<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<rss version="2.0"
    xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"
    xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"
    xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/">
<channel>
    <title>Looking back</title>
    <category>Looking back</category>
    <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/section/looking-back/feed/</link>
    <atom:link href="https://tj.durangoherald.com/section/looking-back/feed/" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
    <description>Latest local news from The Durango Herald.</description>
    <lastBuildDate>Fri, 14 Aug 2026 21:00:31 -0600</lastBuildDate>
    <language>en-us</language>
    <ttl>30</ttl>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/pioneering-in-southwestern-colorado/</link>
        <title>Pioneering in Southwestern Colorado</title>
        <description>Marie and Fred Taylor were married in 1888, according to Fred Taylor. “All the cowboys from the Blue Mountains and all around were there. And all who were not in the wedding were at the dance Al Nunn gave that...</description>
        <pubDate>Tue, 29 Oct 2019 16:09:03 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">960FD407-F220-04E0-E053-0100007F4CA4</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=471F8B20-8E5B-4058-BA25-2300A427D0F3&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=471F8B20-8E5B-4058-BA25-2300A427D0F3&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Marie and Fred Taylor were married in 1888, according to Fred Taylor. “All the cowboys from the Blue Mountains and all around were there. And all who were not in the wedding were at the dance Al Nunn gave that night for us.”Courtesy of Jody Blackmer, a Simon descendant Editor’s note: This column, the second of three parts, was written by Fred Taylor based on an interview with Anna Florence Robison in 1934. Part 3 of Pioneering in Southwestern Colorado will be published Dec. 6 in The Journal. Permission to re-print this article is given by the descendants of the Simon girls – the Blackmer, Dickerson and Hammond families.By Fred Taylor In those days, Dr. Winters of Durango was much like Dr. Johnson of Cortez in the present day (1934). He came on horseback or in a buggy if it was a hurry-up case; they’d have a relay of horses or rigs along the road for him. A visit would be fifty to a hundred dollars. Later on, Dr. Landon from Rico used to come down the Dolores River when needed. People didn’t need a doctor quite so readily in those days as they do now. Once I got kicked on the nose by a bronco, and I just slammed it into place and held snow to it. The snow melted like water, and I couldn’t see when I rode home. I recovered from it with no results. The first man buried on the Dolores River was Dick May. I have a pocketbook which he had on him when he was killed in 1881. His brother, George May, gave the pocketbook to Chris Wilkerson, and after his death, his son Carl gave it to me. He showed me the pocketbook at this point. It is a folding affair for holding bills and almost new, so that it is hard to realize that it was purchased fifty-three years or more years ago. In it is neatly letter in ink “R. W. May, deceased. Killed by Indians 1st day of May 1881.” In it also in the signature of Wm. M. May, Dolores, La Plata County, Colorado. He was according to Mr. Taylor a civil engineer and a fine old man. According to the List of Men in La Plata County in 1877 and 1878, Dick May was 41 or 42 years of age when he was killed, and Wm. M. May, 45 or 46. Dick May went out West to where a man named Thurman was camped half a mile this side of the Utah line with horses belonging to Alderson. A young tenderfoot named Frank Smith was with May, who made the trip for the purpose of buying horses. Probably Dick May had from six hundred to a thousand dollars in bills in that pocketbook, and the Indians got all of it and probably what money Thurman doubtless had on him as well. The Indians went to Moab, Utah, and had an abundance of twenty-dollar bills, anyhow. Thurman was established at what is known as Burnt Cabin. As near as could be found out, the Indians were angry with Thurman because he had whipped one or two of them for taking saddle horses. They killed him out where he had gone after the horses. May and Smith had not done anything to the Indians. They just happened to be there and were killed. There were a great many brass shells lying near May’s body when it was found, showing that he had known his danger and had time to put up a good fight. After killing May, the Indians set fire to the cabin. There was a lot of oats in sacks stored in the cabin, and when the sacks burned from around the oats, they spread down on May’s body and covered most of it, keeping it from burning. The pocketbook was on him when he was found. Pat and Mike O’Donnell had a camp at Willow Springs not far away. They sent a man over to Thurman’s’ cabin to borrow some baking powder and found the cabin burned and the dead man lying among the ruins. They came to Big Bend and reported it. As soon as they could, they got up a posse from Mancos, Rico and Big Bend to go after those Indians. Bill Dawson, sheriff of Dolores County, got up a posse from Rico. There were several each from Mancos and the Dolores Valley. They took the Indians’ trail. It was Mariana’s band of Utes that did the killing – a “tough hombre” (Mr. Taylor’s interpretation). The band of men followed the Indians to the south side of the Blue Mountains to the head of Indian Creek, but they were too far behind to catch up. They followed the Indians to the foot of the La Sal Mountains in Utah and there lost the trail for a while. The party split. They went on farther and struck the Indians’ trail again. They followed them to the north side of the La Sal Mountains and caught up to them in a big sandy sagebrush wash there. Then the fight opened up. Thirteen of Dawson’s men got down into a sandy arroyo. Bill Dawson sent an old-time Indian fighter, Uncle Tim Jenkins, to tell them to get out of the arroyo or the Indians would kill them right there. Uncle Tim Jenkins had been a pony express rider and an Indian fighter on the plains in the early days. He was a little chap and weighed only about a hundred and ten pounds. I knew him well as he wintered with me one winter. His experience and mine of men in an Indian fight corresponds exactly. Uncle Tim said he did not like the job, but went down into the arroyo on a pony while the Indians shot at him from the rimrock. The thirteen men were scattered for a hundred rods or so up and down that arroyo, and he talked to them and explained to them that they would be killed if they remained where they were. But not one of them would try to come out, for they were paralyzed with fear. All thirteen of them were killed right there in that arroyo. Among them were the two Wilson boys from Moab, Utah, and Tom Click of the Dolores. Dave Willis from Mancos was shot before that from his horse. In that fight, Jordan Bean of the Dolores Valley was shot in the head but not killed. He crawled off in the oak brush that night, and he could hear the Indians hunting him from the place where he had hid. Denby, a neighbor of Bean’s on the Dolores, went over to the La Sal Mountains and hauled Jordan Bean home over no roads at all. This Denby was later killed by Jordan Bean’s younger brother. Later on, Mrs. Willis, her brother, Roy Weston, Hi Barber and Cal House went out and brought in the bodies of Dave Willis and Hiram Melvin for burial. Mrs. Willis, Roy and Hugo Weston were the children of the Weston family of Mancos. In 1884 in the Blue Mountains, we were against the Indians in earnest. And the killers and the bad gunman were the biggest cowards there when it came to a showdown. I had sat around cow camps for years and heard these men vocally kill Indians but I noticed they never really did it. The trouble in 1884 started over a saddle horse that an Indian had and would not give up. A white man shot the Indian. He claims that the Indian got well afterward, but he did not. The horse belonged to a Mr. Hudson. After that Indian was killed, our outfit was out with three wagons south of the Blue Mountains where we had cattle which had not been worked for two years. Charles Johnson Sr. had turned a bunch loose there in 1879, and his had been worked very little. There were two or three more bunches of cattle in there also. We went in there in 1884 to brand calves, and the fighting started and branding calves was off for a while. The first fight was on July 3, 1884. The Indians burned two wagons that were loaded with grub hauled from Durango and got most of the saddle horses. The Indians thought they had the cowboys hemmed in. I lost my horses, saddle and everything I had and was completely afoot. The Indians rode into the saddlehorses and split the bunch. We corralled what was left. I was riding Sam Johnson’s horse and rode up to the corral and found my white horse named White Cloud. I started to take White Cloud out of the corral when a shot struck him in the head and scattered horse brains everywhere. Part 3 of Pioneering in Southwestern Colorado will be published Dec. 6 in The Journal. In our books, “Great Sage Plain to Timberline,” there are versions of this fight; therefore, Fred Taylor’s version will be omitted. June Head, historian of Montezuma County Historical Society, may be contacted at 970-565-3880.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/looking-back-pioneering-in-southwest-colorado-in-1882/</link>
        <title>Looking back: Pioneering in Southwest Colorado in 1882</title>
        <description>The Simon Sisters, seated left to right: Mary Blackmer, Rachel Dickerson and Lydia Millard. Standing: Elizabeth Hammond and Sarah Rust.Courtesy of a Simon descendant Editor’s note: This column, by Fred Taylor, was based on an interview with Anna Florence Robison...</description>
        <pubDate>Wed, 02 Oct 2019 17:19:28 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">93F0A5D0-EB6A-0DE4-E053-0100007F3941</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=22C21747-560F-48E1-B606-62C49B5CBD8B&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=22C21747-560F-48E1-B606-62C49B5CBD8B&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[The Simon Sisters, seated left to right: Mary Blackmer, Rachel Dickerson and Lydia Millard. Standing: Elizabeth Hammond and Sarah Rust.Courtesy of a Simon descendant Editor’s note: This column, by Fred Taylor, was based on an interview with Anna Florence Robison in 1934. Part 2 of Pioneering in Southwestern Colorado will be published Nov. 1 in The Journal. Permission to re-print this article is given by the descendants of the Simon girls – the Blackmer family, the Dickerson family and the Hammond family.I was born in 1860 at Lee’s Summit, Jackson County, Missouri. In 1872 my father moved to the plains of Nebraska. Many Southern people moved away from Missouri after the Civil War. They went to New Mexico, Colorado and Texas. I had my schooling at Lee’s Summit, where I was born, and in 1904 the old school house was still standing. The grasshoppers caused my father to leave Nebraska, and I came back to Missouri. I knew I was not getting enough for what I was able to do, so I went to Cañon City, Colorado, where I thought I had a brother. I was 22 years old when I arrived there on Feb. 15, 1882. But my brother was over on the Western Slope. I was one of five men with a spring wagon and 20 head of horses snowed in during the winter of 1882 near Cumbres Station. We were caught in a blizzard. We had only overshoes. We had to thaw out our shoes in the mornings over a fire. The canyon was full of snow. Some of the white spruces were 75 feet tall, and we cut the tops out of them. We were there two weeks before we got out and down to Chama, New Mexico. We had food, though, and slept later on in the section house. My job played out, so I went to Dolores and hired to the L.C. outfit, Sept. 15, 1882. Jim and Bill Brumley were running the L.C. cattle – 5,000 head, and they had two cowboys riding for them. I rode for various persons until I was married in 1888 to Marie Simon, down at the old log cabin on the Simon place. All the cowboys from the Blue Mountains and all around were there. And all who were not in the wedding were at the dance Al Nunn gave that night for us. I was 28, and my wife was 26. She had taken up a homestead in the valley, and we lived there after our marriage. LaGrange, who promoted the No. 2 ditch company, suggested to Marie that she should take up the land there because the company he represented planned to put a town in the vicinity. Later the company bought three forties of her homesteads for $1,200, and she retained one forty for herself. The town did not materialize because the No. 1 and No. 2 companies consolidated with S.W. Carpenter, later of Mancos, at the head. The consolidated gave up the town site of the No. 2 company and went in with the town company that promoted Cortez. Carpenter had the place where the Lichliters have lived for a good many years. It was a fine house. He demanded a great deal of respect. He had a private as well as public approach to his house. In 1880, we built the good log house on the homestead. The lumber we used came from the Blatchford mill just east of Summit Reservoir. He owed me 10,000 feet of lumber, but on account of the mud, I had a very hard time getting enough to put a roof and floor in that house. A fine fat team could haul only three logs. It was quite a struggle, but we had a good time all the same. It is better to laugh at your troubles than cry over them. Our two oldest children, Mrs. Leah Blackmer and Ben Taylor, were born in that house on the homestead. We have two besides: Mrs. Ruth Doyle and Mrs. Lillian Cox of Long Beach.Marie and Fred Taylor were married in 1888 “down at the old log cabin on the Simon place,” according to Fred Taylor. “All the cowboys from the Blue Mountains and all around were there. And all who were not in the wedding were at the dance Al Nunn gave that night for us.”Courtesy of Jody Blackmer, a Simon descendant I planted an orchard and shade trees and planned to build a better house some day on that homestead. But we moved to the Simon place and later went to Mancos and McElmo Canon instead. My wife’s father, Louis Simon, went to Kansas in 1855 with a French colony that had lived in Indiana. They colonized again about 40 miles west of Atchinson, and the colony is still there and doing well. Louis Simon had been a leading citizen and well-to-do, but some slick Frenchman persuaded him to put his money into a big flour mill, and it broke him. When he came to Lake City in 1878, he was an old man who had lost all he had. When things in Lake City went to pieces, the Simon family drifted to the Dolores country. They lived the first summer above the present Dolores and later down below present McPhee. Louis Simon filed on the first place in Montezuma Valley in 1880 or 1881. William Woolley filed a little later, and Mr. Hartman, Frank’s and Lillian’s stepfather, had a place on Hartman Gulch. Ten or 15 miles in those days was close for neighbors. Mr. Simon had five daughters: Lydia (Mrs. Barlow), Rachel (Mrs. Dickerson, Marie, my wife), Elizabeth (Mrs. Matt Hammond) and Sarah. Marie worked in other people’s kitchens and put Sarah through college and helped to care for the old folks. She learned to be independent too. One time she forded the Dolores when it was high and carried a single shovel placed before her on the saddle. The first religious service was held on the Dolores in the fall of 1883, and the place was the ranch of W.H. Brumley, on which I was working for a cow outfit. A young chap named Sarver from Durango held the service, and it was the first preaching he ever did. He was only about 21. He had not been getting enough to eat, and he looked hungry. Marie Simon and one of the sisters rode up to Brumley’s to attend the service, and I helped them alight from their side saddles. Marie looked good to me then, and she still looks good. Speaking of winters, the winter of ’83 was much like this one (1933-34). On March 20, 1883, the range cattle – 10,000 or 15,000 head of them went up to the hills themselves. The grass was green in the Montezuma Valley. The season was six weeks earlier than usual, and there were no bad late freezes. That was a remarkable year, and I have waited 50 years to see another. The winter of 1879 was a hard one – perhaps as bad or worse than the famous winter of ’84. All freight had to come from Alamosa then. They packed flour from Santa Fe, New Mexico, to Animas City on burros and sold it for a dollar a pound. My brother was there, and that’s what he had to pay. On Feb. 10, 1884, after a very mild early winter, it began to snow. It snowed very hard for five days and nights. The storm continued through most of March and into April, and the railroad into Durango was blocked for six weeks. Many people just didn’t have things they needed very bad. There was very high water, and on June 10th, during roundup time, there was a little blizzard blowing. In those days, Dr. Winters of Durango was much like Dr. Johnson of Cortez in the present day (1934). And we thought as much of him. He came on horseback or in a buggy and if it was a hurry-up case, they’d have a relay of horses or rigs along the road for him and he’d make pretty good time. A visit would be $50 to $100. Later, Dr. Landon from Rico used to come down the Dolores River when needed. People didn’t need a doctor quite so readily in those days as they do now. Once I got kicked on the nose by a bronco, and I just slammed it into place and held snow to it. The snow melted like water, and I couldn’t see when I rode home. Nowadays a person would have been taken to the hospital after that accident, but I recovered from it with no bad results. June Head, historian of Montezuma County Historical Society may be reached for questions at 970-565-3880.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/new-school-launches-a-new-century-in-cortez/</link>
        <title>New school launches a new century in Cortez</title>
