Dolores River Valley had best local supply of water

1897-1900 ORIGINAL WOODEN HEADGATE - Montezuma Valley Irrigation Company System, Dolores, Montezuma County, CO Photos from Survey HAER CO-4

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

It was sort of mean-spirited — and I don't recall exactly where I first heard it — but when I was a kid growing up in Dolores, we often fired off as a juvenile joke or insult, "Flush the toilet, Cortez needs the water."  Like I said, mean-spirited, but not exactly untrue.

 "The Dolores River Valley had the best local supply of water, but had only limited land available for cultivation. The Montezuma Valley had arable land, but lacked a reliable water supply. Settlers moving into the Cortez area during the late 1870s survived using the extremely limited natural Mitchell Springs as a domestic water source," according to the Dolores Watershed Plan:  Appendix 2: History of Dolores River Water Use, the Dolores Project, the Rise of Environmental Consciousness Nationally and Locally, and Stakeholder Collaboration to Promote Conservation of Lower Dolores River Natural Resources.

Settlers in the area began to fix this situation with late 19th century technology. First, a one mile long tunnel, started in 1886 and completed by 1889, brought water into the Montezuma Valley for irrigation. 

"Cortez was laid out by the same firm that constructed the tunnel to support land sales by providing the necessary domestic water supply. By July, 1890, a three-mile long flume was bringing Dolores River water to Cortez. By 1886, a second effort had begun to bring water to Montezuma Valley through a canal at the Great Cut, supplying water to the north and western parts of the Valley," says the Water Plan history.

"These undertakings experienced a series of changes in ownership, but finally were combined under Montezuma Valley Irrigation Company (MVIC) by 1920." 

"There was tremendous outside investor interest in westward expansion of European settlement in the U.S. In southwest Colorado, as in other western areas, early water development was often funded by investors from the eastern United States and Europe looking for profit. The investors commonly sold bonds or shares in a venture to raise the money necessary to make large
capital improvements, such as the Great Cut and the original MVIC tunnel. Such financing was also common in mining and land development ventures. Water and land were often linked, as in the Montezuma Valley. Outside companies generally proved unsuccessful, however, demonstrating that local control of water and land was necessary for their profitable and beneficial use." 

Four exploratory geological surveys were conducted shortly after the Civil War in this area by Hayden, King, Powell and Wheeler. The Hayden survey was conducted from 1873 through 1876, with maps published in 1877. It mapped all of Colorado’s drainages, an important first step to water development. Locally, survey maps showed the Dolores Plateau and the Ute
Indian Reservation across western Colorado, with an area carved out for the mineral rich San Juan Mountains. The closest settlement was Animas City, near present day Durango, Silverton and other mining settlements. The maps show Pegasus Springs, near Cortez, but not the upstream Mitchell Springs that supplied the first water to Cortez. The map also shows the Old Spanish trail heading northwesterly directly through ruins overlooking the Dolores River, possibly Escalante Ruins."

"Settlement of the Montezuma Valley was made possible in the 1880s with the construction of the irrigation system. Organized by Cames W. Kanna, the complex series of tunnel (5,400 foot long), "Great Cut," headgates, and diversion dams channeled water from the Dolores River through a steep divide. The system constitutes one of the earliest large scale, privately funded and continuously operating irrigation projects in the Southwest," says Historic American Buildings Survey/Historic American Engineering Record/Historic American Landscapes Survey.

 

1950 LOWER END OF TUNNEL - Montezuma Valley Irrigation Company System, Dolores, Montezuma County, CO Photo from Survey HAER CO-4 

1951 LOWER END OF MORTOM FLUME - Montezuma Valley Irrigation Company System, Dolores, Montezuma County, CO Photo from Survey HAER CO-4 

1951 MORTON FLUME - Montezuma Valley Irrigation Company System, Dolores, Montezuma County, CO Photo from Survey HAER CO-4 

No date CONCRETE HEADGATE - Montezuma Valley Irrigation Company System, Dolores, Montezuma County, CO Photo from Survey HAER CO-4

1951 ALKALI SIPHON - Montezuma Valley Irrigation Company System, Dolores, Montezuma County, CO Photo from Survey HAER CO-4

No date MORTON FLUME - Montezuma Valley Irrigation Company System, Dolores, Montezuma County, CO Photo from Survey HAER CO-4

Things of the past ... May 15, 2023

 

Thing of the past ...

