Coal mine? Ski Area? Old Fort nearby?

 From Colorado Pressless Native

Thursday, September 19, 2013

The many faces of Hesperus

In Colorado:

Title: Rio Grande Southern Railroad depot at Hesperus (Colo.)
Date/circa: 1949
Photographer: Chione, Alfred G. (Morton, Ill.)
Notes: Mile Post 145.51. "The coach on the left is the replacement depot as the Hesperus depot. The rest of the buildings are section house, bunk houses, tool sheds, and the water tower." [Source of quote: Robert Herrone, email 3/27/07.]
Photoprint#: P026161
Center of Southwest Studies, Fort Lewis College

In British U-Boats:

In English Locomotives:

In Simon Newcomb Science Fiction about 1900:

In 19th Century poetry:

The Wreck of the Hesperus

IT was the schooner Hesperus,
That sailed the wintry sea;
And the skipper had taken his little daughter,
To bear him company.
Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,	5
Her cheeks like the dawn of day,
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,
That ope in the month of May.
The skipper he stood beside the helm,
His pipe was in his mouth,	10
And he watched how the veering flaw did blow
The smoke now West, now South.
Then up and spake an old Sailòr,
Had sailed to the Spanish Main,
‘I pray thee, put into yonder port,	15
For I fear a hurricane.
‘Last night, the moon had a golden ring,
And to-night no moon we see!’
The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe,
And a scornful laugh laughed he.	20
Colder and louder blew the wind,
A gale from the Northeast,
The snow fell hissing in the brine,
And the billows frothed like yeast.
Down came the storm, and smote amain	25
The vessel in its strength;
She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed,
Then leaped her cable’s length.
‘Come hither! come hither! my little daughtèr,
And do not tremble so;	30
For I can weather the roughest gale
That ever wind did blow.’
He wrapped her warm in his seaman’s coat
Against the stinging blast;
He cut a rope from a broken spar,	35
And bound her to the mast.
‘O father! I hear the church-bells ring,
Oh say, what may it be?’
‘’Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!’—
And he steered for the open sea.	40
‘O father! I hear the sound of guns,
Oh say, what may it be?’
‘Some ship in distress, that cannot live
In such an angry sea!’
‘O father. I see a gleaming light,	45
Oh say, what may it be?’
But the father answered never a word,
A frozen corpse was he.
Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,
With his face turned to the skies,	50
The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow
On his fixed and glassy eyes.
Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed
That savèd she might be;
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave,	55
On the Lake of Galilee.
And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
Through the whistling sleet and snow,
Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept
Tow’rds the reef of Norman’s Woe.	60
And ever the fitful gusts between
A sound came from the land;
It was the sound of the trampling surf
On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.
The breakers were right beneath her bows,	65
She drifted a dreary wreck,
And a whooping billow swept the crew
Like icicles from her deck.
She struck where the white and fleecy waves
Looked soft as carded wool,	70
But the cruel rocks, they gored her side
Like the horns of an angry bull.
Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice,
With the masts went by the board;
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,	75
Ho! ho! the breakers roared!
At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach,
A fisherman stood aghast,
To see the form of a maiden fair,
Lashed close to a drifting mast.	80
The salt sea was frozen on her breast,
The salt tears in her eyes;
And he saw her hair, like the brown seaweed,
On the billows fall and rise.
Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,	85
In the midnight and the snow!
Christ save us all from a death like this,
On the reef of Norman’s Woe!
___ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)

In Greek Mythology as imagined by an Italian artist:

Back in Colorado:

 

Thing of the past ...
Fort Lewis, generator
Creator: Pendike Studio.
A man wears overalls and works on probably a belt-driven power generator at Fort Lewis High School (later Fort Lewis College) in Hesperus (La Plata County), Colorado. The generator reads: "Ames Iron Works."
Date: [between 1911 and 1913?]
Notes: History Colorado.; Handwritten on envelope: "C-Fort Lewis"; Title supplied.; R7200075277
Physical Description: 1 photographic print ; 13 x 18 cm. (5 x 7 in.) on album page.
Source: Gift of W.H. Eldridge, Ft. Lewis, Colo.
Is Part Of: History Colorado, subject file collection.  

 

 

Fort Lewis, kitchen

Creator(s): Pendike Studio.

Summary: A woman in a checkered apron poses with a water kettle in a kitchen at Fort Lewis High School (later Fort Lewis College) in Hesperus (La Plata County), Colorado. Shows a wood burning stove, a serving cart on wheels and pots and pans suspended from a ceiling rack.