        <description>Editor’s note: Following are two articles about the Calkins Building, published by the Montezuma Journal, that were written at the beginning of the school year and after the first class graduated. Both were edited for grammar and style. Our new...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 02 Sep 2019 17:28:11 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">9194CE0E-9275-603E-E053-0100007FBBB8</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=3127F4A5-0ECB-4F4A-9B86-1DE54508CF3F&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=3127F4A5-0ECB-4F4A-9B86-1DE54508CF3F&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Editor’s note: Following are two articles about the Calkins Building, published by the Montezuma Journal, that were written at the beginning of the school year and after the first class graduated. Both were edited for grammar and style. Our new Cortez school: School notes Editor’s note: Following are two articles about the Calkins Building, published by the Montezuma Journal, that were written at the beginning of the school year and after the first class graduated. Both were edited for grammar and style. Mr. Dan Goff is the new janitor who has charge of all buildings. The Cortez School Baseball team organized Monday evening with I.E. Levey, manager, and Wilkes Bozman, captain. The boys are practicing every evening and feel confident they will carry home the purse, fair week. Owing to the addition of the 11th grade, the High School course will be enlarged this year by the addition of the following subjects: bookkeeping, economics, English history; English and American literature. School is well on in the second week with a vim and enthusiasm that is a criterion of success. We have an enrollment of 110, divided as follows: Primary Department, 37, Anna A. Smith, teacher; Intermediates Department, 36, Ora Elliott teacher; Grammar Department, 18, Mrs. Durward, teacher; High School, 18, I.E. Levey, principle. The High School organized a literary society for the year with the following officers: President Edna Duncan, Vice President Claire Bozman, Secretary Margaret Gates, Oricle Professor I.E. Levey, and Curators Bertha Longenbaugh, Martha Clark and Nannie Stevenson. The first program will be given Friday, Oct. 2 and then every two weeks. Bells will ring as follows: 8:30 a.m. to 9 a.m.; 12:55 p.m. to 1:10 p.m.; and 1:15 p.m. You will notice there are three bells. One, called the “five-minute bell,” is rung five minutes before taking up the regular work and is arranged thus to eliminate tardiness. All pupils not in their seats at the ringing of the third bell are counted tardy unless living more than 1 mile from school. Such pupils have 10 to 15 minutes’ grace according to distance. Every member of the community, and especially every parent, should take a deep interest in the public school. It is not enough to pay your school tax without complaining or to know that the teachers are qualified, nor is it enough to keep your children in school regularly. If you are really interested in the subject as you should be, you should visit the school regularly and persistently. Few people have any idea what an incentive it is to both teacher and scholar to know that parents and outsiders are taking a lively interest in their work. We believe the “little folks” at the school appreciate such interest perhaps more than the larger ones. The effect is not lost on any of them, and we hope every parent will take a hint from this and place the “public” school on their visiting list. Come, let’s get acquainted and study your child mutually. If you have any grievances, talk them over with the principal and teachers rather than the neighbors. Perhaps we can remedy the matter satisfactorily. Let us all put the shoulder to the wheel and make this year the very best school year in the history of Cortez. We ask your hearty cooperation. “Put the hammer in the locker, Hide the sounding board likewise; Anyone can be a knocker, Anyone can criticize, Cultivate a manner winning, Tho it hurts your face to smile, And seems awkward in beginning, Be a booster all the while.” First graduating class, in 1909, was a big one – four members A large audience consisting of parents, relatives and friends greeted the class of graduates at the commencement exercises held at the Woodman Hall May 28, 1909. The hall was decorated with flowers and pennants in the high school colors – black and orange – and splendor was added to the occasion by the bright and interesting faces of the graduates. At eight o’clock, the march by the Cortez Concert Band announced the entrance of the class upon the stage. Professor Levey led the way and was followed by the class, Edna Duncan, Della Marymee, Nannie Stevenson and Elza Mowry. They were followed by Professor W. B. Mooney of the State Normal of Greeley and the board of Education: W.T. Bozman, R.R. Smith and H.N. Sprague, all occupying seats upon the platform. The program was complete and carried out in splendid shape. The orations by each graduate were masterly and gracefully handled, and each graduate deserved the applause. Large and beautiful clusters of carnations and roses were carried upon the stage by the flower girls, who presented them to the graduates as token of love and esteem of their friends. Professor Mooney addressed the class, making a remarkable and forceful talk, one that will be remembered by all present. Professor Mooney also presented the diplomas in a splendid manner. Mrs. Calkins’ solo was well received, and she responded gracefully to an encore. The program was interspersed with music by the band and piano selections. The exercises were a success and showed that weeks of hard, patient work had been performed not alone by the graduates but by Professor Levey as well. After the exercises, the graduating class and teachers gave a banquet at the Adam Lewey restaurant to the school board, parents of the graduates and county superintendent that completed the occasion. The amount left from the entertainment, after paying the expenses of the hall, left a neat sum for the library fund. The principal of the school at the time was I.E. Levey, who made his home in Durango in later years. Professor Levey pointed out that although the four students represented the first graduation class from the school here; the students had only attended school three years. June Head, historian of Montezuma County Historical Society, can be contacted at 970-565-3880 for comments or questions.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/moving-from-texas-to-big-bend/</link>
        <title>Moving from Texas to Big Bend</title>
        <description>Big Bend about 1887, showing the schoolhouse and stores, including Harris Bros. Mercantile.Montezuma County Historical Society Editor’s note: The following is based on a Anna Florence Robison interview of Alice Henderson Akin on March 13, 1934.I was born at Millville,...</description>
        <pubDate>Fri, 02 Aug 2019 01:56:25 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">8F175AE0-E1E4-41E2-E053-0100007FFA89</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=F21ED478-A7D2-45F8-9A61-3D3A60C03D73&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=F21ED478-A7D2-45F8-9A61-3D3A60C03D73&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Big Bend about 1887, showing the schoolhouse and stores, including Harris Bros. Mercantile.Montezuma County Historical Society Editor’s note: The following is based on a Anna Florence Robison interview of Alice Henderson Akin on March 13, 1934.I was born at Millville, Rust County, Texas, Sept. 25, 1855. My early childhood was passed at Riley Springs, Texas. After the death of both of my parents, I went at the age of 11 years to live with my aunt at Cleburne. I married James P. Akin from Hot Springs, Arkansas, on July 2, 1874. After our marriage, Mr. Akin and I made our home at Cleburne, where he was marshal a part of the time. We had neither of us any near relatives in Texas. Mr. Akin’s mother and his married sister, Mrs. William Brumley, were already living on a ranch near Big Bend. They kept writing for us to come to them. They said we could do fully as well in Colorado as in Texas and that the winter weather was marvelous. This was the winter of 1883-84, known since as the “Winter of the Big Snow.” That year, there was a very mild, open winter until some date in February when it began to snow. Some say it snowed for 40 days without really clearing off. Others say 48. I do not suppose anyone knows exactly. Mr. Akin’s relatives wrote before it began to snow so much. My husband and I and our four little children – Ed, aged 8 or 9; Tom, 6 or 7, Eula; and the baby Henrietta – started for Colorado late in March. It had probably been snowing here for six or more weeks then. We were snowbound for a week or more three miles the other side of the section house on Cumbres Pass. There were quite a number on the train, and the only food with us was a few sacks of dried beans and some Limburger cheese. During the time we were snowbound in the train, they brought food to us from the section house three miles away on snowshoes. I was not well, but somehow I didn’t mind it as I would have supposed. I wasn’t sorry I came, and I didn’t want to go back. There was one other woman on the train besides me, and everyone was kind and helpful. The head man at Cumbres, a Mr. Leyden I believe his name was, had a sled made to bring me and the children to the section house, where we could be more comfortable. I had a heavy and long winter coat, which I had recently bought for my journey into Colorado. It was not suitable for plodding through such snow as there was on the pass. The character of the trail was such that I could not ride far, and then Mr. Leyden put his own coat on me and wrapped my feet well in gunny sacks. He took my arm and helped me to walk that snow trail. Before he left the snowbound train, the man got out our baggage and let me open my trunks and get out bedding. We even took my feather bed along to the section house. As we went along the trail, Mr. Leydon would point out to me stove pipes sticking out of the snow. That was all you could see of the houses. They had cut stair steps in the snow for us to go down into the section house from the trail. The snow was that deep. They made us very comfortable in the section house, where we stayed another week before we could go on to Durango. There was about 100 men at work cleaning snow off the tracks. It was too high for me on the Cumbres, and I had to sit up much of the time in order to breathe. The brakeman made liniment for my husband to rub on my chest, and it helped much. When we got to Durango, my husband decided to go on over to Brumley’s on the Dolores River on snowshoes. It was nearly April. I remained with the children at a house in Durango where Miss Lizzie Allen and her sister were staying at the time. We had come to Durango on a freight train, and we stayed in the outskirts of town, so I took little notice of the place. When the roads became good – perhaps it was the first of May, or anyway late April, W.H. Brumley, my husband’s brother-in-law, came for the children and me and our things in a wagon. The water was very high everywhere on account of so much snow. The mountain roads with the deep ruts and the steep slopes on the outside edges frightened me. And when we came in sight of the greatly swollen Dolores at the Billy May ranch above Big Bend, the water formed a huge lake, and it seemed that I had reached the “jumping off place” indeed. We crossed the Dolores below the Morton place and stayed the first night with the Mortons at Big Bend. We lived in a log cabin near W.H. Brumley’s house across the river from Big Bend for several years. Mr. Akin worked with his brother-in-law’s cattle. We did not get lonely, for Mr. Akin’s mother was there with his sister, and Jim and John Brumley lived there too. There were enough of us that we did not need to be especially afraid of the Indians. The children went to school in Big Bend in the summers. The first two or three schools were held in a dugout. Then they built a log school building, which was standing until a few years ago. My oldest boy, Ed, used to row Bill and John Brumley’s children, Tom, Eula and himself across the Dolores in a skiff to attend school. I used to be uneasy about them, for the Dolores was so swift there. At Big Bend, we had plenty of vegetables and beef to eat because we could raise them ourselves. But all other groceries and supplies we had to get from Mancos or Durango by wagon or pack horses. But we all managed to be quite comfortable nevertheless. We used to get vegetables from the German settlement. Jim Trimble, the Moores, Mortons, Grandma and Grandpa Johnson and Mr. Ordway were among our good neighbors in those days. A Miss Benson, who taught school at Big Bend, also started a Sunday school there. We had dances around at private places, which were greatly enjoyed by all. They used to have the finest suppers at Nunn’s place down the river. About midnight, everyone would gather around the “big table,” and it remained set all night so that anyone who was hungry could go and get more to eat. And some guests stayed until morning. Another diversion was horse races. We lived across from Big Bend until the railroad came and the town was moved to its present site. Paul Akin, my son, was the first baby born in present Dolores. We lived for a while in Dolores, then moved to the Burch place, 10 miles above town. Later, we bought a place of our own where we lived until our return to Dolores 19 years ago. June Head, Historian of Montezuma County Historical Society, can be reached for questions or comments at 970-565-3880.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/elbert-nunn-weaves-a-colorful-history-and-legacy/</link>
        <title>Elbert Nunn weaves a colorful history and legacy</title>
        <description>Editor’s note: This column about the life of Elbert “Al” Nunn is based on an interview by Anna Florence Robison in March 1934. The first three parts were published the first Friday of April, May and June.I belonged to the...</description>
        <pubDate>Tue, 02 Jul 2019 16:53:00 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">8CB591E2-ACAA-1E2C-E053-0100007F863C</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=46C383E5-8556-45CF-B143-B3880571524F&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=46C383E5-8556-45CF-B143-B3880571524F&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Editor’s note: This column about the life of Elbert “Al” Nunn is based on an interview by Anna Florence Robison in March 1934. The first three parts were published the first Friday of April, May and June.I belonged to the Cattle Pool for a while. The Pool was an association of cattlemen for the care of their cattle and supposed to be very advantageous. It cost $5 per head to belong and get my calves branded. I couldn’t ride with them, and it cost me too much money to do it their way. I withdrew from the Pool, and the headmen didn’t like that at all. I took to branding mavericks just as the rest were doing. The Pool men rebranded some of my mavericks for the Pool. The Pool’s brand was a cross on the jaw. Frank and George Emericks worked for me, and we went out and crossed the Pool’s brand out on my mavericks and rebranded them again for me. They had a trial, and I was sent to the penitentiary for seven years for branding mavericks. George Endricks for five years and Frank Endricks for two years – this was in 1892. Sterl Thomas was sheriff then, and he took the three of us to Cañon City. He said to the warden, “Here are three men who have no business in this penitentiary.” The put me out as a Trustee right away for that reason. They needed a man on the prison farm to mow the orchard. “Did you ever mow any Al?” “I’m an expert” I told them. They sent me out with a scythe to mow tall Timothy between two rows of trees. I mowed a little and quit. A week later, the foreman asked me what I had meant by saying I was an expert at mowing. I told him I had been given seven years to mow that orchard and would be at it yet when my time was up. The foreman laughed. They didn’t take what I said seriously as they had just put me out on the farm to get me out of the prison anyhow. George Endricks and a prisoner named Brown, an educated man, talked my case over. George Endricks told how badly my family needed me at home, and how I had no business there. Brown composed a letter to send to the Board of Pardons at Denver, and George Endricks offered: “If they let Al Nunn out of the penitentiary and send him home to his family, I’ll serve my own time and Al Nunn’s too!” The Board later came down and interviewed me. In the meantime, I took care of the team. One day, a messenger came to me and said that Mrs. Dr. Beaber was there to interview me. The warden took me in and introduced me. She asked me about my wife and how many children I had, their ages, and where they were in school. She inquired about my having to move two times a year. She asked me what a maverick was. I told her it was a big calf whose mother had run off with another man. She laughed and told me she’d see what she could do for me at the next meeting. I was pardoned by the Board, as was George Endricks. The newspapers, in speaking of it, said “a man who offered to serve another man’s term so that he could go home to his family was too much of a man to be locked up.” George Endricks still lives in Denver. Frank Endricks was pardoned later and went to Cripple Creek. Arthur Waldron was bringing the pardon papers to the penitentiary, and he was late. They had to let us out by six o’clock, and when the paper came, the warden told us not to take time for a bath but to grab our clothes in a hurry and get out. I came back and sold my cattle and my place at Garrett Ridge to Windy Hall. I lived in Dolores and was marshal there for a number of years. I homesteaded land on the Disappointment, and lived there for 10 years. Then for several years I was back in Dolores. On Aug. 3, 1925 I married Sophie Durchholtz at the Methodist parsonage at Cortez. Afterward, we went to live at her place at Dove Creek. We were there for two years, spent a winter in Cortez, and then returned to the Disappointment. I spent a year at Los Angeles. On returning, we spent a few months at Dolores and then moved to Cortez, where we have our home. My first wife and I had six children: Eva, now Mrs. Ed Akin; Ida, now Mrs. Leonard Lavender of Disappointment; Albert Nunn of the Disappointment; Inez, now Mrs. Ross Thomas up the Dolores River; Nellie, now Mrs. George Thomas and Charles, who died at 8 years of age. I have 17 grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren. I shall be 89 years of age the 25th of April 1934. I am the only Civil War man that we know about left in the San Juan Basin. I have been in the Soldiers’ Home in California but didn’t like it because it was too military for my taste. Other information: After the well-documented altercation between cowboys in Southwest Colorado and Southeast Utah and Paiute and Ute Indians took place in 1881, resulting in what has been termed the Pinhook Massacre. R.W. May and Frank Smith went to John Thurman’s cabin at Burnt Cabin Springs and discovered Dick May and John Thurman had been killed by Indians and the horses driven away. Soon after the discovery of the bodies, a roundup of the cattle in the Blue Mountains of Utah began. During this roundup the men (including Al Nunn) were attacked by Indians; one of the attackers were killed. The roundup ceased, and men went to the Big Bend of the Dolores to get volunteers to fight the Indians. June Head, historian of Montezuma County Historical Society, may be reached for comments or corrections at 565-3880. Elbert “Al” Nunn 1848-1940]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/a-shootout-and-the-legendary-racehorse-jim-douglas/</link>
        <title>A shootout and the legendary racehorse Jim Douglas</title>
