Dot. Dot. Da-dot-dot-dot! 

Pretend this is Morse code for: "Drop everything right now and come to our Sopris Sun fundraising party tonight, Thursday, November 3, 5-7 p.m. at Dos Gringos Restaurant.

 Nice use of dots, you say? Indeed! Come celebrate our community-based weekly newspaper about life in and around Carbondale with photos and features (such as "Memoirs of a River!") and pertinent political, social, sports and business news by way and grace of that rare breed of dedicated idealists I call "indie newsheads."  

Earliest evidence

Ever since Indians scratched deep (!) messages on patina-covered rock walls all over the West, there has obviously been a committed human need to "get the news out." There's even a couple huge boulders in Utah and Arizona called "Newspaper Rock."  

Some might even call it an itch that can't quite be reached; because, no matter how difficult the efforts,   especially in our pre-tech world, independent newspapers seem to attract people who have one thing in common;  they just never give up scratching out that urge to pass on information, with little, if any, measureable remunerative return on their time investment.   Rare breed indeed!

An Empire's Paper

At our beloved Mt. Sopris Historical Museum treasure-trove, one can still read (just barely) Carbondale's finest journalistic endeavors in Volume 1 of the "Crystal River Empire" newspaper circa 1924.  

 Isn't it nice to still be able to connect the dots, if you will, that 90-some years ago a ladies study group was "delightfully entertained" at the lovely home of Hattie Thompson Holland while across the front page, Carbondale exhorts other neighboring towns to "follow suit" with its first Pioneer Society social club?

While Aspen and Glenwood Springs have had newspapers that have birthed and lived beyond an old person's lifetime in this Valley, there was a big hole in the news-reporting business between the late 1920's and the '70's in Carbondale. The pool of neurotic newsheads was dust.

Basic reason was that during those desperate Depression-era years, most folks were hardput and scrambling for the paying kind of work. Probably no one cared whether this or that society story got told, let alone figuring out how to pay for printing the mostly bad news no one wanted to read anyway.

'Morning, Folks!

However, by the early mid-70s, with a ski-based economy ramping upvalley in Aspen, Carbondale started "waking up," so's to speak.  Business was making booming noises and Carbondale felt the beat. 

Even though Carbondale would get a blurb here and there in the news stalwarts, "The Aspen Times" and "The Glenwood Post" newspapers, there was a desire and need now for a Carbondale community newspaper. One that would focus specifically on Carbondale's issues, people, business, events.

[ITALICS]"Good Morning, Carbondale" [END ITALICS]was the front page headline of Volume 1 Number 1 of "The Roaring Fork Review" in April of 1974 produced by newly -hired editor, Patrick Noel and photographer, Rebecca  (Young) Tucker, both recent grads of CSU where they had worked together on their college newspaper, "The Collegian."  

Turns out Becky--now Young again and Pat still Noel cut their journalistic wisdom teeth with this big break provided by Denver newspaper man, Bob Sweeney, to provide Carbondale some hometown news.

With a year or so of the "The Review" under their belts when it sold, they went on to begin Carbondale's longest-running newspaper; first as the "The Roaring Fork Valley Journal" in 1975 that later became "The Valley Journal" until, as varied stories go, it ran red ink for too long.

I got to visit a bit with Becky who's first words after introductions, were, "I can't adequately tell you enough how much work it was to publish [the paper}."

We laughed long at similarly shared memories of publishing life 'back in the day. Becky confirmed my earlier itchy theory, "We couldn't help ourselves."    

See a Pattern?  

Becky went on to tell about 60 to 70-hour weeks to produce what became a 36-page (!) weekly. In a world of Underwriter manual typewriters. Page layouts by hand. "It had to be done by young people," Becky said, "for 5 years, I never, [BOLD ITALICS]ever{END BOLD ITALICS] slept on a Wednesday night."

Lynn Burton, our Sopris Sun editor remembers those early days of the VJ. "Before long, the Valley Journal became known for its outstanding photography, sometimes quirky coverage of Carbondale and its denizens, and independent attitude."

And don't forget the Valley Journal's famous Mother's Day issues that started in 1984. "I remember because my first son was born and we were one of the ones on the cover," said Becky. "Brenda Buchanan came up with that idea and Patti Barry Levy was the photographer."

While their pay was peanuts minus the nuts, their riches were evident. "The walls of the VJ office were covered in Colorado Press Awards," Becky said. 

Today Becky is in a different but still-related field. She helped with the initial start-up of The Sopris Sun's "indie" effort 3 years ago but has a full-time job and family that has kept her out of the loop on the day-to-day grind since.

 She noted that it is good to have a locally-owned newspaper because, by their nature, corporations can't be sensitive to the individuality of communities.  

One editor's name shows up on a pretty consistent thread as I leaf through random VJ copies at the Museum. Again, that is Pat Noel.  His writing style His long-time co-editor, Becky described him thus, "Pat had an amazing way of dealing with people...Ghandi-like."  

I caught up with Pat at his home in Collbran via phone to talk about his recollections. "I was editor off and on for about 15 years," he anwered of my question.  "The big stories of those days were the Marble Ski Area, the West Divide-Placita Dam and Mid-Continent Mine."

"Old-timers like Mary Ferguson welcomed the new blood," Pat said.  "I enjoyed listening to and sharing their oral histories." Becky said the same, "It was our great good fortune to meet all the old-timers."

After a number of owners' names changed on the masthead; both private and corporate, the VJ was shut down in 2008. The last owner sitting in the proverbial chair when the music stopped was Swift Communications, a Reno, Nevada media corporation that owns nearly every other newspaper in Western Colorado. 

The VJ's demise raised a hue and cry from this community. A new generation of young "indie newsheads" stepped forth, hence, the birth of "The Sopris Sun" 3 years ago.

Beat Goes On

Another scratch-that-itch-aholic is John Colson, who has seen our newspaper history evolve from his "journalistic home" the past 33 years here in the valley. John has worked for a number of Valley papers over those years, including a turn wearing the editor's hat at The VJ a couple times, from '81-85 and then again from 2001-2005.   

"There was the 'Roaring Fork Sunday' for awhile," John said, "headquartered in Basalt.  It was basically a government watchdog. It never made money.  It got bought out by Morris Communication and they killed 'Sunday.'"

Going forward, this oh-so-rare, not-for-profit journalistic service depends heavily on support and backing of its readership, community and advertisers.  As do feature columns like "Memoirs."  We want to stay. The Sun wants to shine and grow in the footsteps of the best newsheads who came before us. Will you help?

If you want to keep local news journalism alive where YOU have a VOICE, we'll see you tonight at Dos Gringos!

What with those phenomenal black-and-white units flashing all around at the National Sheepdog Finals at Strang Ranch and those cutie-pie stuffed lambs, Agnes and Baa popping up here, there and everywhere, no wonder I'd been asked to woolie-up some local sheep stories.

There's one name in Carbondale that is synonymous with Baaaaaa and that is Bair.

 This month, "Memoirs" honors Carbondale sheepherder, Elmer Bair.  My source's lineage curls right back around to my Memoirs story from this July. http://issuu.com/soprissun/docs/sun_063011. Who knew? Not I. Hint: In-Laws, In-laws , In-laws.  

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers

I got to visit with Jeri Farnum Alberts, daughter of Laura Bair Farnum Melton, who was daughter of Jeri's grandfather Elmer and grandmother  Ida; who was daughter of now-FaceBook icons, "Black" Bill and Nettie Smith, (July story) who was daughter of notorious and mountain-of-a-man, Jasper Ward.  Whew!