Date: [between 1911 and 1913?]

Notes: Accession number: 2000.129.547; History Colorado.; Handwritten on envelope: "C-Fort Lewis"; Title supplied.; R7200075251

Physical Description: 1 photographic print ; 13 x 18 cm. (5 x 7 in.) on album page.

Is Part Of: History Colorado, subject file collection

Source: Source: Gift of W.H. Eldridge, Ft. Lewis, Colo.

History Colorado

 

Fort Lewis, dining room

Creator(s) : Pendike Studio.

Summary: View of a dining room at Fort Lewis High School (later Fort Lewis College) in Hesperus (La Plata County), Colorado. Tables are set with tablecloths, glasses and pitchers. The room has wainscoting, wood floors and ceiling, and curtains on windows.

Date: [between 1911 and 1913?]

Notes: Accession number: 2000.129.547; History Colorado.; Handwritten on envelope: "C-Fort Lewis"; Title supplied.; R7200075243

Physical Description: 1 photographic print ; 13 x 18 cm. (5 x 7 in.) on album page.

Is Part Of: History Colorado, subject file collection

Source: Source: Gift of W.H. Eldridge, Ft. Lewis, Colo.

History Colorado

 

 

 

Local matters to your particular audience

Thing of the past ...

Rocky Mountain News printing plant - promotion using little people

Creator: Rhoads, Harry Mellon, 1880 or 1881-1975,

Date circa 1924. Seven male Little People tend the printing press at the Rocky Mountain News' printing plant, Denver, Colorado. The men were participating in a promotional campaign.

Local, local, local... 

it is all that matters anymore.

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com 

First appeared in Newspapers & Technology in 2003

 

I remember the days of deadlines, but it has been a while.
With the advent of the 24-hour news cycle, deadlines, in their original form, went the way of the Dodo bird.
In my long news career, having worked on weeklies, dailies, monthly magazines, annual reports and consistently and constantly breaking online presences, I also remember when it made a difference.
With the blurring of the lines in modern media, changing economic and social conditions, and consumers that are always on, it no longer does.
That does not mean that the cycle is gone; it is just different.
One of my favorite all-time news references is “The Country Newspaper,” by Millard VanMarter Atwood, a Cornell University professor who first published “the little green book” in 1923.
“This little volume is an attempt to show the importance of the country weekly in the life of the small town and the rural community. It is hoped also that it will give residents of smaller places an insight into the problems with which the country editor is confronted in these days of changing economic and social conditions,” writes Atwood.
Accordingly, he notes that the writer “believes that the changes affecting the country newspaper which have been taking place in the East are prophetic of what may be expected, in time, throughout the whole country.”
Like Atwood, and W.P. Kirkwood, agricultural editor of the University of Minnesota, whom he quotes extensively, the emphasis lies on community service.
As observed more than 90 years ago, I think the local paper (he called it the country weekly) faces a future of growth and greatly increased usefulness.
That is based that on “the idea of community service clarifies the whole problem of policies and expediencies, for it gives the concrete aim to all editorial activities.”
What he meant by that was “purpose.”
“The community service, the community building, then as a master motive, establishes the country-weekly publisher securely in his position of leadership. It assures added community prosperity, and local development of the finer satisfactions of life in which he must share; and no agency can take this from him – neither the city daily, coming in from a distance and concerned with the larger affairs of a larger community, nor the school, nor the church, nor any other.”
Today, metro dailies have suffered recently from their addiction to much broader audiences. National news products like Newsweek can’t find a way to make it work. Even the internet needs to focus. Local, local, local.
But how does it affect the cycle. It is still a cycle, but no longer does it climb down from last page to the printer on Monday night, into a reconstructive Tuesday, followed by lets-get-something done Wednesday, ad-close and dummy Thursday, and Friday’s last chance to comment and file a story, finally spiraling out of control into a catch up weekend.
It is a convergence product we are offering, however, instead of only a weekly print edition. Up-to-date postings on our site. Referring pieces on Facebook and Twitter, maybe Pinterest, and Reddit, throw in a few other places for good measure, and now you have our reach. Our readers are the key. They don't care anything about deadlines. The want it now, or forget it.
We still have to get everything done. But now, it is always due.
But they also want it summarized, and archived, third-party verified, and a hard copy provided. They would like the news this way and that.
Terrible accident in town today, get it on the site right away. Public official resigns in disgrace, you must anticipate that sort of thing. Fire breaks out in the forest, how quickly can you have photos up?
With a certain irony, that is easier. Because the focus whips back around to local, local, local.
That is all that really matters anymore.
###

Drinking Tivoli beer in Denver for more than 100 years

Milwaukee Brewing Co., Creator: Joseph Collier,  Date [1890-1900]

Century plus tab runs for 

Tivoli-Union Brewery Company 

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

The Milwaukee Brewery Company was established in 1859 by James Endlich at 10th and Larimer Streets in Denver, Colorado.  It was an early Denver brewery located in the area that became the Tivoli Brewery complex. In 1901, it merged with the Union Brewing Company to form the Tivoli-Union Brewery Company, which operated until the mid-1960s.