        <description>Editor’s note: This column about the life of Elbert “Al” Nunn is based on an interview by Anna Florence Robison in March 1934. The first two parts were published the first Friday of April and May. The final part will...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 03 Jun 2019 19:58:17 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">8A6E618D-E3CE-35D6-E053-0100007F9554</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=E75CD423-13B0-4352-892D-FC59CEFDA829&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=E75CD423-13B0-4352-892D-FC59CEFDA829&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Editor’s note: This column about the life of Elbert “Al” Nunn is based on an interview by Anna Florence Robison in March 1934. The first two parts were published the first Friday of April and May. The final part will publish on July 5. Part 3 Editor’s note: This column about the life of Elbert “Al” Nunn is based on an interview by Anna Florence Robison in March 1934. The first two parts were published the first Friday of April and May. The final part will publish on July 5.Five men stole Granddad Johnson’s racehorses – Bluebird, Selim, Daylight, a trotting mare, another thoroughbred and an old saddle horse. They stole them out of the pasture at Pine River. Just after that, he rode up to me and said in a friendly way for the first time since the wedding. “They stole my horses last night, and I want you to go with me to help me get ’em.” So Grandad, his son Sam, Chick Porter and I went after the horses. When we got to Farmington, New Mexico, Port Stockton was there. He and four or five others joined us. As we were coming toward the hilltop where we would get our horses again, Port said to me. “Is you gun loaded, Al?” I nodded. “Give it to me and I’ll take the load out,” he suggested. “I don’t hunt men with empty guns,” I told him. “I might not have time to reload.” When we got to the top of the hill, we came to a plain trail with sharp tracks in it. We hadn’t ridden 50 yards when Port motioned to me to be still. He slid off his horse and drew his gun. I did the same. Port got off to the left and stopped and threw his gun up to shoot. Two men were in camp, and one shot at Port, but he had to shoot though dead limbs which diverted the ball. It didn’t hit. Port took his time, slid down to the left again and shot the fellow in the camp. The fellow uttered an exclamation, and Port said to me that he thought he had hit him. I thought so too. Then the other man shot at me where I was down on my knees, and I shot back and hit him through the right shoulder. The fellow Port shot died right there, and Chick Porter buried him in the sand. We got our horses. It was not very far from Farmington. We took all the horses and left the four surviving horse thieves afoot. Jack Hill was the one I shot in the shoulder. Gannon was the one Stockton killed, and another went by the name of Buckshot. We brought the horses’ home – all except Bluebird. She was crippled, and we had to leave her at Slain’s on the San Juan. She died there. We got home with the rest. Later on, Granddad Johnson owned Jim Douglas, the fastest running horse in the United States. He was of Kentucky stock and raised in California. His owner had to sell him to get money to care for his son, who had something very serious the matter with his eyes. Dan O’Brien, Granddad Johnson’s manager for his racers, brought him to Granddad for $7,000 and considered he had made a good bargain though Jim Douglas’ hoofs were quarter-cracked and stood in need of long and particular treatment. He was off the turf for four years, having his hoofs cared for and getting as little exercise as he could. But when he did go back on the turf, he made a better record than before, and Granddad refused $15,000 for him. He was a handsome bay horse and was cared for as his worth deserved. In 1882, I took Granddad Johnson’s cattle to run on shares. He had moved over on the Dolores River by then, and he told me I could take them all to the Blue Mountains. There was a wonderful range out there and he had taken several hundred head out there previously without branding the calves. He had 1,200 head. When I went out there, the Indians were bad. It took many men and 24 saddle horses to care for the cattle. We branded cows with calves at their sides together. Spud Hudson – so-called because he always had a potato or so in a gunnysack – had bought Co-op (Mormon Corp.) steers and turned them loose in the mountains. They had got too wild to handle. When he saw that he could not handle them, he told me one day, “I’m going to get a lot of experience and go broke.” “That’s what I’m going to do too,” I told him. So we decided to drive the cattle out of that country. Hudson had steers, and I had cows and calves. Driving them together would be an accommodation to Hudson because my cows and calves would keep his wild steers from stampeding at night. So we drove the cattle from the Blue Mountains to the Dove Creek country at Cross Canyon. It was called an Indian strip. Bill Graham named Dove Creek because so many doves came to get water in Cross Canyon. He also named Secret Springs, Bug Springs, and Bug Point, Cedar Point, Burnt Cabin and Nancy Patterson Park. I built the stone house out in Cross Canyon, and lived there 28 miles from anywhere. I had several men there. I was the only man in my position that the Indians didn’t make leave. They liked me because I fed them and treated them well. Hank Sharp shot an Indian in the jaw and stirred up some trouble in 1884. My son Albert was a tiny baby 4 or 5 days old when the trouble began. A Mr. Anderson who was there saw 11 Indians coming and said to me. “Get your gun, Al, get your gun. Here come some Indians, and we’ll kill every one of them”. “No, I’ll go talk to them” I told him. “Must I go?” I asked them when they came up. “No, no you stay- you stay. We stay too,” they told me. They remained and took care of my horses and brought them in for me in the morning. They were good to me. I gave them some beets, and they washed them. I tried to smoke the pipe of peace, but they didn’t care much for that. At the time May and Thurman and Smith were killed, the people out where I was wanted to find out what the men over on the Dolores were going to do about protecting the women and children from the Indians. I was at Piute Springs and volunteered to go from there to Billy May’s for that purpose. On my way, I met four Indians. They got off their horses when we met and said “How!” They wanted to look at my gun. Each looked at it and passed it on to the next until all had looked at it. They gave it back to me. I showed them in pantomime how fast I could shoot with it. Then they rode on west, and I came on to the Dolores River. My family and I lived at Cross Canyon about three years. In 1886, I divided cattle back with Grandad Johnson. After that, we moved down into Montezuma Valley and lived at what is known as Garrett Ridge, where we ran cattle for several years. I belonged to the Cattle Pool for a while. The Cattle Pool was an association of cattlemen for the care of their cattle and supposed to be very advantageous. It cost $5 a head to belong and get my calves branded. I couldn’t ride with them, and it cost me too much money to do it their way. I withdrew from the Pool, and the headmen didn’t like that at all. I took to branding mavericks just as the rest were doing. The Pool men rebranded some of my mavericks for the Pool. The Pool’s brand was a cross on the jaw. George and Frank Endricks worked for me, and we went out and crossed the Pool’s brand out on my mavericks and rebranded them again for me. George would brand them, and I would rope them. We went to camp and said to the cook, Ed Welch, “Ed, we’re hungry as the devil, George and me. And we need to eat dinner before these other fellows eat. It will be handiest to eat first”. He fed us first. The Pool men were very angry when they found out about it. They had a trial, and I was sent to the penitentiary for seven years for branding mavericks; George Endricks for five years and Frank Endricks for two years. That was in 1892. The trial was held in Cortez. Charles Johnson, the prosecuting attorney from Durango, worked for the Pool. Sterl Thomas was sheriff then, and he took the three of us to Canon City. He said to the warden, “Here are three men. These men have no business in this penitentiary.” They put me out as a trustee right away for that reason. They needed a man on the prison farm to mow the orchard. “Did you ever mow any, Al?” “I’m an expert” I told them. June Head is historian for the Montezuma County Historical Society and can be reached for comment or corrections at 970-565-3880.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/al-nunns-misadventures-in-wild-western-colorado/</link>
        <title>Al Nunn’s misadventures in wild Western Colorado</title>
        <description>Part 2 Editor’s note: This column about the life of Elbert “Al” Nunn is based on an interview by Anna Florence Robison in March 1934. Part 1 was published in April, and Part 3 will publish on June 7.I went...</description>
        <pubDate>Thu, 02 May 2019 17:02:28 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">87EDB5AC-D81F-1CC0-E053-0100007FF872</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=833D748B-C14D-431B-A155-18D524ED7F62&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=833D748B-C14D-431B-A155-18D524ED7F62&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Part 2 Editor’s note: This column about the life of Elbert “Al” Nunn is based on an interview by Anna Florence Robison in March 1934. Part 1 was published in April, and Part 3 will publish on June 7.I went into Oklahoma and worked there. I met a man named Russ Bean on the Rio Grande. Bean Canyon up the Dolores is named for him. The governor of the territory had ordered Bean out of the country because of his fight with Sam Paull, who was part-Irish and part-Indian. Bean had leased land from Paull and used to put 1,600 acres in corn every year to sell to the government. There was no collection law in the territory, and Russ Bean had a lot of money owed to him. He told me who owed him and how much each owed. He asked me what I would do to get this money. “I’d get it with a shotgun,” I told him. That was the only way under the circumstances. “By God, you’re the very man I want,” he told me. I went to Wyley Johnson, who owed $600. He had lots of cattle, and a man I knew named Berry wanted to buy cattle. I went to Berry and told him to meet me at Johnson’s next morning before sunup and I’d sell him some cattle. They were both there but couldn’t decide upon the terms. So I told him I’d sell him some of those cattle at so much, and Johnson would give him a bill of sale for them. I already had the bill of sale made out without the date and the number of cattle filled in. I figured how many cattle it would take at the price Berry was to pay to come to $600 and filled in the number and the date. When the transaction was finished, I owed Johnson $8, and he dunned me for it. I told him I charged that for making the sale for him. I finished the rest of the transaction. Mr. Bean’s family had already left, and when I finished up the business, I left too. We went to the San Luis Valley in ’75. The Bean family moved to a place called Cat Creek, where Bean bought cattle. I was in a sawmill outfit at the foot of the Spanish Peaks. The Beans and I came to Silverton the spring of ’76. Before that, in ’75, I freighted with ox teams from the little town at the foot of Spanish Peaks to Lake City. There was a load of bottled beer packed in barrels in straw. The load turned over and rolled down into a gulch. My helper and I gathered it up and repacked the barrels. The man I was hauling for was a big chap I had known at Fort Riley. I told him about the overturn and breakage of six bottles containing beer. “Oh, that’s all right” he said. “I allowed you that much to drink out of each barrel.” I had to go over on Tomachi Creek to get a load of coal to Lake City. I had to cross a big, high bridge recently built and with a loose pole floor. The poles moved, and the oxen were very much afraid to cross on it for that reason. We had a time getting across. I remember another fellow who was with the outfit trying to get his team of cattle across. He was standing up on the bridge praying: “O, Lord Jesus Christ, if you’ll help me to cross this God-damned bridge with this outfit, I’ll never ask you to help me again.” He finally got across all right too. In the Silverton country in ’78, I hauled lumber from a sawmill owned by a man named Sharks. The Bean family moved onto the Dolores River and built a house a mile-and-a-half up the river later known as the Ras Thompson house. Bean ran cattle up on the Mesa, and they watered at a canyon known as Bean Canyon. Later, when his son Jasper was leaving home, the old man gave him some money and stock. “Here are $500 and two horses,” he told Jasper. “You can make something of it or nothing.” “You don’t talk right to that boy,” commented old man Denby, who was listening. “Mr. Denby, this is a family affair,” responded Mr. Bean. “I can whip you,” said Mr. Denby. “If you can, don’t do it,” answered Bean. Denby knocked Bean down, and Jasper shot him in the temple. As he fell, Mr. Bean shot him in the top of the head. Denby is buried on a hillside above the Bean place. That happened perhaps in 1880. Jesse Love and I went from Silverton up Cunningham Gulch and into Antelope Park. It took 12 yoke of cattle to pull a wagon up there with a little stuff in it. The snow was so deep it was over the oxen’s backs. We freighted between several points and Alamosa. At Los Pinos, I ran cattle for Granddad Johnson. Alfred Dunham and I turned in beef every Monday morning at the agency. There had to be so many head every week. We also rode after cattle and branded calves. My first wife was Granddad Johnson’s daughter Nettie. Granddad didn’t like for his children to marry. Nettie and I were planning to have a double wedding with Ollie Nash and Jim Lavender. A man drove up to Johnson’s and told Granddad I was going to take his daughter away. So when I came, Granddad met me with a shotgun and said. “Hold on there! Hold on!” I stopped. “What’s the matter?” I asked. “Enough the matter,” he answered. “I want you to turn around and drive away from here.” “This is a post office here, a government place,” I replied. “Mr. Rohre,” he said to the clerk, “see if Al’s got any mail.” “Mr. Nunn, I don’t believe you have any mail here,” Rohre replied. “It’s not mail I’m after, it’s a female,” I answered him. I was facing Granddad Johnson and didn’t have much space to turn around and get away. Just as I got close to Johnson in making the turn of my rig, a tug came loose, and I had to get out in front of him and hook it up. About then Nettie came out of the house and climbed into the spring wagon beside me. She was of age, and her father couldn’t rightfully stop her from marrying me if she chose. We drove away to the wedding. That was Feb. 18, 1880. But Granddad was sore at us all summer over it. We rented a place on Pine River from an old cripple named York. Of course, we had to trade at Granddad’s store and get mail at his post office all summer, no matter how angry he was with us. I always took money enough to pay cash for everything I had to buy from him, even if I had to borrow it from someone else in order to do it. I don’t know when he would have made up with us had not the affair of his stolen racehorses come up. Five men stole Granddad’s racehorses – Bluebird; Selim; Daylight, a trotting mare; another thoroughbred; and an old saddle horse. They stole them out of the pasture at Pine River. Just after that, he rode up to me and said in a friendly way for the first time since the wedding: “They stole my horses last night, and I want you to go with me to help me get ’em.” “I’ll have to have somebody to stay with Net while I’m gone,” I told him. “I’ll send Hattie down,” he promised. (Hattie was another of his daughters, now Mrs. Howard Porter of Dolores.) So Granddad, his son Sam, Chick Porter and I went after the horses. When we got to Farmington, New Mexico, Port Stockton was there. He and four or five others joined us. Before we got to where the horse thieves were, we had to zigzag up a hill. Port Stockton and I were leading our horses and going on ahead. George Cox came up to me and said: “You want to watch that gentleman,” he warned me, indicating Port. “If you come across those fellows, he’s as liable as not to kill you and join them.” As we were coming toward the hilltop where we would get our horses again, Port said to me, “Is your gun loaded, Al?” I nodded. “Give it to me and I’ll take the load out,” he suggested. “I don’t hunt men with empty guns,” I told him. “I might not have time to reload.” June Head, historian for the Montezuma County Historical Society, may be contacted at 970-565-3880 for comments or corrections.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/wild-bill-calamity-jane-and-the-murderous-benders-of-cherry-vale/</link>
        <title>Wild Bill, Calamity Jane and the murderous Benders of Cherry Vale</title>
        <description>Harry Brown, Hank Snyder, George Snyder, Al Nunn, Jess Robinson and John Linnens, pioneers at Priest Gulch, 1938.Montezuma County Historical Society Editor’s note: This column about the life of Elbert “Al” Nunn is based on an interview by Anna Florence...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 01 Apr 2019 19:07:37 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">857B036B-79A8-3A36-E053-0100007FE073</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=25015EA6-3A0A-428C-B314-0735DC77007C&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=25015EA6-3A0A-428C-B314-0735DC77007C&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Harry Brown, Hank Snyder, George Snyder, Al Nunn, Jess Robinson and John Linnens, pioneers at Priest Gulch, 1938.Montezuma County Historical Society Editor’s note: This column about the life of Elbert “Al” Nunn is based on an interview by Anna Florence Robison on March 28, 1934. Part 2 of the article will appear in the May 3 issue of The Journal.I (Al Nunn) was born in Memphis, Tennessee, April 25, 1845. My parents were Tom and Elizabeth Nunn, and I had one sister, Elizabeth, who died when she was 14 years of age. My father was what was called a “drover.” He lived in southwest Missouri on Osage Creek and drove stock to Illinois. He never returned home from his last trip, and it was supposed he was murdered and his body thrown into the river. That was 85 years ago when I was 4 years old. My mother died when I was 7 years old. After that, I stayed at George Owen’s place and then with Ambrose Pault. I was a very naughty small boy and hard to handle. Finally my mother’s brother took me to Isam and Sarah Cunningham, who reared me. They had much land and also a cabinet shop at Marshfield, Missouri. I stayed with the Cunningham family until I was 18 and went to school. Then I enlisted for the Civil War. That was in 1863. Bob Harper came along and met me on my way to school and said “Al, aren’t you going to join our company?” “Ask Uncle Isam, “ I replied. We did, and Uncle Isam said for me to wait until I had finished that term of school. But I didn’t want to do it. So I told Bob to wait until I could get my shoes, and I’d go with him. I was barefooted at the time. I rode behind Bob and got my shoes. We went to Sand Springs, a stage station to enlist. When Mrs. Cunningham heard what I had done, she got on a big sorrel horse and rode to Sand Springs hoping that she might request the officials to refuse my enlistment because I was under age. I told them I would run away and enlist in the Southern army if they refused to have me. So they took me after all. I became a member of F Troup, Missouri 16th Cavalry, under Capt. Thomas M. Allsep. As I was under age, they did not put me on regular duty with older men. It was my duty to escort the stage from Sand Springs to Springfield, Missouri, as volunteer escort until the close of the war. If I hadn’t been under age, I should probably have been shot as a deserter, for I used to go back home – 6 miles – to get a good meal at Cunningham’s, and I would often fail to get back next morning in time for roll call. Instead of shooting me, they made me dig a stump out of the parade ground every time I was late like that. I was never in any fighting, and I was honorably discharged on July 4, 1865. Then I went home to Cunningham’s at Marshfield. Mr. Cunningham asked me what I wanted to do now that the war was over. I told him I wanted to run a saloon. So he set me up as a saloon keeper. But so many of