Barney McLean

Stories and Poems of Past Memories Articles

Like Father Like Son
Like Father Like Son

The Wichita Millers lived in one of those lovely old homes, blessed with fine trees lining the streets, large shady yards, and an easy arrangement within, that made family or visitors feel welcome. Three stories and a basement allowed plenty of space for a family of six.  The roomy dining area looked out onto the grassy backyard and flower garden, but the windows were rather small.

About this time, the notion of picture windows came into being. C.D. thought about this for a spell; good idea!  I want more light and a view.  Following through on the idea, he fetched his sledge hammer one afternoon and with a mighty wallop, he broke through the dining room wall! Presto....a larger scene. It took a while to trim out the whole, but the end result was totally satisfying.

This "grab the bull by the horns" attitude was passed through to Dwight.  We had moved into a nice modular home in December 1979.  A few years later, we decided we needed a garage; the solution was to lift the house and build a lower floor beneath it.

Dwight, his Uncle Ed, and I drove to the ski area where some used oak railroad ties had been cast aside.  We gathered a large number of these (Have you ever tried hefting a tie?) and we hauled them home.  Dwight had four extra-powerful jacks that he'd used previously to lift houseboats down at Lake Powell.  After undoing all the foundation bolts, we started lifting, first one end, then another, building increasingly high cross-hatch type supports near each corner as we raised the house higher and higher.

We lived there the entire time this was going on and the house shook with our every step. By the grace of God, no huge winds came up during the whole process.  Each morning, Dwight disconnected the water and the sewer lines. Each evening, he reconnected everything.

When we were up about eight feet, Dwight and his uncle built stud walls and stood the first wall beneath one side of the house.  Would you believe that, thanks to the irregular ties, the house was skewed about six inches out of alignment?  Troubles.  Now what?

Dwight decided that he would take his CAT and carefully push the house back into line, readjusting the braces as he went.  That was the day I chose to go to Denver for supplies, knowing full well that when I returned, my piano and good china would be sitting in Ranch Creek.  But no.  When I got back, all four stud walls were securely in place and the upper floor was resting safely on top.  Was it the luck of dumb dumbs? Brilliance?  Who knows?

Well, in order to go downstairs, we had a fairly steep stairway.  We had looked at our various options for less steep stairs, but one would have ended up in the middle of the garage and the other would have had to start in our bedroom.  Not good choices.  Thus it was steep.  Somebody accused us of having the only carpeted ladder in the county.  It was also rather dark.

One Thanksgiving Day when the family was gathered round, Dwight got the brilliant idea to cut an opening in the upper section of the wall at the top of the stairs, to make it lighter.  The family agreed that this was a great idea and they were excited to see how this was accomplished.

Out came the skill saw, bursts of sawdust flew into my nice clean living room and onto my counters where I was trying to prepare a festive dinner.  I tried to shield the food from sawdust.  I tripped over the cord while setting the table. I scrambled over scrap wood trying to reach pans and dishes.

But the family loved it.  By supper time, a rough hole definitely brought more light, and amazingly, we were still married!

My Granby, Little Old Log Church
My Granby, Little Old Log Church

Contributed by Vera "Stathos" Shay, Kremmling...Granby resident 1930-1945

From what I hear

It is very near

To be torn away

The little church of my childhood day

The most beautiful to see

That can ever be

Inside and out

Without a doubt

Built of log so fine

In the style of old time

In my own little chair

Every Sunday I was there

The chime of its bell

For miles around

Heard its wonderful sound

For a while our school

We didn't fit

So in our church were classes

For a bit

Beside our church on the hill

We sledded for a thrill

That poor little church

They moved it around

All over town

Proudly it's hung together

In all kinds of weather

Every time I go to Granby town

I look around to find

And have a look

At my log church for my eyes'

Memory book

Now they say it's got to go

Pray it won't be so

All of you Granby folk

Louder you should have spoke

To save that church with its

Memories and history

For there could never be

Anything that would compare

Built or put there

With my magnificent, beautiful

Childhood Granby log church

Find it in your hearts

To never let it be torn apart.

