Summer 1977
The Rolls-Royce eased into its regular spot in front of the Inn at Aspen around 4:00pm like it does almost every day. This was a 1958 Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith and it was in mint condition. The owner was well known and had lived in the valley for decades. D.V. Edmundson was a former Navy officer and local coupon clipper. He was well liked and also well known for his daily cocktails. He preferred the Inn at Aspen, where the St. Regis (former Aspen Ritz Carlton) now sits, but also frequented the Chart House bar nearby.
His home was the Waterfall House up Castle Creek that was designed for him by Fritz Benedict in 1963. Each afternoon he would head into town for drinks and sometimes dinner. You could also catch him in his Rolls-Royce about town during the day running errands and making a rare social call.
On this day I happened to pull into the parking lot right behind him on my way to go visit my friend Susan Melville over at the Mountain Chalet. D.V. and I had met on a number of occasions when I would be out for dinner or drinks with my grandmother. He was always very friendly and a perfect gentleman. As we both got out of our cars, he from his Rolls and me from my 1954 Willys Jeep, I asked if he minded if I took a look inside. With a toss of the keys, “Take her for a spin and bring me the keys when you get back.”
There were a lot of firsts running through my mind as I climbed in: first time I have ever been inside a Rolls, first time I ever driven a Rolls, and if I was not careful it would also be the first time I ever wrecked a Rolls. Needless to say, I was excited for the chance to drive this thing. My first thought after I got seated was the size of the front hood. How on God’s green earth did D.V. drive this after a drink or two? The hood seemed to go on forever and there were more blind spots and hidden obstacles than I could count. I had only been driving for just over a year at this point and was not about to tell D.V. that little “fun fact.”
I headed out of the parking lot and headed up South Mill Street. I was going to pick a route that I knew well and that had very few obstacles for me to have to contend with. When I reached the Fasching Haus condominiums I turned and headed down Galena Street and turned back towards the bar on Dean Street. My entire trip was less than a half mile but worth every inch.
I walked in to the bar and spotted D.V. down at the far end. As I approached he asked me if the car was still in one piece which of course it was, thankfully. He also asked what I was doing back so soon. He was willing to let me take it again for an hour or so but I respectfully declined. I had cheated disaster and was not willing to chance it.
D.V. lived in Aspen the rest of his life, driving to and from the Waterfall House in his Rolls-Royce every day. We visited a number of times over the years although I never again asked to drive his car. I am not sure whatever became of the Rolls-Royce after D.V.’s passing, but as far as I know, it is no longer in the valley. Little did D.V. know, the day he let me drive his car would make a lasting memory for me and it was just a passing moment for him.
Thanks D.V.!
Dooger's Blog 
Great story, but it must have been at least 1960, because “Bessie”, my uncle DV’s Rolls Royce, was that year’s model. In 1988, DV had me drive Bessie to Denver for servicing. She’d not been out of his carport for several years and rightfully so, because her foot brakes were virtually gone. He followed me over in his Bronco, as I sweated every curve, turn and downhill incline to Denver.
DV died a few years later and his great-nephew took the Rolls. He fixed it up, drove it himself for many years, eventually selling it to a collector.
The waterfall house was bought by an oil heiress from Houston. The Pitkin County Planning Commission, despite widespread public outcry, granted permission for her to bulldoze the house sometime around 1992.
Lee Edmundson
Mendocino, California
I have a couple of stories of DV — first, when I was about nine (1962), I played a lot of tennis with Jonathan Wright at the Aspen Meadows. Lefty Brinkman induced me to run from our home (123 W. Hyman), the first new house built in Aspen after the turn of the century, to the tennis courts at the Aspen Meadows. Lefty had just built The Lodge — he bought the property from my grandparents.
in any case, I was close to the Meadows, probably halfway down the road by what I remember to be the old race track (Vivian Goodnough’s stable was on the other side), and about where the line of the summer afternoon rain stopped. As I was laboring along, D.V. pulled beside me in the Rolls, rolled the window down, and offered me a ride. I took it, and we both went to the courts. What a nice ride. I think he bought me a soda. We were acquainted with one another — Aspen was small and friendly then.
In the early 1970’s, I worked at The Copper Kettle, first with Sarah and Army, then a little later for Sirous and Ebby Saghaoleslami (who bought the Kettle from the Armstrongs). During Sarah and Army’s reign, I was in the small bar downstairs (not at the Tippler). We were getting ready to open for the summer, and Army and DV were visiting. I had known Sarah since the days when the Kettle was at the Meadows — well, I remember DV saying, “I sure am glad the winter is over. The Rolls rides a lot better than the Bronco!
Another time, this time during Ebby and Sious’s reign, DV and I were watching the US Open at another bar (can’t remember which one) and he was complaining that the bedroom that was immediately adjacent to the waterfall (I think that was the one his mother stayed in and the noise drover her away in two or three days) was covered — you couldn’t see out of it because of the mineral build-up. I told him I could clean it, no problem. He offered me the job, and I said, “As long as I can see your art collection.” The deal was made.
A few days later, I went over, saw the art, and cleaned the window with a chemical called “Flash Brite” — we used it on the Kettle dish washer to remove heavy mineral scale (I was a pearl diver — one of most pleasant and rewarding jobs I have ever had). I got the window done early, and fished in the pool under the waterfall. I had been fishing both Castle and Maroon Creeks all my life — I caught a couple of trout and went home.
When next I saw DV, he was speechless — “How did you do it?” I think that may have been the last time we visited.
My name is Jamey Johnston, and my mother, Mary C. Johnston, was an attorney and was appointed by Governor John Love to serve as the Pitkin County Court judge. She covered the Goethe Bicentennial in 1949 — that was the beginning of our family’s participation in the Aspen’s history.