In 1860, the brewery was sold to John Good, who enlarged it and renamed it after the Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen. In 1901, the brewery merged with the Union Brewing Company to form the Tivoli-Union Brewery.
Built in 1870 by German-born Mortz Sigi, the Tivoli Student Union was originally part of the Colorado Brewery. 

Date: 1902. Men and boys pose with cigars, pipes, shovels, a broom, and beer bottles. Crates and labels read: "Tivoli Union Brewing Co. 1342 10th St Denver, Colo."

"The Tivoli Student Union changed owners and names several times throughout the eighteen and nineteen hundreds, with architectural additions being made along the way. Sigi’s Brewery was founded in 1864. It was renamed the Tivoli Brewing Company after Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen in 1901 by John Good. The Tivoli Student Union remained a brewery until the late 1960s, " according to Auraria Higher Education Center information,  in 1901, the building became the Tivoli-Union brewery, named after the famous amusement park in Copenhagen.

During prohibition, the president of the company kept the brewery alive by manufacturing “Dash,” a cereal beer.

The Tivoli-Union was producing 150,000 barrels of beer annually by the 1950s, but by 1966 it was shut down due to its failing business after a worker’s strike. The brewery closed in 1969 after the Platte River flooded it in 1965, shortly after the Occhaitio brothers purchased the facilities. 

Tivoli Brewery team, Date: [1940-1950] The Tivoli Brewery wagon and Clydesdale horses in Denver, Colorado; people ride the conveyance and watch from behind a fence by a loudspeaker. Harness includes silver studs.

In 1973 the Tivoli was placed on the National Register of Historic Places, guaranteeing the restoration and protection of the buildings and major brewing equipment.

The Denver Urban Renewal Authority bought the dilapidated Tivoli with the help of federal funds and transferred ownership to the Auraria Higher Education Center.

When renovation became too costly, the state contracted private developers to restore the buildings of the Tivoli for commercial use. The buildings were brought together under a three-story atrium. 

In 1991, Auraria students voted to buy back and re-develop the Tivoli to use for educational purposes. It opened as the Tivoli Student Union in 1994.

The Tivoli re-opened as a student union/retail center in 1994 after a two-year renovation. It now serves as a defining hub of the campus.


The plant shown here continued to operate until 1969, producing Denver Beer. Several horse-drawn wagons are on the dirt street in front of the building.

After a forty-three-year absence, Tivoli Beer began flowing again in 2012.

To further develop the revived brand, the brewery’s owners embarked upon a $3.5 million renovation of the old building (with the help of ($975,000 in State Historic Preservation Tax Credits) to serve as their brewery and tap house.

The non-historic additions of the 1980s were removed, and the historic interior features were restored. New brewing equipment occupies the space where Tivoli’s original mash tuns and copper kettles once stood, according to the brewery's information.

Roger Whitacre,  Date:1985,  July. Night view of the Tivoli Brewery Building (formerlyTivoli-Union Brewery) at 10th (Tenth) and Larimer Streets in the Auraria neighborhood of Denver, Colorado. The four-story brick building has arched windows, a smokestack, and a tower with a mansard roof. A sign reads: "Tivoli Beer."

 

It is Friday. Keep 'em coming boys.  Antique beer keg lift conveyor machinery at the old Tivoli (a.k.a. Union) Brewery in downtown Denver. Photo by Rob Carrigan.

 
Outlaw Light (or Outlaw Mile Hi Light) is a fast-growing, affordable 4.2% ABV light Kölsch-style beer produced by Tivoli Brewing Co. in Colorado. Marketed as a "crushable," independent alternative to major brands, it features a slightly maltier, crisp profile. It is expanding nationwide, with partnerships including singer HARDY and the Outlaw Music Festival. 

 

 

Cruise Above the Clouds 2016

 

The 2016 Cruise Above the Clouds set a new record for number of entries in the iconic car show. The Woodland Park displayed 350 cars all through the streets and parking lots of Woodland Park and thousands of car buffs and curiosity seekers wandered from classic car to exotic automobile under ideal weather conditions Saturday, Sept. 10.