Think it might have been hard for these poor sons-in-laws to stand in the shadow of the ultimate tough guy "in-law" in this lineage?  Elmer Owen Bair, at 4 inches taller than a 5 foot post, never flinched, I bet. A diminutive person, Elmer sure was an extraordinarily accomplished giant in every endeavor of his 103-year life. 

And forget Louis L'Amour stories. Hands down, Elmer Bair is the name that is most associated with telling a colorful Western Slope story.  Unless, as I hear it, you were around to hear Ida's skills! Like Fred and Ginger, I'm told there was many a tale-telling tango put on by these two. "Only Grandma didn't tell the naughty ones!" Jeri said.

                If you don't have his book, go to the library or MSHS museum to read Elmer's fist-thick autobiography, "Elmer Bair's Story, 1899-1987." It is chock-full of real-life western drama and gallows humor from a man whose life had stretched across 3 centuries when he died in 2002. 

Getting along as they "git" along!

While hard in every way, Life was pretty simple for sheepherders and cattlemen alike around here.  Some even did both. Fortunately, Carbondale did not experience as much, if any, of the violent cattle/sheep grazing wars as over further west and south, around Moab in Utah and surrounds. Elmer tells of some hair-raising, neck-stretching confrontations when in that part of the country.   

And even not [BOLD ]SO[END BOLD] long ago, when there were still more of them than us; local herders of sheep and cattle trailed [BOLD ITALICS]thousands [END BOLD ITALICS]of 4-leggeds right through Carbondale and up the Crystal River Valley.

Sometime go stand in front of the Hendricks Ranch subdivision sign on Highway 133 in south Carbondale. Then look at this photo of young Jeri Farnum sitting on "Old Red" and her grandpa, Elmer astride "Paint" just barely fifty years ago.  Somewhere in between, if you still could, without getting shot, that is, you'd be looking at Mt. Sopris from about their same spot.  

Imagine! For a hundred years through what is now senior housing, soccer fields, golf course, grocery store, new, modern high school and a multi-housing culture, tons of meat on-the-hoof have thundered onto train, then truck trailers at Carbondale's stockyards, now Town Hall. (ahhh, no wonder...nah, don't go there with that thought, folks!)

Life in Full Color- sometimes pretty 

...such as when Jeri shared her childhood memories of spending her youth with Grandpa Elmer's sheep. Like when they'd trail 2 or 3 sheep bands, a thousand head per band, to different grazing pastures on the Flat Tops. They'd come down through Cattle Creek up towards our Crystal River hinterlands on the mid-valley corridor adjacent to today's Highway 82.

                Jeri sure remembers her April birthdays. "I got to pull all the new baby lambs. It was a treat," Jeri said. "One time there were quadruplets."  Jeri smiled at that memory.  "And [every year] Grandpa told me my lambs never went to market."

                "That's what Grandpa said!" she reiterated firmly.  Yes, what grandpas say, you must believe.

Then Jeri proceeded to tell me a bit more about the world of sheep, of which I know dip. Except that sheep dip stinks. There were lots of new interesting words like "docking" --not a yacht--and "dingleberries."

In the case of sheep shifting, remember now, we're talking thousands upon thousands and thousands more of those dumb woolies, every season. Was falling asleep counting sheep a real job hazard? Jeri said no.

 "We counted them by the number of all-black or black-faced sheep. One per flock meant so many."

...sometimes not-ugh!

Since I really wanted to know more of the 3-D reality in a day-in-the-life of docking and "dingleberries," Jeri made a little scrunched facial expression that looked like "yuck" to me and she started like this:

"Docking the tails was necessary because of all the wool around the anus and potential for 'fly bloat.' Maggots get inside. We'd just go around and snip their tails off. We didn't bandage them or anything, blood would be squirting all over," she said.

 I gulped and visualized a thousand of them-there "uranusus" jumping all around, red spray everywhere, probably not "quiet-as-a..." either.

 You'd HAVE to be a kid to enjoy this, right? Kinda takes the bloom off the romanticized rosy lambie-pie picture right there, doesn't it? That's what I thought anyway, until I asked Lew Ron Thompson about the "dingleberry" part.

"[With sheep castration], they're so small and you are using both hands to hold and cut so you had to grab'em [pregnant pause]...by your teeth."  His eyes looked straight at me and then shifted away... just a touch.  Sign of a good story-teller. 

" Grab whaaaaatt?" I cried!

TMI!

Aiieee, Lew Ron!  TMI! TOO MUCH INFORMATION! How gullible I am or not, I'm not sure I want to know more. But now that story's told and passed on! I laugh and celebrate a local liquor store quote, "Never let the truth get in the way of a good story."  Or was it?

 Most of us will NEVER have any idea. Leave it be said, raising sheep--and cattle--makes for burning hot, freezing cold, dripping wet, bone dry, always dirty, forever long, hard labors--was and still is. Same with independent farmers-they just smell better. HA!

It is good to honor these folks who still love what they do and for carrying on this Crystal Valley heritage. This October, let's wish them abundant harvests all.   

Carpe autumn diem!

~Charr

This "Memoirs" column first began with a tag line that says, "Honoring people and places in the Crystal River Valley."   A dear octogenarian friend said, "Charlotte, if that's your goal, you'll never run out of stories about this valley."  Truer words never spoken, Shirley Thomson.

Time DOES fly somewhere.

 Certainly up the Crystal! Fast forward five years.  My first twenty "Memoirs" columns seeded chapters for Volume 1 and are on a few bookshelves here and there.  Another 20 or so columns have been printed in The Sopris Sun and insist on their own soft-back book debut--Volume 2 in 2012.   

Covering more of the belly or bottom lands down the Crystal River into Carbondale, Volume 2's cover jacket has been already been decided.  Chapters are all are lined up under an internet dot com "out there," telling me to get some binding glue because some folks still like to read books in-hand.  Just like this newspaper you are holding.  And due to a recent Marble community center project called "The Marble Hub" located in the Marble City State Bank building, even more fascinating as-yet unheard stories surface nearly every day.  

It's amazing how many generational connections between Crystal, Marble and Redstone to Carbondale to the infinite beyond. Someone smarter than me could probably figure out the comparative square miles of the above and its' population of "relateds."  Kinda reminds me of what Ute elder, Clifford Duncan always says when he comes back to visit his mother's homeland-- "We're all related." 

 The Marble Hub's National Historic locale and coffee popularity draws in folks from all over the world its first couple months so far. Area descendants drop in where they've likely to meet other descendents who just stopped in as well.  And the stories I hear! Stay tuned. The Hub is rolling along, "Memoirs" Volume 3 right behind. 

Therefore, it's only appropriate that I sorta-officially start Volume 3 with the story background about this hundred and one-year-old building, and the community's new hub of activity and socialization spurred by the revitalization of The Marble City State Bank building.

This Bank Keeps on Giving

.

Oscar McCollum's book, "Marble, A Town Built on Dreams, Volume 1" shows a couple newspaper ads that appeared in "The Marble Booster" in 1913 and 1917 that gives a good idea of the times. The first thing that popped out at me were the names of the Bank Board President and one of the Directors. It's a historical fact that Carbondale's William Dinkel and Oscar Holland were astute businessmen 'back in the day. They also were the President and Vice President respectively of the First National Bank in Carbondale, that later consolidated with the First National Bank of Glenwood Springs.

