The Magyar Cowboy

A rough-and-ready cowboy’s eternal sense of justice, perfect skill with a pistol, undying rivalry, manly solitude and place on the perimeter of society can all be traced back to the long struggle faced by the human race and the need for life’s ladder to be kicked from time to time. The best man for the job is always the youngest son of a poor peasant who is left with nothing on his father’s passing but still manages to conquer the world, meets every challenge, slays the evil dragon, wins the hand of the king’s prettiest princess and gains half the kingdom. Examples: Robin Hood, Andrew Carnegie, Batman… wait. Anyway, why shouldn’t Hungary have it’s own sword-swinging hero?

Let me introduce you to János Vitéz or “John the Valiant” who sprang from the books of the famous Hungarian author, Petöfi. Or maybe János Háry (no, not John the Hairy!), or perhapse Lüdas Matyi (Matty the Gooseherd, a lowly occupation taken only by the young and poor) who returned a beating he was given by the master of the manor he served, but multiplied it by three. I guess he was virtuous enough to move Hungarians to make a cartoon out of his story (pictured to the left). Or maybe the title should go to Captain Tenks who continued to test the patience of Hungary’s Austrian occupiers and swash and buckle until a war that had been long been lost looked almost like a victory. Later socialism also felt a similar need for a champ. That is why the powers that be created the figure of Máté Bors (Matty Pepper…) who rose from the plebeian ranks with cunning to become a communist with conviction. Then the cowboy sadly waned from fame after all the changes that came in 1989 despite several attempts at his resurrection.

Perhaps the most infamous rascal of them all was Sándor Rózsa (pictured to the right), who, according to legend, robbed from the rich to give to the poor, but life on the highway must have been tough back then and I guess he wasn’t that choosy or he’d have soon died a hungry death. Let’s face it, nobody had anything. He sure looks menacing though. The fable that he favored a noble cause was only given him when during the 1848 Revolution he gathered together a band of battling patriots. The renowned rogue spent the last few years of his adventurous life sitting in a dank dungeon enjoying the hospitality provided by the Austro-Hungarian Empire to a man convicted for murdering thirty people. The story tells how Rózsa said that if he were to feel a thirst for a glass of wine, he could escape from the place anytime he felt like it. When this remark was met with widespread ridicule and mockery, he simply said that his critics should “watch his cell”. He took to his bed after that and despite the efforts of a visiting quack, his condition continued to get worse as he ceased to eat. His hours on this earth seemed numbered. A priest was called in his final moments but the priest soon left. He was later found bound and gaged in Sándor’s bed. It didn’t take long to locate a priest propped outside a local hostel with a flagon of wine in front of him. Sándor’s only explanation was that he’d “felt a sudden thirst”.

Every Hungarian must have a pal who could be considered an excellent example of an everyday cowboy. The guy’s a big eater with a short fuse and always ends up betting a bloke in the pub that he could eat a hundred curd dumplings. He soon sits down and shovels down one white ball after the next as a crowd cheers him on to reach the record. He has managed to force down a stunning ninety-nine blobs and waits for the tension to hit a high before wiping his mouth and pushing the last lone dumpling away saying that he wouldn’t eat it after all. When asked why, he simply said that he didn’t feel hungry anymore.

Do you have a friend like this? He just might have Hungarian roots.