Damon Runyon & Jim Wong

Jim Wong at Denver Press Club

Date: 1910-1920

At the Denver (Colorado) Press Club, author Damon Runyon wears a suit and holds a cigar. Jim Wong, the night porter at the Club, sits beside him. Portraits hang on the interior wall in the background.

Digital Version Created From Denver Press Club.

Denver Public Library Special Collections

 

Thing of the past ...

Engine Co. 2

Date: 1899

Firemen pose with equipment by the firehouse in Rico, Dolores County, Colorado. They are identified as: (l to r) "Schoot, Troy, Siebert, Chief Dulmager ?, Scherer, Goodman; (standing) - Ford, Robert Dulmager?, Pemberton, and Reyman.

Digital Version Created From: Capt. Louis Goodman, Engine No. 21.

Related Material Image File: ZZR710013148

Notes: Identification hand-written on back of photoprint. Title hand-written on front of photoprint.

Denver Public Library Special Collections.

 

Thing of the past ..

Dolores County organized March 14, 1881

Creator: Harber, William G.

Date: [1910-1920?]

Dolores County Court House in Rico, Dolores County, Colorado; shows brick and stone building with arched entry and tower, dormers, and incised letters: "Court House."

Title and: "(Colo. State Session laws 1881, p92)" penciled on back of photoprint. Denver Public Library Special Collections.

Thing of the past ...

With best wishes from Jane

Creator: Duncan, Geoffrey.

Date: 1909 September 4

Studio portrait of Jane Bernoudy, an actress and trick roper born in New Castle, Colorado. She wears cowgirl clothes, spurs, boots, an embroidered pouch, leather gauntlets, and a cowboy hat.

Photographer's byline printed on back of cabinet card with ornate flourishes and studio hours. Title inked on cabinet card.

Denver Public Library Special Collections

 

Thing of the past ...

Off for the ruins at Cortez, Colo.

Date: [1890-1900]

Men and women sit in horse drawn covered wagons in Cortez (Montezuma County) Colorado, by the Montezuma County Courthouse, a stone building with a cornice.

Denver Public Library Special Collections.

 

 

Thing of the past ...

Protesters prepare for nuclear disarmament march

Creator: Groer, Steve

Date: May 10, 1984

Donor: Rocky Mountain News

Eric Wright [left] and Pat Gilmore make final adjustments on the Mother Earth Mobile, a Volkswagen covered by a statue at Governors Park (at the intersection of Seventh Street and Pennsylvania Street). The Mother Earth Mobile was used in the Mother's Day Peace March by the Women's Action for Nuclear Disarmament (WAND). Demonstrators marched the mobile to the Colorado State Capitol. The mobile has a sign that reads: "Mother Earth."

Original Material Found in Collection: Rocky Mountain News records.

 

 

Thing of the past ...

Dolores, stages for the San Juan

Creator: Jackson, William Henry, 1843-1942

Date: [1892-1893?]

Stagecoaches and passengers on the main street in Dolores (Montezuma County), Colorado. A man on horseback packs a rifle, gold pan, and shovel. Men stand in front of a storefront with a sign that reads: "J.J. Harris & Co."

at Dolores" penciled on photoprint binding. Attribution to Jackson based on inclusion in bound W. H. Jackson sample album. Condition: edges worn, discolored. Hand-lettered title reproduced in print. Mounted on verso of album page: WHJ-1037. Number: "[4]244" hand lettered on negative and reproduced on print. W. H. Jackson sample album. Colorado Book V. no. 94. History Colorado.

 

Thing of the past ...

Donated to the Denver Public Library by the Rocky Mountain News.

Caption: Photo by Harry M. Rhoads President Woodrow Wilson sits surrounded by a group of men at the Denver Press Club, Denver, Colorado. Date September 25, 1919.

MANDATORY CREDIT: Denver Public Library/The Harry M. Rhoads Photograph Collection

President Woodrow Wilson poses with a group at the Denver Press Club in 1919.

Other descriptive information: Photo by Harry M. Rhoads President Woodrow Wilson sits surrounded by a group of men at the Denver Press Club, Denver, Colorado. Date September 25, 1919. MUST CREDIT: Colorado Historical Museum/The Harry M. Rhoads Photograph Collection

 

Thing of the past ...

Dolores, Colo.