One bank message-- "Money in the bank insures you a welcome"--made sense.  To give a perspective of the times, Wikipedia gives the short version: [ITALICS]"Thanks to an outburst of entrepreneurship in the North and the arrival of millions of immigrant workers from Europe, the U.S. became the leading industrialized power by 1900."  Jobs, jobs everywhere, especially in the Crystal Valley what with marble in Marble and coal operations booming in Redstone.  

Four years later--a different bank message,  "How you can help your Country."  Again, per Wikipedia; "Disgust with corruption, waste, and traditional politics stimulated the Progressive movement, 1890s-1920s, which pushed for reform in industry and politics and put into the Constitution women's suffraget.[END ITALICS].  Uh-oh. I don't know how this quite set with those gentlemen but who said History doesn't repeat Itself?

Easy come, Easy Go

Such was the Marble City State Bank business.  Its doors closed in 19--, after the U.S. declared war on Germany and Italy.  That put a crimp in the marble quarry business. It shut down soon after.  Most of Marble's Italian immigrants went back home to fight against the guys they had probably been working with still in Marble probably NOT buying Liberty bonds with their very hard-earned "surplus." 

The bank's history doesn't speak much for itself over the decades. It survived the floods of the 40s that took out most of the rest of Marble's commercial core. Eventually, the building was absorbed by Gunnison County and used as a road maintenance shop. 

Based on photos hanging in the Bank, its dilapidated condition was apparently more conducive to changing motor oil instead of making change for cash. Marlene Crosby, Director of Public Works in Gunnison tells of a photo over there that shows flatten oil cans used as roof repairs. 

A Ghost Story too.  

John Darien became the county's road maintenance driver. I've always heard stories about how John would conscientiously-- and solely-- clear massive snow loads during hard winters between Marble and Crystal and down to Hwy. 133 when there would be but only one or a few residents crazy enough to brave the elements in the remote ghost town Marble had become.

His expertise and job well done was lauded as much as his hermit's temperament.  John kept to himself.  There is still evidence of his solitary life in his tiny upstairs apartment above the bank vault. A cookstove, wooden ironing board and a chair or two are all that is left. Well, except for county employees who still tell of sounds of footsteps and slamming doors heard when they've stayed overnight. I'm not going to find out for myself.

Today, John is honored with a photo next to what is now the original refurbished wood stove behind the counter of The Marble Hub, the aforementioned community center and coffeebar the Bank has become a scant hundred years later. Viva la Marble Bank, once again the center of Marble.

William Alton Smith and Nettie Laura Ward became "I thee wed's" in 1891.Their would-have-been 120th anniversary was honored recently as  "faces" on a brand new FaceBook page for the recently formed Four Rivers Historical Alliance (FRHA).  (FaceBook/Four Rivers Historical Alliance)

"That was the idea," said Cindy Hines, Director of the Frontier Historical Society and one of the founders of FRHA," when we thought of what ancestral family's lineage most encompassed the communities represented, it was Bill and Nettie."

 Frontier Historical Society is, as our own Mt. Sopris Historical Society, a participant of the Four Rivers Historical Alliance, a composite of 8-10 historical societies from New Castle, Rifle, Eagle, Glenwood Springs, Cardiff, Carbondale, Aspen, Redstone and Marble.  

Inquiring Minds Want to Know

As Cindy explained, which all our historical groups in this area have learned, many of our early pioneer families crisscrossed all over the Western Slope and especially our Roaring Fork/Crystal Valleys. 

Turns out Bill and Nettie have an interesting tale--and trail--to follow. 

At Cindy's invitation, I settled into a research desk in the basement of the Frontier Museum, to find out the Smith family life and connections around here. They began circa 1880.

First thing I learned is that Bill's childhood was pretty rough, much like my own great grand dad's.  Born in 1860 in La Crosse, Wisconsin, Bill was a runaway child at age 11 after shooting at his tyrant stepfather.  Young Billy didn't look back to see where the lead landed.  He kept running 'til he got to Dodge City. He may have invented the saying "time to get outta Dodge" because he ended up tagging along on a cattle drive on the Chisholm Trail that expanded his horizons from Abilene, Kansas through Oklahoma and Texas.

At the age of 20 in 1880, and by then "hard as flint", Bill became a freighter, driving 4 and 6-horse teams. He ended up one day in Schofield at the headwaters of the Crystal River. Bill helped build the Schofield Mining and Smelter Industries and was eventually lured downstream to Crystal City and then into Marble and on down to Ashcroft. 

First comes Love

            Bill's true love was horses and cattle and wide open spaces. That roaming life eventually lead to Bill becoming the pool boss for the Divide Creek Cattlemen and pretty soon,  he settled down, more or less, on Mamm Creek down on the Grand River.  He put down roots in the Pioneer Society and became the favorite caller for the dance quadrilles in the New Castle area where a beautiful young teenager named Nettie played the mandolin tunes at these country dances.  Not that all that dance and music had had softened Bill up any.  He was still a frontiersman; a force yet untamed.  Until he met his match-and his past came back to haunt him.

Then comes jail bars

Here in the story enters one Jasper Ward who resided in Garfield County. He was the first settler to file on the land that became New Castle.

Weighing in at "a tenth of a ton," over 6-foot tall and lean as a rail, Jasper (Jack) Ward was a famous frontiersman of the day, an Indian fighter and guide who was fearless and aggressive, especially during his drinking spells.  

Jasper's reputation as a "bad-man" gunman put fear in the hearts of the meek and mild, especially when they heard stories floating around about a big gunfight in TinCup that Ward had been in the middle of one night.  A hundred shots were fired before he was captured and paid his fine. Yes, just a fine. 

Turning over some hard-earned cash in those days must have had a sobering effect on Jasper. For awhile, about 4 years, he became a preacher, got married and had 3 daughters and 3 sons, one of whom was our aforementioned Nettie.

Poetically, Jasper also became a Justice of the Peace and was all too happy to catch a young ruffian who was a darn good shot but had been irritating the heck out of Jasper for shooting out those brand new street lights all over town.  He tossed his young antagonist in the pokie, where little Nettie delivered meals to her future husband.  

Jasper Ward died in 1887 trying to quell the Ute Wars. He had become a good friend of Colorow, a Ute Indian leader.  Later, Nettie became close with a Ute woman who gave a birth blanket for her first baby, Annie Elsie in the fall of 1893. Annie Elsie became a Fenton of Glenwood Springs.  The youngest, Ida, became the wife of another legendary pioneer, Elmer Bair.

                Why the Smiths became FB icons

By 1890, Bill was hired on as the Ward's wagon master and became one of the family when he and Nettie married in 1891. He was famous for his "Black Bill's Base Camp" and must have been the inspiration for Western movies of the day because he was known for his habit of whistling songs on the open range.

Bill and Nettie settled on Ashley Creek, north of Vernal , smack in the middle of the Hole-In-The Wall gang headquarters. When their family grew to four girls, Bill figured it was time to return to New Castle and had a job waiting for him as Pool Boss for Garfield Creek Cattlemen's Association.

In 1912, Bill went to work at the Sunlight Coal Mine as a boiler master.  After the Ludlow Massacre in 1914 (a previous Memoir story) Sunlight closed and the Smiths moved up to Marble. 

Bill worked in the mill and had a blacksmith shop. He carried mail from Marble to Crystal which must be where son-in-law Elmer Bair got the idea, as I have shared before a story about his mail carrier days in Volume 1 of Memoirs of A River.