 

April 2005

 

 

Next stop - Kremmling
Next stop - Kremmling

The rails reached Kremmling town
The train tracks were all lain down
That wonderful, exciting day from far and near
Were there to see and hear click-clack
Of the train coming down the track
Bringing hope, dreams and plans far and
Their way
From that 1906 June day
On July 4th a Kremmling Day that never again
Could be so exciting and fun as it was then
Celebrating the trains and the tracks
The eight or nine saloons were filled to the max
Guests came on the train from the City to join in
With all of them
A big fish fry, Bar-B-Que of elk and antelope
Greased pole to climb, games and prizes
A bucking horse contest
The day was the best
A way back in time
That train was by travel line
I could tell tales to you
Of exciting adventures or tow
And then-when
It was called the "Moffat Road"
Still is to me
Always will be

 

Sir Edmund Hillary visits Grand County
Sir Edmund Hillary visits Grand County

The Middle Park Times announced with excitement: Sir Edmund Hillary is going to visit Grand County!  The paper reviewed his famous climb up Everest in 1953 at age 33, his New Zealand background, his other well-known exploits; his picture was highlighted on the page with his story.  This was news of great interest to the area citizens, for there was little in the way of unusual happenings as a rule.

Dwight Miller had wandered down to the Hideaway Park Post Office one summer afternoon, when a man, asking for information, stopped him.  "Can you tell me where the Tabernash Campground is?"  Dwight took one look at him and recognized the long, somewhat horsey-looking face.  The chap's accent sounded British to Dwight, too.  "Are you Sir Edmund Hillary," he asked?

"Why yes, I am," answered Sir Edmund.  "We're traveling through this area and want to spend the night."

For a moment Dwight considered asking him and his party to stay at Miller's Idlewild Inn that night, but he thought probably the group really preferred being alone to enjoy the countryside, rather than having to deal with crowds.  He was aware that the climber was a very shy, modest man.  So he told Hillary to drive about six miles on down Highway 40, through Fraser and Tabernash; then follow the road to the top of Red Dirt Hill.  The campground he wanted was on the right side of the road, just before it descended toward Granby.  Close by, on the left side of the highway, Hillary would see a large meadow, in which were dairy cows, belonging to the Acord Dairy, I believe.  "The campground is set among the pines with just a few camp sites, so you shouldn't be disturbed," Dwight said.

Sir Edmund thanked Dwight and the two of them chatted a bit more.  "We just came over Berthoud Pass a bit ago; in fact we ate lunch there.  Something that really puzzles me is that I see you Americans just eating lunch while sitting in your cars or on your tailgates; and yet, if you were to take your lunch and walk about 100 feet, you would have all the valleys before you and never know that you that you were even near another person!"

"That's true," said Dwight.  "I think that Americans are always in a hurry.  They don't want to take time to walk a few feet.  It's just eat and run."

"Well, it amazes me.  You live in such beautiful country."

They said goodbye then and the Hillarys drove on down to the campground.  Dwight was so very pleased to have had this chance to meet him.

This campground was shut down some years later when the U.S. Forest Service traded that land to the Silver Creek group for some other property, so that Silver Creek could have a convenient road into their development.  The campground was located just beyond the turn in to Snow Mountain Ranch, as one heads west.  A few site remnants can still be seen there.

Sounds of Christmas
Sounds of Christmas

Contributed by Vera "Stathos" Shay, Kremmling

 

A blast from the past

A frosty night in December

A wonderful time to remember

Fun on a hay ride

My husband at my side

Friends young and old

Dressed for the cold

A pickup truck

Praying it wouldn't get stuck

Snuggled together in the sled of hay

We were on our way

Our hearts and voices filled with song

From our Christmas caroling

Kremmling did ring

Everyone could hear

Us ringing Merry Christmas cheer.

 

The Middle Park Band and the Music Man
The Middle Park Band and the Music Man

 The Middle Park High School band wasn’t much to brag about, and that’s a fact.  Several members were very capable young musicians, however. For instance, Stuart played a hot set of drums that set people’s feet to tapping and hands to clapping.  Debbie was an excellent trombonist, good enough so that one year, she was invited to march with Pierre Laval’s All American High School Band in the Rose Parade!  And Jack was right behind her in skill.  Martha led the flutes beautifully, and there were Alan, Bert, Roxanne, Carolyn, and others.  But the group never seemed to coalesce into a single playing unit.
 
