benandsteve.com

Colonel Roy Rodrick

By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026
October 29, 2026

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Morning Coffee: Remembering Roy Rodrick.

April 28, 1931 — October 26, 2026

Some voices stay with you for a lifetime.

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For me, one of those voices belonged to Roy Rodrick, calling horses through an auction ring long after most sensible people would have gone home to bed.

My dad wasn’t one of those sensible people.

Neither was I, apparently. I was usually sitting beside him.

Colonel Roy Leon Rodrick, known affectionately as “Dutch,” passed away October 26, 2026, in Lawton, Oklahoma. He was 95.

Reading about his passing brought back the sale barns in Anadarko and Mountain View, the familiar faces in the seats, and those long nights when Dad insisted we stay until the very last horse came through.

There was always the possibility that the next one would be the horse he had been waiting for.

And you certainly couldn’t leave before finding out.

Roy was born April 28, 1931, in Hobart, Oklahoma, to Harold and Mattie Rodrick. He grew up in the Carnegie area and attended Prairie Vale Public School. Over the years, he worked at several occupations, but auctioneering was the work that became his calling.

He spent more than fifty years at it.

That is a lot of horses, a lot of bidders, and a remarkable amount of talking.

Roy had the voice for it—and the staying power.

Dad and I bought many a head of horses at Anadarko and Mountain View. During the years Roy and Lois operated the Mountain View horse sale, Saturday nights meant a gathering of people who came to buy, sell, visit, or simply see what might come through the ring.

Dad generally managed to do all four.

He would bring a collection of friends along, settle into his seat, and make himself comfortable. We might be there until nearly sunrise, but if horses were still coming through, we were still watching.

And Roy was still calling.

I can remember being tired enough to wonder whether morning would arrive before we got home. Dad, meanwhile, seemed perfectly willing to wait out the whole business.

Somewhere among the horses still waiting their turn might be a good mare, a promising cutting horse, or a bargain he couldn’t reasonably be expected to leave behind.

At least that was the general philosophy.

Those nights became part of my education. I watched the horses, listened to the bids, and paid attention to the people who knew what they were looking at. There was plenty to learn if a boy could sit still long enough to notice.

I found some of the best mares and cutting horses I ever owned at those sales.

And if Roy gave his word from the auction ring that a horse was sound, you could count on it.

His word meant something to us. When you were spending money on a horse you expected to ride, work, or bring home to your family, that mattered.

Roy understood horses. He also understood the people buying them.

He traveled throughout Oklahoma and Texas, buying, selling, and trading. From the accounts of those who knew him, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t consider trading for, and he rarely passed up an opportunity to make a deal.

I suspect Dad appreciated that about him.

The two of them certainly shared an interest in seeing what might be available.

One Christmas, Dad and I left a family gathering in Sentinel and somehow ended up in Mountain View looking at horses.

I cannot tell you exactly how a Christmas visit turned into a horse-shopping expedition. With Dad, those changes in direction didn’t require much explanation.

Roy came out and showed the horses to us.

That simple visit has stayed with me all these years. I remember being there with Dad, looking at horses, and Roy taking the time to show them.

Looking back, I’m grateful for those ordinary hours. At the time, I had no reason to think I would still be remembering them more than half a century later.

On June 27, 1978, Roy married Minnie Lois McLemore in Wichita Falls, Texas. Together, they shared many years, operated the Mountain View horse sale, and eventually made their home in Cordell.

Lois was related to my father through the McLemore family. In our part of Oklahoma, family connections had a way of turning up wherever you went. Follow a name far enough, and somebody would explain how you were related.

Sometimes the explanation took longer than the drive home.

Roy also enjoyed visiting and telling stories. His family’s remembrance describes a man who could strike up a conversation with just about anyone, whether they had known him for years or had only just met him.

That seems fitting for someone who spent so much of his life bringing people together around an auction ring.

People came for the horses, but they came back for the company, too. Over time, those Saturday nights became a regular part of their lives. You knew where you were going, who you might see, and whose voice would be waiting when you got there.

For many of us, that voice was Roy’s.

He leaves behind a large family, including children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, along with the many people who knew him through his years in the horse business.

Each will have a different story to tell.

Mine includes a pickup ride with Dad, a seat at the sale barn, and a long night watching horses come through the ring.

Roy Rodrick kept calling.

Dad kept watching.

And I was fortunate enough to be there beside him.

Rest well, Roy. Thank you for the good horses, the time you gave us, and the memories that have lasted all these years.

Find stories about horse sales by Benjamin and how they affected his life by searching here…some may truly surprise. At the auction barn Dutch was calling most of the sales!

^{_{Benjamin Groff}}

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