1: Dave Blix’s Porche Red 55 Ford F-100 Pickup was shining up nicely in the morning sun. Blix’s first wife gave him the devil because he paid $300 for the truck 35 years ago and he spent 12 years restoring it.  “The wife is gone, but I still have the truck,” he said. It is all from ‘54, ‘55, ‘56 Ford F-100 parts, except for the Cleveland 351 engine that came out of a Mustang.

2: Jerry Kabbe’s Forest Green flamejob paint on his 1957 GMC pickup inspired other-world fantasy and set the truck apart in sea of classic and standout “automobilery.”

3: It is not everyday that you run into someone (even at a car show) driving a 1962 Plymouth Valiant, and that is precisely why Mike Buctter of Colorado Springs likes showing up in the unique equipment. 

4:Take a classic 1957 Chevy, modify it slightly in the front with 1958 Chrysler 352 Hemi, and drive it from Aurora to a premier car show in the mountains around Woodland Park and Cripple Creek. Owner Andy Haney kept it  under 60 m.p.h., and gas mileage around 15 miles per gallon.

5:Linda and Bob Brown’s 1969 Pontiac Firebird is rare. Pontiac was sponsoring the Olympic Ski Team that year and a “Ski Package” was available on some models. However, it was not supposed to be available on the convertible. Three were ordered from Denver anyway and built in Van Nuys, until orders from Michigan disallowed. “One got out,” says Bob.

6: Obligatory fuzzy dice in a 1956ish Chevy.

7: This car is sort of dinosaur-like… a real fossil, but well-preserved. They don’t make them J.J. and Mike Triebold’s 1955 Yellow and Black Sunliner anymore.

8: Anytime you get cars together, especially alot of them, you probably will eventually need a tow truck. Viola! Bill Schwindts 1949 Yellow Dodge.

9: Well, Jay Cimino can also have a 1957 Studebaker Silver Hawk, too.

10: Jay Cimino is car guy, and car guys like 1957 Chevys, even if they operate Phil Long Ford. This is no ordinary 1957 Chevy convertible, however.

11. You might pull up side-straddle over a small streambed, drop the side gates and create a bridge to Terabithia with this 1962 Convair Rampside.  

12. It is kind of like a car, only smaller. Francesca Ferrero's 1970 Fiat has just enough room for your body mass, and a little bottle of gas. Many of you have owned recycling containers that are larger.

13. Four-door 1956 Chevy, red and white, simple elegance.

Photos by Rob Carrigan

For at least 30 years, Grampa Bredo was on ice

 

Grandpa Bredo Morstoel died from a heart condition in 1989.

 "Nobody should have to choose 

between a cold heart and a dead heart."

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com 

 I first discovered the "Frozen Dead Guy" in an early Barbabra Lawlor article in the Nederland "Mountain Ear," shortly after the turn of the 21st century.  A great fan of the quirky little newspaper in "Ned," I followed the story's development as the odd circumstances that blossomed over the next decades into a town celebration, national attention and international renown for "Grampa Bredo."

"The Mountain Ear,'  of course had more to do with small town Nederland, than a body part of Bredo Morstoel, the central figure in this odd story. But as long-time Ear publisher Barbabra Hardt noted in 2022:

"The Mountain-Ear has had great years and hard years. 2019 was by far the hardest, that’s the year after Barbara Lawlor died. “She was the paper. She covered every event. She wrote 80% of it every week.”  

Frozen Dead Guy Days

 

"Grandpa Bredo is a century plus a decade or more years old. For at least 30 years, he’s taken up residence in a Tuff Shed in the hills above Nederland, Colorado, where he remains very, very, very cold. More specifically, Grandpa is frozen in a state of suspended animation, awaiting the big thaw. The one that will bring him back to life," said FrozenDeadGuyDays.org.

"There is a good story behind this, one that stretches from Norway to California to Colorado, involving cryonics, deportation, psychics, celebrations, and a dedicated Ice Man. It’s a tale that has captured international attention and sparked a must-attend annual event called Frozen Dead Guy Days."

Life After Death

"Before Grandpa Bredo Morstoel died from a heart condition in 1989, he enjoyed a comfortable life in Norway, where he was born and raised. He loved painting, fishing, skiing, and hiking in the mountains of his homeland. He was also the director of parks and recreation in Norway’s Baerum County for more than 30 years," reports the site.