Date: [1890-1900]

Dolores (Montezuma County), Colorado; shows a Rio Grande Southern Railroad train, schoolhouse, and wooden buildings on a main street.

Title hand written on album page.

Denver Public Library Special Collections.

 

Thing of the past ...

RGS narrow gauge motor car number 6

Rio Grande Southern narrow gauge motor car number 6

Creator Richardson, Robert W.

Date: 1951

Head on; stub switch in foreground; Work Goose. (The Work Goose never carried passengers or freight. It was used in maintenance of way service.) Photographed: Dolores, Colorado, 1951.

Denver Public Library Special Collections

 

 

Thing of the past ...

Silver Dollar Tabor

Date: 1910, August 29

Rose Mary Silver Dollar Tabor shaking hands with President Roosevelt in Leadville, Lake County, Colorado.

Deterioration on original reproduced in copy photoprint. Formerly F10905. Title and additional information penciled on back of photoprint. Written on the back of the image, "Silver Dollar Tabor, daughter of Senator H. A. W. Tabor being presented to President Roosevelt by Sheriff Alexander Nisbet and Senator Irby, President of the Press Club at the chuck dinner given by the Press Club, August 29, 1910."

Denver Public Library Special Collections.

 

Thing of the past ...

Victory Theater at night

Creator: Whitworth, John.

Date: 1969 July 27

Night view of the Victory Theater in Denver, Colorado; neon signs and marquee read: "Victory, Girls, Fun For Adults Only, Girlesque, Acapulco Uncensored, Big Sin City, Spicy Films," and "Discount Credit Jewelers."

Format of Original Material: 1 photoprint : black-and-white ; 25 x 14 cm (10 x 6 in.)

Type of Material: Night photographs; Photographic prints; Black & white photographs.

Denver Public Library Special Collections

George L. Beam photos of Cortez, 1910 to 1915

 Thing of the past ...

Cortez, Colorado
Creator: Beam, George L. (George Lytle), 1868-1935.
Frame or brick houses and commercial buildings in Cortez (Montezuma County), Colorado. Shows fenced yards with cultivated gardens, outhouses, sheds, and timber piles near commercial buildings with signs that read: "Journal Building" and "Charles Duff, General Merchandise." A woman stands in a back yard beside a hose and sprinkler in a garden. Shows the two story stone Montezuma State Bank, a horse-drawn carriage in a road and Sleeping Ute Mountain in the distance.
Date: [between 1910 and 1915?]
History Colorado, Original photographs collection

Thing of the past ...
Cortez, Colorado
Creator(s): Beam, George L. (George Lytle), 1868-1935.
Main Street in Cortez (Montezuma County), Colorado; shows men, a horse drawn wagon, an automobile, boardwalks, storefronts, ashlar stone office buildings with entablature and balustrades, and signs: "Bozeman Realty Company," "Hays & Aton Wall Paper, Varnishes, and Decorating," "Meat Market," "Case Rooming House," and "First National Bank."
Date: [between 1910 and 1915?]

Notes: History Colorado.; Condition: stained.; Handwritten on envelope: "C-Cortez"  

Thing of the past ... Cortez - street fair Street in Cortez (Montezuma County), Colorado; shows people and booths with canvas canopies. Ashlar stone office buildings and storefronts have signs: "Pool Hall," "Montezuma Valley National Bank," "The Valley Supply Co.," and "Bozeman Garage." Women and boys are in shade by a fire hydrant; an automobile is in the foreground. Date: [between 1910 and 1920?] History Colorado, Denver and Rio Grande collection

World of difference between now, then, here, there

Cortez in the late 1960s, early 1970s

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

“Was it really that different?” the kid asked.

“As I remember it, things have changed a great deal,” I told him.

“In those days, in Cortez, you could still park diagonal on Main Street. There was parking meters that looked a lot like the ones Paul Newman was cutting off with a pipe cutter at the base in the opening scenes of Cool Hand Luke.”

The boy was fascinated, so I continued.

“No Wal-Mart, not even K-Mart yet, but the stores up and down Main Street did a pretty good business. Right there on the corner was a bakery that would drive you crazy with the smell of yeasty, glazed doughnuts as you pulled into park. You could smell them all the way down in front of J.C. Penney’s, and maybe farther.”

I thought about how Penney’s seemed to almost be the center of things then.

