Drinking Wyoming: Nut Buckets, Red Bull And No Police At Medicine Bow's Old West Bar

The Old West Bar is the social hotspot of Medicine Bow, Wyoming.

Although, in a town of 240, “hotspot" is a relative term.

It’s a Saturday evening in late summer, and there are seven people in the bar: three locals, three out-of-towners, and a bartender named Shayna, who’s wearing a pair of broken reading glasses while absently scrolling her phone.

“This is busier than usual,” she said.

Mention you're curious about life in Medicine Bow, and she points to a man across the room.

“Why don’t you ask him,” Shayna said. “He’s the mayor.”

Live Life, Make Money, Be Left Alone

In a bigger town, running into the mayor might feel like a coincidence.

In Medicine Bow, this local official is hard to avoid.

Mayor Justin George wears a trucker hat and T-shirt. The stark white tan line around his eyes suggests he spends more time outdoors than behind a desk.

He’s clearly comfortable here. 

If Shayna slips outside for a break, George doesn’t hesitate to duck behind the bar and rummage through the cabinets like a man in his own kitchen.

He talks with everyone who comes through the door. In this town, that makes him something of an exception.

When asked to describe the collective personality of Medicine Bow, he said, “The people in this town want to live their life, make their money, and be left alone. That’s the culture of this town.” 

George, 56, whose parents moved here when he was an infant, is speaking from experience.

Several years ago, George helped launch a community festival called the Water Stop Jamboree, named for Medicine Bow's origins as a railroad water stop. 

He recruited vendors, sponsors, and Ryan Martin, a world flatpicking champion and in-demand performer.

They threw in the towel after four years because for the jamboree’s main event, “We’d only get, like, 12 people," George said.

"We were bringing world-class musicians in here, and couldn't get engagement,” he added.

That culture didn’t emerge by accident.

Nut Bucket

At the bar with a bourbon is a woman named Pat, who’s lived here 45 years. 

She remembers a time when Carbon County ranch life meant living 50 miles from town and relying on a generator for a few hours of electricity each night.

She spent what she called "the best year of my life" in a 10-by-50-foot trailer north of town with no electricity, television or telephone service — though it did come with packrats.

"When the generator went out, you better run for the bedroom," she said. "There's no streetlights. There's no light. I mean, it's just dark and quiet. You just listen."

Pat still seems to enjoy listening.

At the moment, she's listening to a local rockhound named Bill Fredericks explain another feature of life in rural Carbon County: eating livestock testicles.

“Cut 'em off quick, then put 'em with a little salt water in the nut bucket,” said Fredericks. “Throw 'em on the branding iron — easy — toss 'em right in your mouth.” 

He can still smell the distinct scent of singed hair just from thinking about it, he said, smiling at the memory.

The story also makes Pat smile, though it reminds her of how things have changed in Medicine Bow.

“People die, or they just get older, then somebody comes in like Walmart and offers them a lot of money, and the [next generation] sells off the ranch,” she said. 

Yet, even as Medicine Bow says goodbye to old characters, new ones continue to arrive.

‘There's No Police’

At the next seat over is Shawn Valvardy, who moved here one month ago from a place with a familiar name: Wyoming, Pennsylvania.

He has a simple explanation for why he chose Medicine Bow.

"Because there's no police," he said.

It sounds like a wisecrack, but he means it seriously.

Valvardy said he left Pennsylvania after a conspiratorial saga involving local officials. The story includes attempted arson, a would-be hitman and a sabotaged truck tire that sent him into oncoming traffic.

It’s all a little hard to believe, he knows.

"They targeted me because I moved there alone without family or friends, so they thought that they could just take my house, take everything that I own," he said, whipping out his phone as though random photos of a charred exterior prove everything.

"There's so much more to this story," he said.

That, at least, is easy to believe.

He's not the first person to come to Wyoming looking for a fresh start. Nor is Medicine Bow unaccustomed to new faces.

’No. 1 Seller Of Red Bull In The State’ 

One of the distinctive features of the Old West Bar is its front door. It has no hydraulic closer, so the wind blows it shut with the sound of a gunshot.

You can tell who lives here because they don't flinch.

The same wind also spins hundreds of turbines across the surrounding area, their blades visible above the horizon north of town. Wind energy created plenty of debate in this town. It also created customers.

Next door sits JB's Gas Station, owned by George, who bought the business from his mother. 

Here, fuel is paid for at the counter and the shelves carry essentials only: bread, bacon, eggs and breakfast sandwiches.

It also sells Red Bull. During the height of wind construction projects, it sold a lot of Red Bull.

“One regular came in every morning and he’d  buy four 20-ounce Red Bulls and a pack of Marlboro Reds,” George said. “I’m like, ‘Your heart’s gonna explode, dude!'”

It spun up from there.

“That summer (2021), Red Bull calls me and they’re like, ‘You’re the No. 1 seller of Red Bull in the state,’” said George, who’d crammed cases into every spare crevice of the store.

Company reps came to town and asked him to set up a towering 60-case display. It made him laugh.

“My store is the size of a postage stamp. I have nowhere to put it,” he said.

Across the parking lot, Old West owner Kristi Wickizer was struggling to keep up as well.

"On Monday, I'd get a beer delivery, and by Friday I'd be going back to Budweiser to get more," Wickizer said, explaining that JB's and Old West partnered on a refrigerated trailer to keep up with demand.

The rush became even more intense during the COVID years, when her drive-thru became one of the few places for miles selling alcohol.

"I had a line that went from here all the way down the road," she said, pointing into the distance. "I literally could not keep enough beer here."

Though thousands of people came through town of the course of the last two decades, few stayed. 

By George’s estimation, the hundreds of turbines in his area require less than 20 full-time technicians, and only six of them have made Medicine Bow their permanent home.

For Pat, it’s the perfect example of the longer arc she’s witnessed over 45 years.

“Most everything is different. There's been so many people that are gone now," said Pat.

Then again, every so often somebody new arrives with a plan to stay.

Sunday Afternoon 

Around noon the following day, Wickizer spots the mayor pulling into the parking lot. By the time he reaches the door, his usual drink, a 7UP and orange juice, is already waiting.

He's wearing the same T-shirt from yesterday, a detail that feels perfectly at home with the unpretentious atmosphere of the Old West. In comes one of yesterday’s crowd, also.

The mayor and Valvardy make introductions. It's their first time meeting, but within minutes they're talking about housing projects, tourism ideas and ways to welcome new families to Medicine Bow.

One man has lived here much of his life. The other arrived one month ago. You'd never guess they'd just met.

As in his previous home of Wyoming, Pennsylvania, Valvardy arrived in Medicine Bow without family or friends. That seems to be changing quickly at the Old West Bar.

Perhaps the difference is what this town does not have.

"I like that people here can get along without having police," he said.

Contact Zakary Sonntage at zakary@cowboystatedaily.com

Zakary Sonntag can be reached at zakary@cowboystatedaily.com.