Cutter Frisco: Growing Up on the Original Southfork Ranch, A Memoir

By Douglas D Box

I once had a horse named Cutter Frisco. Well, he wasn't exactly my horse. He actually belonged to my father, but I sure thought of him as mine. I was the one who took care of him, fed him, and washed him. I was the one who rode him most days. Cutter Frisco was a gold-colored gelding and his father was the legendary championship-cutting horse, Cutte

• Language: English
• Publisher: Box Family Advisors, LLC
• Release date: Sep 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9780692287262

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Cutter Frisco: There One Day,

Gone the Next

Ionce had a horse named Cutter Frisco. Well, he wasn’t exactly my horse. He actually belonged to my father, but I sure thought of him as mine. I was the one who took care of him, fed him, and washed him. I was the one who rode him most days.

Cutter Frisco was a gold-colored gelding and his father was the legendary championship-cutting horse, Cutter Bill, so it seemed only natural that Cutter Frisco inherited his good genes. Indeed he did, for he had tremendous speed and dazzling agility that many of the other horses lacked. No wonder I became attached to him. That glorious animal made me want to be a real cowboy. I thought we’d be together forever, Cutter Frisco and I. But somewhere along the way, I lost my favorite cutting horse.

As with so many other things on the Box Ranch, I wasn’t in control of our destinies—not Cutter Frisco’s, not my own. When the family ranch fell on hard times, we had to sell most of our horses to make a small profit. After Cutter Frisco was sold, I never saw him again.

This is a story about a family that once had it all. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t say we had it all, but to the outside world it sure seemed like we had a lot. As magnificent as our life appeared from a distance, there was a sense of impermanence that seeped into everything, and it all seemed to start when Cutter Frisco was sold out from under me. My childhood is full of memories that are fun and magical … but that magic wasn’t meant to last.

Growing up on the Box Ranch, a place also known as the original Southfork, so much of our lives followed a similar pattern. One day famous actors and an elaborate film crew were shooting Dallas in our front yard; the next day they were gone. One day the Big House that I grew up in was standing tall and stately; the next day it had burned down to the ground. One day the land that had been in my family for three decades was there; the next day it was gone.

Status, wealth, the good ol’ times—they’re all ephemeral. No matter how tightly you try to hold on to the Cutter Friscos of the world, they will slip through your fingers. You might not even get a chance to say goodbye. That was one of the hard lessons I learned while growing up on the original Southfork.

These stories—and so many others—are the reason I wrote this book.

Chapter 1

Welcome to Frisco,

Home of the Fighting ‘Coons!

Frisco High School senior class of 1969.

Art, culture, top-of-the-line schools, real estate—you can find it all in Frisco. If you’re looking for an up-and-coming community in one of Texas’s burgeoning suburbs, then look no further than this city on the rise.

Gone are Frisco’s days in the ranks of small, sleepy towns on the North Texas prairie. Situated twenty miles from metropolitan Dallas, Frisco is quickly becoming the place to live, whether you’re a young professional, have a growing family, or are simply looking to relocate.

A lot is happening in this North Texas town. In fact, Frisco’s unprecedented growth from 33,000 citizens to over 133,000 in just a decade has earned the city a number two spot on Forbes and CNN’s Fastest Growing Cities in America lists.

With the influx of newcomers, the city has kept astride with development, creating new homes and facilities for the growing community. As a result, the city boasts top-ranking schools, a regional shopping center, and every other amenity that makes a home away from the city comfortable and convenient.

By all accounts, Frisco tops the list of best places to live in North Texas.

As a Frisco native, it’s good to see the community develop. But as the city continues to grow, the shadows cast longer over the town that I grew up in—a small-town Frisco in which the main attractions were the local railroad stop and the Royal Drive-In (a glorified Dairy Queen knockoff).

The Frisco I knew as a boy was one where the fields were rolling, livestock plentiful, and Texas spirit large.

Back when the nation was still in its infancy, Frisco didn’t even exist. The rolling acres that comprise the town fed cattle drives headed north where the animals would be slaughtered and sold at market. It wasn’t until the development of the railway system that put the town on the map. In 1902, the St. Louis–San Francisco Railway passed through Texas, and six years later, in 1908, Frisco was officially incorporated into the Lone Star State.

Over the years, the dusty cattle trail turned into Preston Road, and the surrounding farmland gave way to homes and businesses and infrastructure. A particular type of settler came to Texas in those early days. After all, it was known as the Wild West—not a destination for the faint of heart. Frisco has a precedent of attracting only those brave enough—and perhaps crazy enough—to seek their fortune in the wild frontier. While the shiny new businesses and establishments suggest a lifestyle of comfort and security, I still like to think Frisco maintains a bit of that rogue spirit—the one I encountered when I first came to the small town.

We moved to Frisco in the sixties, and although the population mark hovered just around two thousand, the town held a certain charm that seems to fade with each new neighborhood and megaplex. I call it the Texas charm—the stuff of legend that countless storytellers have tried to capture in art, literature, and film. The kind of charm that gathers a crowd, captivates an audience. And while that charm is ever more elusive, you can still find hints of it out in Frisco … if you know where to look.