Ironically, Bill soon ended back up where he started at the headwaters of the Crystal where he operated the old sawmill he had helped build some twenty years earlier.  After a couple tough winters, shoveling massive snow slides over the Devils Punchbowl, Bill decided to buy a retirement home for Nettie on Eighth Street in Glenwood Springs.

When Nettie died in 1928 at the age of 53, Bill returned to Marble where he operated his blacksmith shop, carried mail and operated a dray and freight service until he died in 1936 at the age of 76.  His Marble home was destroyed in the 1941 Carbonate Creek flood. 

This month we get a glimpse at HattieThompson Holland's version of being an independent Carbondale pioneer woman.  There's more than a few independent women around here. Who can relate?

                We will soon know the outcome for the 130-year-old Holland-Thompson House in the Thompson Park development. While I'm not excited about seeing Carbondale become a predictably-developed "everytown;" this particular development project bears attention for anyone who loves learning and expanding education of local history for themselves and future generations here.

 Aspen to Basalt, Carbondale, Redstone, Marble, Crystal City and Gothic to Glenwood Springs, Rifle, Silt, NewCastle and DeBeque--all have significant connection within this one historic home.

Mt. Sopris Historical Society and Four Rivers Historical Association are to be commended for working to preserve this historic treasure and turn it into a very important asset to Carbondale and region. 

Maybe I'm just an incurable idealist, but, as far as earliest, original documentation of history in this greater Roaring Fork and Crystal River watersheds,  I see the Holland-Thompson House's physical, artistic, and tangible historic value just as monumental as Snowmass's prehistoric mastodons.

True, those woolly mammoth skeletons may have gotten a bit more press and sense of urgency to preserve. Thousand-year-old bones are an incredible find and of immeasurable importance for this area.

But let's not be too quick to sell short or be apathetic to what is right under our nose; the extremely rare century-old human cultural contents-of massive proportions -still stored in their original form and place within these bricked walls--this one family's home. Not to mention getting a peek into the closets and dresser drawers of the first lady of the House, Hattie Thompson-Jones-Holland-Tiffin-Holland!

 Betcha' didn't know that, huh?

Let's just say Hattie knew all about being an independent woman... and, as the saying goes...a lady of substantial means.   

On a recent visit with grand-nephew Lew Ron Thompson, I sat in front of a coffee table covered with a "smattering" of his family's records of life in this historic Carbondale home. "It is really neat to have hands-on actual documents to support our history, " Lew Ron said. 

One paper atop the pile was the original 1883 Pre-Emption document filed by Oscar Holland for one of the nearby quarter sections (160 acres) that he homesteaded.  Another was a divorce decree and wedding license dated within 2 weeks of each other in 1887, newspaper obituaries from 1920 and '44; then in '48, a public sales notice of Hattie's 1938 Buick.  More about "smattering" later.

The short story of "Aunt"

"Aunt," as Lew Ron says their family called Hattie, "...at least the printable name,"  was born June 9, 1866 in Dresden, Missouri, the youngest girl in a family of 4 daughters together with 4 sons. Lew Ron's tone and one arched eyebrow exponentially ratcheted my curiosity of Hattie and her siblings. Any chance she was spoiled?

"After their mother Almeria died, Myron moved his 8 children here in 1876. Hattie moved into the House with Oscar when they married in 1887 and died in her bedroom on August 14, 1944 at age 78," Lew Ron said.  Her chosen caretaker-nephew Lewis (Louie), Lew Ron's dad, was at her side.  

To get a sense of timing, Hattie's arrival in this valley was the year Colorado became the Centennial state.  All this was still Ute land, as far and high and wide as the eye could see.

From dirt floor to ballroom society

Between probably playing with Ute kids as a 9-year-old child in 1875 to becoming the wealthiest local woman ranch owner of the day by 1944 when she died, what was Hattie's life?

Call me nosy, I just had to ask. What about Hattie's multi-surnames?   

"In 1886, Hattie's first marriage was at a Justice of the Peace in Aspen to a Kansas lawyer by the name of Charles W. Jones," Lew Ron answered.  As if that was all I wanted to know!

I surmised from the documents before me that it was barely more than a year before Jones was history, so's to speak. A scant two weeks after the divorce decree, she married Oscar Holland.

Having never had children, Hattie became a seasoned world traveler after Oscar's suicide in 1920. On an MSHS tour of the Holland-Thompson House last year, I remember seeing her travel trunk and passport covered with exotic destination stamps. I want another look now. The House must be preserved.

From this same "smattering" of papers is an original annulment paper; apparently there's another marriage for Hattie to man named Tiffin in '27-28, albeit briefly, between years of the single-girl life.  

Girlfriends' Road Trips!

I eyeball a 4-inch thick packet of yellowed letters, 2-cent stamps in the corner.  Be it stone, bone or pulp, I know there's something incredibly rare and significant here.  I have to sit on my hands.

"These [ranch reports] were written between 1923 and 1931 by 'Aunt's' ranch manager, Mr. James Legget," Lew Ron explained as he removed rubber bands around the bunch.

 My eyes pop as he thumbed through the envelopes addressed to Hattie at any number of vacation addresses dû jour those eight exciting years during the Roaring Twenties. Many of which, I note, are to the famous Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York.  Was there sex in the City back then?

How many stories ARE there here?

I look out Lew Ron's cabin window towards Mt. Sopris. I close my eyes. When I open them again, I'm still here, it's still early spring...but it's the Roaring Twenties.

Hattie's just asked if I want to go on a road trip in her new 1922 Buick 45 Roadster.

As I look at these girls' trip travel photos, I imagine myself being Hattie's friend, looking out the red-brick second-story window of the most beautiful home in this valley. Nothing but mud for miles from here to Sopris. Hattie's in her bedroom packing! Can't help but wonder--are those clothes of Hattie's in the photos some of the same attire hanging in the closets today? "Probably," Lew Ron nods.

How many stories?

 'Til next time,

Charr

About now, if not a spring skier on the upper slopes or a tax consultant, some folks are running out of ideas how to while away the early days of Spring waiting for the mud to dry. Don't get me wrong. I complain not. Mud means there's water.  Any is better than none.

My personal favorite brand of escapism comes between the sheets.  I'm a book lover. By the same token; a good flick, comfy seating, plenty of popcorn and I'm all for kicking back and letting the fantastical heroes of the day on the Big Screen carry me off into the sunset.  

When it was called "picture show!"

Maybe it's this soupy weather or the recent loss of a legendary female Hollywood icon, or that Sopris Historical Society is featuring the 1948 film, "Red Stallion of the Rockies," [see ad below] that got me to wax both curious and nostalgic about how this is a good time for an old-time movie marathon. Especially movies that feature our local valley.  

Once again, where would I find this fun information? Off to the Mt. Sopris Historical Society (MSHS) Museum where Executive Director, Linda Criswell pointed me upstairs to the Theater display.  

Turns out we have another Colorado Fourteener status here, the number of movies made to date in the Crystal and Roaring Fork Valleys. Who's seen 'em all or even knew there were so many?  Bet though, if you start watching them today, before you know it, we'll all be frolicking at the park on Dandelion Day! 

Who knows the Sherwood Theater?

            An interview with Cleone "Conie" Oliver in MSHS files refers to the first movie theater in Carbondale on the east end of Main Street, next to the meat market where was the Sherwood Theater she remembered as a child in the early 1900s.