Then a Music Man came to the school. Wes Robbins was a showman; he was enthusiastic; he had flare; he had color.  He took those young people in hand and soon had them marching in time down the same street.  People flocked to hear the music, whereas before, they just groaned.

By the end of the school year, Mr. Robbins decided that the band needed uniforms, sharp uniforms to match the cool music.  Now most of the extra-curricular funds went into sports, particularly football. But the band leader convinced the administration that with uniforms, the band would rouse the fans to a high pitch, encourage parents and family to attend games, incite the teams to greater, and winning, efforts.  So he got the uniforms. That fall the band players tingled with excitement as they waited to try on their new duds.  They looked wonderful.  All the effort was worthwhile. But Mr. Robbins didn¹t stop there.
 
Every spring, on the first weekend of May, Canon City held a Blossom Festival.  Bands from all over the region came to march and compete.  The Middle Park Band proposed to join this event! You must understand, there were only forty students in the band, for this was a small district still.
 
When the youngsters arrived in Canon City, they met bands from Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Nebraska, as well as from New Mexico and numerous Colorado schools.  Many of these bands had 100 to 120 or so members!  All were much larger than our little group.  The Middle Park students felt rather overwhelmed.  But it wasn’t long before the big bands had adopted this nifty minuscule band as a mascot.
 
Saturday came and the bands lined up at the foot of the Canon City prison wall.  Just then, two inmates jumped from the top of the wall, presumably planning to escape into the mob of students and onlookers. Prison guards shot the men dead in the air.  This rather rocky start for the event didn’t phase the boys and girls; the parade commenced.
 
Grand County enthusiasts lined the edge of the avenue as the bands marched down, drums beating, horns tooting, and music filling the air.  “But where is our own band?” they wondered.  Suddenly, applause erupted and you could see why.  A Nebraska band of some 120 members filled the street.  Shortly after, striding bravely along, a compact band of forty students in spiffy navy blue uniforms, played beautifully and vigorously.  Following behind them was another band of over 100 members.  The contrast was astounding and people loved it! Clapping onlookers whistled and shouted.
 
That afternoon the many groups competed on the football field, doing intricate formations as they played their music. Middle Park picked up two first place ratings for their performance that day.  That was truly a triumph for our musicians, as they realized that even though they were small, they were mighty.
 
This must have been about 1971.

 

The Rocky Mountain National Park
The Rocky Mountain National Park

Poem contributed by Vera Shay, July 2006

 

Once you've been there

It'll be your most favorite anywhere

The beauty up through the trees

It's bound to please

From May through September

Sights and Sounds you will remember

Deer and moose grazing on meadows so green

All in their splendor to be seen

You will return again and again

In the fall just heat the bugle-call

Of the elegant, determined elk so strong

Choosing his mate to follow him along

Mountain lion and even brown bear are there

They you might hope to only from afar

Or the windows of your car

The Grand Lake Lodge in the park

Cabins looking so cozy and fun

A plan my husband and I to spend the night

We didn't get it done

In the Lodge Restaurant we had dinner

A many a time

With food so fine

My birthday dinner, year after year

With happiness and cheer

Yes this is a park to yourself and your friends you say

I love this park any summer day

The Rocky Mountain national park

For me many memories in this park

 

What I Got For Christmas by Nicolette Toussaint
What I Got For Christmas by Nicolette Toussaint

It’s December, the tail end of 1959, and I’m hanging onto the back of an Airstream trailer. I have shimmied my ski pants down as far as possible. Now I‘m struggling to keep my balance, trying to keep my new toe-to-thigh cast dry and do my business — the only business that could have forced me out into this sleety, blustery night. The combination of the cast’s weight, the sloppy, slippery snow, the fabric bunched around my knees, and my wobbly attempts to avoid peeing on my underwear overthrow me. I tip over and slide partway beneath the trailer. Now it looks like a very big dog has dug a bathtub-sized hole while using the trailer’s rear corner as a fire hydrant. But dogs are much better at this leg-lifting maneuver than I am. So much for dry underwear.

