pond, which was relatively easy, they proceeded to mine the old fashioned way. Much like the former copper miners, they mined out of a shaft and produced large amounts of turquoise.
Consider the time spent at high elevation, living in one-room log cabins. Yes, it was hard work, but the stories told of good times made it all worthwhile. Think about living just below tree line in the Rocky Mountains, living a spartan miners’ lifestyle, incredible times of struggle, trying to stay alive. Finally, the tremendous enrichment, both have probably forever been forgotten, maybe even lost.
Finally, for whatever reason, the decision to sell the mine came to pass and everyone thought the profit would be similar to the ‘luck of the Irish.’ Imagine the dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy in Papa’s mind. To his dismay, he found out when his brother originally filed the claim both names were not placed on the deed. Weren’t they supposed to be? No one can determine why, but unfortunately his brother placed only his own name on the deed. As a result, sadly Papa received absolutely nothing from the sale of the mine. Should we wonder if they ever spoke to each other again?
To bring this story to somewhat current times, my family, upon occasion would wander into the high forests of the San Juan Mountains and visit the place of the Villa Grove turquoise stone. It was always an exciting adventure to kick around in the mining camp, see the rugged cabins, just to explore and imagine what it was like to live and work at the mine.
By this means, various chunks of raw turquoise still exist. In fact a fairly large, four-inch, chunk was pulled out of a water wheel set-up on a diverted portion of the stream. What could have the water wheel been used for? Maybe it was used to grind floor or to cut wood or create electricity?
And the reason the chunk exists, is because a child’s hand was small enough to pass through a small opening in the side of the wheel. Imagine a pre-teenager investigating the wheel with wonder, trying to figure out the purpose of the old weathered wooden water wheel. Then imagine the delight on the face of that youngster as he showed everyone the gorgeous bluish nugget he had just found.
Another unique story about Papa, certainly during his travels he did many interesting things. He and Great Grandmother Comer had five children, Kenneth, Emily, Wayne, Keith and Clyde. Uncle Clyde is the last living. During Papa’s many adventures he came across six ruby arrowheads. He thoughtfully gave each of his children an arrowhead and also gave Grandmother Comer an arrowhead as well. A beautiful ring was made, complete with a silver leaf covering half of the arrow end of the point. The design was well conceived and remarkably striking.
No one was ever told exactly where the spear points came from, however… In those days people were known to take a t-shaped tool and search across Native American Indian graveyards. By pushing the tool down they wished to find a horizontal grave marker below. And even though, back then, it was frowned upon, actually illegal in the present, they would dig up the grave.
In one of these excavations apparently the ceremonial points were found, and so… As written, Papa was an interesting frontiersman, explorer, miner and father and it is told had a mischievous sense of humor.
As a child, these adventures could have been read in a comic book or been told by the Hardy Boys in an adventure novel, yet to have taken part in and heard of these old west adventures, what a sensational story, they are Wild West fairy tales to celebrate and always cherish.
Surprisingly, the concept of searching for a job comes to mind and somehow it has been discovered, to earn a good living, a business in the San Luis Valley requires the worker to become a farmer who raises barley for the Coors Brewery or else pours drinks for thirsty patrons in a bar. Quite naturally, it was youthful thinking.
One fine day, wandering into a small, filling station and having the good fortune to meet the owner, it was the first opportunity to have an actual hourly paying job. Ben was a big boned man, rather slow but certainly honest and ran a steady gas station. Also the station included a shop next-door, which unexpectedly fixed radiators. In memory, the radiator shop had an air driven lift to attach the pressurized leaking radiator to, which allowed the radiator to be dipped into a water basin. With air pressure in the radiator the mechanic was able to locate and soldier the leak.
Surprisingly, we also repaired semi-tractor radiators. If the station owner did not charge the customer for the repair, the amount might not be enough. Which did happen, and the station owner was terribly disappointed, but managed to recover the loss. In thinking about it, what a simple way to enhance a filing station, repair radiators as well!!
Another benefit of the job was the opportunity to meet a Hispanic co-worker. Sam definitely knew how to fix radiators and drove a beautiful car and had a ‘snortin’ Norton motorcycle. He was a good friend and even invited buddies to his friend’s evening gatherings.
Interestingly enough, Sam liked to drink occasionally and as a result walking might be tough, but once the wheels on the Norton began to turn; he somehow always made it home.
Although, the job provided experience and was a way to earn a fair living, it was important. It was important because the salary made it possible to buy an inexpensive used car, a ‘67’ Chevrolet Malibu two-speed automatic. Also the greatest benefit of the job was to get reduced gasoline prices.
And, sadly, the thought of re-applying to drafting school was no longer considered. Thoughts had changed, aspirations were different and becoming a draftsman, maybe even an architect, was no longer a dream. Admittedly, becoming an architect would have been a correct direction, which leaves a fond memory and, honestly, sadness…
But most surprising, with a driver’s license and a car, freedom reigned and with delight, Friday and Saturday evening became learning experiences, a completely free and fun time.
Living in a small southern Colorado town of Alamosa… a small southern Colorado town… Alamosa… And like most small towns there really was not to many things to do.
In the summer a young person, usually a young man, could head to the baseball diamonds to play Little League at the Alamosa Baseball Diamond. The learning curve was embarrassing. Running to catch a fly ball, only to slip in the mud as the other fielder managed to catch the ball. Life goes on.
And in the wintertime, when the river was frozen, ice-skating or playing hockey was the pastime. Please don’t lift the puck. And as we grew older a friend had a six-wheeled buggy, which spun donuts on the ice.
In warm months, for the fisherman, the river was a mysterious and wonderful fishing hole. Other fishermen know the patience required to catch a meandering river fish. Bushwhacking through the willows, trying not to snag the fishing pole on the weeds, to the riverside and sitting for hours to catch a few fish, that’s what it was about.
Also for those with bow and arrow, walking through the water and ‘herding’ suckers and catfish into a river side-cut, allowed a fairly good shot. Be careful; do not puncture the wading boots, otherwise nasty blisters appear.
And there is a large city park. Cole Park had a dirt drive around the grass and a zoo at the northern end. Out in the middle of the grass there is a WWII heavy-artillery gun emplacement, which can be dreamed on. And the south end of the park, by the City Library, is a narrow gauge train, which back then could be climbed on, including a coal car and a passenger car.
Imagine the adventures young people had in the Park and at these memorials. Great make-believe invasions and train robberies were drawn up and acted out. Many conquests and a few deaths occurred. What fun!
Rows of old narrow gauge cattle cars are found outside of town on abandoned tracks, and as commandos, the idea to blow them up was a form of youthful entertainment.