                "I remember my mother sending me down with twenty-five cents to get a soup bone, and we had enough soup and enough meat for the five of us for dinner, and the next building (351 Main Street) was a Picture Show, and my!, how we saved our pennies to go to the picture show.  I can't remember what it cost, not very much...(a dime), its where Kenny's drug store is (R.L. Sherwood owned both the meat market and the Picture Show...." Cleone was quoted saying in 1973.

                "They [the Sherwood family] didn't really get the good pictures, like sometimes, somebody would take us to Glenwood to see the really good picture[s] but at least, we knew what was going on in the world."

                Today any bad actors hanging around this place will most likely be well-known locals seated at what is now the Pour House bar presided over by owner, Skip Bell.

So they didn't get An Oscar

                But there's been some good movies, or at least big name actors, made around here that more folks will recognize than I thought. 

Two earliest  known movies filmed locally were in 1902 and 1909, respectively, The Runaway Stage Coach and The Great Bear Hunt.   

            The Great Bear Hunt was filmed after Theodore Roosevelt spent some quality hunting time around Glenwood Springs in 1904-1905. His Presidential hunting camp was the Hotel Colorado. The scenes shot in Glenwood Canyon. Reportedly, he loved it so much, Roosevelt went back to Washington and eventually signed the declaration to create and preserve the White River National Forest designation.

            Two silent films were made down in Glenwood Canyon in 1926 - The Canyon of Light and The Great K & A Train Robbery, and featured Tom Mix.  The Great K & A can be seen at the Frontier Historical Society museum.

A Sixties Contender

                It wasn't until a film in 1962 before I personally recognized any actors' names besides 'ol Tom. Reviewed as an intense movie, "Pressure Point" with Sydney Poiter and Bobby Darin became Darin's ticket to the Cannes Film Festival and Golden Globe Awards as Best Actor for his performance. It was said at the time, he should have received an Oscar. He was but 25.

Vanishing Point in 1970 is a fast-paced flick for the day. Kowalski (Barry Newman) works for a car delivery service and has to take a 1970 Dodge Challenger from Colorado to California. One review said it's a cult hit from the early 70s, also featuring Cleavon Little, Dean Jagger, Charlotte Rampling.

                In 1980, A Change of Seasons  with Shirley MacLaine, Anthony Hopkins and Bo Derek produced this telling quote, ""She may be 20 and gorgeous, but I have not yet begun to fight." Don't mess with MacLaine. She'll go astral on ya.

A dark story, PK and the Kid, was filmed In Glenwood Springs in 1982 but not released until 1987 after female lead, Mollie Ringwald's hit of "Sixteen Candles."

Messenger of Death (1988) was a Charles Bronson thriller about a Mormon family massacre. 'nuf said.

Dennis Hopper and Kieffer Sutherland starred in Flashback that was filmed in 1989. A clean-cut FBI man John Buckner [Sutherland] is detailed to escort heavily-bearded Huey Walker [Hopper] back to jail for offenses dating back to his days as a hippy radical. Probably a lot of locals of that time could relate.  

What's with all the Drama?

It was not until 1995 that a warm, fuzzy, happy  film; Tall Tales was filmed up here. I'm thinking it was not so coincidental that it happened along the quiet, beautiful Upper Crystal River at Filoha Meadows. Remnants of a stage set and waterwheel can still be seen today off Highway 133. 

Ron Miller, a long-time Marble resident, worked for five weeks with the film crew that fall.  Ron said, "...besides covering guard rails and telephone poles with camouflage, I had to sprinkle $10,000 worth of plastic flowers in the meadow."

Since 2000, two movies have been released that were filmed locally, Mr. and Mrs. Smith with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie and The Prestige with Hugh Jackman.  The latter was filmed at the Darien ranch and meadow just outside of Marble.

All the movies shot locally mentioned above is information courtesy of Frontier Historical Society. Maybe these will whet your appetite to order said movies via your favorite movie rental resource today so you can play, "where's that place?"

 Or, better yet! If you'd just love to come out and meet other local history and movie buffs, come see "Red Stallion of the Rockies" on Wednesday, April 13, 7:00 p.m. at the RVR Barn, River Valley Ranch, compliments of Mt. Sopris Historical Society.

Brother, can you spare a job?

Who's not watched Wisconsin? No matter whose side we're on, "No Compromise" headlines ought to get our attention in these tough times. Seems I've heard this somewhere before. Didn't turn out so well, as I recall.

Last month I wrote about our local joblessness, pointing how mid-valley workers are "on the mat and counting." No sooner were the words in print then I found out the Thompson House project was again continued, this time until April. Although this project is a matter of preserving history for me, I understand how it's a matter of survival for the construction worker community.

Everyone knows that even in a miracle scenario, the process from stamp of approval to guys with shovels hitting the ground would take at least a year or two.

Six years so far to get to this point, with still no real goalposts in sight. Same goes for the Village at Crystal River, another longtime project in the pipeline, now consumed with trustee conflict-of-interest issues.

There is no doubt around here that development is a dirty word, and by the same token, when we chant no growth, what are we really saying and to whom?

One must realize by now that "construction" will not be a very viable Carbondale job source for a while. A long while, apparently. So, what is the next reincarnation for dirty-work workers?

Good ol' days

Fact or myth? Were there really "good" old days? Back I go to the Mt. Sopris Historical Society Museum archives with a head full of questions.

Historically, Carbondale was nothing but working class folk. They not only fit, they WERE this town. When did that change? How else do we maintain this unpretentious small-town vibe loved by all with a vibrant living economy? If not from workers working, where does that economy come from?

And if not by blue collar work such as construction or mining, like the glory days of Marble's quarry worker population and Redstone's coal mining eras, or even mid-valley ranching and farming jobs, what can good ol' conscientious worker-bee types do in order to live here today?

What not to do

Zoom backwards to this Valley's Economic Turndown circa 1911 to 1914.

Coal tycoon John C. Osgood, famous benevolent Father of Redstone, was considered more widely to be a "lesser cousin of prominent robber barons," according to one local historian, Darrell Munsell of Carbondale.

He should know. This university professor thoroughly researched Osgood's industrial paternalism in a 400-page book he authored, "From Redstone to Ludlow: John Cleveland Osgood's Struggle Against the United Mine Workers of America."

"It was not a company town when Osgood built Redstone," Munsell said. "It was his privately-owned village, even after he lost control of Colorado Fuel and Iron (CFI) to John Rockefeller in 1903."

Munsell goes on to tell just how closely the job giants of the day held their cards, as they played high-stakes games with profit, loss and the lives of their workers.

"The story goes that notice of the Coal Basin mine closing was so sudden that miners left the mine, and their families ran out of their homes to catch the last train out, leaving all their possessions behind."

Wallace Parker of the old Swiss Village Resort confirmed that story in my "Memoirs of a River, Vol.1," when he told how, 40-some years later, he'd give jeep tours back up to Coal Basin. There were plates on the table, pots on the stove, clothes on hooks, and books on classroom desks. Wallace said, "You could tell they left in a hurry."

Colorado coal production had peaked in 1910, then declined sharply. By 1911, Redstone was mothballed, "... literally, as was Cleveholm Manor," Munsell continues, "to keep out the rodents."

Meanwhile: "Osgood moved on to Hastings, north of Trinidad and formed another coal company called Victor-American, two miles from the site of the 1914 Ludlow Massacre where 19 protesters were killed by National Guard machine-gun and rifle fire."

See what I meant about paying attention to "No Compromise" declarations?