"After he died, things got really interesting. Instead of a burial, he was packed in dry ice and prepared for international travel. First, he was shipped to the Trans Time cryonics facility in Oakland, California, where he was placed in liquid nitrogen for almost four years. Then, he was moved to Colorado in 1993 to stay with his daughter Aud Morstoel and his grandson Trygve Bauge, both strong advocates for cryonics who hoped to start a facility of their own."

There he stayed for years under cold cover, in a shed, near his grandson’s home, and about to be left on his own, due to some pesky visa issues.

The Grandfather Clause

"If you peruse the laws of Nederland, you’ll discover that it’s illegal to store a frozen human or animal (or any body part thereof) in your home. We have Grandpa Bredo to thank for this. When grandson Trygve was deported in the mid-90s because of an expired visa, Bredo’s daughter stepped in to take care of the household – including keeping her father on ice."

However, Aud was evicted for living in a house with no electricity or plumbing and was about to head back to Norway. This meant that the family’s fledgling cryonics facility was destined to come to a halt. Worried that her father would thaw out before his time, she spoke to a local reporter, who spoke to the Nederland city council, who passed Section 7-34 of the municipal code regarding the “keeping of bodies.”

Luckily for Bredo, he was grandfathered in and allowed to stay. Suddenly, he was a worldwide media sensation. And he has been well cared for by his family and community ever since.

The Iceman

 "Bo Shaffer saw an intriguing want ad on the Internet in 1995 posted by Trygve. He applied for the one-of-a-kind job, got it, and is now known as the “Ice Man.” Every month, Shaffer and a team of volunteers delivers 1,600 pounds of dry ice and packs it around Grandpa Bredo in his sarcophagus, surrounded by foam padding, a tarp, and blankets. As Cryonicist-in-Charge, Shaffer keeps Grandpa at a steady -60 degrees Fahrenheit. He also gives tours to investigators, filmmakers, local volunteers, and even psychics who have purported to communicate with the dearly departed (by one account, Bredo is amused by the fuss but doing fine)," says FrozenDeadGuyDays.org.

"Shaffer feels the weight of this responsibility, knowing how much has been invested in keeping Grandpa in his cryonic state. Now frozen for over 20 years, he has kept the hope alive for his family and their faith in cryonics, as well as spurring an annual festival in Nederland that has grown into a full-fledged winter celebration."

Dead Man’s Party

For a town like Nederland that thrives on the colorful, the offbeat, and the weird, Frozen Dead Guy Days is a fitting way to end the short days of winter and head into the melting snows of spring. Trygve Bauge calls it “Cryonics’ first Mardi Gras.”

Frozen Dead Guy Days, one of Colorado’s most beloved annual events for more than 20 years, is kicking off a new chapter in Estes Park. Taking place now near St. Patrick’s Day weekend in March , the reborn Frozen Dead Guy Days features live music and entertainment all weekend long, and will be held at the Estes Park Events Complex and The Stanley Hotel, with satellite events occurring around town.

Festival goers can expect the weird and wonderful happenings from years past, including coffin races and a polar plunge, as well as plenty of new and elevated Estes twists, like a frostbite fashion show, roaming freak show acts, a Bands and Bloodys Sunday Brunch and more.

 From Estes Park' information about recent years of celebration; 

"Grandpa Bredo is over 120 years old. For years, he was the resident of a Tuff Shed in the hills above Nederland, Colorado, just 40 miles south of Estes Park, where he remained very, very, very cold. These days, Grandpa is still frozen in a state of suspended animation, awaiting the big thaw. The one that will bring him back to life."

"There is a good story behind this, one that stretches from Norway to California to Colorado, involving cryonics, deportation, psychics, celebrations, a dedicated Ice Man and a cryonics rescue mission. It’s a tale that has captured international attention and sparked a must-attend annual event called Frozen Dead Guy Days,"  says Estes Park's web page.

"So how did all of this begin… and more importantly (particularly for Grandpa Bredo), how long will it last?"

 Although Trygve and Aud filed a complaint against Nederland involving money and naming rights in 2005, Frozen Dead Guy Days continued to be held annually. 

Long-time organizer Amanda MacDonald partially relinquished ownership and control of the event in 2019. The celebration was last held March 19–20, 2022 after a two year hiatus due to the coronavirus pandemic. Organizers announced the 2023 iteration would be cancelled, stating Nederland refuses "to work with the festival's current owners again."

Change is location

For 2023, the festival moved to Estes Park, and currently (2025) charges an average of $38 per person which includes Coffin Races, Frozen Games, Art, and multiple national touring bands.