“Penney’s was a big stone-faced, two-story building with a whole lot of everything in there at the time. Clothes for man, woman and child. One whole side had endless bolts of cloth, sewing good and patterns. Clothes upstairs on the balcony, shoes toward the back, under the balcony, and they even had vinyl records near the register station in the center. I remember buying a copy of Frampton Comes Alive, back then.”

But down past the bakery, across one street, past the little café, Woolworth sold records too. The “Dime Store” kept them in a sectioned off area with their black light posters, lava lamps, incense burners, etc…

“But at the ‘Dime Store’ the big draw was the animals toward the back, mice, hamsters, fish, an occasional snake … fascinating to me, at the time. It is kind of fuzzy, but in early memories, I think the fountain and lunch counter was still operating then,” I remembered.

They had toys, for sure, rubber snakes, plastic armies, and a helium tank. Take a shot and you talk like Donald Duck, as evidenced by the high school clerks that filled the child’s balloons.

But that wasn’t the only place for toys. Across the street and down a block or two on the corner was the old V & G Variety Store. Always an interesting place, though I guess I was a little buffaloed by cigar-smoking fellow that ran it at the time. “You break it, you buy it,” he warned once as I was roughhousing with a friend in the aisle.

A little farther down, across another side street, the Toggery, for more clothes, or if of a Western bent, maybe Nuway for boots, shoes, jeans, maybe even a saddle. The two sporting good stores across Main Street from each other, later were always interesting. Baseball gloves, hunting rifles, skis, shotguns and knifes. Sometimes, I felt like I died and went to survivalist heaven.

On the streets near there were the banks, the Fiesta Movie Theatre (only one screen, then), Court House and much more. It seemed to be a lively place then, though I assume it still is.

“Circling around back to where we parked back then, I also recall the worn, wooden floors of the bookstore,” I told the kid. “Incense was always burning in there too, while you browsed through the latest Doc Savage serials and Edgar Rice Burroughs’s Land that Time Forgot and Tarzan stories. I loved the place,” I said.

“But I guess, I sort miss it all.”

There is something in the pang of change, like we leave behind a part of ourselves. “Was it really that different?”

I thought again of the boy’s question. I felt the pang, and a part of me answered.

“Yes, I guess it was.”

 ###

Work, live and die hard. Go to hell.

Basically, in the end, it is “the road’s” entire fault.

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

I always found it interesting that the “highway to hell” ran through Cortez and on into Utah, with stops at Pleasant View and Cahone. After all, as Carl Sandburg wrote, “To work hard, to live hard, and to die hard, and then to go to hell after all, would be too damned hard.”
But I guess the politicians and the sign makers fixed it for us.
In 2003, on May 31, the Old 666, “the mark of the beast’ got its brand altered and became Highway 491.
“Whereas, the living near the road already live under the cloud of opprobrium created by having a road that many believe is cursed running near their homes and through their homeland; and
“Whereas, the number “666” carries the stigma of being the mark of the beast, the mark of the devil, which was described in the book of Revelations in the Bible; and
“Whereas, there are people who refuse to travel the road, not because of the issues of safety, but because of the fear that the devil controls events along United States Route 666; and
“Whereas, the economy of the area is greatly depressed when compared with many parts of the United States, and the infamy brought by the inopportune naming of the road will only make development in the area more difficult,” read the Joint Memorial Resolutions put forth first by the New Mexico State Highway and Transportation Department and later joined by Colorado and Utah transportation officials in recommending the name change.
But as Richard Weingroff, of the Office of Infrastructure, noted in a 2003 article about why it was number 666 in the first place,
“Despite the biblical reference and the image U.S. 666 has gained over years, the gematria calculation had nothing to do with the numbering of the route. Boring though it may be to contemplate, the route was simply the sixth branch of U.S. 66 in early August 1926, and retained that number when U.S. 466 was dropped a few weeks later,” said Weingroff.
That bit of truth and knowledge did little, however, to stop the tales of the strange and the twisted on the remote stretch of blacktop winding its way through multiple states.
Mad truckers, packs of demon dogs, and even a frail girl in a long nightgown that appears out of nowhere, are just some of the stories associated with “Triple 6” according to Linda Dunning, in a “Haunted Utah” piece which she wrote in 2003. Not to mention the occasional “Skinwalker.”
“There are Native American tales of unwanted passengers appearing in the backseat of the car along such stretches of highway,” writes Dunning. The evil shape shifter may take the form of a crow, or a coyote or other animals.
Then, of course, there is the movie. The 2001 straight-to-video release by Lions Gate Home Entertainment titled simply “Route 666,” has Lou Diamond Phillips complicating his job protecting a mob informant by heading down a mysterious highway with evil prison gang zombies in chase, as well as wicked mobsters. Basically, in the end, it is “the road’s” entire fault. But the Joshua Trees and the dialog makes you wonder if the writers and the directors (and maybe even the actors) fell in a Peyote patch out in there in the process of filming.
The name change brought a ton of attention nationally and internationally.
A June 2003 article in the New York Times by Jodi Wilgoren, told the story of how the Anasazi Restaurant and Lounge had its address altered 15 years before the highway took the treatment.
“June Merrett (it is really Merritt, even the ‘Gray Lady of Journalism’ can jack up the spelling of a name every so often) who owned the Anasazi then, decided that the address of her establishment was unacceptable. As though it wasn't inauspicious enough to be stuck squarely on U.S. Route 666, the building's number was also 666. So along with adopting the local name of the road as it crosses through town -- Broadway -- she convinced officials at City Hall to switch the address of the Anasazi to 640.”
When the highway officially dropped the 666 designations at the end of May in 2003, the signs for “New 491 – Old 666” as well as anything with the “666” became quite the collector’s item fetching admirable pricing on E-Bay.
Fanciers of the signage made it difficult to keep the route marked. People were running over them with their cars, taking the chain saw or the cutting torch to them, and what have you.
That reminds me of conversation related to the absence of signage that I overheard in Cortez shortly after the highway name changed.
“Is that the Highway to Hell over there?
“No, now it’s just the road to Dove Creek.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Good point.”
###