 

The day before Christmas, I broke my leg skiing at Winter Park. My parents could have taken me back to Denver — an hour and a half over icy Berthoud Pass, but more since our car is pulling a rented trailer. The better option was to go to Kremmling, an isolated mountain town an hour west of Fraser, a town nicknamed “America’s ice box” because it usually reports the coldest temperature in the country. The clinic in Kremmling was tiny, just a few white rooms. I don’t remember how I fell, just that my ski bindings— the old-fashioned “bear trap” kind rather than the new-fangled, heel-release kind — didn’t let go. My heavy, wood skis torqued my leg, snapping the bone. I do remember the ski patrol bringing me down in a toboggan. I remember my Mom, Myra, sitting in the back seat so she could hold my hand and put my head in her lap during the long drive. My leg screamed every time we went around a corner, and it seemed like it took 50 years. I don’t remember who carried me from the car. But I do remember my pants’ leg being slit up the seam, and I remember being X-rayed by Dr. Ceriani.

 

I don’t think I will ever forget getting my leg straightened. My Mom and Dr. Ceriani’s nurse held my shoulders while the Doc pulled my shin straight. I screamed bloody murder. After the Doc and his nurse made my cast — layers of plaster-soaked gauze that were wound round and round my cotton-wrapped shin — Dr. Ceriani said it would take a day to harden. It would be best for him to keep an eye on me for awhile. So I stayed in Kremmling while my family went on with their ski vacation. That’s how, at age 9, I wound up spending my first Christmas apart from my family. I had coloring books and puzzles, but no TV. The radio was intermittent. I was feeling kind of sorry for myself, being alone on Christmas and all, until the nurse promised she would visit me. She was from Ireland; I think her name was Kathleen.Sure enough, she came on Christmas Day, bringing a record player and a brown paper bag tied with a red bow. Kathleen put on a ’45 and danced an Irish jig for me. Then she gave me the bag. Inside was a tree made from papier-mâché. It was layered up like my cast, but scalloped and decorated with shiny beads and buttons, and built over an empty mayonnaise jar. When I turned it over, I saw the lid. I unscrewed it, and out fell a small avalanche of Tootsie Rolls, peppermints, and Hershey’s Kisses! I felt loved.

 

My parents came back in a day or so, of course, and I spent the rest of the family vacation in the Airstream trailer (rented because we couldn’t afford hotels) and in day ski lodges, bored silly, with my right foot propped up on a chair. When I got back to school, I had to gimp to class by way of a somewhat sloping hall with a slippery, speckled stone floor. Try that on crutches! I wasn’t a popular kid, and because of the ski vacation, I’d missed the school Christmas party. But suddenly I was as popular as a Pez dispenser! Everyone in my third-grade class wanted to try out my crutches, carry my coat, and sign my cast. The next fall, I was back skiing, albeit with better skis and new Cubco safety bindings. I didn’t think about my broken leg until decades later.

 

Fast forward to around 2000. One unusually warm spring day, I walked from the San Francisco office where I worked to a food court in a high-rise on Market Street. As I was looking for a place to eat my Pad Thai, I noticed a photo display on the other side of the lobby. The Knight Foundation, whose programs I sometimes attended, was on the top floor, and they often mounted photo-journalistic shows, so I strolled over. The exhibition was called “The Country Doctor”. A historic collection of photos by W. Eugene Smith, the images had first appeared in Life Magazine in 1948. Stark, black-and-white, and unflinchingly intimate, those photos solidified Eugene Smith's stature as one of the most humane and preeminent photojournalists of the 20th century. Those photos instantly transported me back 50 years, out of sunny San Francisco and back into cold, snowy Kremmling, Colorado.

 

From the exhibit, I learned that following World War II, a fundraising committee had raised $35,000 to turn the home of the Kremmling’s retiring doctor into a 14-bed hospital, stocking it with as much equipment as they could afford. Some of it was war surplus machinery. The new clinic had an autoclave, an oxygen tent, and an X-ray machine — probably the same one that had revealed the spiral fracture in my right tibia. In 1947, that committee had hired Dr. Ernest Ceriani. Born on a Wyoming sheep ranch and educated in Denver, the young doctor was the only physician in Middle Park, a barren, windswept Rocky Mountain valley above 8,000 feet. His practice spanned 400 square miles. As the photos showed, he was a general practitioner, tending to the dying, delivering babies, cooling fevers, and patching people mangled by farm, ranch, auto, and sports injuries. Injuries like the one I had suffered nearly 50 years before!