 In a recent story by Molly Cruse, of Colorado Public Radio, Mar. 14, 2025, "Today, Grandpa Bredo rests in a 12-foot-tall steel tank filled with liquid nitrogen and set to -320 degrees in the Stanley Hotel’s historic ice house which has since become the “International Cryonics Museum.” Visitors can take a tour of the museum and Grandpa Bredo’s resting place for $20." 

Despite some Nederland locals saying they’re “relieved” that the festival moved on, there are still a few who say they will miss it. 

“We never had any trouble from it or anything,” said Mike Parker, who has worked at Nature’s Own, a crystal shop, for over 20 years. “I know something's missing.”

Andelman said she plans to help Estes Park with the transition. For the last few years, she has been heavily involved in making sure organizers at the Estes Park Frozen Dead Guy Days Festival retain the quirkiness of the original festival.

“I have experience in everything and I was like, ‘I am here if you need me, we need to figure out a way to work together’,” Andelman said. “I don't know if they wanted to accept me, but I'm not just Nederland; I am Frozen Dead Guy Day. It is an event that came from years and years and of effort, so let's figure out how it can continue on that path.”

A few years ago, I sold about a dozen wine barrels to City of Estes Park, that they said would be used during "Frozen Dead Guy Days" up there, as well as other  city events.

Events  beyond our control have been lining up to take a shot at us the last few years.

But like a lot of misfortune, it turns out, that the real story of any event is our response. “Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it,” just as Helen Keller noted.

And Colorado locations are known for creating an event — just to emphasize those responses.

This year the festival will be held  from March 27-29, 2026, for Frozen Dead Guy Days, a quirky winter festival celebrating the legend of Grandpa Bredo.  at Estes Park Events Complex. But according to the organizers, there will be Frozen Dead Guy Day-themed activities the entire weekend, to keep with the tradition of the former Nederland-based festival. 

 rickpawl - originally posted to Flickr as don't ask - frozen dead guy days

 ### 

 

Century of community newspapering

 In late January of 1990, I worked as the Ad Manager for a group of weekly newspapers on the West Side of the Central Valley in California, and one of those publications, "The West Side INDEX" of Newman, California, celebrated its first 100 years of publishing that year, having only five different owners during all that time. The place was a fascinating study in century small-town newspaper work and I have always considered it a pleasure and an honor to work there at that time, and afterwards, in the heydays of the craft.

Al Rose Sr. at the INDEX's linotype machine in Newman, California.  

The INDEX celebrates 100 years: 1890 to 1990

 By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

In less than a trip around the sun, I reach what always seemed to be considered "Old Age." Not that concerned about it generally, but it is good enough time as any, to contemplate legacy, and such. Mostly, it has to do with habit and ritual. I have been telling folks for quite some time when they card me for beer, that I am at least a 100 years old. But bear with me, as I evaluate (and re-valuate) my place in time, and the world.

The first INDEX opened for business on the west side of O Street, situated between Treft Brothers Butcher Shop and Skinny Homer's Saloon, and was owned and operated by former house painters Innis Sturgeon and T.C. Duffy after the duo had failed in a previous enterprise as painting contractors.
Prior to his death in 1903, Sturgeon moved the newspaper office to a tiny, wood-framed building on "O" Street where the Giavonnoni building is currently located. Sturgeon, the son of a prominent pioneer rancher Ed Sturgeon, succumbed to pneumonia in July of 1903.

Partner Duffy, continued publishing the newspaper for several months before selling to Alvin Fleharty in November of that year. Fleharty went on to record the longest tenure of any INDEX Publisher published to date, keeping the newspaper for some 33 years. Fleharty's weekly column, "Yesterday and the the day before," became the publisher's personnel trademark, and appeared on the front page of each issue.

It was during 1913 that that long-time resident Al Rose Sr. first went to work for The INDEX as a typesetter, running the old-fashioned linotype machines that cranked out "hot type"for use for the newspaper. When the newspaper was set and approved by Fleharty, Rose would print the issue by hand on the letterpress by hand in the backshop. Rose, whose affiliation continued the era of publisher Bill Mattos, who, with his wife Susan, owned and published the paper at the time of 100-year anniversary in1990, and years later.

Fleharty moved moved the INDEX offices three times during his tenure -- including one change of locale because of a devastating fire. The blaze broke out in the former INDEX office on July 4, 1905, and quickly demolished the office and the newspaper files from early years. Boys playing with firecrackers were believed to have started the Independence Day Blaze.
Rose noted that Fleharty didn't care for the name Alvin, and simply referred to himself as "A. Fleharty." Fleharty moved the paper to its long-time location at 1021 Fresno Street in 1929. That building, he liked to point out was supposedly fireproof. 