my customers had – or said they had – no money to pay for their drinks just then. In 30 days, I found myself out of stock and out of business as a saloon keeper. In 1867, I went to Fort Sill, which had just been established by Philip Sheridan. We were fitted out by Sheridan at Fort Harker for Custer’s Campaign. The Indians had stolen a white woman, a little boy and two white girls. Sheridan was ordered to make a treaty with the Indians for the white people. Sheridan turned everything over to Custer who thought that he could capture the Indians. Custer slipped in on the head of the Washita before daybreak with a brass band and started to play thinking the Indians would come out to him. The white woman and the little boy came running to him, and she was killed as she approached. The white girls were in winter quarters 20 miles down the Washita River. Their names were White. Sheridan and the army fell back to Camp Supply south of the Arkansas River from Fort Dodge at a place called Cherry Creek. They captured Big Tree and old Sutanda and 30 Indians and took them to Camp Supply. They told the Indians that if the white girls were not at Camp Supply by the next sunrise, they would hang the two chiefs. The Indians returned the girls on time. The men under Custer kept a large number of Indians in a stockade. Those two chiefs were wanted in Texas for depredations, and they were sent down under escort of a Negro cavalry. The Negroes were afraid to go into Texas, so they killed the two chiefs and came back. After the campaign was over, Jim Russell, Tom Hutchins and I went to Lawrence, Kansas. This was in the spring of 1869. I had been Kansas before in 1866. Wild Bill was in Custer’s campaign and did the buying for the outfit. He was afterwards a United States marshal. He had a woman called Calamity Jane, who was supposed to be his wife, and she and Bill were very good to poor people. They had money and fed those who needed it. I knew the Benders of Cherry Vale, Kansas, slightly. They ran a sort of tavern. When they knew for certain that a customer had enough money or valuables to make it worth their while, they would seat him at a table with a curtain behind his chair. Kate Bender would hit him on the head expertly so that he would fall through a trap door into the cellar and the curtain would conceal her while she did it. John Bender would be in the cellar to cut his throat and take his money and valuables. Then an old and supposedly deaf and dumb gardener who was always digging around would bury him at night. A Doctor York and a little girl with him were killed by the Benders. When they did not come home, a search was instituted, which led to the discovery that the Benders had killed them plus 18 or 20 others. At Cherry Vale, I had three racehorses. I was with old Doc Arnet, and his nephew Doug was the jockey. I met a man named Bean on the Rio Grande. Bean Canyon up the Dolores is named for him. Before that, I was at Fort Sill helping to put up government hay. After leaving Fort Sill, I worked for a man by the name of Ingram. He was feeding beef cattle on corn. I was to chop the corn and shovel it out into troughs for the Texas cattle, which were not used to corn. Some learned to eat it, and some didn’t and had to be turned loose to graze to keep them from dying. Cleaning out the troughs and feeding the cattle kept me busy. Then Ingram caught me trotting the old team I used, and he fired me for it. I went to work for Russ Bean. He said he wanted a man who would trot a team. The governor of the Territory ordered Russ Bean out of the country because of a fight with Sam Paull, who was part Irish and part Indian. Bean had land leased from Paull, who used to put sixteen hundred acres in corn every year to sell to the government. Sam Paull wanted to come see Emma Bean and Bean objected because he was part Indian. They fell out over it and shot each other. Paull shot a finger off of Bean, and Bean shot Paull in the wrist. Governor Overton ordered Bean to leave the Territory over it. Bean had to hide out until he left because the authorities would be after him. There was no collection law in the Territory, and a good many people owed Bean. He told me who owed him and how much each owed. He asked me what I would do to get this money. “I’d get it with a shotgun,” I told him. That was the only way under the circumstances. “By God you’re the very man I want,” he told me. June Head, Historian for the Montezuma County Historical Society can be contacted at 565-3880 for comments or corrections.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/the-greatest-manhunt-in-the-southwest/</link>
        <title>The greatest manhunt in the Southwest</title>
        <description>Editor’s note: Part 1 of this article was published in The Journal on Feb. 1. Portions of this article were found in the issues of the Montezuma Valley Journal and from article written by Anna Florence Robison.By June Head It...</description>
        <pubDate>Wed, 27 Feb 2019 22:44:52 -0700</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">82E5BBAE-FEEC-2B1C-E053-0100007F4A65</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=406AD96A-B7C5-47BF-8749-D452FF0E6374&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=406AD96A-B7C5-47BF-8749-D452FF0E6374&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Editor’s note: Part 1 of this article was published in The Journal on Feb. 1. Portions of this article were found in the issues of the Montezuma Valley Journal and from article written by Anna Florence Robison.By June Head It was July 15, 1935, when Montezuma County Sheriff Wesley Dunlap and his deputy stopped their car at the side of the San Miguel River about 4 miles downstream from Placerville. The sheriff and his deputy, Lem Duncan, were bringing Otis and Herbert McDaniel back from Glenwood Springs for the trial in the death of James Westfall on April 25, 1935. The brothers had bound and gagged Mr. Westfall after robbing him of $20, a pistol, a shotgun and an ax. He died of starvation and exhaustion in the two weeks before he was found on May 5. Downriver from Placerville, they saw what looked like a car wreck so they stopped the automobile. Dunlap got out and walked toward the wreckage while Duncan sat in the car, leaning out of the door to check the tires. Otis and Herbert McDaniel, handcuffed together, quickly reached over the front seat and grabbed the sheriff’s gun, then ordered Duncan away while shouting for Dunlap to return. As Dunlap walked toward them, telling them it was no use shooting, Otis fired twice. The sheriff was mortally wounded. Duncan was able to get to Placerville and with help went back to retrieve the sheriff and transport the wounded man to medical help. Dunlap died before he got to the Telluride hospital. In the meantime, as far as is known, the McDaniel brothers drove the car down the highway at high speed. At a point about 4 miles below the scene of the shooting, they turned the car around and off the highway and drove it into the oak brush and rocks near the side of the river. It was almost invisible for the road and wasn’t found until several hours later. This occasioned the report to all towns in the Southwest that they were escaping in the black Dodge sedan with all the guns Dunlap and Duncan were carrying on themselves and in the car. On their way to their father, Milton and Wesley (Pete) Dunlap were the first to see the car. They saw it from the highway but were afraid of an ambush and didn’t go near it. Instead, they drove into Placerville, and it was not until later that it was discovered that the car had been abandoned by the murderers. Tracks from the car led to the river, and it was from this point that the search was begun. The shotgun was found where the car left the road. Duncan’s revolver was found under the blanket that covered the front seat. A rifle that had been lying on the floor in front of the driver’s seat was missing; apparently the men were armed with this rifle and the sheriff’s pistol when they left the car. Greatest Manhunt in Southwest Has Met With Little Success By Dwight F. Brown, editor of Montezuma Valley Journal, July 1935 Ninety-six hours have passed since the fatal shooting of Sheriff W.W. Dunlap, and although the greatest manhunt probably ever made in the Southwest has been going on, the McDaniel brothers, Otis and Herbert, are still at large. The most promising lead at the present moment lies with the pair of bloodhounds that were sent by airplane at the request of District Attorney James Noland and are now on a trail near Dunton. With Deputy Warden Angel of the Colorado Penitentiary in charge of the dogs, a set of tracks gave off the scent that set the bloodhounds baying yesterday afternoon. The posse of eight men who know that country made slow progress through the densely wooded Coal Creek section on a rain-soaked trail that took the general direction of Priest Gulch on the Dolores River. The belief of those who took part in getting the dogs on the trail is that the desperados are making their way out of that section toward the Red Mesa area, their criminal hangout, with a long start ahead of the searchers. But the July 25 Journal could only report “a cold trail.” As the funeral services were being conducted, reports continued to come in. Someone reported seeing the McDaniel brothers at Ridgway. At the same time, someone else saw suspicious-looking strangers at the Menefee Switch east of Mancos. Hundreds Gather to Mourn Passing of Sheriff Dunlap Excerpts from Journal, July 25, 1935 Hundreds Gather to Mourn Passing of Sheriff DunlapThe funeral services held last Friday were attended by hundreds of people, some of whom were unable to find a place in the huge high school auditorium. The Elks conducted the funeral services, and Rev. C.L. Flanders rendered words of comfort to his family. J.E. Barrett, an old-time friend of the family’s, read the obituary. William Wesley Dunlap was born in Pearidges, Arkansas, Sept 1, 1871, and came with his family to Colorado in 1875 and to Animas City during the year 1876. Wes attended public school at Animas City, then two years at Notre Dame College. He went to Disappointment Creek in 1894, where he engaged in the cattle business, first in the employee of Robinson and Pearce, at which time he rode the range of San Juan County, N.M., and Southwest Colorado. He was always known as an expert stockman, hard worker and honest in all of his dealings. Wes became one of the largest cattle owners in the San Juan Basin. In 1905, he was married to Leota Thompson, of one of the pioneer families of the San Juan Basin. To this union were born five children: Milton, Wesley (Pete); Velma, Peggy and Helen, who survive him. Search Continues Fully 300 men have joined in the search, covering a broad area from Slickrock to Rico, with the entire Four Corners Country on alert. The search, briefly summarized, has been as follows: Blockades were established throughout Southwest Colorado, eastern Utah, Northern New Mexico and Arizona immediately after the murder. An airplane was sent by Gov. Edwin Johnson to assist. Ranches and camps in the region were checked to learn if provisions had been stolen or the slayers sighted. An airplane delivered Deputy Warden Angel and his dogs to Mancos, and by that afternoon they were on the scene to locate the hunted men. After striking a trail, the dogs followed it out to the top of a ridge south of Dunton, but it was felt more good could be done in Priest Gulch. The trail was then lost. Two months were filled with a grim manhunt through the high mountain country. On Aug. 6, Carey, Colorado, Rancher James Rowe spotted the pair and thought he recognized them. Two days later, he notified Colorado State Penitentiary Warden Roy Best, who organized a posse. The pair was caught by the posse near Carey, scarcely 20 miles from the state prison. The trial was set for Sept. 9 in Cortez, but a change of venue to Durango was approved by District Judge J.B. O’Rourke. The Sept. 11 verdict by the jury left law officials unhappy. Instead of a death penalty decision for the brothers, the jury decided on life sentences in the Westfall case. Not satisfied, District Attorney Noland sought and got a trial in Telluride for the death of Sheriff Dunlap. Herbie and Otis Guests of State on Another Trip Montezuma Valley Journal, Sept. 19, 1935 Herbie and Otis Guests of State on Another TripOtis and Herbert McDaniel, convicted slayers of James Westfall, answered not guilty to the change of murdering Sheriff Wes Dunlap when arraigned this week in Telluride. The brothers are nearing the end of their lurid crime that has occupied the interest of Southwestern Colorado since last spring. Undoubtedly a mileage record for any Colorado criminal, the great part of the travels of the McDaniel brothers has been financed by the State. The pair have been from Canon City to Grand Junction, to Durango, to Canon City to Durango, to Grand Junction, to Telluride, to Grand Junction with another trip coming before their long due trip to the little round house atop the hill to the state prison yard. The trial began Oct. 7. In a special blue-colored sheet of paper dated Oct. 18, which was attached to the Oct. 17 issue of the Journal, it was reported the jury had given the death penalty to Otis McDaniel and a life sentence to Herbert McDaniel. Otis McDaniel died in the gas chamber on Friday, Feb. 14, 1936, and Herbert McDaniel later died of natural causes. June Head, Historian, Montezuma County Historical Society may be contacted at 970-565-3880. Sheriff Dunlap and wife are buried in Greenmount Cemetery in Durango.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/the-ignoble-death-of-sheriff-wesley-dunlap/</link>
        <title>The ignoble death of Sheriff Wesley Dunlap</title>
        <description>Editor’s note: Part 2 of this article will appear in the March 1 issue. Portions of this article were found in the issues of the Montezuma Valley Journal and from article written by Anna Florence Robison.By June Head It was...</description>
        <pubDate>Tue, 29 Jan 2019 15:34:45 -0700</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">809CA40A-C92E-3344-E053-0100007FC245</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=787A674B-8ABE-418D-848E-24072B32EB2D&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=787A674B-8ABE-418D-848E-24072B32EB2D&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Editor’s note: Part 2 of this article will appear in the March 1 issue. Portions of this article were found in the issues of the Montezuma Valley Journal and from article written by Anna Florence Robison.By June Head It was July 15, 1935, when Montezuma County Sheriff Wesley Dunlap and his deputy stopped their car at the side of the San Miguel River about 4 miles downstream from Placerville. Moments later, two shots rang out, and the sheriff was mortally wounded. It launched one of the biggest and the last posses ever conducted in this area. Hundreds of men swept the western part of Southwest Colorado and into the other Four Corners states. Today, a plaque in Dunlap’s honor stands in a niche in the wall of the older part of the Montezuma County Courthouse, a structure built in 1937, two years after the sheriff’s death. It started the night of April 25, 1935, when Otis McDaniel, 39, and his brother Herbert, 20, bound and gagged 77-year-old James Westfall in the elderly sheepherder’s home near Lewis. They had been invited in out of a storm by the kindly Westfall, it was later reported. The brothers robbed Westfall of $20, a pistol, a shotgun and an ax, then left him bound and gagged on the floor. He died of starvation and exhaustion in the two weeks before he was found on May 5 by a couple from Lewis who were friends of the old man. At the coroner’s jury, the couple told of their acquaintance with Westfall, who had befriended the family when they came to this country. Their anxiety was aroused when neighbors told of having not seen the old man in a while and that his dog had been locked in the house for a number of days. James Westfall was a cowboy and sheepherder until his death. He lived through the stirring days of the West and was fond of telling his experiences during the cattle-sheep wars of Wyoming. Given to rough talk, he often adopted a threatening mien that was discounted by friends who knew he was generous to the extreme, according to his obituary. A week later, Herbert McDaniel was arrested at his home in the La Plata County community of Red Mesa. Herbert McDaniel confessed, saying that the brothers had stolen an automobile after robbing Westfall. They drove the car back to Red Mesa, and over the next few days dismantled it and burned what they could of it. Otis McDaniel gave himself up within the next week and confessed. District Attorney James Noland had the brothers housed in the Durango jail, since Montezuma County’s wasn’t adequate. Then fearing that reprisals might be launched against the McDaniels, he had them taken to the jail in Glenwood Springs. It was on July 15, 1935, that Sheriff Dunlap and his deputy, Lem Duncan, were bringing Otis and Herbert McDaniel back from Glenwood Springs for trial in the Westfall killing, the July 18 issue of The Montezuma Journal reported. Downriver from Placerville, they saw what looked like a car wreck, so they stopped the automobile. Duncan later told officials that Dunlap got out and walked toward the wreckage while he sat in the car, leaning out of the door to inspect the tires. With speed that can scarcely be imagined of a pair who were handcuffed and shackled together, the brothers leaned over the front seat and seized the sheriff’s gun from the compartment on the dash. The commotion was heard by Duncan, but he came up facing the pistol in the hands of Otis McDaniel. They ordered him out of the car and across the road to the bank. They shouted to Dunlap to hurry back to the car. As he came, the pair backed to the car to secure the shotgun. Instead of going toward Duncan as he had been told to do, Sheriff Dunlap walked toward the men, telling them that it was no use for them to kill anyone, that he would release them since they had the upper hand. As Dunlap walked toward them, telling them it was no use shooting, Otis fired twice. With that the older brother, Otis, shouted to Duncan to get out of there, indicating that he should cross the road and get into the willows at river’s edge. Soon as he had done so, the sheriff’s killers jumped in the car and started down the road. Duncan was on the other side of the road, and the sheriff was lying wounded. Duncan went onto the road to where Dunlap was lying, but believed him dead so he started toward Placerville. A car was coming up the road that he believed might be the McDaniels, so he dodged back into the bushes. It turned out to be a woman driving the car, however, and after learning this, Duncan went back to the road and was taken to Placerville. Duncan got back to Placerville, and a man and woman went back with him to retrieve the sheriff and transport the wounded man to medical help. Dunlap died before he got to the Telluride hospital. Meanwhile, the McDaniel brothers drove farther down the San Miguel River road about 4 miles before abandoning the car in the brush. It was found several hours later. The plaque in the courthouse on Main Street has been moved to the Montezuma County Sheriff’s Office, 730 E. Driscoll in Cortez, where it may be viewed together with a photo of Sheriff Wesley Dunlap. June Head, historian of Montezuma County Historical Society, may be reached at 970-565-3880 for questions.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/the-rough-route-to-mesa-verde-in-the-early-1900s/</link>