What's your name, little town?

When you are a kid, you don't always think about where a names come from. As you grow older, you begin to wonder.

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Art Modell was the longtime owner of the Cleveland Browns who later moved them to Baltimore where they became the Ravens. The Browns name resurfaced later in Cleveland. Modell, I think, had a healthy attitude about history, and names, and understatement.
"I have a great legacy, tarnished somewhat by the move."
Folks in Cleveland hated him for the moving the team, especially considering that he said on several occasions he would never do such a thing. As a result, he will forever be considered "persona non grata" in that town. So far, it has probably kept him out of the NFL Hall of Fame.
In news this week (February 2015), an Ohio man who urinated on the grave of Art Modell won’t be going to jail, after all.
According to Alison Knezevich of the Baltimore Sun, charges have been dropped against 62-year-old Paul Serbu, who videotaped himself appearing to empty a catheter from the bottom of his pants leg with a tube onto Modell’s grave. When you are a kid, you don't always think about where a names come from. As you grow older, you begin to wonder.
When I was growing up in southwestern Colorado, I might have heard once or twice that Egnar was really RANGE spelled backwards. I do remember they weren't that strong in basketball. The story is that they were named that way to avoid conflict with a post office somewhere that was already designated "Range." But of course, I didn't remember.
According to George R. Eicher's 1977 book, "Colorado Place Names," Montezuma County, which served as my old stomping grounds, was named when it was established in 1889 for the famous chief of the Aztecs whom Cortez conquered.
"The prehistoric dwellings in Montezuma County were thought to have been built by the Aztecs," then according to Eicher. And the county was carved out of a portion of La Plata County. Cortez, with its similar naming theme, is the county seat established about 1886, and was named by homesteader James W. Hanna, who sold the the site to the Montezuma Land & Development Company.
La Plata County, by contrast is Spanish for "silver." and it was carved out of portions of Conejos and Lake Counties. The Spaniards who arrived there in the 1700's and pulled a fair amount of said material out the mountains, labeled those mountains and the river La Plata and the county later reflected that legacy.
Other Spanish names pop up here and there in that country, but they are not always linked to the early Spanish visitors. Cahone, for example, is derivative of the Spanish word cajon and means 'little box.' Bert Ballenger, the first postmaster, allegedly came up with that one in reference to a nearby box canyon. And Arriola is said to have been named for an early Spanish military man, but the details of that have been difficult to trace.
Mancos, in Spanish means roughly "one-handed," "faulty" or "crippled" and we used to have a lot of fun with that back in high school when we played football against those yahoos. To add insult to injury, their mascot was the "bluejays."
Dove Creek, another local rival, apparently got its label from an early freighter in the area that noticed an uncommon amount of the wild birds in the area. They had enough awareness to choose a more robust mascot in the form of 'bulldogs,' but we often argued that was descriptive of their cheerleaders. They said the same, or worse, about us, I am sure.
Bayfield, of the other hand, was little larger town, and picked up its name from founder W.A. Bay. It was established in 1886, and it was originally called Los Pinos. Too bad that didn't survive. We could have had some fun with a name such as that. Instead, we were stuck wondering about the wolverines, that, as far as I know, have never been documented as being in Colorado.
Pagosa Springs, is Ute derived, and means "healing waters." How they came up with "pirates" for a mascot, beats the heck out of me.
Rico, of course, means "rich." In 1879, when Col. J.C. Haggerty discovered extremely rich silver ore there, they called the place Carbon City, Carbonville, Lead City, Dolores City and a few other cuss words. A meeting called to settle the issue resulted in William Weston's suggestion of the Spanish word for rich and the name stuck.
Other names, not of Spanish origin, cropped up here in there in that area. Lewis, for example, was named for the original owner, W.R. Lewis, who bought the property in 1909. And Lebanon, which was built in dense grove of cedar trees, as was the Biblical Lebanon, got its moniker from the Railway Building and Loan Co. of Pueblo when it was established in 1908. Stoner, named for the creek that dumps into Dolores River there, had much to do with the rocks up stream, but has been called that at least since 1888.
Which brings me to the town of Dolores, home of the bears. Originally down river about a mile and half, and called "Big Bend" for the river's turn to the north -- the town was relocated, and renamed, when the Rio Grande Southern Railroad arrived in 1890s.
Dolores seemed to be a natural choice for a river town. The town, the county upriver, and several other local landmarks owe their names to group of Franciscan Padres. In 1776, the same year of the founding of the United States, Father Silvestre Velez de Escalante, on his way from Santa Fe to Monterey, came upon the river close to where the town is now. He named the stream Rio de Nuestra Senora de las Dolores or "River of Our Lady of Sorrows." Poetic, I think.
###