Fleharty's son Roland, was also involved in the journalism business, publishing the Patterson Irrigator. Crows Landing businessman Frank McGuinnis, a staunch Repulican, purchased the INDEX in 1936. McGuinnis traded his Coal, Ice and Feed business for a career in newspapering. He, in turn sold the INDEX to his son, William McGuinnis. The younger McGuinnis published the paper for 18 years, finally selling it to Bill Mattos in 1976.

 

When Al Rose Sr. first walked into a pressroom around 1910, things were very different than they are today. Paper was hand-fed into the equipment, there were no photos in the newspaper, and type for advertisements was selected a letter at a time from cases and placed in the proper order. The clock didn't mean a thing to printers in those days.

 

"We didn't ever look at the clock. We worked until the job was done," said Rose, who began his printing career feeding the presses at the Hayward Journal around 1910.

 

Rose's first job in Newman had nothing to do with Newspapers. "I had promised a man I would start a dairy route for him, and so I did. I was collecting a milk bill one day at the paper, and I asked if I could take a look around. I told them I had worked feeding presses as a kid. They were short a printer and they asked if I would like to help them out. I did, and I ran 1,000 straight through."

 

"I was making $2 a day on the milk route, which was pretty good money back then, but they offered me $3 a day to go to work for newspaper, so I went to work there."

 

He worked for the West Side INDEX for nearly 20 years as a printer and linotype operator, before taking a job as press foreman at Colusa in 1939.

 

Rose returned to Newman in 1947 to manage his brother-in-law Manuel D'Avila's general merchandise store after D'Avila's death, and operated the store until 1975. However, he continued to help out at the INDEX, whenever  he was needed until the early 1980s. "I would leave my business, to help with his business," he said of his friend and former INDEX publisher Bill McGinnis. He continued to help out and became friends with another INDEX publisher after Bill Mattos purchased, and began publishing the paper. 

 

### 

 

At the time, Lost Canyon was sort of familiar

 “Sometimes being lost is the best way to find yourself.” 

 ― LJ Vanier, Ether: Into the Nemesis 

 “Not all those who wander are lost.”

– J.R.R. Tolkien. 

 Finding what is Lost in the canyon

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Familiar, or Lost, on the edge of Dolores. Some of that was difficult language to resolve for a young buck, like me. How can it be lost, when it is so familiar? Like a trip to the Dump, or on past one of the cemeteries.

Chunks of emptiness carry names like Cajon Canyon, McElmo, Hovenweep, the lower Dolores watershed, the Paradox Valley, Outlaw Trail, and (appropriately enough) Disappointment. The vast stretches of canyons and mesas run up the edges of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizonia  and Utah. It is remote, water-challenged, and easy to get lost and stay lost there. Even the rivers sometimes run the wrong way.  

But over Fourth Street Bridge. And down the canyon near the creek and/or canal down passed the Lobato's place, and the Pole Yard and into the Canyon on the old rail grade as it narrowed?

If you were coming from Durango on the old Mancos cutoff on the Ridge, you would drop down into town near the Cemetery and Cline's place, anyway.

Old Beagle Suzie got lost in the Gamble Oak brush near the Dump turnoff one day, but for the most part it was hard to become lost in Lost Canyon near Dolores. She often had to be carried out of Oak brambles when she went on scent. But, just follow the rail bed (either way for three or four miles and you would likely run into a decent gravel or paved road out of there. Maybe by the sawmill and out on to small farm country on The Ridge, or back to the main branch of  the Dolores River, and then across the old steel bridge on into town.

The

Rio Grande Southern (RGS) Railroad (1889–1951) was a  162-mile narrow-guage line that ran from Durango to Ridgway traveling in the rugged San Juan Mountains. A key, scenic segment of the route followed Lost Creek through Lost Canyon before descending into the town of Mancos on one end, and into the Dolores River, at Dolores, Colorado, on the other end.

For the first few years of its life, the RGS would have fallen under the definition of a "Bonanza Railroad" which meant it was an instant success, quickly generating more than enough money for the investors and covering costs spent to build the railroad, but their wealth would not last long due to the Silver Panic of 1893, which would permanently cripple the railroad's finances. 

The town had marks of the railroad all over it, when I was a kid. But Dolores in the 1970s had been separated from the rails just long enough to have an identity crisis, but not long enough to forget where it came from.