        <title>The rough route to Mesa Verde in the early 1900s</title>
        <description>As interest in ancient dwellings increased, tourists arrived by Oldsmobiles, in caravans, by the hundreds</description>
        <pubDate>Tue, 01 Jan 2019 17:19:20 -0700</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">7E6BCCF9-6F3C-7D08-E053-0100007F8447</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=74558CC5-35F3-4D51-BA6B-6D3A3398C67C&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=74558CC5-35F3-4D51-BA6B-6D3A3398C67C&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[As interest in ancient dwellings increased, tourists arrived by Oldsmobiles, in caravans, by the hundreds Mesa Verde was designated a national park in 1906. William C. Winkler reported the first roadway to carry vehicles was developed in 1913. It entered the park via a set of switchbacks on the northeast shoulder of the park about 1.5 miles south of the current road. This road was steep and muddy with limited access. In the 1930s, the park service decided to build an all-weather access highway to its present location. They acquired a 100-foot-wide right of way from Hallar and Wattles to go up the east side of Point Lookout. In May 1914, Superintendent Thomas E. Rickner of Mesa Verde National Park applied for a permit to allow automobiles to make the trip into the park. He knew this permit would increase the number of visitors to the cliff ruins. On June 4, 1914, five automobiles from the Montezuma County Motor Club made the delightful round trip. Four were from Mancos and one from Cortez. The road went as far as Spruce Tree House and easily made it in a day. In two days, you could see other ruins. Good meals and accommodations were to be had in the park so that one can travel light. Ira Kelly said his father, C.B. Kelly, also took tourists to Mesa Verde National Park by car but discontinued this in 1916 or 1917. In 1916. Tim Jones of Dolores said the telephone system at Mesa Verde wouldn’t amount to much today, but it was “classy” for the time. “In those days, the road would take one-way traffic and that’s absolutely all. Fridays used to be great days at the Dolores Livery and Garage – that was Mesa Verde Day and they were never without passengers,” he said. “We’d get to the park entrance, take down the phone an holler, ‘Anybody comin’ down?’ If they were, you waited. Even though the cars going up had the right of way, the poor guy coming down had to back all the way up, and on that road it would have been a pretty good way to get yourself killed. Then, if you were on top and ready to start down, once again you unhooked the phone and yelled, ‘Anybody comin’ up?’ If you didn’t get any answer it was safe to start down”. C.R. (Roy) Beers from Mancos had a contract with Mesa Verde National Park to take the mail and passengers to the park. He would pick up his passengers at the depot in Mancos and travel the one-lane road to Mesa Verde. There was a telephone a few miles into the park to all for clearance to continue. Of course, if a car was already on the way down, he would have to wait until the car came by before continuing on. His first car was a Studebaker and before long, there were many more tourists going to Mesa Verde so he had to buy another car and hire a driver. After he no longer had the passenger concession to Mesa Verde, he did accounting for different companies. A few years later, a caravan of 1917 Oldsmobile cars went to Mesa Verde via Mancos. It was reported the cars were placed on flat cars from Denver to Mancos. They entered the Park via the old original switchback highway. The banners read: “2nd Annual Sociability Run, Oldsmobile Owners Denver to Mesa Verde National Park”. The Cortez Journal Herald (Oct. 20, 1921) reported that Cortez Day at Mesa Verde Park occurred the previous Sunday and resulted in a registration of nearly 150, about a 130 them being from the Cortez area: “The weather was faultless, and the roads splendid. Superintendent Nusbaum being now equipped with power to haul a huge road drag over them, which keeps them in fine order, they being dragged after each rain. This park, while the season officially closes November 1st, will be open as long as the weather permits, and we urge all who have not visited the park of late to go and help swell the registration. It is important that we show a big percent increase in attendance this season, as a large appropriation will be asked for next season. “A ride from Cortez to the park emphasizes the need of the road as surveyed from Cortez to accommodate the people from this side thus cutting the distance in half. This is something that will be done as soon as possible, the necessity being recognized by the department. Supt. Nusbaum has done some strenuous work on the park this season, which is now yearly improving, and being rendered doubly attractive to visitors. “The whole day was without accident except for the fact that the government truck that came down for a load of our high school girls, chaperoned by Miss Downing and Miss Welch, had tire troubles that made them quite late in getting to the park. All took it good naturedly, however, and they arrived in time to have a brief view of the interesting features. The White trucks covered themselves with glory, making good time and no stops. The writer was a passenger in the Dick Wilson White truck along with nine others going up and with twelve others coming down.” It was reported in the Mancos Times in October 1921 that a new public camp was established at the park. The site was about 150 yards west of the Spruce Tree Camp and was laid out for immediate use. Pipe were ordered, and water from the tower of Spruce Tree camp was to be piped to this camp. The old camp, three-quarters of a mile from Spruce Tree, was to be abandoned. June Head, Historian of Montezuma County Historical Society, may be contacted at 970-565-3880 for comments. She thanks William C. Winkler, Jean Kelly Bader, Betty Beers Alexander and Jerry Bauer grandson of Thomas Rickner for their help in past years.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/horseback-to-the-cliff-houses-in-early-days-of-mesa-verde/</link>
        <title>Horseback to the cliff houses in early days of Mesa Verde</title>
        <description>By June Head Charles B. Kelly was born in Ohio in 1857. Sometime around 1878, he came west with the John Silvey family, being a good friend of Frank Silvey’s. After getting the Silvey family settled in Utah, the young...</description>
        <pubDate>Wed, 31 Oct 2018 14:26:21 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">798D0C99-B9C5-091B-E053-0100007F7B1C</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=AD18FE80-80AB-4AAD-884A-25537FD14D73&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=AD18FE80-80AB-4AAD-884A-25537FD14D73&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[By June Head Charles B. Kelly was born in Ohio in 1857. Sometime around 1878, he came west with the John Silvey family, being a good friend of Frank Silvey’s. After getting the Silvey family settled in Utah, the young men went to Leadville. Kelly spent some time freighting between the San Luis Valley, Gunnison and Leadville. He then cowboyed for the L.C. Carlisle Cattle Co. in Utah, but after the loss of a finger in a roping accident, he settled in Mancos in 1887. Kelly worked for Lew Jarratt, who owned the livery stable in Mancos, soon became a partner, and later bought the stable. Kelly’s main business was taking tourists by horseback to Mesa Verde to view the Indian ruins. He also freighted supplies to miners in the La Plata Mountains and advertised that he would transport anyone to other parts of the country. One of his advertisements for Mesa Verde is as follows: “Persons visiting the ruins leave Mancos at seven-thirty in the morning, arrive at Spruce Tree Camp in the Mesa Verde National Park the same day, visit the ruins the second day and return to Mancos the third day. Everything is provided for the three day trip, including conveyances, pack outfits, meals, sleeping accommodations and guide at a cost of $15 for one person; $12.50 each for two or more.” Kelly would pick up the tourists who had arrived in Mancos on the train and take them to the Ausburn Hotel. The next day, he would pick up the tourists. In 1906, he took visitors the first 15 miles by wagon to the area of halfway bridge about 9 miles east of Cortez. It was 10 miles by horseback to the camp. The trip took about 6 hours. The trail he followed went west from the Mancos across the Divide and then south and up the escarpment to the head of Soda Canyon and then south to the Spruce Tree Camp, his headquarters. He had built the first cabin on Mesa Verde to accommodate the tourists. Some of the people he took to the ruins were Secretary of Interior James R. Garfield, Willa Cather, W.H. Jackson, A.V. Kidder, Dr. Jesse W. Fewkes and Edgar B. Hewitt. In 1908, when Mesa Verde was made a National Park, C.B. Kelly was named the first park ranger of Mesa Verde National Park. Information from Ira Kelly, his son, and Jean Kelly Bader, C.B. Kelly’s granddaughter Alamo Ranch of the Wetherill Family – Mancos Benjamin Kite Wetherill came from the lead mines in Joplin, Missouri, accompanied by a family named Mitchell to the Montezuma Valley. He took up prospecting but left mining in Rico to go to the Mancos Valley to settle. In 1881, his wife, Marian, and the children went to Alamosa on the train to join B.K. in building a homestead in the Mancos Valley. All understood it would require the entire family‘s efforts to survive in this recently settled outpost of the American West. Their hard work yielded a sturdy home and outbuildings, including workshop and an icehouse. Irrigation ditches were lined by parallel rows of cottonwood trees. In future years, ranch guests would find the tree-lined ditches a place to swing in the hammocks while reading books from the family’s extensive library. By homesteading and purchase, the Wetherill family had accumulated at least 600 acres by 1898. Visitors to the ranch increased in the summer of 1889. B.K. kept a ledger of notable people – the first entry was June 1, 1889. Frederick Chapin was a visitor at the ranch. Gustaf Nodenskiold visited in 1891. Soldiers from Fort Lewis, the “Hyde people” and Dr. Prudden were there. He also kept a ledger of the daily transactions plus records of tourists to cliff houses. Guests paid $1.50 per day for board and room plus extra for horses, hay and pasture. No record was found of a trip’s total cost, but it might have been about $15 – probably for a three-night and four-day trip. He kept a ledger of people from Cortez and Mancos who worked at the ranch. Sometimes he just wrote “Sheepgirl,” “Butterwoman,” Mex 1, Mex 2, “Barber,” etc. Some of the transactions shown were: overalls 70, tobacco 25, shoestrings 10, curling iron 25, and whiskey $10. Guests signed the register and sometimes gave their address. B.K. made notations of the guests – several “Schoolmarms with typewriter” were there in the summer months. This ledger was kept by B.K. until 1898, when Al took over the business accounts. Guiding was so in demand by 1898 that Al Wetherill could no longer handle the demands. He joined forces with C.B. Kelly from Mancos and Sterl Thomas from Cortez. One summer, more than 250 school teachers scheduled visits to the cliff houses, which required the equine resources of the entire Montezuma Valley and all the resources of Kelly, Wetherill and Sterl Thomas. In May 1900, the Hammond family from London visited for 17 days and brought servants including valet. The last entry in the ledger was August 1901. Al and Mary left the ranch in 1902 as the ranch was in debt. They moved to Thoreau, N.M., and started a trading post. Information from Fred Blackburn’s book “The Wetherills – Friends of Mesa Verde” Walters Brothers from Cortez Deac and Joe Walters were guides from Cortez who traveled the old Longenbaugh Trail to visit the cliff houses. It was reported to be wide enough for one horse. This trail left from the Dave Longenbaugh ranch, which was south of Cortez on County Road 27 and Road H. Ladies from Cortez went to the cliff houses with Deac Walters. They stayed overnight at Spruce Tree, where the camping ground was available to all. The cost was about $15 with everything furnished. Their sleeping accommodations might have consisted of a sleeping bag at the camping ground rather than a cabin. The trip was no doubt a three-day trip also with one day up, one day visiting the cliff houses and one day home. Mrs. Swank said in 1896 that she and her husband took a group of young people to the cliff houses. They all slept in one bed – the Swanks in the middle, boys on one side, girls on the other. Information from family members of the Walters Brothers. June Head, historian of Montezuma County Historical Society, may be reached for questions about her article at 970-565-3880.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/second-city-cortez-put-down-roots-in-la-plata-county/</link>
        <title>Second city: Cortez put down roots in La Plata County</title>
        <description>Cortez, the metropolis of the grand and vast valley of the Montezuma, is situated in the very center of the western half of La Plata County. Cortez is already a rapidly growing town and will be the center of traffic...</description>
        <pubDate>Thu, 04 Oct 2018 18:45:00 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">7741B804-085A-0139-E053-0100007F7A9C</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=F6E3A3EE-FE7C-4BF8-9222-BC461286A752&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=F6E3A3EE-FE7C-4BF8-9222-BC461286A752&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Cortez, the metropolis of the grand and vast valley of the Montezuma, is situated in the very center of the western half of La Plata County. Cortez is already a rapidly growing town and will be the center of traffic for a region embracing hundreds of miles in extent and will take foremost rank among the industrial and manufacturing of the young Centennial state. Cortez is a beautifully situated, being on an elevated slope at an altitude of about 6,800 feet above sea level, on the north side of what is known as McElmo Creek about nine miles south and a little west of the Big Bend of the Dolores River where the Montezuma Valley Water Supply company takes it supply of water. On the north and northeast as far as the eye can reach are seen the snow caped peaks of the Dolores Mountains, Lone Cone and Mount Wilson. Nearer and a little north of East tower the majestic La Plata Mountains with Lewis peak the grandest of them all – 14,000 feet above sea level. On the southeast and south are Lookout Mountains and Mesa Verde. In southwestern portion of the valley and not more than eight miles, the tragic old Ute Mountain looms up 9,950 feet above sea level and as far as the eye can see to the northwest, the picturesque Blue Mountains are discernible. Cortez was surveyed and platted by J. M. Mack, December 15th, 1886. Its streets are laid out at right angles, or as we may say, square with the world. Main Street, which is laid out east and west and Market Street, which crosses Main in the very center of the town, are each 100 feet wide and will probably be the principal business streets. Montezuma Avenue is also an east and west street and lays along the highest rise in Cortez, is 120 feet wide through its center will be a running stream of water, on either side of which are to be planted rows of shade trees, with sidewalks along the water’s edge and drive ways on each side of the avenue similar to Cleveland, Ohio. From the main stream of water, all other streets will be watered. D.H. Lemmon, the contractor, informs us it will be completed by March 1st, 1888. Cortez now contains about 300 inhabitants, fifty or sixty of whom are ladies. Its school district No. 17 has upwards of sixty children of school age. There are about seventy buildings; one general merchandise store. A.L. Thompson and Co., D.H. Harris grocery and provision store, D.W. Harrison and Co. both on Main Street. Charles Schalles and Darrah have a large hardware establishment on Market Street and a blacksmith and general repair shop, Market near Main; Dr. G.W. Williams has also a drug store on Market Street. Dr. Williams is also a practicing physician. Byrne and Adam have a drug store on Main Street; B.J. Bryne, M.D. postmaster, C.L. Petherbridge, proprietor of the Hotel Clifton, corner of Main and Chestnut streets; A.T. Gibson meat market on Main street near Beech; O.C. Cannon, photographer; M.M. Molenaor, architect and builder; Mrs. Caswell Saterlee, milliner and dressmaking; Caswell Saterlee, John Monteith, E. Crane, O.C. Elliot, contractors and builders; Wm. Parker, watchmaker and jeweler; C. Johnson and Alice Hanna, restaurants; Mrs. E.R. Lamb, dressmaking and milliner; O.C. Connor, draughtsman and architect; F.P. Adam and J. Y. Carpenter, freight and teaming contractors; Charles Minter, blacksmith and wagon maker, Market Street near First; John Buckley, brick and stone mason; J.A. Coppinger, livery feed and sale stable, hay and grain merchant; J.H. McCrakin livery, feed and sale stable; T.J. Tarsney, attorney at law; Julius Thompson, attorney at law; Cooper & Blackmer, attorneys at law, land real estate and insurance. Goodman and Hood, painters and decorative paper hangers, also wallpaper, paints and glass, have one of the largest stocks in the state outside of Denver; H.W. Tarrant, boots, shoes, clothing and saddles and harness; Monte Chase lumber, lath doors and sashes; R.E. Scott, liquor dealer; Charles Gross, tobacconists and cigar manufacturer on Main Street between First and Main Streets; Wm. Baily, tonsorial artist; Chinese washee, and two other laundries; E.R. Lamb, painter; Wall and Treec, coal dealers; Perly Wason, Cortez water supply company; Peter Baxstrom, stone and brick mason; H.W. Harrison & Co. real estate insurance and loan agents; John Garritson, real estate and land agent. The first house in Cortez was built by E.H. Cooper and occupied Jan. 1887. F.M. Goodykoontz opened the first boarding house and restaurant in a tent, January 8th, 1887. (Location of both near the corner of Main and South Market streets). E.S. Turner opened a bank in 1887, and it closed in 1891. There is an excellent school building, and school is now in session with an average attendance of about forty scholars. Our school district No. 17 was organized and school began August 1st, 1887. E. H. Cooper is entitled to much credit for his determination in establishing schools, Sunday schools, voting precincts, etc. The Montezuma Valley Land and Development company, whose officers are B.L. Arbecam, Boston, president; James W. Hanna of Cortez, vice president and general manager; E.S. Turner of N.Y., secretary; and H.B. Chamberlain of Denver, treasurer, have completed a stone building 50 by 80 feet with tin roof, galvanized iron cornice, with all the modern improvements and conveniences, with an office for banking purposes property fitted up, and the Montezuma Valley Bank, with a cash capital of $30,000 is now doing a good business. In 1905, C.J. Harrison opened a state bank called The First Bank of Montezuma Valley and later was the Montezuma Valley National Bank. H.A. Harrison is cashier. The state of Colorado does not contain a finer building for the size and purpose for which it is intended. On the first floor is the office of the Montezuma Valley Bank and Engineer’s offices; the second floor is at present occupied or apartments for the officers of the several companies (the Stone Block building). The Montezuma Valley Land and Development Co. have broken ground for a grand hotel building to be 75 by 150 feet; three stories high to be built of stone of which no finer quality can be found in the state. (This may have been the “Parker Hotel” building). Article furnished by Howard J. Hanna, grandson of James Hanna, who was one of the founders of Cortez, to June Head, historian, Montezuma County Historical Society. She can be contacted at 970-565-3880.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/the-hammond-brothers-journey-west-to-rico/</link>