Drifting across the open road toward the main intersection of town, you might catch a glimpse of it: a strange, lonely structure lingering at the end of a long drive. It appears to be a half-finished house, with only steel beams to support the gray roof that sits atop it.

To anyone just passing through town, they might think these bones of a shelter were under construction. But those who have been around for a while know that the builders have long since packed up shop and gone home.

For decades the structure has remained untouched, poised at the end of a long line of live oak trees, like a ghost of the past hearkening back to grander times.

The Brinkmann Ranch as it stands today.

In fact, the ranch—now called the Brinkmann Ranch—is still in operation under the current owner for whom it is named. Although J. Baxter Brinkmann owns the half-finished home, he wasn’t the commissioner; nor did he ever live in the original home that first graced the ranch like a jewel in the crown of the Texas countryside. That home burned down under the watch of its previous owner, Cloyce Kennedy Box, former pro-football-player-turned-ranch owner—and my father.

The house changed hands a few times, which is unusual in the way of ranches. Normally, that kind of land is passed down from generation to generation, staying in the family for decades and beyond. But for various reasons, this piece of land saw several owners before my father finally bought it in 1965.

Like the adventurous pioneers before him, my father was drawn to the land for its beauty, and was enthralled with the challenge of transforming this piece of Texas countryside into his own, great vision. Looking back it only seems natural that my father would end up in Frisco. Everything from his status as a self-made man to his bold business dealings epitomized the legacy of the area.

Up until that time, my family had mostly lived in Dallas, so it was quite a shock to go from a busy, urban setting to essentially the middle of nowhere. I was eight years old at the time and my three older brothers—Don, Gary, and Tom—and I had to quickly adjust to our new home.

Although we lived in the heart of Frisco, I always felt like an in-betweener, living in the country and commuting to school in Dallas every day. It took a while to feel at home in Frisco, but as I grew older, the town became more a part of my identity.

For over three decades, the grand house and surrounding acreage was known as the Cloyce Box Ranch, or as some called it, the original Southfork after Dallas began filming there. Under my father’s ownership, the ranch sparkled. He turned the idle land into a working ranch, filling the stables and prairie with livestock. The house bustled with activity, as my parents were constantly hosting parties and visitors from across the globe. Never before, and never since, has the house shined as it did when my father ran the ranch.

It was for this very reason that producers of Dallas chose the ranch as the location for their primetime drama about a Texas family dynasty.

In its heyday, the ranch—much like my father—had an allure that was indescribable, in the same way it effuses a mysterious, haunting quality today. While the home originally projected Texas wealth, now the lonely framework hints at a folklore that has been scattered in the wind, left to be gathered and retold by those who were touched by the magic of the old Box Ranch.

Just as the remains of the house appear mysterious today, living in the house back then could be somewhat eerie, too.

Those who don’t know the story of the ranch may wonder why the bones of what looks to be a grand home stand untouched. Those who are familiar with the ranch’s lore, however, rarely have the story straight. Rumors abound over this marvelous piece of land, and no one’s quite gotten it right.

From Internet forums to talk around town, there seems to be a great deal of interest in the property. Who were the families who came before? Why is it still there? What happened to the old house?

This book is a callback to the former glory of the Box Ranch. It’s a testament to the magic of living on that land, as well as its historical significance in a city that is rapidly growing and changing, as the past fades further on the horizon.

For all those both new to and familiar with Frisco, perhaps this book will reconstruct the bones of an old, Texas town—one that you may now call home.

As a boy, I felt special because I grew up there. But if it’s fair to call us big fish in a small pond, it is also true that neither my three brothers nor I ever harbored any delusions that we were a big deal. We all knew the family’s notoriety was fully centered on our legendary father and our beautiful mother.

The Box boys, by comparison, were mostly ordinary guys. And yet, the things we got to witness and the upbringing we enjoyed were anything but ordinary.

My dad was the man, and I could not help but be caught up in this world where the ranch was the castle and he the king. Now that it’s no longer in my family’s name, it’s strange to pass by the place where so many of my childhood memories happened and watch as it sinks slowly back into the earth like an old tombstone.

I’m here to gather the ghosts of Box Ranch and share with you what a joy it was to grow up on that enchanted land.

The ranch that exists today is very private, and in a sense, closed off. People can see it, but they can’t touch it. This book is a behind-the-scenes look at the old Box Ranch, one that will show you what it was like to grow up there, and along the way I’ll share with you some of the remarkable things we saw and did.

Back then, the Box family was like the first family of Frisco. And although it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as Dallas made the area out to be, there was certainly a lot of excitement.

In the following pages, the untold story—in its entirety—will unfold. And perhaps you’ll see why Dallas’s exit signified more than the end of Hollywood glitz and glamour on the Box Ranch—it was the end of an era.

So join me now as I revisit the original Southfork.

Chapter 2

Was He the Real J.R.?

Cloyce Kennedy Box in front of the original Southfork, with cutting horse, Maude and dog, Mac. Photo by B. Ashley Scott.

Since the TV show Dallas went on