Always a double feature

Company  distributed ads to 2,500 theaters nationwide and they were seen by about 10 million people every week

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

In an almost-forgotten time, my family would all pile into the sky blue and white Chevy 2 (precursor to the Nova), armed with blankets and pillows, and make a beeline to the Arroyo Drive-In Theatre near Cortez. Always a double-feature, usually including a John Wayne film, and frequently $1 a car -- my parents and a carload of kids would arrive before sundown to get a tolerable parking spot. The kids would utilize the playground equipment directly in front of the big screen until the countdown clock appeared and we realized we only had three minutes to run to the snack bar for one of those “Orange Balls” -- a round orange plastic container with a green top with a straw in it, filled with orange soda.
That countdown clock, and most of the other snack bar reminders were produced at Alexander Film Company at its 18 acre “campus” on Nevada Avenue in the north end of Colorado Springs.
“Alexander had a hand in many, if not most, of the intermission announcements clips that drive-in fans remember so fondly – not to mention the countdown clocks that let moviegoers know when the film was due to start, the warnings to remove speakers before driving away, the request that they dim their lights until exiting the theater,” wrote Mark Wolfe in the most recent edition of “Colorado Heritage,” produced by the Colorado Historical Society.
“At the company’s peak in the mid-1950s, as many as 2,700 advertisers were using Alexander’s products. The company distributed the ads to 2,500 theaters nationwide, where they were seen by about 10 million people every week,” says Wolfe.
Today Alexander Film Company exists as Alexander Film and Video Services.
“Over the last couple of decades our primary business has been with film and tape transfers, duplications, and replications. But we have recently resurrected our video production department with the hire of an award winning production team and the purchase of new state-of-the-art equipment,” according to the surviving company’s web site.
The company employed 300 people in 1928 when they built offices at 3200 N. Nevada and many of the other buildings on the 18-acre site. They moved the business from an Englewood site that they outgrew and the two Alexander brothers, J. Don and Don M. Alexander, even built their own airplanes to control the costs of shipping the trailer films from the centralized location here in the Springs. One of their aircraft is on display at the Wings Over the Rockies Air and Space Museum in Denver.
“In its heyday, Alexander Film Company's lot hosted 32 full size motion picture sets, modern film and audio laboratories, a sound recording department, an art department capable of creating cartoon animation, stop motion, backgrounds and other special movie effects, an engineering department and a full service print shop,” according to Alexander Film and Video Service, the surviving company.
“To run this massive complex Alexander employed over 600 people locally and the annual payroll exceeded $2.5 million. A client list included a "who's who" of the nation's leading manufacturers including General Motors, Ford, U.S. Rubber, Philco, and Seven-Up. Regional offices were established in Dallas, New York, Chicago, San Francisco and Los Angeles.”.
“The late 1950's saw the remarkable collapse of Alexander Film Co. through the advent of television and the closing of many local theaters throughout the country. What dealt the most crippling blow; however, was the fact that Alexander was a non-union shop which caused them to be "blacklisted" by industry professionals making it impossible for national advertisers to use Alexander produced commercials,” according to company information.
“AFCO was a great place to work during the time I was there,” recalled former employee Sebastian Speranza in article posted on www.driveinworkshop.com. “People were treated kindly and with respect and were really friendly towards one another. I guess starting in the late ‘60s and thereon, things started going downhill … Yes, the drop in drive-ins and TV accounted for the decent of AFCO, but also so many different owners and changes in attitudes and the politics also contributed to its downhill slide. Sad.”
The Arroyo Drive-In closed in 1988 and screen itself was removed in the mid-1990s. The Chevy 2 has been restored by a collector and I still like orange soda and John Wayne movies.
###