        <title>The Hammond brothers’ journey west to Rico</title>
        <description>Editor’s note: This is the first of two Looking Back columns about the Hammond brothers. Part 2 is scheduled to publish in The Journal on Sept. 7.By James Hammond I was born in the province of Quebec, June 7, 1855....</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 30 Jul 2018 17:52:15 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">723A8565-0DA9-2D68-E053-0100007FA15E</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=309E295A-28FA-4014-BFA0-5593661B057D&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=309E295A-28FA-4014-BFA0-5593661B057D&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Editor’s note: This is the first of two Looking Back columns about the Hammond brothers. Part 2 is scheduled to publish in The Journal on Sept. 7.By James Hammond I was born in the province of Quebec, June 7, 1855. My brother Allen born in 1853, and my brother Matthew born in 1857 came to this county to make their homes also. They being dead, I shall have to give an account of them as well as myself. As a young man, I worked eight winters in the lumber woods and eight summers in a sawmill, all for the same company. My brother Allen was a blacksmith and learned the trade in five years as an apprentice. My brother Matthew came to the state of Colorado in 1879 with a schoolmate, Joe Davis, who was a blacksmith. In Michigan, he had heard of Silverton, and some of the neighbors had been out here too. There was a good deal of excitement about Rico, in those days, and Joe and Matt decided to go there. They got off the train at Alamosa and walked to Rico by way of Silverton. They had with them a little bedding, a few clothes and a small amount of grub. On the advice of another man walking through, they bought a burro, an animal which was unknown to them under that name. The man explained its uses, and they paid twenty-five dollars for one sight unseen. That was almost all of their money. The man who sold it to them gave them a rope and a description of the animal they were to catch. It was in a field with three-wire fence about it. As they tried to catch it, the burro always went through the fence near a post. So Joe Davis finally stood by the post and caught it as it came through and held it until Matt got the rope. They tied some of the stuff on it and took turns riding it until it played out. They sold it to another man for twenty-five dollars and continued on foot. Our cousin John Hammond, my brother Allen and I came to Rico in April 1880. We also walked from Alamosa, but our route was by way of Saguache, the Gunnison country, Montrose region and Ouray. When we arrived in Rico, there was only one shingle-roofed house in the town. The rest were mostly cabins. There had been only one mule in Rico that winter, and my brother Matt drove that. It was possible to make thirty dollars a day hauling house logs. They shaved shingles with a drawing knife. Flour had been fifty dollars a sack earlier, but it was twenty-five dollars a sack when we arrived the middle of April. I bought a pie one day for two dollars and paid two dollars for a dozen eggs. On arrival in Rico, I got a job chopping timber at four dollars and twenty-five cents a day. That was good wages for the time. There was a smelter, the first one in Rico, to be built and the timber was for that. A short time after our arrival at Rico, I had a couple of days off from cutting timber, and a banker from New York, a man by the name of Bissell, wanted me to help him with a safe he was bringing to Rico. The banker had left the safe at Bear Creek, and the river was rising and the town was on the other side of the river. I walked down to Bear Creek over no trail the whole fifteen miles through brush and swamps. I arrived about 4 in the afternoon, and the banker was there with a safe in a wagon drawn by a span of large, and one of small, mules. The small mules were the leaders, and I was in charge of them while the banker on the wagon drove the others. Once, the wagon upset and rolled down a grassy hill, but we got it rights and went on. At Priest Gulch a mile and a half above Bear Creek, I had to ride one of the lead mules on a crossing, and the animal fell. I hung onto it and the small span of mules, and I washed down to the bend of the river and lodged against some drift and brush. We got out safely. The banker then tried to cross with the big mules, and one them fell also. The banker cut the tugs and let the mules go. They were washed down the river and under a log jam and drowned there. When the river went down a month or two afterward, the harness was salvaged from the wreck. The safe was in the wagon all that time, and it was then placed in another rig and taken on to Rico, where it was the first safe in the country. When I got out of the river after that experience I was all wet. I saw a cabin near the river and went over. Two men were there getting supper and they asked me to eat. Afterward, I want on to Rico and had to go the last six miles after dark. I was afraid of bears, but I had to go on through. Twenty years later, when I was wintering cattle a hundred and fifty miles below here on the Dolores, there was such excitement about uranium at Paradox. Two men with burros and packs came from Ophir. They stopped by my little ranch while I was getting supper, and I asked them to eat with me. Afterward, as we sat smoking and talking, they told me their name was Priest and that they came from Ophir. It turned out that they were the men I had supper with twenty years before when I helped with Mr. Bissell’s safe. Article and photos courtesy of Chuck Hammond, grandson of Allen Hammond. Part 2 will continue in The Journal on Sept. 7. For corrections, questions or comments, please contact June Head, historian, Montezuma County Historical Society, at 970-565-3880.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/early-mesa-verde-center-included-cabins-a-shop-and-a-bear/</link>
        <title>Early Mesa Verde center included cabins, a shop and a bear</title>
        <description>If you were to ask the man on the street, “Where is Hallarville?” You would get a blank stare. Old-timers know it was a 40-acre roadside business on the north side of U.S. Highway 160, opposite the entrance to Mesa...</description>
        <pubDate>Wed, 30 May 2018 00:18:43 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">6D5AB4E3-4906-4B4A-E053-0100007F22F5</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=919686C3-9B34-4F4E-8150-58675421B962&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=919686C3-9B34-4F4E-8150-58675421B962&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[If you were to ask the man on the street, “Where is Hallarville?” You would get a blank stare. Old-timers know it was a 40-acre roadside business on the north side of U.S. Highway 160, opposite the entrance to Mesa Verde National Park. There was also 270 acres of farmland and forest located on the south side of the highway. These two parcels were jointly owned by Fred Hallar and Howard Wattles. Only the 40 acres was commercially developed – the other was partially dryland farm. Mesa Verde was designated a national park in 1906. The first roadway to carry vehicles was developed about 1913. It entered the park via a set of switchbacks on the northeast shoulder of the park about 1.5 miles south of the current road. This road was steep and muddy with limited access. In the 1920s, the National Park Service decided to build an all-weather highway in its current location. They acquired a 100-foot-wide right of way for Hallar and Wattles to go up the east side of Point Lookout. With the intersection assured, Hallar and Wattles began to build what was to be a visitor accommodation facility. The main building contained a store, café, office and a contract U.S. Post Office operating under the location name “Point Lookout.” There were underground fuel storage tanks in front that served regular service station pumps. Conoco was the brand name. An attraction was added in the form of a live bear. He was kept in a wire cage just east of the main building and fed food scraps from the café. The bear’s name as Nehi. He liked to drink Nehi beverage, which was a soft drink in bottles. The beverage was sold in the store, and they charged a 20-cent deposit on each bottle. Over time, a big pile of bottles built up in the cage. Two Mancos men estimated the dollar worth of deposits and decided the risk was worth the damage. Bad decision; they paid dearly for trying. Seventeen cabins were constructed on the site. Seven or eight cabins were complete with bath, and several had simple kitchens. The balance of cabins had only running water and a sink (no bathrooms). A central bath and toilet house were constructed in the center to serve those cabins. All construction was frame covered with stucco. Hallar had a portable sawmill and made rough foundation timbers and framing lumber from the local forest. Ancient stumps have been found indicating that a few large ponderosa trees were in the area. The roadways were surfaced with rough “pit run” gravel from a Mud Creek source. Water was always a big problem. Initially, they hauled water from Mancos in a tank truck. It was dumped into a concrete cistern, which held several thousand gallons. A pressure pump and a chlorinator distributed the water to the main building and all cabins via a galvanized pipeline. The trucking made it very expensive water. Fred Hallar had a portable cable drill rig. He worked continuously to find water. He drilled 12 wells and only found bad water at about 250 feet deep. He continued to drill deeper, and at 711 feet found a layer of low-pressure natural gas. This he quickly utilized as fuel for all the buildings. Gas was found in seven of the 12 wells drilled, so gas was utilized on the property. Good water was discovered by a later manager at 1,250 feet that raised the pipes to the 500-foot level. A clause in the park entrance easement allowed the property to tie into the New Park water line. This served until the Mancos Rural Water System was established years later. A gas well on the 40 acres provided fuel for all buildings. Free! But not trouble-free. The low-pressure gas layer was very moist. Water would build up in the well stem and eventually shut off the flow of gas. This meant that the well had to be opened and baled out using a bucket on a cable. This usually happened when the temperature was below zero. If everything went smoothly, it meant that the heat was only off for two or three hours. A second problem with the gas was that none of the appliances and water heaters had safety valves! When a pilot went out, the raw gas continued to flow. Several buildings were lost to fire because of this. It is suspected the main building went this way too. Hallar’s daughter, Vida, married a Mancos man. After Hallar died, they managed the property but were active in their own business in Mancos. World War II was very hard on travel and business in Mesa Verde. Soon, “Hallarville” was sold and went through a couple of ownerships. The war ended, and travel resumed to Mesa Verde. Then came the devastating fire, with fire departments from Mancos, Cortez and Mesa Verde responding. With the main building gone, all income from that unit ceased, and the business was put up for sale. Ansel Hall formed a new company, Mesa Verde Enterprises Inc. In 1957, they purchased the Point Lookout Lodge plus the 270 acres south of Highway 160. William Winkler was employed to head the development. The first job was to clean up the burned wreckage. This was buried in slit trenches and covered with topsoil. But first – safety valves for all gas appliances. Complete bathrooms were added to those cabins without plumbing, and all cabins were remodeled. The gas well right in the center of the cabins was cleaned out and sealed into the gas producing strata. A pump was installed to remove water and ran on a time clock. A stock pond was built on the north property and also one on the south end of the 270 acres south of the highway. Mesa Verde Enterprises purchased 600 acres north of the main 40-acre site for a later development of Point Lookout Wilderness Ranch. Architect James E. Norman designed a new service station, garage, gift shop, dining room and coffee shop on the front of the original 40-acre section. Winkler built it utilizing the cut stone purchased in McElmo Canyon. Two four-unit motel blocks were built west of the new stone building to reflect the type of architecture proposed for the new Far View Lodge in Mesa Verde. All these new facilities functioned well for a couple years, and then the Colorado Department of Highways built a new overpass exchange to Mesa Verde 100 yards south of the existing highway. This cut off the customer flow to Point Lookout Lodge, and plans changed. Mesa Verde Co. obtained a new 20-year contract. The two four-room units were moved to Far View, and Point Lookout became a support unit for all the new development in Mesa Verde. Article and the photographs are courtesy of Bill and Merrie Winkler, who were at Mesa Verde Park for about 41 years. June Head, historian for the Montezuma County Historical Society, may be contacted at 970-565-3880 for comments or corrections.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/families-tell-history-of-a-route-666-ghost-town/</link>
        <title>Families tell history of a Route 666 ghost town</title>
        <description>By June Head Montezuma County Historical Society Ackmen was a dryland community that was bypassed by the construction of U.S. Route 666, now known as U.S. Highway 491. Ackmen’s residents moved to the newly established community of Pleasant View along...</description>
        <pubDate>Tue, 01 May 2018 22:40:32 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">6B273DFE-985B-160F-E053-0100007F189F</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=11A53759-1D40-417F-9AEB-16ADBD97B281&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=11A53759-1D40-417F-9AEB-16ADBD97B281&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[By June Head Montezuma County Historical Society Ackmen was a dryland community that was bypassed by the construction of U.S. Route 666, now known as U.S. Highway 491. Ackmen’s residents moved to the newly established community of Pleasant View along the highway. Ackmen was located in the area of County Road 15.5 and Road AA that descends into Sandstone Canyon about 3 miles south of Pleasant View. The community was gone by the 1940s. The first store in Ackmen was built by James and Lura Hadley and purchased by “Ogg” Weimann, who later built a new one. The street was called Hadley Street. The interviews about Ackmen follow. Bessie Hollen White, 2017 Many old-timers know of Ackmen, but why this name? The story goes that a group of people had met to name the town and get a post office. After a while, someone said, “We’ve got to act, men.” The town was named Ackmen. The post office was established on Nov. 5, 1917, and remained until 1941. My father and mother lived for seven years in western Kansas during the Dust Bowl. In 1926, they moved to Canada and to Ackmen in 1934. We lived on County Road CC about a mile from the old highway. I started to school in 1936 at Ackmen, walking 3 miles. My grandparents lived in Ackmen, where they had some cabins. Truck drivers would stay at night with them because the roads in the winter were so bad they had to stop there or get stuck down the road. My Gramo would fix meals for them. Ackmen had a post office. Farmers Telephone established service in 1920. “Ogg” Weinmann operated a store with groceries, some clothing, used furniture, and hardware for several years. My Granddad Hollen had a store for a few years after 1932. Clarence Wooten had a garage to fix the few cars and a gas station. They had the school with two teachers. The old highway (Highway 160) was just dirt. When Highway 666 came through, it was a godsend if you could get to the highway – you could get to town to the doctors. You could take your cream and eggs and all kinds of other things. In the late 1930s, my brother carried the mail for Noel Hadley, who was the mail carrier, in the winter. It had to be done on horseback and wagon in the winter. He would ride the horse on Tuesday and Thursday. On Saturday, he had to take the wagon to take packages and groceries. This was a free service as people could not get to the store. It would take him all day as it was about a 17-to-18 mile trip. In the late ’30s one night in November or December, Alice Pigg Lancaster called Dad. Her sister in-law was having a baby. They had called Doctor LeFurgey from Dolores. He said he could drive his car to Pleasant View and wanted Dad to take the mail wagon and horses to meet him and take him to the Piggs’ home. Of course, Dad said he would. Dad put some blankets in the wagon for the doctor to cover with. LeFurgey had his own “toddy” to keep warm. They stopped by neighbors for coffee and sandwiches. Dad never forgot the night. The baby was fine. (White, 2017) Alice Pigg Lancaster My dad took part in the Oklahoma Land Rush around 1900. We later rented farm land in eastern Colorado. An article in The Denver Post said the Army had pushed the Indians off their land in Montezuma County, and it was open for homesteading, so we came on Thanksgiving Day, 1916. You had to pay $1.25 an acre for 160 acres, live on it six months, clear 10 acres, and it was yours. It was good land, but water was scarce. My father built a log house, just two rooms, but put up a shingle roof. All the other homesteaders put logs on their roof, then bark, then mud. When it rained, we were the only people with a dry place, so all the other families would come and sleep in our house. We made our own bread and soap, grew corn and raised hogs. We washed our clothes on a washboard. The hardest thing was getting drinking water. We had no way to drill deep wells, so we had to get water in barrels in a wagon. We might have to go 20 miles in one direction, and we’d store it in a cement-lined cistern. Sometimes, a mouse or rat would get in the cistern, and you didn’t drink the water! Winter was easier as we melted snow and icicles. Alice taught 2 years at Ackmen and it was her first teaching job. She mentioned that the school kids would go to Sandstone Creek as an outing. (Alice Lancaster, 1991) H.H. ‘Beab’ Beaber, 2017 “Beab” was editor and owner of the Pioneer Chieftain Newspaper at Ackmen. The first issue was published on Friday, Jan. 2, 1920. His mottos were “One School, one Flag, one Country, America for American” and “With a Mission and without a Muzzle.” Beab and Mary were off to a start in this small village, where they also served as the postmaster and postmistress for the Postal Service. The first subscribers were J.W. Hadley, J.D. Blosser, William Eggers, E.L. Wright, William Tillman and John King. They published news from the dryland area and the Montezuma Valley including Dolores and Cortez. They hired one hand to help with all the duties. On