"Osgood and Rockefeller refused to work with the unions. However, the climate of public opinion was changing, no more 'robber baron' business-as-usual. Clearly, Osgood's resistance is what led to the violence of Ludlow," said Munsell. 

Next stop: 1975

It's hard to imagine those conditions or that kind of violence happening today. So, what were the Valley's economic plans and realities even just 30 to 40 years ago, when we were all enlightened?

Skiing and tourist dollars fueled jobs from Aspen on down through the valley to Glenwood Springs. Developers were everywhere. Goods and services were in demand. Tax money came rolling in. Sounds like a good plan, eh?

The demand for new construction caused a rapid increase in wage-earner jobs, and the mid-valley population grew, seemingly overnight. With nary a second thought, the need for housing subdivisions overtook the open spaces that had been occupied by generations of family ranches and farms.

One such rancher was pioneer clan descendant, Lewis Thompson. Name ring a bell? Of their five spreads up and down the Crystal River for over a hundred years, Lewis was quoted in 1975 saying, "Seemed like we had the whole world to ourselves ... it was pretty good country then ... "

Lewis and Jewell were two of the volunteer founders of the Carbondale Historical Society that same year of '75. 

After reading as much as I have about the history of this family in the Valley, it's a little hard for me to swallow when I overhear "...why didn't they just (give) the House to the Town?" from uninformed critics.

From all I've learned through old town papers, the Thompson clan has had a few lifetimes of volunteering, donating and giving to the Town and community of Carbondale, even though they have always lived outside of the city limits that eventually grew up around them.

In the name of Progress, some Thompson land sold here, some donated there, buildings--the same. In fact, even unto this day, Lewis's 125-year family home is the centerpiece of the development mentioned above. It is a Thompson cabin that is home to the present Mt. Sopris Historical Society. 

Now you need 'em

Now you don't. We've run through the gamut of worker-bee jobs through the years: ranching/farming, mining, construction, ski/tourism. It's obvious that further expansion of some of these industries would be discordant with maintaining what's left of the natural beauty we all want to preserve. Not to mention our dicey water situation.

Today will be history tomorrow. They've been the bedrock of the community for over 100 years, but what kind of work will be available to worker-folk in the future? And for how many of them? Garfield County's unemployed jumped from 5 percent of the 19,000-person labor force in 2004, to 9.8 percent of 30,000 laborers in 2010.  

Carbondale's leaders pulled the short straw this time in history. They have to make hard decisions. Growth. No growth. If not now, when do we address it? What do we lose to gain? At the top of the list should be: What is irreplaceable?

See what I mean about our local history being better than a novel? Is there a "C-Dale Survivor" TV series here?

Notice how history buffs love to challenge "best, worst" stories?  For example: some winter this, huh?

Up in Marble, we're sitting on a dry deck in late January. Temps in the 60s. Yet, the Upper Crystal Valley deep has its share of white stuff.  Two bull elk were crossing Marble International Airstrip the other day, the snow tickling their belly hair. I marvel at how such massive weight...in antlers alone...is distributed through tiny, crisp, delicate snowshoe tracks. I look back. Like mine?

 I wish.

Kickoff to Year 2011 -- newspaper headlines up and down the valley report the same top news:  the fragile state of our small hometown economy.

 From Aspen to Rifle, economic comeback around here is in slow-mo time. The referees are counting and we aren't off the mat yet. 1,2,3 recession years, 4, 5, how many more, recession years?

Forget  saving "small town" Aspen.  Most say no amount of recession will bring back that once-cool village vibe. Carbondale is the poster child in the spotlight now. It is the end of the line in this valley when it comes to small-town identity, independence, AND sustainability; a tough balancing act.

Looking Forward

With lots of love and concern at every council meeting, Carbondale's leaders are being fanned into the here and now with plenty of resuscitation ideas for growth and development.  Some sterile. Some homeopathic. 

Each article describes new versions of old community planning and sustainable living concepts, with a couple of interesting turns of phrase; "economic gardening" and "economic hunting." Along with  some boring, some wild, some intelligent proposals, some word pictures have been priceless. 

I'm referring to one suggestion to turn the current Marketplace property on Highway 133 into a massive, co-operative medicinal herb farm...some Community Garden, eh?

Could be considered crazy but check it out. Already prepared, cultivated field space. Solar- friendly. Retain western view plain.  Low excavation/construction impacts. More small business opportunities. Local employment. Plenty of harvesters on hand. One look at Carbondale's first year of its newest sales tax revenue source of $54,649 as of Oct. 29 may bode contemplation.

From a historical view, Roaring Fork and Crystal River valley residents are actually singing the same song, second verse; "what do we do, as a small town community, to thrive?" 

A Utopian dream?

Once the Utes left, was there ever a chance to live here in so-called perfect harmony with our neighbors and surroundings?  Turns out there was.

*Pic of H.D. Woods -

                Hurry. Quick now! What do Missouri Heights and Greeley, Colorado have in common? Time's up! So, I'll tell you.

                Both had bold visionaries who came West to create their dream of a utopian society; one named Nathan Meeker, the other -- Henry David Watson.  Neither necessarily cared to have their experimental communities named after them.  Watson was more successful in that regard. He died in relative obscurity.

Outta mud and scrub?

                 It all started with a French philosopher, Charles Fourier (1772-1837) who believed that it was possible to create a cooperative agricultural community for the perfect kind of life, where people live in harmony and work together for common good. (Carbondale?)

                 Fourier inspired the founding of the communist community called La Reunion near present-day Dallas, Texas. "The Quest for Utopia in Twentieth-century America: 1900-1960" by Timothy Miller describes hundreds of these [sorta] ideal communal living arrangements across the country.

Here in Colorado, in the late 1800-early 1900s, plots of land were purchased both in Greeley and Missouri Heights and started as communities a la Fourier. Why not? Where better to create heaven on earth?

Not so fast.

                Students of Colorado history know what eventually happened to Meeker. Not so much information about Mr. H. D. Watson. Got me to wonderin'.

                 Next thing I knew I was in Cornhusker country, talking with Pat Gaster of Nebraska Historical Society. Was that H.D. I felt leaning over my shoulder? 

Coincidence? a mystery still

                My connection to this commune-in-Colorado story first came to light through local author, Anita Witt's book, "They Came from Missouri."  I was then guided to one of the commune's great great family members, our own Roaring Fork High School history teacher, Larry Williams. 

                "Somewhere around 1920, my great grandparents, Walton and Anna Boyd... read an ad in the paper telling about a colony that was developing on Missouri Heights. The colony was led by a supposed millionaire named H.D. Watson. It was to be a communal living situation in which each family would get 22 acres of land to farm and live on, with all profits and expenses to be shared by everyone who joined the colony," Larry said.

                "After arriving with their five children, Walton and Anna found things to be a little sketchy."

                The Nebraska side of the charismatic Watson story tells of the ranch and huge barn he designed and built in Kearney (KAR-ney) whereby with grand style and aplomb, H.D. overcame all manner of hardships and experimented with all kinds of planting and farming techniques.  (like Carbondale?) He even became known as the Alfalfa King.  (list websites)

                There was no reference in Nebraska records of Watson's foray in our valley; however, this line about the timing and falling apart of the Watson Ranch sure tweaked my sense of curiosity:

 The major cohesive force appears to have been the magnetic personality of H. D. Watson whose many other interests frequently kept him away from the ranch for extended periods of time.

                 Was Miz Heights one of those "extended periods of time?"

