January 28, 1987

On January 28, 1986 a disaster struck our great nation the likes of which was not soon forgotten.  We all remember where we were or what we were doing when it happened.  The Space Shuttle Challenger broke up after a cataclysmic explosion during its launch sequence.  All crew on board were lost and the Space Shuttle program was instantly thrown into limbo while the country was singular in sorrow and disbelief. 

Commander Mike Smith was the pilot in charge of the mission.  With a crew of seven astronauts STS-51-L was a special flight as the crew included Christa McAuliffe, America’s first school teacher to be going into space.

A year later this tragedy came very close to home for me.  That year my mom was fighting a battle with cancer and I came home from California to help my father and support my mom in her efforts (to win which she did).   I spent most of the winter months that year close to home, working for the Ski Company with the crew running the new “Silver Queen” gondola, Aspen’s first lift of that type.

Right around Christmas I learned Commander Smith’s family was coming to town a few weeks after Christmas.  When my mom found out they would be in town she made arrangements with the Ski Company to cover all of their hotel and skiing expenses.  She also contacted John Denver to see if he wanted to be a part of celebrating the one year anniversary of the disaster.

Without hesitation John quickly arranged a special concert at the Wheeler Opera House for the weekend of the anniversary.  Tickets sold out quickly and the Smiths were to be seated in the front row.  They were also taken to dinner with John and his family before the evening’s concert.

On Wednesday, January 28, 1987 the Smiths were over at our house along with a few other family friends for dinner.  The televisions throughout the house were all on, as they usually were in our house, and the evening news came on with the leading story, “This day, one year ago, America was in mourning the loss of the Space Shuttle Challenger and her crew of seven.”  Without hesitation Commander Smith’s widow and his three kids stopped dead in their tracks to watch the news coverage of the accident.  My dad and I both got up from the table and left the house.  How, after a year of intense media coverage of the accident, could any of them want to watch it unfold once again on the evening news?  But to them it was like they had never seen it before.

For my dad and me it was an uncomfortable situation and we had to get out. After the report was over it was like a switch went off and they all went back to what they had been doing before the news came on. 

Their week in Aspen was filled with amazing activities and opportunities for each and every one of them.  Commander Smith’s two oldest kids joined me for a few High School parties and the oldest son, who was a very attractive young man, was a sure hit with all my female friends.   

All of Mike’s kids went on to greatness in their own ways, including Mike’s oldest son who went on to college and became a pilot in the Navy just like his father.  Meeting Commander Smith’s family was one of the greatest experiences of my life.

Her house sat on the highest ridge on Red Mountain, a log cabin originally built by Meg Brown, D.R.C. Brown’s first wife.  By the time the house was completed, Meg had made it very clear that she had no intention of living in a house so far from town.  “Who would ever want to live up there?” she proclaimed and with that, she put the house on the market.  The year was 1953. 

Euclid “Puc” Worden, having just completed his college years at the Colorado School of Mines, had chosen to put his geological career on hold that year, moved to Aspen to be a ski bum.  Meanwhile my grandmother, Elizabeth “Granny” Worden lived back in Brown Deer, Wisconsin along with her daughter, Pamela Worden, Euclid’s Mother and sister respectively.  After a bit of coaxing, Euclid convinced Elizabeth to move to Aspen with her daughter in tow.  Elizabeth asked Euclid to find her a suitable place to live.  Euclid found out about Meg’s home and made an offer on the place on behalf of Elizabeth.  Sight un-seen, Elizabeth became the owner of the highest house on the mountain overlooking town.  At the time of the purchase there were less than a dozen homes on all of Red Mountain and most were at the Pitkin Green level just above town. 

Luckily enough for me, Pamela and Elizabeth needed the services of The Little Percent Taxi Company at some point immediately after their arrival in town and that taxi was being driven by none other than Neil Beck.  I would like to think that it was “love at first sight” for the two teenagers but either way their future was sealed and by the summer of 1954 they were married.  Four kids in five years and they were a family.  

By this time, Elizabeth was now known by all of Aspen’s year-round residents as “Granny.”  Granny was one of Aspen’s socialites, hosting parties and evenings overlooking town with all of Aspen’s high society and even some of the valley’s most famous guests of the time.

Also at that time, Red Mountain was no longer considered “too far from town” and the hillsides quickly filled with new, very large homes.  All the while, Granny watched over her beloved hill from her highest of vantage points.

By the mid-1970’s, Granny had been forced to do a little less driving after dark but her evenings to town were no less important to her.  Granny soon figured out that an offer of an evening out, “all expenses paid” was all it took for one of her grandkids to be more than  happy to be her escort.  I thoroughly enjoyed those nights out on the town; it was almost like being out with royalty.  Granny was known for her “sporty” little cars over the years and she was equally known for her willingness to come off Red Mountain with no fear when she was behind the wheel.  The local police turned a “blind eye” whenever they could even when Granny was involved in a minor fender bender here and there but eventually they came to my mother asking for help in getting her off the roads when she was out for her evening cocktails.   Granny with her “Granny” vanity plates were becoming a local icon that people both loved and avoided. 

With the arrival of every big home on the hill she used to comment how each one of them was “lit up like a new saloon.”  She marveled at the size and grandeur of each new home and how the owners liked to bathe them in light.  She could even tell you who owned most of them.

In 1995 Granny passed away and her house was sold about a year later.  Sometime after the summer of 2008 her house finally gave way for one of those big houses “lit up like a new saloon.”