close friends.
My dad, Jake Willis and me working cows near Angleton.
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Many today have just enough religion to inoculate them from knowing Christ. —Randy Willis
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