 

With tears pricking my eyes, I realized that I had only been able to walk unaided through the exhibition thanks to the foresight of that 1947 committee in Kremmling, Colorado. I owed a debt of gratitude to a group of people I had never met, people who undoubtedly had passed away long ago. We stand on the shoulders of those who have gone before us. In my case, the “standing” part is literally true. Without the initiative of that committee, there would have been no clinic in Kremmling. Without them, I wouldn’t have been hospitalized for what seemed, at first, to be a sad and lonely Christmas. I wouldn’t have had the experience of nurse Kathleen turning that clinic stay into the most memorable Christmas of my life. And I wouldn’t have been able to stand in tribute to Dr. Ernest Ceriani. While the hula hoops, bikes and Barbies I received as a child have long-since been broken and forgotten, across the miles and years, the gift given to me by that country doctor has remained whole and straight, strong and true.

Articles to Browse

Rowley & Just Homesteads

Karl and Adella Just homesteaded on Pole Creek in the Fraser River Valley in 1896.  Della was the daughter of Henry Lehman, who had, himself, homesteaded on the upper Grand River about 1880.  Karl and Della worked hard, adding to their property until by the late twenties, they had the largest holding in the valley. 

This lovely ranch was where Snow Mountain Ranch is now, and their log home still stands there even today.  Their several children homesteaded in their own rights.  Della and her son Alfred had what is known as the Rowley homestead, (now part of the Y-Camp) as well as what currently is the Winter Park Highlands.  Son Rudy and his wife Clarabelle ranched part of the original Just property on Pole Creek where they watched over his mother.  Another daughter married one of the Daxton boys and their spread was on Crooked Creek.

Until the 1950's, just beyond Tabernash on the north side of the highway at the foot of Winter Park Highlands stood one of the original log homes of this family. In fact, this house appeared in a 1952 movie called "On Dangerous Ground", starring Ida Lupino, Robert Ryan, and Ward Bond.  It was torn down some years later and a modern house built there.

Life was hard for ranching pioneers, perhaps hardest of all for the women, for they worked in the fields and of course, did all the work of the house as well as much of the garden work.  Little Della raked hay during the season, hoed gardens, hauled water, fished, sewed, and cooked.  She was tough.  The bright spots were when rare visitors stopped by, or as the population increased, dances were held in one town or another.

It was a given that the Just home, like those of most pioneers, had no indoor plumbing.  Nobody expected it and nobody complained.  However, by 1957, Della Just was in her nineties.  Karl was long gone.  Her children decided that she should have indoor plumbing after all these years, and they heard that young Dwight Miller had a brand new backhoe.   When they called, Dwight was pleased at the thought of doing such a useful job.

He brought his machine out to the ranch and prepared to get to work.  He discovered, however, that there was disagreement on this bright idea.  Della thought the notion was silly.  "I've lived all these years with an outhouse and I don't see any reason at all to change!"  

Back in those days, temperatures were very much colder than those currently expected.  Forty and fifty degrees below zero were not unusual at all.  But that old lady didn't mind this.  (No doubt, there were chamber pots available for the worst weather.)

Della's children, themselves no longer young, won out, and Dwight dug the trenches and the septic tank hole and laid the pipes.  We never heard whether Della got used to such luxury or not, but we know that Rudy and Clarabelle agreed that moving into the modern world was a good idea!

 

 

 

Topic:

Business and Industry

How did people make a living? What were some of the businesses and industries that brought people to Grand County?  Jut click on the drop-down menus and find out more about it!

Smiths of the Blue River

Frank John Smith was born October 5, 1852 in Granby, New York.  He married Elizabeth Olive Sanders, who was born in 1860 in Hannibal, New York.  They were married in 1878 in Hannibal and had two children Albert and Lelah.  Albert died as an infant in 1881.  In 1880 Frank homesteaded his ranch close to the Blue River and sent for his wife and baby daughter who came West by train to Dillon in the spring of 1883.