                Larry recalled, "The Boyd family lived in tents for two winters and a summer. During the second year, Mr. Watson was taken away by the authorities. It was rumored that he was a former mental patient and it was fact that he was in debt to the bank, many merchants and neighbors."   

C'mon, that's Crazy!

                Turns out Larry's great great grandparents married in Lincoln, Nebraska in 1906. They met at Lincoln Insane Asylum. She, a dentist; he, a custodian.  Larry confirmed. "That was always a family joke."

                Was there an earlier connection in Nebraska that a dozen or so years later intertwined this young family and Mr. Watson near the end of his days at his Colorado utopia here? What "authorities" came and got him?  Why?

                Isn't this just the type of story that fuels history-buff fever? 

                As for supposed millionaire, when H.D. Watson died February 9, 1924 his Omaha, NE obituary settled the matter in print. "Although he never accumulated great riches, Mr. Watson was a great philanthropist....to merely acquire wealth for its own sake did not interest [him] at all."

                Watson was quoted, "Too many people are working for somebody else and drawing their pay with fear and trembling. That is why I am so in earnest (my underline)...to establish the landless man on the manless land."

                Well, I'm sure glad this maybe-crazy Utopian dreamer, H.D. Watson came through Carbondale once upon a time, otherwise who with such roots would be teaching high school history here today?  My thanks to Larry Williams for sharing his family's local history story.   And, thanks to Pat Gaster of Nebraska Historical Society (web addy?)and Aaron Arehart of Buffalo County Historical Society (web addy?) for sharing their local history as well!

Fun, huh?!

                If you enjoy a good history mystery, let's take this story one step further! Join me at Mt. Sopris Historical Museum, 2-4 p.m.  this coming Wednesday, February 9, (ahem!) to talk more about H.D. Watson, his Utopian society theories and the Walton Boyd's generational connection...is yours here too?  We plan to have a WiFi Skype connection with our Nebraska [sister] Historical Society to help connect the dots. All ages welcome. Refreshments served.

                For more information, call 704-0567 or

go to: http://www.marbledweller.com/contact/    

Happy Heart Day! ~Charr

But lest I digress, Part Two of this change is that local and state governments figured out that the $7.4 million dollars collected in MMC applications alone during this last horrible financial year, is a goodly amount of "change" to consider.  Bring on the hoops (regulations) to jump.

 Given a choice of medical attention for one's pains and illnesses between the now-legal, five-fingered plant dispensaries and the super-duper high cost of regular medical care today--not to mention insurance, if one is so lucky to have--how is one to choose their path of pain relief? No wonder folks in pain are crawling out of the woodwork. I guess the point here is: Today, we have a choice. 

You can bet your "fix-me-now-Doc!" dollar, it wasn't like that in early-day Carbondale.

 After a suggestion from Ernest and Marjorie Gerbaz at one of our museum "Tea Dates," I went in search of information about early Carbondale country doctors. There was but one family physician for a very long time. That would be 'ol Doc Tubbs.

A One-Man-Show

Practicing up until his "very sudden" death in 1947, Carbondale's longest-tenured M.D. was W. Ray Tubbs. He was born in 1874 in New Jersey and made his way via Denver to practice medicine in Carbondale in 1911.

He and second wife, Nan Holmer built their brick home/office on Main Street, where is now housed 68Nine Restaurant.  In fact, they owned the entire block, according to Jeff Bier of Redstone.

                "He and my great-aunt Nan owned from where is now CMC up to Main Street."  Jeff said. "Upstairs in the house were the exam[ination] rooms. Each room had a sink, I remember, because we stayed with them when our family came to Carbondale. I must have been 2 or 3 years old."

Nan was a nurse Doc had met while serving as a field surgeon in Europe during WWI. Who besides me would want to know more of that love story in the midst of such horror? 

Helen Kreutz Dupire (pronounced Du-PIER) of Carbondale, now 88, shared the memory of her last medical visit with Doc Tubbs.  "It was when he delivered my 2^nd son in August of '47. When I called up in November for a 3-month [baby]check-up, I was told Doc had died." 

Helen's memory served me well. I dashed to the Glenwood Springs Library, spun through a few years microfische (talk about getting "high") and found the front-page funeral service notice for Doctor Tubbs, November 1947 in the Glenwood Post-Independent .  He was 73.

Of course, women helped.

Nan was Doc's nurse after they married.  There's a hint or two of some supposed "scandal-of-the-day" but given times and circumstances of how they met...scandal schmandle.  One would bet they certainly earned their happiness together.

 Ada "Mom" Doyal was also Doc's midwife, nurse and all-around helper.  How did I know?  The old tin-can-and-string method.  I telephoned Jewell Doyal Schauster in Carbondale and had a delightful visit. (Belated birthday wishes, by the way. Jewell turned 94 last Sunday, October 3rd.)

"Oh, yes, I remember. My mother was his nurse for 10 years," Jewell said. "Back then, everyone had their babies at home.  He'd go from Missouri Heights to Marble and Redstone and she took care of all the babies afterwards, usually at her home."

To give an idea of time span, some of those "home-grown" babies are those honored and respected 90+ year-old elders of our much-bigger but still small community today such as  Emma Natal and Charles (Chuck) Harris, just to name a couple.  

"Bat Outta Hell" is a relative term, right?

There were a few remembrances about the country physician's lead-foot.   That was the first thing Chuck Harris of Missouri Heights, remembered about Doc Tubbs.

 "He was always tearing around at high speeds. I remember he had a bad accident on the old Buffalo Valley Road when he had an office in Glenwood Springs."  

That would have been in the early 40s. The days of real hot rods, eh?  

I saw a reference in one story where Doc often worked 'round the clock, especially in the days of epidemics. His only sleep was the forty winks he got while horse and buggy bounced him back to town from some illness or injury a few miles but hours away.  Makes sense he'd jump into a zippy Ford Model T that could go, what, 25 miles per hour?  Hell's bells. Get out of the way!

Chuck remembered one of his own teen accidents. "I was headed to [Carbondale Union] High School. Usually I drove our Ford Model T. This particular time, I had ridden my horse in and it was the first day there was ice."

Did this slip'n'fall victim call 911 or speed-dial the personal injury attorney dû jour? Nope.  Chuck had to crawl back up on his horse, ride over to Doc Tubbs's office and hop in by himself.

 "Doc put on a splint, tied me up and told me that was all he could do."  I could tell Chuck remembered that agony just like it happened yesterday.

Locals remembered many more unimaginable pain and injury stories that Doc Tubbs handled when I asked and there were a few mishaps that garnered newspaper coverage in the Carbondale Searchlight of 1925.

Home-Grown Rx not such a new idea!       

Everyone I spoke with remembered how Doc Tubbs always made his own medicines, salves and supplements. Guess a good Doc "growing his own" wasn't any big deal back then. 

"He'd give you an exam, make up some medicine right there and it'd cost you two bucks," Chuck Harris said.

Helen Dupire also remembered the cost of medical care those days. "That last pregnancy in '47, including the whole nine months, the delivery and 10 days of hospital visits afterwards cost me $59.00," she said. "I remember so clearly that I had to call the office to ask about it. When the bill arrived in the mail, on it was written, 'requested. Thanks.' It was as though they only sent to me because I 'requested' it. That's the kind of good old country doctor he was." 

Helen recalled one of Doc Tubbs's concoctions.  "One time he gave me a tin of black salve that he made up for my throat. He told me to rub it on for a month.  I did it even though it made my throat look grey and dirty."

