OK, so his name is Craig Johnson, not Walt Longmire. In real life. But he is just as down-to-earth and cowboy as Walt is in his books and on the TV screen. I’m talking about the guy who writes the Longmire books. He lives in Ucross, Wyoming, a town population of 26, and he was in my new hometown for the Santa Fe International Literary Festival. 

One of the main reasons I hold Johnson in such high esteem, above and beyond that his stories are set in Wyoming and Montana, is that he includes small towns in his book tours. He doesn’t have to–he’s got the acclaim and book sales at a level he would only have to do major cities and outlets. Yet a couple years ago, when I scheduled my own book tour and hit the Hardin and Billings Montana markets, Johnson was promoting his book at the same places! As a kid growing up in Hardin, a town 100 times bigger than Ucross, having an author the caliber of Johnson with his Longmire series come to town could have been life changing. In eighteen years growing up in Hardin, I never once met anyone who had written a book.

Months ago, I had joined my friend Ryan Rose’s volunteer team to work the Lit Festival. It was my writer’s way of getting access to the festival without paying (to a poor artist) the high price tag. Even back then, the session I wanted to hit was the one Craig Johnson was in. Ryan juggled my schedule so that I would work the One Story, Many Takes: How Do Books Get Adapted? session. The four panelists were: Johnson whose Longmire series ran from 2012-17; Emmy Award winner Kirk Ellis who worked on and/or co-produced John Adams, Ann Frank, and Franklinand has a new book out, They Kill People; DezBaa’, screenwriter and actor on Dark Winds; Danny Rubin, screenwriter of Groundhog Dayand many other productions. 

The festival started Friday evening. I did some final training Thursday at 10 am. I got the festival guide at training. As I flipped through the guide, I thought to myself, I should reach out to Craig Johnson and see if he’d spend some time with a local fan.

So, I typed up this email at 5:45 pm Thursday evening:

Mr. Johnson,
I have reached out to you before, I believe it was when we were both launching books and having book signings at the Hardin, Montana library. I grew up in Hardin and will actually be in Hardin the week after the Lit festival.
I will be volunteering during your session, One Story, Many Takes, on Saturday night.
I’m reaching out to see if you are going to be at the New Mexico Writers Cocktail party Friday night? Or if you would have time, I’d love to meet up with you. If you are in town Friday (tomorrow!!) a group of us hang at THE SHED on the Plaza at noonish. Some pretty illustrious people gather, I think you’d enjoy it.

Sorry I didn’t reach out sooner, time flies. 

Regards,
Elaine Koyama

For several minutes I debated whether to send the email off. I mean, it seemed kind of presumptuous to ask this NYT best-selling author to meet up. But I often remind myself of something that happened around my sixteenth birthday: That morning when I came down to the kitchen, my dad asked me what I wanted for my birthday. He said I could ask for anything. I really wanted a horse–a filly or a colt–a horse I could train. My brain was exploding. Dad had just told me I could ask for anything! I wanted a horse more than anything. But I just couldn’t bring myself to ask for a pony. It seemed like such a huge, extravagant, request. I didn’t ask. All day I thought about that horse, thinking somehow my dad could read my mind. I raced home, thinking I’d see a horse trailer with a sorrel or a bay. 

Of course I didn’t get a horse. If I recall, my dad didn’t get home until late that night. I’m sure my mom had a cake, but it was such a letdown. Yet I KNEW it was on me. I didn’t ask, I didn’t get.

The same scenario has played out many times in my career. I’ve been passed over for promotions I didn’t ask for, thinking management (men) would recognized my contributions and accomplishments.

I have been going through the same angst these last few weeks as I go through a home buying process. I have had to ask–make offers some would say were untenable–yet I have been brave. I want that pony.

So when I hit SEND on that email, I figured, If I don’t ask, I won’t get.

I met up with Craig (am I really on first name basis?) at The Shed in Santa Fe at 11 am, less than 24 hours from my email. If I haven’t mentioned it before, The Shed is one of the must-do northern New Mexican restaurants in Santa Fe. In the 1960s every high school kid seemed to have worked there. We joined my Shed buddies at the bar. It was my lucky day–not only did the creator of Walt Longmire join us for lunch–we got two of the available seven barstool. 

We talked about Montana, Wyoming, New Mexico, the research I am doing on the Japanese in Sheridan during the early 1900s, his books, my books (I gave him copies of LET ME IN and Between Two Freedoms) how I should think about a through line to tie my books together (great tip), how he ended up as a cop in New York City, and a myriad of other topics related to writing and not. What struck me was how easy he was to visit with, how easily he fit into the Shed group, and how stupid I was not to get a picture of him at the Shed.

New Mexico has deep ties to Longmire. The sheriff’s office facade and filming took place in a building in Las Vegas, NM on the town square. The Shed icon Tom, who anchors the end of the bar, was an extra in a bar scene shot at the Legal Tender bar in Lamy, NM. Many Longmire scenes were shot in and around Santa Fe. I plan on rewatching the series to pick out local sites now that I live here.

For five years Longmire filming was happening in Santa Fe. Craig Johnson came frequently on set. But he claimed he had never been to The Shed. That I had introduced him to the historic Shed.

Call.