Late 1970’s and again in the Winter of 1991/1992

For nearly three decades my father contracted his equipment out to the City of Aspen in the winters to provide snow removal services.  This included his small fleet of trucks, bulldozers and a front-loader with a massive snowblower attached to the front.  After every snow storm of any significant amount, the phone would ring in the middle of the night and off he would go.

He operated the snowblower down main street filling one dump truck after another with the snow that was piled up down the middle of the street by the maintainer crew just ahead of him.  Once Main Street was finished from one end of town to the other, they proceeded to clear the “core” business areas of town.

All the snow that was picked up was hauled off to a field or parking lot where it remained for the rest of the winter months.  This was often down in the “Rio Grande Parking Lot” which was originally the rail yards for the Rio Grande Railroad.  The last train to use the “yards” left the valley in the summer of 1968.  After that the land was used for various purposes ranging from storage to a place to hold the circus when it came to town.  The land was eventually developed and turned into a city park.  During the 1970’s through the mid-1990’s a part of the land was designated for snow removal.  Some winters saw piles of snow as high as a three or four-story building and over 150 feet in length. 

Truck after truck arrived filled with snow from the streets of Aspen.  Between loads someone pushed the snow up in to very large piles using one of the city’s front-end loaders, making room for the next truck to arrive.  This went on into the early hours of the morning only to be repeated again after the next storm came through.  These loaders were massive and could move tremendous amounts of snow.  Some winters we ran out of places to put the snow, often using back up locations as far away as the airport or even further out of town.

I am not sure what year they purchased and installed the “Snow Melter” but I think it was in the late 1980’s.  The “Snow Melter” was like a giant jacuzzi with a massive gas powered heater on one end.  This thing could melt a truckload of snow in about 20 minutes or less.  I would hate to see the city’s gas bill on that thing for a single night.  If trucks came too quickly they could overwhelm the “melter” and it would start to cavitate or shut down.  If it shut down, it was a real chore to get it going again if there was too much snow in the basin or “tub.”  After a few near “meltdowns” of the system, they came up with a new plan.

The trucks would dump their snow in the lot and it would be piled up for melting at a later date.  For about three years, I worked for the city on the night shift or on “snow removal” crews in the winter.  On nights that there was no snow to be removed I was the designated “Sandman” and my job was to go around and put down sand in all the slickest of intersections.  I was also dispatched to locations called in by the police officers on duty.  Just prior to “bar time” when all the bars were forced to send their remaining patrons packing for the night, the street could get pretty busy with drivers who could barley get in their cars let alone drive them.  I was always called out in preparation for that nightly event.

When I was not sanding the streets I was down in the “yard” shuttling snow from the piles to the melter.  The repetitious cycle went on for hours.  One trip back and forth after another.  Even with the loader it was still possible to overload the melter and then the restart process started all over again.  When the melter got to cavitation game you had to act fast to shut it down before it tore itself apart.  Once running again, back to the pile I went for another load.  Each night was like the prior but I did like the solitude.  It was easy to get lost in your thoughts until quitting time or the next call for sand from dispatch.

I really enjoyed this job and the people I worked with.  Where else on the planet could you get paid to mess up the roads with sand and melt snow for a living?

Back in my High School days I drove around in a 1957 faded yellow Willys Jeep. It had an ugly metal top which I removed every summer. It was a great Jeep and we, my friends and I, did a lot of off roading even when we should have been in class. It was also ideal for lunch runs between classes. A bunch of us would pile into whatever vehicles were available. The Bagel Nosh was a particular favorite, especially if Piper Martell, the owner’s daughter and a classmate, joined us making lunches very affordable.

I am not sure where Dean and I were going one day in his Jeep, which was very similar to mine, but as usual we were awful busy harassing each other when I reached for his key, while currently in the ignition, and much to our surprise it popped right out. So I tossed it overboard. Yup, I sure did!

Even more amazing was the fact that when I inserted my key out of curiosity it fit and even worked. I “ground” the starter gear of a running Jeep just to prove it to Dean. As it turned out, that was a Big mistake, one that I would come to regret on more than one occasion. The Stapleton jeep and my jeep keys were 100% interchangeable.

The first time I was reminded of my error was when I came out after school one day and my Jeep was no where to be found. After a considerable search, I found it in the teacher’s parking lot. And so began a major game of Hide-and-Go-Seek for each other’s Jeeps. I wanted to move it to the nearby middle school one day but Dean’s gas tank was always on empty, severely limiting my abilities to relocate it. Dean never seemed to have any gas. This went on for the better part of our junior year, winter and spring, but I had not seen anything yet!

One day in late spring 1978, I came out to get my Jeep and head home for the day. It was a Friday and I had no afternoon classes. My Jeep was no where to be found! After looking for about a half hour here comes Dean tooling up the road in my Jeep, loaded to the brim with our classmates, all girls if I recall. He with his big smile and me looking rather pissed. He explained that they had gone to lunch. When I asked why he took my Jeep he calmly stated that he was out of gas…. Shocker!

I had the ignition re-keyed a few days later.

Wait until your Parents get That Phone Bill!

Back in the days before the Internet, Streaming Music and TV there was something called terrestrial radio, or simply AM and FM radio to the youth of our time.  I am thinking specifically the years from 1960 to the 1980’s.  Local radio stations in the Aspen Valley shut down with their own version of the star-spangled banner around 10pm each night and at the point as the air got cooler and the skies darker, we would all tune to our favorite superstations on the AM wave lengths.

The best signals came into the Aspen valley from Oklahoma City on KOMA, or perhaps KSL out of Salt Lake City but that was elevator music for our generation.  There was also Dave Niles out of San Francisco on KNBR.  Then there was always Wolfman Jack broadcasting out of Hollywood with a transmitter just across the border from Chula Vista, California where the FCC had no control over signal strength and where he boasted “50,000 watts of Boss Soul Power” which was no exaggeration.  That station would come in on your radio from the bottom of a well.

Kids of our generation went out of our way to have parties; I mean really out of our way…. All the way up smuggler Mountain or up Little Annie’s.  Even out to Aspen’s race track and one thing you could count on was that one of the superstations would be blaring from a car stereo.  Let’s keep in mind that most of us drove old, run down or worn-out cars with stereos that were worth more than the cars they were installed in.  8-Track Tapes were the rage and they played in an endless loop until the superstations came in clearly enough.

The kids who were partying closer to home or listening on the home stereo consoles would take it a step further by calling their favorite stations to put in song requests and they always included their names.  Those of us listening would scream with joy when a song was played led by a local name of the requestor.  This nightly routine was not unique to us, it was a ritual that played out every night across the country and the phone companies loved it as did the Disc Jockeys.  For nights when music was not our preference, there was always “Radio Mystery Theater” to listen to as well.

The downside was the fact that calls in the valley were often considered long distance with a toll charge included.  So, when the local kids called San Francisco, Oklahoma or Hollywood these calls could end up costing over $10 per call and many of us were not satisfied to make only one song request in any given night.  The bills arrived later and there was hell to pay when they did.

The FCC in later years restricted signals to limit the geographic markets of radio stations and started jamming signals from Mexico to “even the playing field” and our remote entertainment became harder to pick up at night.  Oh, and FM stations came to prominence and they had better signal quality.

Add to the fact that David Niles suffered a family disaster and left the airways in 1979.  Wolfman Jack died a decade later and our way of entertainment changed forever.  Even 8-Track Tapes were replaced by cassettes which required a whole new mega stereo in our relics.

Life goes on and music is always a part of it no matter how it is provided.  And what the hell is an iPod….