(1960’s)

The gas powered rail car used by inspection and repair crews was chained to the track around it wheels, which was easily removed by a cutting torch from one of the nearby work trucks.  The Morrison Knudsen Rail Yard was north-west of Woody Creek on a “siding” off the Rio Grande Railroad line into Aspen.  At its peak, trains arrived a couple of times per week to pick up the “raw” iron ore for shipment to the CF&I steel mill in Pueblo, Colorado.  This particular iron ore was considered some of the richest ore ever found. 

The “strip” mine was up Castle Creek just past the old town of Ashcroft.  From the mine, large dump trucks would haul the ore to a dump station above Woody Creek just off Highway 82.  From the there the ore would travel down a conveyor belt to stock piles in the rail yard.  When the Rio Grande trains arrived the ore would be loaded into the “hopper” cars, sometimes 80 to 100 at a time. 

The 4 men, having been out for a few drinks decided to take the inspection car for a ride.  No one will confirm whose idea it was but somewhere in the process it was decided that John Farnham, Tim Cunningham and an old “cat skinner” who worked up at the mine would take the rail car and Paul Beck would drive ahead and meet them in Carbondale at the Mid-Continent Coal Company’s rail yard.  The two companies were owned by the same parent company and Reid Harris was the local man in charge.  At the time, John’s dad worked for Reid and the young men had been to the rail yards on numerous occasions.

The ride started without much trouble.  The way they had chained down the rail car made it real easy to take after cutting the chains from the wheels.  Unknown to the men, the rail car was facing in the wrong direction leaving them only reverse as an option of which they only discovered after their journey had begun. A few miles down the track the magneto on the engine cut out and the three of them were not able to get the engine re-started.  They decided to just let the car coast and before long they were back up to speed.  In fact, by the time they crossed “Wingo Junction” just east of Basalt the car was going so fast that they became concerned that it would jump the tracks; in fact it should have if not for the grace of god.

Meanwhile, Paul stopped in Basalt for a quick drink and never went on, having a short attention span.  Some say he was easily side tracked, if you will pardon the pun.  Alerted by Paul and his wife, John’s wife was waiting for the trio at Emma Junction where she attempted to separate John from the situation.  Un-successful, the trio pressed on.  John’s ride was not over in spite of the efforts of his wife.

With Carbondale only a few miles further down the tracks, Tim, John and the “cat skinner” pressed on and eventually came to a permanent stop in the Mid-Continent Yard.  Paul never showed up to get him.

For years Tim worried that the police or the railroad would figure out who did it and would come to get him.  His close friend, Gale Spence used to love to tell him that the Pinkerton Men were in town looking for him, only fueling his paranoia.  No one with the railroad, Mid-Continent or Morrison-Knudson ever figured out who took the car or if they did no one was talking.

The Red Onion – Peel Another Layer

(1960’s)

The night was filled with anticipation.  The prize fight was scheduled to be shown on the “big” televisions over the bar and on this night it was standing room only.  The fight was about to begin when the anonymous call was made.  The “unknown” patron called the police to tell them that there was a big fight in the bar.  He promptly hung up.

The officers on duty wasted no time and within minutes they were rushing through the swinging doors with their batons at the ready, if there was fight it was soon to end.  Seeing no real activity, one of the officers asked a nearby patron where the fight was.  Without hesitation he pointed at the television on the wall above the bar.

A prize fight!  Much to the officers’ disappointment, there was no battle between patrons taking place.  Most of the people at the bar knew who had placed the call but no one was willing to admitting it.  The more people the offices asked the less they learned and their tempers were flaring.  Realizing they had been had, the officers eventually left “The Onion” vowing to catch the person responsible for making the call.  Someone would pay for placing the false report but only if they could figure out who did it. 

 The culprit was among the patrons watching his plan unfold before his very eyes.  “Bones” had succeeded once again and it would not be his last Red Onion caper.

The Red Onion – Peel Another Layer

(1960’s)

On this night, like most nights at The Red Onion, the place was filled to capacity with patrons. Aspen’s working class folks gathered at “The Onion” almost every weekend, and for some, every week day, to drink, tell jokes and talk of whatever seemed interesting at the time. If you arrived too late in the evening you would often find yourself standing back by the restrooms or in the hallway that led to the kitchen or alley. No matter where you ended up standing or sitting there was always someone willing to hear your stories or tell some of their own.

Many of the bar’s regulars were willing to go in whatever direction the crowd took them. Sometimes this was a good thing and sometimes, “Not so much.”

Michael Schaller was a Ski Patrolman in the winter and a Painting Contractor during the summer months. He was good at what he did and always kept busy. This particular evening my father and friends were back by the kitchen enjoying their drinks, obviously they had arrived late, when Michael walked up, greeted them and proceeded to reach over to the wall and peel off a small section of the decades old wall paper.

With a bit of surprise my father asked him what he was doing. “I have to replace all the paper tomorrow. I wanted to see how hard it is to remove” he replied. Not willing to miss an opportunity my father proceeded to peel some off himself and before long just about everyone in the place was peeling off the wall paper. No one thought to verify Michael’s claim before proceeding to strip the walls bare.

Werner Custer, the owner at the time, was out-of-town and leaving, Rolland the cook to manage the place. Upon hearing the commotion Rolland came running from the kitchen only to see what happened to the bar. Without a moment’s hesitation when confronted, Michael denied everything, stating that he had never said anything about replacing the wallpaper the next day. He denied everything!

Rolland said he knew nothing of this as well and he was in a panic. At this point someone called the police and the patrons began to leave like rats off a sinking ship. My dad ditched out the back door of the bar and watched everything unfold from a “safe” distance.

Not long after that, Greg Holmbeck and his fellow officers arrived on scene. Surveying the damage they began rounding up what was left of the patrons and conducted interviews. Everyone denied everything, it was like the wall paper fell off the walls on its own. The officers had once again been called out on a false report and they were not happy about it. They wanted to blame and arrest someone but once again, there was no one to arrest. I guess there is honor among the “Onion’s” patrons.

Michael Schaller, Tim Cunningham, Jinx and Franny Stone, Steve “Bones” Stratford, Neil Beck and many others had once again enjoyed a night at “The Onion” and had a little fun with the local law enforcement officers in the process.

Early the next morning Michael Schaller showed up to remove what was left of the old wall paper before installing the new paper Werner had selected a few days prior.