May 2013 | Shop Talk!
got married, had kids, and jumped around the country working at different leather companies learning new skills. He spent time at G.H. Schoellkopf Co. of Dallas, TX, makers of saddles and gun rigs, followed by a stint at N. Porter Saddle and Harness Co. in Phoenix, AZ. His dad’s religiosity rubbed off, and Gray went to a bible college in Oregon while he worked for about ten years in a saddle shop in Heppner, OR. At one point, he was commissioned to make saddles for the Northwest Rodeo Association. Later, he made a living as a teacher in a private Christian school in California, but he never gave up on saddle making. In Livermore, CA, special needs sales started to pick up and he began marketing. He’s continued to get calls and orders ever since. His therapeutic saddles have traveled to as many locales as he has, probably more. He’s had orders from all corners of the United States and Australia and probably a few other places he’s forgotten. Following the dots on his 76-year life can get pretty hairy. He spends about fifty hours making a therapeutic saddle. He needs to know three things before he’ll start one: 1) the type of disability the rider has; 2) the size of the rider (height, weight, dimensions of chest, seat, etc.); and 3) the kind of horse
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that will be saddled. He’s even built one meant for a mule. Because of fear of liability, he says, “I know people who won’t come within a mile of doing this. If you sue me, you won’t get much. Insurance is expensive.” Also, a handicapped rider can’t go all out on a horse, he says. Riding at full gallop is not recommended. It’s difficult because of the seatback, which can bump on a fast ride. Liken it to a speeding roller coaster. Therapeutic saddles need a seatback, which he modifies from wheelchair parts. The seatback can be removed, but the hardware that attaches the back to the saddle is fixed. Each seat bottom is filled with medical gel. His trees are custom ordered and American made. His leather comes from Wickett & Craig. He charges about $2,600 for a basic therapeutic saddle for a child, more for an adult. Sometimes the prices can edge past $4,000, depending on the saddle requirements. He also makes regular saddles, too, although he keeps no stock except for an occasional resale. He works with two others, an apprentice, Nancy Seeger and a son, Sean Syce. Gray’s wife, Fran, takes care of the financials. “I tell her what we want to do, and she comes up with the money,” he says. Recently, he calculated he was a year behind