Editor's Note


In the early years Jeff Biggars was a Weekend Bull Rider, a Day Hand Cowboy, and Midnight Songwriter. 

That all changed in the spring of 96' while Jeff was busting broncs on a hot summer day in Texas. It was a thursday like any other.

Jeff was training his 10th horse of the day when his hat began to fray. It is not know if it was the sweat of the broncs or the sweat from his brow but what we do know is why it failed. The hat couldn't handle the stress of a real working cowboy.  By the end of the day his name brand hat had turned into a sad pile of straws scattered across the red dirt of the arena floor. 

The sun was setting and Jeff's face was burnt red by the hot Texas sun. The days work had come to an end and Jeff grabbed a cup of water from the windmills well pump. He sat down on an old barrel to kick the dirt off of his boots to prepare for the ride home. As he raised the cup of water to his lips, out of the corner of his eyes he caught a glimpse of the hat band that was still in the middle of the arena.  He gazed over the broken straw that was once his hat and he could still read the brand name of the hat factory on the crumpled hat band who made it. At that moment Jeff said never again...

Some say that's when he found his passion for hat making.

Some say that's when the art of hat making found him. 

A cowboy's hat is just as important as a cowboy's boots. Jeff didn't set out to become The Greatest Hatter in the world, it just happened naturally.

I'm just glad to have met him.