Elk Horn at Where?

Winter 1970

The Learjet 25 came from out of know where, 100 feet above the sundeck and heading down the ridge over Ruthie’s and eventually turning sharp towards the northwest as Shadow Mountain dropped off below them to the valley floor.  The film crew applauded themselves for a job well done but the lead photographer wanted to a “do over.”

A brief conversation over a two-way radio and the jet climbed vertically as it crossed over the mid-field of Sardy Field, Aspen’s local airport.  Still a bit surprised and excited about its first pass over the top of Aspen Mountain, just a mere 100 feet or less above us, I could now look forward for a second pass and this time I knew it was coming.

Painted a light brown on the bottom and the customary white on top, this Learjet was a beautiful sight.  The logo on the tail was un-familiar and the words down the side of the jet left more questions than answers, Elk Horn at Sun Valley.  What was this plane doing in Aspen and why was there a film crew in tow?

The Next day I was out visiting my friends in the tower out at the airport and much to my surprise the Jet was parked nearby.  Again the aircraft was surrounded by photographers as the plane started its engines and taxied out.  The film crew proceeded out to the taxi way and set up their cameras.  As the plane passed them during its take-off roll all the cameras were abuzz.  Once again, this was not the plane’s last appearance.  Moments later as radio transmission, played on the ramp’s loudspeakers, was a conversation between the tower and the Learjet’s pilots, they were requesting permission to make a high speed, low altitude pass over the runway.

With all the other aircraft traffic cleared from the vicinity of the airport permission was granted for the pass.  By this time everyone on the ramp knew what was about to happen and we were all lined up along the edge of the ramp as close to the runway as possible.

The fly-by was over with a blink of an eye and before you knew it the jet was climbing out nearly vertical over Shale Bluff.  A second request was made by the pilots for another pass which was quickly granted as the plane came back around over Buttermilk Mountain and headed straight in for runway 15.  This time we were in for an even bigger treat.  As the plane approached the end of the runway the landing gear was retracted and the jet dropped to about 50 feet off the ground.  It sped up as it approached mid-field and began a vertical climb just as it passed the film crew and spectators.  It climbed so steep and so fast that you could see the top of the jet as it went skyward.

Within minutes the film crew packed up and left and the jet was never seen again.  I later learned that a new resort just outside of Sun Valley, Idaho was about to open and the developers needed some good photos of the area for the clientele they were hoping to attract there.  Since the resort was not yet complete, Aspen was used as a “stand in” for the marketing department.  As a ten year old aviation enthusiast who spent considerable time hanging out at the airport, this was a pretty exciting weekend and memorable to say the least.

Thunder & Lightning! See Grey Go!

1970’s

During my high school years I hung out with a number of good friends, most notably Mark Menscher and his younger brother Steve.  They lived down on Meadows Lane which was a short walk from my house.  We spent a good amount of time at each other’s homes after school, on weekends and during the summers.

During that time the Menschers had a number of pets including Grey, which was an Australian Sheepdog or a similar breed.  Grey was a fun dog and always loved to hang out with us.  She rarely left the confines of their yard, preferring to stay close to home.  That was with one exception.

Somewhere along in Grey’s early years she had somehow convinced herself that the only way to stay alive during a thunder storm was to run and keep running as long at the lightning continued to strike and the thunder continued to boom.  She would also spend the entire time on the run barking as if to scare the storm away. If she were locked in the house she would find a way out even if it meant breaking down a screen door or running through a pane of glass.  If you stood in her way she would bark and jump at you until you let her out.  Over time the Menschers learned it was easier to let her out than to fight her to stay in the house.

The close proximity to their house also meant our house was on her usual lightning route and we could count on a hasty visit through our neighborhood and the entire “West End” during every summer storm.  You could never catch her during her lightning evasion and as soon as the storm was over she would return to the safety of her yard as if nothing ever happened.

Grey was still on the run every summer up to the year I graduated high school in 1979 as I went off to college.  I am not sure how long she continued her lightning runs but by the grace of god it never struck her down.

Rice, Spray Bottles and a Rocky Horror Picture Show

Summers (Late 1970’s and 80’s)

Every summer the cult merged at the Wheeler Opera House for its annual gathering.  They came from all walks of life and were of all ages, well sort of…

Immediately after the evening showing of the latest offering from Hollywood, with the last of the movie-goers exiting the theater, Mr. Swales and John Beusch prepared the two-story opera house for the strange activities that were about to commence.  Bad singing, bad acting and bad audience behavior was about to take center stage.

My first meeting of the cult, although having been warned, was a shock to say the least.  Some came in costume dressed as transvestites, others in tuxedos and even more wearing rain coats.  What had I gotten myself into?  Ham Tharp was to blame as he convinced me I had to come.  Much to my surprise, just about my entire high school class and many students from the other grades were in attendance.  So were local doctors, business owners, lawyers and a number adult family friends.  I just thanked the Lord that no one else from my family was there.  Well, except for Brenna, my cousin, and I could handle that.

Having insisted that we sit near the front, Ham led us to what he described as the best seats in the house.  On this particular night, Mr. Swales dispensed with the usual round of previews of upcoming movies and started the night’s feature presentation.

“The Rocky Horror Picture Show!”