 

It was as Mark Twain said. “A railroad is like a lie, you have to keep building it to make it stand.”

 

 

Rio Grande Southern narrow gauge locomotive, engine number 20, in Dolores. 

 

Galloping Goose #5 was out in the town park over by the marshal’s office on the jail side of the town hall. If you were a skinny runt, you could squeeze into the cab through the loosely chained bus-like doors and pretend.

“Driving that train… Casey Jones you better watch your speed.”

 

The main highway in and out was called “Railroad Avenue.” Various buildings around town were labeled with left-over monikers such as the ‘track warehouse’ or the Rio Grande Southern Hotel. 

 

Corrugated tin, painted Rio Grande yellow, covered the outside of dozens of other buildings, and platforms, built to service freight from boxcars, still appeared in front of about a third of the businesses in town.

The boarded-up section house still stood between the Sixth and Seventh Street out on the highway.

 

Legions of cub scouts were still able to gather rail spikes, track hardware and telegraph insulators from the rotting ties and weathered poles in Lost Canyon and pack them over across the rusting Fourth Street Bridge back into Dolores. They would end up in a coffee can in someone’s garage or as tent stakes, or sold for scrap at Curt’s Trading Post.

 

I remember one cub scout trip where a Little League baseball team, the "Orioles" dominated the troop, and me, being in the minority, as a Yankee, had to eat my sack lunch with other members of minority in troop, Twins and Tigers.

 

The town of Dolores was born with the railroad in mind.

“In 1889 plans were made by Otto Mears for a railroad running through and around the western flanks of the San Juan Mountains from Ridgway in the north to Durango in the south,” according to the Mountain Studies Institute. “The railroad would tap the riches accumulating in the booming mountain mining towns of Telluride and Rico and the smaller mining camps between the two towns. The 162-mile railroad would, as well, link two segments of the Denver Rio Grande Railroad coming into Durango from the east and into Ouray from the north. The new railroad would be known as the Rio Grande Southern.”

 

But as we all know, it is important to be near where the action is.

The fledgling settlement of Big Bend, which had been located nearly two miles downriver from present-day Dolores since 1878, basically pulled up stakes and moved to where the rails from Durango entered the Dolores River Valley.

 

“In 1890 two Big Bend businessmen laid out the town site of Dolores at the mouth of Lost Canyon. The rest of the citizen’s of Big Bend soon followed. By the time the tracks reached Dolores on Thanksgiving Day, 1891, the community of Big Bend was no more,” according to Mountain Studies Institute. 

 

Born as a product of the rails, for 60 years Dolores lived in the shadow of the line, finally waving goodbye from the platform in 1951 when Rio Grande Southern closed and most of the track was pulled up and sold for scrap.

The RGS closed down and was dismantled in 1952–1953, but it is well known as one of the most rugged and iconic narrow-gauge mountain railroads in the history of Colorado. 

Out on the Ridge, when I was in high school, you were able to come up the connector to Haycamp Mesa Road in the bottom of the canyon and come up to a switch back around an old sawmill that we used to ride intertubes down in the winter in the snow, right near what then Walker's Sawmill. 

Tom Casper writes "When you mention Lost Canyon I hope you are referring to the part just east of Dolores; I drove to the 2nd Smalley (lumber mill site) twice and hiked to 1st Smalley once in the 80's. The other end of the canyon past Glencoe is a road open for car travel from Millwood. Part of it is on Indian land so is not always open to drive. [the spur is named for R.O. Smalley, who operated a sawmill south of Lost Canyon with a 1-car spur (called Smalley) at MP 109.0 in 1917. As was often the case with these small mills, it was moved north to MP 108.5 (near Lost Canyon), existing there from 1917 to (approx) 1920 with a 6-car spur.] 

Tom also refers to Road S, which turns into Forest Service Rd. 556 (and eventually becomes Haycamp Mesa Rd) When you turn on this road, it drops down grade to the bottom of the canyon and cuts the old roadbed. "Just past the grade and as the road starts back up the hill, there was a field road that could be driven with a high clearance vehicle that goes to the creek and would get you on the grade. I haven't been back there since the late 80's so don't know if it is fenced now or not. The trail to the grade was getting thin in a few spots from creek erosion so maybe by now all you can do is walk."

"Past Smalley, the grade crossed the creek and that is as far as one could drive. There are trestle bents and a few stringers left in the canyon when I hiked it plus lots of ties. In a couple of spots, there was stacked stone retaining walls to keep the grade from washing out."