Jeff Bier tied the "how and why" all together. 

"Doc Tubbs knew all about plants, herbs and natural healing. He had his own apothecary where the post office building is now. There were outbuildings and irrigation ditches all over out there where he grew and made a lot of his own medicinals."  

Wonder what Doc Tubbs would have to say about the "new" herbal medical services in town? Or our Ute forebears for that matter? Seems healing plants have been used around here...well, forever.

 Now, let's don't all look at, in a new light, those huge preserved fields south of town at the same time, o.k.?

How can this be? It's Labor Day already. Across the board, all ages of mountain folk are lamenting our short summers. Notice how the three holidays of summer come closer and faster when you're over the age of, say...seven?

But sweet summer memories, ah... they last forever.  Such were a few shared recently at a Mt. Sopris Historical Society soiree' for Aspen Community Foundation Board members at the historical Holland- Thompson House (aka Thompson House).  Fourth-generation brother and sister, Lew Ron Thompson and Lee Ann Thompson Arbaney told guests about their summers up at Lily Lake when grazing cattle up there.

Lee Ann said, "One of my favorite summer memories were when several families would gather at Lily Lake and picnic up there. It was so lovely."  

Serendipity at Lily Lake Ranch

Providence seems to play a part in my "Memoirs" adventures; this one, so far, tops them all! About the same time the Thompson siblings were reminiscing of their Lily Lake days, I received an out-of-the-blue invitation to visit with current owners, Craig and Mikaela Barnes of Santa Fe.

The Barnes' part of the story comes about this way.

                Common knowledge of local history is that in the late eighteen hundreds, early Crystal River settlers pretty much had the freedom to roam as had the Ute Indians before them.  One difference was that homesteaders could put up four walls, call it home-sweet-home and the 160 acres surrounding was theirs to own.

                One such homesteader was an Indian hunter named William Woods, whose local claim-to-fame was the founding of the Town of Marble in those late 1880s. Woods built the first log home in Marble, supposedly next to where the William Parry House still stands today; adjacent to the Marble City State Bank building in the center of Marble.  Both are now National Historic Register Sites.

                He and a fellow by the name of Clarence started two fledgling towns across Carbonate Creek from each other.  "Uncle Billy" as he later became belovedly known throughout the Crystal valley, won the Post Office designation for Marble and the rest, as they say, is history.  Clarence as a Town was no more.

 William Woods became the first realtor/developer of the upper Crystal River Valley selling plats for $25.  Ledger books listing the sales of platted town lots, detailed carefully in pen and ink, were found in the house when the Barnes took possession of the land and cabins on the property.   After the town's booms and busts, son Paul Woods eventually took the cabin apart, log by log, and moved it up to Lily Lake.  

And That Wasn't All They Found

At the time of the Barnes' acquisition of Lily Lake Ranch in 1969, the-then owner was Cloton Moore, who only used the home as a hunter's cabin.  Thankfully, hunters not being all that curious of anything outside their dedicated mission, personal possessions of Paul Woods' days lay about undisturbed for at least fifteen years.  That fact alone was amazing to me. Obviously, there weren't any lady hunters in the cabin or this would have been a different story!

When the Barnes arrived, they pulled open a desk drawer to find a packet of letters and Paul's diaries dating backwards from the late forties to 1917. As they read, there came to light a melancholic 30-some-year tale of a love-smitten life-long bachelor.

Paul graduated from Marble High School around 1911. The school teacher between 1908 and 1911 was Mrs. L.P. Montgomery, who, it turns out, just so happened to be Craig Barnes' great grandmother.  (more about that coincidence below)

Paul lived alone year-round in the house that he moved from town up to Lily Lake.  There is a picture of Paul in Volume 1 of Oscar McCollum's "Marble Colorado" books.

Somewhere in the 1920s, he met a young lady by the name of Elizabeth Harter and her husband, Scott. The Harters visited Paul frequently during their summer vacations, getting cool respite from their faraway Florida home. 

"We found several pictures of them, sometimes with Scott, sometimes not," Craig said, "Something happens along the way. Paul and Elizabeth 'spark.'"

Theirs became a sizzling romance. One early entry declared, "Here I am riding in this buggy next to [this guy]....and I can't stand it because I can only think of you." Pretty racy commentary for those days. 

"All her love letters were signed 'Sweetness,'" Craig said.

Craig noted that Paul had vigorously scratched out every reference to husband Scott's name in the letters.  However; as the years went by, the letters cooled down. They were replaced by generic holiday and birthday greeting cards addressed to "My old Friend " and "To a Good Pal." They were still signed, "Sweetness."   

Craig said of the letters, "it was heartbreaking, just heartbreaking, to read" (the chronology).

In 1951, it appeared that Paul had taken his own life at the cabin, his weapon laying beside him.  It was said by those who found his body that remnants of a whiskey still remained upstairs surrounded by empty bottles. Others claim that Paul would not have done that, that his demise was an unsolved mystery.

Paul had bequeathed the cabin and property to his elusive love, "Sweetness," who came up and supposedly took away nothing but Mrs. Woods silver service, stored in a secret compartment.

"She (Sweetness) came to my father and offered to sell the property to him as we had been grazing our cattle there from around 1935 through the late 60s," remembers Lew Ron Thompson when I shared the pretty amazing coincidence,  "but we couldn't afford it at the time."

"Sweetness" sold the property to Cloton Moore and returned to Florida...the packet of her torrid letters to her Marble lover left behind. Did she even know they were there? 

Kismet Takes Over 

The Barnes already had a historical connection to the Marble area and for years visited Marble when they lived in Denver. Craig remembers trips over McClure Pass as a young boy and turning onto County Road 3 for the trip into Marble, "suitable impressed," he said.

Besides Craig's great-grandmother being a teacher of Marble High School, a great-uncle, Frank Stevenson was the doctor and mayor of Marble for a time.  Thus, while on a fortuitous fall trip with family and friends in 1969, they were told by Gus Darien about the Lily Lake property that had been up for sale for awhile.

Young parents of four by then, Craig and Mikaela debated if they should make an offer.  Something urged them "YES!" 

So Urgent, in fact...

"I remember it was a Sunday afternoon. The listing agency was in Carbondale," Craig said. "We went down to put in our offer and the agent wasn't there.  Being an attorney, I knew a bit about contracts, wrote up an offer and left it there.  I remember distinctly that we could only find a pencil, no pen anywhere."

 "By Monday night, we were told there were two other offers," Craig went on.  "There had been no activity for some time, suddenly now there were three offers on the table within 24 hours."

 Three weeks went by. No word from the realtor.

"We did get a call that we were "out" because we asked for road improvement," Craig said. "We told them to take it out! We wanted to stay in (the negotiations.)" 

"In the meantime, my mother and father came up to see the property and met Cloton."

As they toured the house together, Craig's dad saw a hand-written notice on an upstairs wall, still in evidence today, of a list of guests at a Woods duck dinner also held in the fall--October, 1909--almost exactly sixty years earlier.

 Among the invited--Mrs. L.P. Montgomery.

"That's my grandmother!" Craig's dad exclaimed.

"Well... you (folks) were the first [offer]," replied Mr. Moore.  

That moment in time sealed the legacy of Lily Lake Ranch.  

On a (not so) side note...

 Also on that bare wall guest list was another well-known lady of the day, Hattie Thompson Holland--Lew Ron and Lou Ann's great aunt.  The same lady whose home we were in when this Lily Lake story began....