a good day, they could print 300 copies a day with an old Washington Hand Press. Unfortunately, the old highway (160) through the drylands to Dove Creek was rebuilt and rerouted not long after the newspaper was founded. The post office and the school were closed. (Jerry Beaber, 2017) John Walter Ertel J.W. Ertel was born in Ohio on June 15, 1892. They left the area in 1904 in search of a drier climate for his mother. Upon their arrival in Denver, Walter took a job at Martin Mortuary, where he worked during the day and studied to become a mortician at night. In 1917, Walter and his brother in-law Bill Lenz homesteaded 320 acres in Ackmen. For the first couple of years, they split their time, working summers in Ackmen and returning to Denver to work in the winter. In 1919, Walter was able to live full-time on the homestead in Ackmen. He also moved his parents out with him, and his mother soon became the postmistress of the Ackmen Post Office. In 1921, Walter bought the Omo and Ames Mortuary in Cortez. Mr. Omo decided to retire in 1923, so the Ertel family relocated to Cortez. (Ertel family, 2011) Calvin Denton and Mrs. Noel Hadley Calvin Denton had a bean shed with a bean cleaner. The Noel Hadley family lived next door. They had an agreement that Calvin would not run the bean cleaner on wash days. Later, Calvin Denton purchased the store. Lois Hadley had the telephone office. When the residents moved to Pleasant View, Mr. Denton moved his store there. Denton later sold the store to John Wright. Mrs. Hadley moved the telephone office to the “front room” of their home in Pleasant View. (Mrs. Lois Hadley, 1960s) Colorado Conservation Camp The CCC camp was west of Ackmen and was building the new highway. Ackmen was a tent city for the road crew in 1922. The CCC boys liked to dance, so many dances were held at Ackmen. (Leon Weinmann: 1970s) Bob Hollen, father of Bessie White, played the banjo for the dances and was paid $5 for the evening. Lowell Campbell W.I. and Lillian Campbell and children lived in Ackmen about 1921. Lowell attended school in the second grade. The family lived in a board frame house north of the school. The home was heated with a wood-burning stove and used kerosene lanterns as there was no electricity. Water was hauled by buckets from their neighbor, Mr. Weimann, who had a gas-driven pump for his well, and a pressurized water system. The town consisted of a few homes, the school, Weinmann’s mercantile and the telephone office. The school was a one-room school, and classes were taught from the first through eighth grades. The students beyond the eighth grade made arrangements to live in Cortez and attend school there. (Jerry Fetterman – Campbell, 1981) Bessie White, Jerry Fetterman, Jerry Beaber, Fred Blackburn, Walter Ertel Jr., Lois Hadley and Alice/Al Lancaster contributed information about Ackmen. Without their help, Ackmen would remain a mystery ghost town. June Head is historian of Montezuma County Historical Society, phone 565-3880. She may be contacted for comments or questions.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/the-indian-racetrack-near-old-mcphee/</link>
        <title>The Indian racetrack near Old McPhee</title>
        <description>The 800-acre Charlie Johnson homestead and old racetrack are located under McPhee Reservoir.Montezuma County Historical Society Editor’s Note: This is the last of three parts of Erastus Thompson’s recollections of life in Montezuma County in the late 1800s. The entire...</description>
        <pubDate>Tue, 03 Apr 2018 23:46:16 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">68F4ED27-8189-62ED-E053-0100007FEA5F</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=68A5FF3F-222C-42A7-BE71-258F929ABAF9&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=68A5FF3F-222C-42A7-BE71-258F929ABAF9&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[The 800-acre Charlie Johnson homestead and old racetrack are located under McPhee Reservoir.Montezuma County Historical Society Editor’s Note: This is the last of three parts of Erastus Thompson’s recollections of life in Montezuma County in the late 1800s. The entire article is in the Montezuma County Historical Society book “Great Sage Plain to Timberline “Our Pioneer History,” Volume 4.The cabin Charles Johnson Sr. moved into when he first came to the country was owned by Dick May. Dick May was killed in a fight with Indians in the Cross Canyon area. I hauled his body back to the Dolores, and he was buried across the road from where the old cemetery is on the old Johnson place. In 1879, Cal House, Jake Straus, Jim Nash, George Webb and I went down to the racetrack to bet on horse races with the Indians. The Indians bet blankets. Jim Nash was riding in a race and there were many bets on it. Both white men and Indians were judges and Jim Nash was beating in the race. In place of going between the judges as he was supposed to, the Indian wheeled off to one side, and the Indians grabbed up the blankets and some of the money. Jim Nash was angry about it and began quirting the Indians. All that prevented that from causing trouble was some men came riding up bringing the report of the Meeker Massacre. The Indians snatched up their things and broke camps. The white man had no business going down to the Indians’ racetrack at all. I was in Texas for Mrs. Lacy at the time of the Beaver trouble. I was gone 11 months as 1,700 cattle had to be rounded up. I took along 18 or 19 head of horses. It was hard to get men to make the trip. I got a man named Pickens to hire them for me. He said the ones he employed would be all right until it stormed. Mrs. Lacy had a ranch on the Vernajo in New Mexico, and she hired more men to come here. Goodman had brought 7,000 head of the Lacy cattle to this country in 1881, and I brought this second bunch in 1883. Lacy and Coleman were partners. Coleman brought his part of the cattle to the panhandle, and Lacy brought his here. Coleman undertook to bring his cattle to this country, but Coleman was drowned in the San Miguel in 1886. His cattle were known as the J.C. cattle. The man whose cattle were drowned in the Dolores was named Smith. He was coming with cattle from Arizona and had experienced drivers. They watered the cattle at the San Juan and crossed the Mancos fast. They brought them over the old Indian trail. The cattle should have been brought into the old Bend and trailed into water. The cattle smelled the water and pushed along fast and came down over the bluff at the Jim Lavender (now Jim Hammond) place and fell and killed one another. It was a regular stampede ,and the Dolores was dammed with dead cattle. This was a large bunch – about 2,000 head. I do not know just how many were killed. Had the drivers led the cattle to the old Bend, they could have taken them into the water where it was not so steep and safer. The main thing is to point the cattle right and keep the drags up. But so often the cowboys instead of leading as they ought to do would get to the rear of the bunch and visit and let the cattle do their own leading. Lacy’s place was on the Vermejo in Colfax County, New Mexico. We had to come about 700 miles to here. It was a Land Grant, and Lacy and Dawson were the only two men who had deeds from the Mexican who owned it. We crossed the mountains at the head of the Vermejo – north of Taos and came into Colorado at about Antonio. Mrs. Lacy was a Brumley. Lacy was killed after they brought the cattle here. The care of the cattle was under direction of the Brumley brothers who hired a man to run them in the Blue Mountains. Lacy was killed at Fort Lewis. He had cattle on the Mancos, Thompson’s Park and through the San Juan generally. When he was killed, Lacy was waiting at Fort Lewis to see about some cattle which he had lost. Lacy thought they had been sold to the government. A man who was in with the rustlers who had stolen his cattle saw him and killed him. That is the supposition of mine. Once Ben Quick and some others and I took a bunch of cattle to Durango that belonged to Pierson Brothers. They wanted us to stay there and hold the cattle for a couple of days for $10 or $15 extra apiece. The cattle were to go on to Cascade. There was nothing wrong about these cattle of Pierson Brothers’ and they had no idea there would be trouble. The Farmington outfit got it into their heads the cattle had been rustled and shot into the bunch that was holding the cattle. (We had gone back home). The Eskridges and Ike and Port Stockton and his wife were among those in the scrap. Port Stockton was killed, and his widow stayed right with the fight and had her arm shot off. She was a cousin to the Stockton boys and later on married Mr. Estes and was mother of the Estes boys. The Stocktons and Eskridges went to Silverton on a robbing expedition and killed the Marshall. They were then outlaws and pretty well out of the picture. Ike Stockton had a way of coming up to a person and acting very friendly and then shooting. Everyone was afraid of him. Sullivan was employed to kill him. Sullivan killed Ike Stockton between Animas City and Durango. Ike probably had a gun but he didn’t get his gun out. It was said that he squealed. June Head is historian of the Montezuma County Historical Society. She may be contacted at 565-3880 for questions or corrections.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/the-nevada-colony-of-the-dolores-river-valley-in-1872/</link>
        <title>The Nevada Colony of the Dolores River Valley in 1872</title>
        <description>The cattle station and stagecoach stop in Cross Canyon was used as a cattle station until about 1896, when it became a stopover for the stage and mail route between Dolores and Monticello.Courtesy of Gardner family Editor’s Note: This is...</description>
        <pubDate>Tue, 27 Feb 2018 18:19:58 -0700</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">6635A333-8E9D-0547-E053-0100007F4C68</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=7D923640-D58D-4B06-A7B4-248CF57CABC3&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=7D923640-D58D-4B06-A7B4-248CF57CABC3&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[The cattle station and stagecoach stop in Cross Canyon was used as a cattle station until about 1896, when it became a stopover for the stage and mail route between Dolores and Monticello.Courtesy of Gardner family Editor’s Note: This is the second of three parts of Erastus Thompson’s recollections of life in Montezuma County in the late 1800s. The entire article is in the Montezuma County Historical Society book “Great Sage Plain to Timberline “Our Pioneer History,” Volume 4.By Erastus “Ras” Thompson I have reason to believe that a colony of people from Nevada came here in 1872 and built cabins every half or three quarters of a mile for about eight miles along the Dolores here. Probably the Indians ran them off. They intended to homestead, but there were trappers here too before they were. In 1881, I was not in any of the Indian fights. But Goodman, the Quick boys, some other cowboys, and I were gathering cattle out west when it was all brewing. Goodman and I were on the head of Yellow Jacket Canon, and Goodman called me out of the canon because he saw some Indians who were angry about something though he could not quite make out what. Goodman said we’d drift the cattle off so as to be prepared in case anything happened. I did not have anything to shoot with even if I had needed to do so. Goodman talked to Dick May and Smith on their way out to Cross Canyon. They knew there was some Indian trouble but paid no special attention to it. May told Goodman he was going to buy horses. Alderson owned the horses and Thurman took care of them. Years later, Editor Kinney who had the paper at Dove Creek owned the place where Thurman stayed known afterwards as Burnt Cabin. I knew nothing of Smith who was with Dick May, he being a stranger here. May had a contract to furnish meat at Rico. He and Rhyman worked together on that. May planned to buy unbroken horses on this trip. At that time, unbroken horses sold for $50 and broken ones for $100 so May had money on him. It was about 11 o’clock one morning when Goodman talked to Dick May and Smith. At about the same hour the next day, there were men coming to get help to see about what had happened. The next morning Mike and Pat O’Donnell’s outfit found the Thurman cabin burned and two dead horses in front of it. There was 1,000 to 1,500 pounds of oats in the cabin for winter horse feed, and that was all that saved Dick May from being completely burned up. They saw nothing of either Smith or Thurman. We were at the McPhee camp and the men came along and told us that there were a number of men going to fight the Indians. They sent me to the King cow camp at what is now the Matt Hammond place to get some arms. The man I worked for had a team of big, almost unbroken, mules he got from the railroad outfit and I was unanimously selected to drive them out to the scene of the trouble and to bring in May. Henry Goodman headed the Dolores outfit and Charlie Frink the one from Mancos. I started out with those wild mules across Sage Hen and headed to the Dove Creek country. I was alone in the wagon and sometimes I wouldn’t see any of the boys for an hour. There was no road and I had all I could do all the time I was going just handling those big, wild mules. We went out there and found the two dead horses in front of the ruins of the cabin. One had Ray Summers’ father’s brand on it. He belonged out on Indian Creek and it was thought the Indians had stolen him and had ridden him there. Most probably, May shot him. May was evidently alone in the cabin when the Indians came up and he had put up quite a fight before he was killed. Probably, he killed both Oscar Summers’ horse and the other horse in the course of the shooting. Doubtless, the Indians set the cabin on fire just before they left. Dick May’s body was badly burned. There was not much of it left but bones. No one – not even Billy May – knew how much money Dick May had with him when he went out there. But they found some silver money on him. The rest was probably taken away or burned. I hauled Dick May’s body back to the Dolores behind those wild Missouri mules, and he was buried across the road from where the old cemetery is on the old Johnson place. The men almost gave up finding Thurman’s body. Quick was riding a big workhorse, the only quiet horse in the outfit. The fourth day after we got out there, Quick’s horse scented something and that led to finding Thurman in the brush three-quarters of a mile from the cabin. He had a plaited hackamore worth $20 to $30 on his arm when found, and they thought he must have been out to catch a horse when killed. They buried him right there where he was. They never could find Smith’s body. He seemed to have disappeared entirely. Some Indians said he ran and went down a deep canyon. They thought he must have been hurt and died there. The cabin Charles Johnson Sr. moved into when he first came to the country belonged to Dick May. It was near the site of McPhee and there was an Indian racetrack there. June Head is historian of the Montezuma County Historical Society. She may be contacted at 565-3880 for questions or corrections.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/recollections-of-early-dolores-by-erastus-thompson/</link>
        <title>Recollections of early Dolores by Erastus Thompson</title>
        <description>Editor’s note: This column is the first of two parts about life in early Dolores, Colorado. Part 2 will continue in The Journal on March 2.By Erastus Thompson I was born in Iowa in March 1858, and I first came...</description>
        <pubDate>Tue, 30 Jan 2018 20:22:33 -0700</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">640207BB-0ECA-4DFB-E053-0100007F8D39</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=7F1A7C9B-4096-4158-A96B-F15BF11438A7&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=7F1A7C9B-4096-4158-A96B-F15BF11438A7&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Editor’s note: This column is the first of two parts about life in early Dolores, Colorado. Part 2 will continue in The Journal on March 2.By Erastus Thompson I was born in Iowa in March 1858, and I first came to Denver about 1862. My father furnished government horses for the “Colorado First and Second.” He also had freight outfits. He owned six four-mule teams. In about 1863, he moved his family to Denver to live. There were a good many hostile tribes, but we were never near where there was much fighting. However, in 1863 when we were moving to Denver, Indians wounded some people near Fort Kearney, Nebraska. I will always remember when the Indians killed Lon Hungate and his two children as I knew Holgate as a boy my age would. Colonel (John) Chivington, head of the Colorado First, raised the Colorado Second and he called for hundred-day men. He followed the Indians with his men and wiped them all out and was discharged from the army after being court-martialed for it. The Indians used to come on down the ridge where they could look over Denver and the people of the place were frightened to death for fear the Indians would come in and take the town. Dad bought a farm in Missouri, on the Kansas line, and we stayed there a couple of years. The year of the Chicago Fire, he traded a farm he owned in Iowa for Denver property and moved his family here. Later, father acquired title to the place where the Denver City Park is now. It was then an open prairie. The fall of 1873, I got a job as common help working with the Rio Grande Engineering Corps. They would build only a few miles of road a year and I worked for The Engineering Company when it was working. I got a job with H.R. Holbrook on the Engineering Corps of the Pueblo and Salt Lake Railroad, but I later went back to the Rio Grande. The Rio Grande Engineering Corps was hunting low passes for the road to file on those locations ahead of them. Jim Baker was our guide. I was as far as Holbrook, Lee’s Ferry and Santa Fe. I came through this country and saw there was lots of grass. F.B. King saw the chance to do well with cattle here, and he said he would buy the cattle if I would run them. He got the money and bought 800 hundred head, and I was on Pine River until 1879. I worked for King for nine years altogether. In 1879, the range over there was eaten out, and I started to the Blue Mountains in Utah with the cattle. When I arrived and had turned the cattle loose, the Indians told me to get out. The men had left me, so the Indians helped me to round them up and bring the cattle out again. I met a couple of men from the San Luis Valley with cattle and told them of the situation out west. We turned all the cattle loose here on the Dolores, and I have been here ever since. It was very dry that year of 1879. There was a little water out at Cross Canon and enough in Dove Creek to wet a few doves. You could walk across the Dolores on the ripple, but there was water standing in holes. It was the last of July or the first of August when I brought those cattle back here. At that time, Billy May had the place where William Ritter now lives. When I was working for F.B. King over on LaVeta Pass, I met Billy May. He was a surveyor but had no instruments to speak of. He wanted this country out here subdivided. The government would not put up any money but told him he could do the subdividing and take his pay in land. He paid his own men and took land as directed. Billy ran the lines for this township. I once had a job with the engineers who subdivided South Park, which takes in Holy Cross Mountain and it took eight months. I think Luther Rogers, who lives on Jack Lynton’s place, was here in 1879. He and his brothers came here to trap. The brothers went out every year, but he stayed on. Sherman Phelps came here in 1880 and homesteaded 160 acres in December 1890. His land was the town sight of Dolores. Crumleys came in 1880, and she was postmistress for a while. Things were pretty quiet here that year, and I just looked after the stock. (Erastus Thompson came in 1879 and homesteaded 160 acres in 1890. His property may have been in the area of Second Street and Central.) I have reason to believe that a colony of people from Nevada came here in 1872 and built cabins every half or three quarters of a mile for about eight miles along the Dolores here. Probably the Indians ran them off. An old cabin on the place I had on the river stood in some cottonwoods. It had the name of George Dunn and the date 1873 written in it in pencil. I moved the old cabin and tried to save it, but it is gone now. There is one on the Wilbur ranch. The series of cabins extended seven or eight miles about town. One, called the “burnt cabin” was where Becher’s are just above town. (Becher family lived in the area of the Elementary School or about 11th Street and Central per family member). There were similar cabins on the Jim Hammond place. (Chuck Hammond said Jim’s place was in the area of the Dolores fire station). The Nevada colony intended to homestead, but there were trappers here too before they were. June Head is the Historian for the Montezuma County Historical Society. Contact her at 970-565-3880 for questions or corrections.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/life-in-big-bend-and-the-young-cortez-in-1885/</link>