They had 10 more children, all born at the Smith Ranch, between 1884 and 1907.  As the boys grew into young men, they homesteaded additional acreage around the ranch.  The youngest son, Earl, operated the Smith Ranch until 1958, when it was sold to Ted Orr Sr. His son, Ted Orr Jr. and his wife, Virginia Smith (granddaughter of Frank and Elizabeth) operated the ranch until 1967, when it was sold to the Berger brothers.    

Topic:

Transportation

How did people travel to Grand County?  How did they get around? Click on the drop-down menus and take a little trip through history...
Topic: True Crime

Granby Rampage

On June 4th, 2004 an armored D-9 Caterpillar was used by disgruntled Granby businessman Marv Heemeyer in a rampage that caused an estimated $5 million in damage and left part of the town of Granby in rubble. Heemeyer's slow-moving, 90 minute demolition, fueled by his anger at local officials and business owners who supported construction of a cement batch plant, left 13 buildings demolished or damaged and ended when he committed suicide inside the cab that he had welded shut. The buildings targeted included the town hall, the library, the electric company, a bank, the newspaper and the home of the former mayor. The town of Granby was spared any human injuries or loss because of the complete evacuation of the town through the reverse 911 system and many local law enforcement officers who went door to door to warn the townspeople. The town of Granby immediately launched fundraising efforts to offset the losses suffered by targeted businesses and citizens and the destroyed buildings were mostly rebuilt by the following year.

Topic:

Water/Lakes/Reservoirs

Grand County is home to the headwaters of the famed Colorado River - the river that brings water to five other arid Western states.  Water is the lifeblood of semi-arid Colorado and Grand County is one of the most water-rich areas of Colorado, and yet faces a shortage due to historical water agreements, written long before population pressures and the environmental awareness of the current age.  On average, the water diversion projects in the county move a whopping 305,000 acre-feet per year from the Fraser, Colorado and Williams Fork rivers - all headwaters of the Colorado's main stem.

60 percent of the water in Grand County is diverted elsewhere and there are plans underway, mostly from Front Range communities, to divert as much as 80 percent of the county's headwaters by the year 2010.  Two of the main water utilities, Denver Water and the Northern Colorado Water Conservancy District face a quandary: how to take the water from Grand County without further damaging the delicate environment and the region's economy, which is fueled by tourists who expect to play in the very water the Front Range wants to take.


More on water issues in Grand County

Topic: Biographies

Ellen E. Crabb, Parshall Postmaster

Ellen Elaine Engelhaupt was the first of nine children and was born in Chambers, Neb., on July 13, 1912, to Michael and Ollie Engelhaupt. She attended schools in Sterling and Crook, Colo., driving a pony trap to school when the distance was too far to walk. She graduated from Sterling High School at age 20, as one high school year was spent recovering at home from rheumatic fever. In 1919, she also missed her first grade year recovering from the Spanish Flu.

She met James Samuel Crabb, a resident of Crook and they eloped on Jan. 29, 1934. They farmed outside of Crook until 1941 when they joined partnership with Joe Spacek, growing winter wheat at the Company Ranch on the Williams Fork.

After building a house in Parshall, Ellen was commissioned in 1948 as Post Master. The Post Office was operated out of the Crabb's house. Being the Post Master, Ellen was in the position to be the contact person for needs and emergencies in the community. As she approached retirement, Ellen worked diligently to obtain another Post Office site in Parshall, which would guarantee continuous service to the town and surrounding community residents' emergencies in the community.

Ellen was known for her green thumb and her sewing arts.  Throughout the summer months, her yard was in constant bloom and a source of pride for her and her family. She sewed clothes for her daughters, knitted or crocheted gifts for family and friends, and in her retirement years, designed and made quilts as a hobby. She won numerous ribbons for her craft at the Middle Park Fair.

She was member of the Williams Fork Demonstration Club, a past Worthy Matron of Eastern Star Starlight Chapter 129, and in retirement worked with Grand County Social Services on behalf of the senior citizens. She worked diligently for low-income senior housing including development of the Silver Spruce Senior Apartments in Kremmling.