Crazed sort of meanness

It is easy to get lost and stay lost out there

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Some places in this world suffer from a crazed sort of meanness – violence, if you will. I have felt it in some parts of Nebraska, Nevada, areas in California, but maybe only in one locale in Colorado.
To put a name to it -- we might call it many things.
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 and Utah. It is remote, water-challenged, and easy to get lost and stay lost there. Even the rivers sometimes run the wrong way.
I, along with a lot of others, thought of that crazed meanness the day Dale Claxton was murdered.
On May 29, 1998 Cortez police officer Claxton was following a water truck that turned out later to be stolen. He had already radioed for backup when the truck pulled over on the edge of city limits and at least one of the three men inside jumped out with a SKS 7.62 mm assault rifle and began firing, eventually unloading the 30 round clip at least once into the squad car and Claxton. The officer was hit 18 times.
The three men immediately ditched the water truck and acquired by gunpoint a flatbed truck leading law enforcement on an intense chase and series of gun battles out into the canyon and mesa country along the Colorado and Utah border.
Before the rampage had ended, two Montezuma County deputies had been wounded, over 300 officers from four states and the National Guard had enlisted in the chase and search.
Police eventually identified three suspects that they were looking for.
The residence of Alan Pilon, Jason Wayne McVean and Robert Mathew Mason yielded evidence the three had practiced as weekend warriors and survivalists in nearby areas. Pilon actually grew up not too far from there, near the town of Dove Creek, Colorado.
In June, another shooting occurred involving a San Juan County, Utah, deputy Kelly Bradford, who was shot twice responding to reports of shots being fired at social worker in a remote Utah area. A new manhunt ensued and Robert Mathew Mason’s body was eventually found in that area, apparently dead from a self-inflicted gun shot, administered shortly after the exchange with Bradford. Alan Pilon’s body was discovered nearly 16 months later by a group of hunters in the same general area on the Colorado side of the border.
Longtime cowboy Eric Bayles in San Juan County, Utah finally discovered Jason Wayne McVean’s body, on June 10, 2007.
“Teams of deputies and police officers searched the area and found a rusted AK-47 rifle with magazines holding about 500 rounds of ammunition, five pipe bombs, several bottles with water still in them, some survival food, a jacket, a hat, camouflage gear, amber-colored glasses, a watch that stopped at 6:35 on May 30, 1998 and most importantly, parts of a human skeleton including pieces of a skull and a jawbone with teeth,” according to Hal Mansfield in a June, 2007, article for Crime Magazine.
“The remains turned out to be those of Jason Wayne McVean, one of three fugitives sought for the murder of Cortez, Colo. Police Officer Dale Claxton,” wrote Mansfield.
Still, no one really knows what kind of crazed meanness possessed the three outlaws who killed Officer Claxton. I guess the answers are like everything else out there in the dry, wind-swept canyons, mesas and draws. As I think I mentioned, it is easy to get lost and stay lost out there.
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