        <title>Life in Big Bend and the young Cortez in 1885</title>
        <description>The J. W. Hanna place at 24 South Beech St. in Cortez. The building, built before 1900, was adjacent to Underwood Plaza.Tom Johnson/Courtesy photo I was born in Kansas in the Indian Territory in 1870. About five years of age,...</description>
        <pubDate>Tue, 02 Jan 2018 20:49:44 -0700</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">61CE2A19-F795-188A-E053-0100007FB4A4</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=598508BC-D5D9-4E63-985E-445DA1C2D86A&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=598508BC-D5D9-4E63-985E-445DA1C2D86A&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[The J. W. Hanna place at 24 South Beech St. in Cortez. The building, built before 1900, was adjacent to Underwood Plaza.Tom Johnson/Courtesy photo I was born in Kansas in the Indian Territory in 1870. About five years of age, I came with my family to Colorado, where we lived for a short time. When I was fifteen years, old Dad got his wagon and started on for greener fields, and here is where we wound up. We came to Montezuma County with Ben Porter, Lon Wilson and the Cunninghams. My father lived on a ranch in the Mildred neighborhood just half a mile north of the old Mildred Schoolhouse before it burned. Their neighbors were the parents of Lillian Hartman-Johnson, publisher of “Hartman’s Colorado,” and Frank Hartman, who edits a newspaper in New Mexico. It was for the Hartmans that Hartman Draw was named. I did not know the neighborhood very well because, two weeks after our arrival in the valley, I went over to Big Bend to work for Mrs. Morton. Mrs. Morton ran a boardinghouse, and Morton’s also had the post office and a little store at that time. I liked it there. There is at least a part of the Morton house still standing on the site of the old end (1934) and you can see it from the highway as you go to Dolores. Mrs. Morton’s mother had a place nearby. Stella Adams, who sometimes went by the name of Morton, was Mrs. Morton’s daughter by her second husband. Mr. and Mrs. Morton had no children in common. Stella Adams was about twelve years old when she was drowned in the Dolores River. Stella and an Armstrong girl were going bathing in the ditch originally, but there was not much water in it. Mrs. Morton was going to a school meeting, and they called to her and said something about going to the river, but Mrs. Morton did not notice just what it was they asked her. Stella jumped from a rock into a hole where the river was deep and did not come up. The children could not get her out. They ran for help, and Stella was recovered from the river, but she had drowned already. When Mrs. Morton was told, she kept saying, “It can’t be! She couldn’t drown in that ditch. There isn’t water enough.” Mrs. Morton had not understood that the little girls meant to go bathing in the river. They had built a log schoolhouse at the Bend, and Miss Lulu Swenk was teacher. She was from Durango, and she later on married Irving McGrew, a cowboy. George Bauer of Mancos had a branch store at Big Bend, and Ordway and Scharnhorst ran it. Later, the Bauer store was purchased by J.J. Harris and brother Andy. The three saloons were run by Tode Trimble, Dan Henry and Phil Kraut. When work on the Number Two Ditch began, saloons flourished, and shooting and fights began. Dancing was a favorite amusement at Big Bend, and the guests were often pretty gay and lively on such occasions. They had church at the schoolhouse now and then. Sometimes, the cowboys would get drunk and go to church and shoot out the kerosene bracket lamps. The dances, like church, were mostly at the schoolhouse. I spent a year at the Mortons working the first time. I went to Durango with Mrs. Bill Brumley and worked. Later, I came to Cortez to work for the J. W. Hanna family at what is now the Major house. It was September 7, 1886, that they had begun to lay out the Cortez town site, and the night before the surveying party camped where the Ute Mountain garage now stands. (Corner of North and Chestnut Streets). When I came to Cortez to work, the stone buildings erected by the town company were already there. The E.S. Turner house was in process of building and there were a few more dwellings of officials as well. Harry Harrison was running a bank in the courthouse. He was very tall and slender and known a “Handsome Harry.” M.J. Mack was engineer for the ditch company and the town. Turner, Brigham, Payson and Coffin got all of the land around town and promoted it. The Ertel place ( on South Broadway) was Payson’s. He was a New York man. For the first Fourth of July celebration at Cortez, they hauled two or three dozen green trees and set them in the ground to make it look as if there were trees growing here. That was just for the occasions. But the Hannas actually set out trees to grow at their place before the water was brought by ditch to Cortez. (The Hanna house was at 24 S. Beech, now part of Underwood Plaza.) At that time, the water for the town was hauled from Dolores or from Mitchell Springs. We put all the wash water and even such slop as was not too greasy on those trees to keep them alive. The trees on what was then the Hanna place are much larger and taller than most Cortez trees. My husband, William Blake, worked for M.J. Mack on the ditch, and he boarded at the Morton’s for a time. He and I were married in 1894 at the Morton place where my people were living at the time. After that we went to live at the tunnel. We came to Cortez to the Major (Hanna) house about 1900. Later we left Montezuma County and went to Wyoming and to Utah, where my husband was ditch supervisor for the government. Mr. Blake retired from service in 1928, and we returned to Cortez to make our home. (The Will Blake home is located on the corner of South Harrison and Third streets. It was the home of Agnes Blake, their daughter, for many years.) Excerpts are from article by Mrs. Blake in Volume 2, Great Sage Plain to Timberline, published by Montezuma County Historical Society. June Head, Historian, may be contacted for corrections, or questions at 970-565-3880.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/philip-runck-and-the-spirit-of-christmas/</link>
        <title>Philip Runck and the spirit of Christmas</title>
        <description>Apples were king for rancher, and he shared the wealth during the holidays</description>
        <pubDate>Sat, 23 Dec 2017 22:00:00 -0700</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">F0B50C30-C953-4E4A-9AC7-2EB86963ED28</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=E3100591-5505-4097-A88A-A55F1AC65525&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=E3100591-5505-4097-A88A-A55F1AC65525&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Apples were king for rancher, and he shared the wealth during the holidaysPhilip Runck (1880-1982), on his 100th birthday.Courtesy photo Some readers may remember when a fragrant, juicy orange in their Christmas stocking was a real treat, especially in the Montezuma Valley, where apples were plentiful and oranges were not. Philip Runck knew apples. He was one of Montezuma Valley’s first and largest fruit ranchers for many years. Runck had followed members of his family from Nebraska to the fertile soil of Montezuma County about 1908. He and his bride, Anna Marsh Runck, built their lifetime home in the Mildred School neighborhood, located on today’s Road P just east of Mildred Road and west of Myler Corner at Highway 145. (Remnants of the Runck orchards and apple sheds can still be seen along Road P in this neighborhood.) Runck learned that apples grown at over 6,000 feet were sweeter and ripened slower, making them sought far and wide wherever trains from Dolores could deliver them. Over the years, Runck expanded his orchards to over 4,000 fruit trees. Other farmers soon followed suit in the higher altitudes near Dolores, making the Montezuma Valley area a highly prized source of apples. Runck’s grandson, Howard Runck, told the Montezuma County Historical Society that his grandfather was “the primary founder of the Mesa Verde Apple Packers Co. that built sorting and packing sheds in Dolores. A fire destroyed the packing sheds, and they were never rebuilt.” Runck was also a county commissioner, served on the board of directors of the Montezuma Valley Irrigation Co. and the board of the Mildred School District for a number of years. While a county commissioner, he started a fund that led to the building of the existing county courthouse. Runck gave back to his community. During the Great Depression, the Colorado and Southern Railroad decreased their shipping schedules from Dolores and eventually went bankrupt. Farmers with large apple crops then depended upon freight trucks to pick up and deliver their apples, most of them bound for Texas. After several harsh springs brought poor apple harvests, the year 1938 produced a bumper crop, ripe for the picking. By harvest time, Runck’s storage space was filled, but the Texas trucks were not there. The apple farmers waited and waited. It would soon be Thanksgiving. Without the refrigeration systems that Runck and his son would build in the 1940s, time was their enemy. Finally, two trucks came to Runck’s farm with an unusual offer. The trucker was not able to pay for Runck’s apples but would trade the load he had until his next trip, when he would pay cash for the apples. Inside the Texas trucks were large quantities of oranges, bananas and pecans – a treasure trove that Runck and his neighbors had rarely seen. The deal was made. Runck offered fruit to his workers in partial payment of their wages and they eagerly accepted. The balance of the tropical treats were carefully stored away – except for some bags of pecans, which his grandsons were enlisted to crack and pick out for their grandmother’s holiday baking. As Christmas neared, Runck and his family decided to add a surprise to the festivities that were held every year at the Mildred School, where their children and grandchildren attended. The school had no electricity, so their Christmas program was softly lighted with candles and lanterns. All went well and when Santa came in with Runck’s fruit and pecans for every family, sounds of amazement and songs of joy filled the schoolhouse. In that Depression year 75 years ago, the Mildred community had a much better Christmas because of the generosity of Philip Runck. Written by June Head, Montezuma County Historical Society Historian, (970) 565-3880 and Joyce Lawrence, Board Member, (970) 882-2636, who are grateful to the recently deceased Howard Runck for stories about his grandfather. Please direct questions or corrections to the authors.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
    <item>
        <link>https://tj.durangoherald.com/ed-nolands-four-corners-trading-posts/</link>
        <title>Ed Noland’s Four Corners trading posts</title>
        <description>Editor’s note: This story was printed in Vol. 3 of the Montezuma County Historical Society’s “Great Sage to Timberline.” It was given to the historical society by the family of Oen Ed Noland. Part I appeared in The Journal in...</description>
        <pubDate>Wed, 30 Aug 2017 20:35:53 -0600</pubDate>
        <guid isPermaLink="false">57FA730F-5303-1F1A-E053-0100007FCFCE</guid>
        <media:content url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=87B4D9CE-115F-4801-8815-D1CD5A519F0A&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" medium="image" type="image/jpeg" />
        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=87B4D9CE-115F-4801-8815-D1CD5A519F0A&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Editor’s note: This story was printed in Vol. 3 of the Montezuma County Historical Society’s “Great Sage to Timberline.” It was given to the historical society by the family of Oen Ed Noland. Part I appeared in The Journal in August.For The Journal Oen Ed Noland wanted to start a trading post on the San Juan River in the Four Corners region and wanted to trade with both the Utes and the Navajos. In the new town of Durango, he walked into the general merchandise store that was owned by Ed and Pete Schifferer. Noland said, “I want ten thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise, and I’m broke,” according to an article written by D.B. McGrue. The Schifferer brothers asked questions and wondered if this man was drunk or touched in the head. Minutes passed before either of the brothers spoke. Then, “We will let you have the stock of goods,” Pete said, “on one condition.” “Name it,” Noland said without a blink. It was mutually agreed Noland could have the stock on the condition that he took out a life insurance policy for $35,000 to be kept in effect until the goods were paid for – if he lived that long. The policy was written by an agent who collected a year’s premium. Within twelve months, Noland had paid for his merchandise – and he was still alive. Noland’s store was constructed on the north banks of the San Juan near the Four Corners. It was reported the post was an L-shaped building back to the river and facing north – built of cottonwood logs, a large store in one wing, living quarters in the other. At the west end of the store, he later added a huge room with the walls pierced with loopholes in event the place had to be defended. Logs and planks supported a sloping dirt roof. Noland freighted in supplies from Mancos, and in 1884 or 1885 the post was ready for trade. Trading with the Utes and Navajos, Noland at first was regarded with suspicion, as an unwanted, interloping white stranger. Several times, incidents arose in which a lesser man would have panicked and done something foolish. Noland kept his head and restored quiet without threatening to use his rifle. The Indians responded by giving him their respect, the Navajos calling him “Ba’dani,” a word meaning “son-in-law” and implying friendly kinship. Several years later, Noland and his father-in-law, Stanley Mitchell, built a second post five or six miles downriver. This store was situated on the north bank of the San Juan, near the mouth of McElmo Creek, a place Noland called Riverview, but which came to be known as Aneth. Later, Noland turned over management of the Riverview post to Pete Guillet, who bought the store a year later when his brother Herman came out from Missouri to join him. While living in the Mancos area, Noland boarded with the Stanley Mitchell family and on September 9, 1880, he married Mitchell’s daughter Caroline (Callie). It was at the Four Corners Trading Post that Ed and Caroline’s four children were born and spent most of their childhood. Callie died in 1895 at the age of 35, two weeks after the birth of their daughter Callie. This left Noland with five children, the eldest being 13. The family home was next to the Mesa Verde Hotel, and Noland hired Mancos ladies to care for the children. In 1902, he married Lolla Thompson Kutch, and she became the mother of the five children. Later, Noland and Lolla had four children, and a house was built at the west end of town. Lolla was constantly cooking for out-of-town guests – mostly Indians. One Christmas, she had the family dinner going well when she looked out the window and saw a yard full of Indians dressed in their best garb and their horses tied to fence posts. Noland hurried to the store and bought canned meats, peaches, tomatoes plus other foods. It was a sunny day. He made table with sawhorses and boards. The Indians were “tickled to death.” Chief Ignacio, successor to Chief Ouray, spent many a night at the Noland house in the great chair in the living room that was reserved for Ignacio – for him alone. When Noland learned the plight of a group of Navajo children going through Mancos in an open wagon without blankets on their way to Fort Lewis Indian School on a cold December day, he sent them to the hotel for baths, food and to spend the night. The next day, he had train tickets for each of them for the rest of their journey, and stood on the depot platform to put each child on the train. When the Ute Agency was established at Navajo Springs, Noland maintained a large trading business and sold the Four Corners Post. In 1909, Baker, an Oklahoma bootlegger, came to town. He invited Noland’s sons Edgar and Frank to his hotel room, where they drank booze and gambled. Noland went to the hotel and ordered his sons to go home. Baker offered Noland a drink, but he refused to drink with him. The next day, Noland and a friend were sitting on the store steps when Baker went by several times, then turned and shot four times. One shot tore out Noland’s eye; one creased his face near the other eye; and the others ripped through his neck. A special train with a doctor and nurses aboard was sent to take Noland to a Durango hospital. During his three-month convalescence, the Indians were loyal to him and wanted to hunt the gunman, down but Noland told them “no.” The day of Noland’s funeral, far down the road puffs of dust appeared, then came the sound of hooves of horses. With it came the magnificent pageantry of the Navajos and Utes. These great people wore this finest raiment reserved for only the most solemn and splendid occasions. The riders spoke no word. Never before had they paid such homage to the white man. The multitude fell in behind two horsemen and moved forward toward the grave site. All stared straight ahead, and the stares were fixed. The host had arrived at the grave site. Then came the signal. Kee, the leader, jerked his chin up and so they went their separate ways. The host for that very special day was the one called Ba’dani.” For Oen Edgar Noland, it was the year of our Lord 1935. The late D.B. McGue, a former resident of Durango, wrote articles for the Sentinel in Cortez. June Head, historian, may be contacted at 970-565-3880 for questions or comments.]]></content:encoded>
    </item>
</channel>
</rss>