Ellen and Jim had in common their love of music and dancing. Often at local dances others would step aside to watch Ellen and Jim. They would dance at the Trocadero Ballroom in the old Denver Elitch Gardens where other dancers would also create a circle around them to watch their foxtrot. Ellen and her husband of 58 years, Jim had three daughters: Frances, Leota and Margaret.

Topic: Biographies

William H. Kimball

The span crossing the Colorado River on State Highway 9 southeast of Kremmling is known as the Kimball Bridge.  It honors the memory of William H. Kimball who carried the mail over Berthoud Pass from Empire to Hot Sulphur Springs by foot, winter and summer.  Kimball was born in Maine and accepted the Middle Park mail contract in 1875.  Although reportedly nearly blind, Kimball traveled on snowshoes all winter carrying a backpack of mail weighing 70-105 pounds, day and night, at least once a week.

In  1884, Kimball established a flat bottom ferry over the Colorado River near the spot where the bridge now stands.  Before that time, no wagons could cross at that area.  With the addition of the ferry, load of game meat and fish could be taken up the Blue River to be traded for much needed staples. 

Kimball never married and lived at a nearby ranch until his death in 1909.

Topic: Mining

Teller City, Crescent City and Tyner

The original Grand County contained North Park as well as Middle Park, and during the mining boom of the early 1880's there were several mining camps east of the modern town of Rand. It was several years after the mining boom northern area of Jackson County was created.

Teller City was founded in 1879 and named for Colorado's famous Senator Henry M. Teller, who later became U.S. Secretary of the Interior.  By 1882, the population of Teller City was about 1200.  It had a fine hotel with 40 rooms, a newspaper and two steam saw mills.  It was a lively Old West town with twenty seven saloons and a number of "houses of ill repute".

Some high quality ore assayed at Teller City was as much as $3000 a ton, but most of that soon ran out and by 1884, the high shipping costs to far away smelters dropped the price per ton dropped to $20. The best mine, Endomile, was three miles from town.

Crescent City, southwest of Teller City had an even more brief existence, but there was population enough for a U.S. Post Office in 1880. 

Rumors of valuable silver three miles sough of Teller City drew a number of prospectors to found the camp known as Tyner.  John Noble Tyner was the First Assistant Postmaster General of the United States and visited the mining camp so named in 1879.  He promised the miners a weekly mail delivery if at least 2 miners mined through the winter.  Tyner had been a special agent for the Post Office from 1861 thru 1868, at which time he was appointed to serve in an open seat in the U.S. House of Representatives for Indiana.  He ran for election win the appointed term ended and was elected and continued to be reelected and serve as a Representative until 1875 when President Grant appointed him Second Assistant Postmaster General.  Grant would later appoint him to the "big job" of Postmaster General in 1876. 

Tyner worked to elect Rutherford B. Hayes in 1876 and after Hayes was elected and took office in March of 1877, Hayes appointed a new Postmaster General, but gave the second spot, First Assistant to the Postmaster General to Tyner.  Historians suggest that Tyner's demotion angered him to the point that he allowed wide spread corruption in the day to day operation of the Postal Service which was his responsibility to over see. He resigned in 1881 under great public pressure from what became known as the "Star Route Fraud scandal".  He would remain a political figure  being appointed  various positions  with the U. S. Postal Service until shortly before his death in 1904.  Although indited three times for corruption in his Post Office management, he was never convicted.  The "Star Route Fraud scandal", may have local implications.  It had to do with over charging and providing needless postal routes, roads and post offices and kick backs to politicians from contractors .

Topic: Regions

Church Park

George Henry Church and his brother John had a substantial ranch in Jefferson Country, prior to Colorado Statehood.  When the Timber and Stone Act of 1878 was passed, it permitted the purchase of land unfit for agriculture for $2.50 an acre.  Thus the Church brothers obtained land in Middle Park for summer grazing.  They would move their cattle into the Park by driving them over the Rollins Pass.   The area they used is just west of the town of Fraser and became known as Church Park.

In 1910, the Church Ditch was created to divert water across the Continental Divide for irrigation.  The remains of this early trans-mountain project can still be seen today at mile marker 241.5 on U.S. Highway 40.

Stories and Poems of Past Memories