Almost immediately after the lights went dim the film cut to a rainy night with a young couple stuck out in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire.  As the rain came down I was suddenly getting wet.  Now I got my first clue, the rain coats.

As the movie progressed I quickly learned the audience participation rituals.  “Weiss” was called out every time Brad, Barry Bostwick, mispronounced Janet’s last name.  “Boo” was also used on Brad’s behalf.  When the scene came to the cloud-filled room a bunch of audience members ran to the stage with newspapers as if to blow the clouds away right on cue.

Then it happened, a lull in the activity on screen and in the audience and I heard a familiar sound.  A sound that had only one source and it came from the balcony level just above my head.  My oldest sister, Cindy, was in the audience.  Had she seen me? Had I done anything that she could pass onto my parents?  My only hope was that I could remain hidden and that she stayed unaware of my presence.  Wel,l that did not go so well either.  Before I could say anything, one of the people I was sitting with called out, “Hey Doug, isn’t that your sister?”  And they said it loud enough for all to hear.  All I wanted to do was to sneak out but that was not possible.  For the rest of the night I remained in my seat and tried to maintain a low profile.  A funny thing was I never heard Cindy make another sound for the rest of the movie either.  Turns out neither of us had wanted to be discovered and both of us thought we were the only ones in our family in attendance.

The evening was a strange one to say the least but I really enjoyed the mayhem that was all part of this ritual.  I continued to attend the annual viewing and even went with Cindy a couple of times over the following years.  I later learned that all of my siblings had attended a viewing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show at one time or another.  I also learned over the years what to bring and what to do as part of the audience participation.

I am not sure when it happened but ultimately the annual showings stopped, and one more part of my childhood had gone into the history books forever.

Express Train to Carbondale

(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 Caller Stated, “There’s a Big Fight at the Onion” and Hung Up!

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 Wall Paper 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.

A Challenging Situation

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.

She is Lit Up Like A New Saloon!

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.”

Darker than the Inside of a Cow’s Belly

Mid-1940’s

When he woke up it was darker than the inside of a cow’s belly.  As the story goes, it took him a little bit of time just to figure out where he was. 

Ted “Legs & Eyeballs” Armstrong was a childhood friend of my father.  As kids, Ted, Paul Beck and my dad along with a number of other local boys used to love to go the ISIS Theater and take in whatever movie was popular at the time.  

Back then Jimmy Parsons was the owner of the theater and the Blue Drug.  His two kids took turns running the businesses.   In the end, Warren “Buckshot” and Carletta (Johnson) Parsons ran the Aspen Drug, often referred as “The Blue Drug” where Warren was the pharmacist while his Sister, Marjorie and her husband, Earl Jenkinson ran the theater and lived in the apartment above the theater.  Earl also worked for the Electric Department as their billing clerk.  Each night after the movie was over and the crowd had left Marjorie or Earl would lock up the place and board the exit doors.  With the theater all secure and the lights off, off to bed they went.

On this particular night, Ted’s friends quietly exited the theater after the moved had ended but intentionally left Ted behind, fast asleep.   Without noticing Ted asleep in his chair, Percy or Mattie followed their usual routine and locked the place up.

No one knows for sure what time it was when Ted finally woke up but one thing was sure, he woke up in total darkness.   After figuring out where he was, Ted began to look for a way out.  Fumbling around in the seats and down the aisles without a speck of light, Ted eventually got to one of the boarded up, locked exit doors.  Finally outside of the Theater, Ted headed home while he plotted his revenge.  Although I am not sure what his revenge eventually was, rest assured, Ted was never one to let things go un-punished.

Every time Ted, my dad and any other friends got together the story of Ted’s movie adventure was told and retold.  Decades later, the story never got any less funny.

Sleep tight “Legs & Eyeballs!”

Life’s Lesson #1, 2 or was it 3?

1975

There are those times when you do something that alters your perception or tolerance for the rest of your life, a life lesson of sorts.  I was in my eighth grade year and I was all too willing to test my physical and parental limits.

Long before any of us could drive our proclivity for throwing or participating in a good party was already well established.  Sure, kids of all ages are good at partying whether it is “bobbing for apples,” poking some poor donkey’s tail in the middle of its nose to teenage backyard pool parties.  By the time my generation was in seventh grade, our parties were taking on the look and feel of the parties our parents were throwing. 

Every town used to have that one adult who was all too willing to go to the local liquor store to buy alcohol for the underage kids in town.  His fee was a bottle of his favorite liquor.  Throughout the summer my friends and I had called upon his services on a number of occasions.  He lived above one of the local liquor stores and always had his head out the window of his second floor apartment.  He enjoyed the company of the kids but not in a bad way.  His judgment may have been a bit clouded when it came to buying liquor for minors but that was where it stopped.  He never attended any of our parties or attempted to date the teenage girls.  Besides, in the winter he was one of Aspen’s most highly respected ski instructors.

On this particular day, my friends and I were in need of some “booze.”  Ruthie Waddington was throwing a birthday party in the basement of their hotel over on the corner of Hyman Avenue and Garmisch.  The party was unlike most of our “soirees” as this one was approved by her parents, well not the drinking part.  The three of us each purchased, or had our “friend” purchase, a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps which went along nicely with all the beer and pizzas someone else provided.

As the night went on we each proceeded to drink most of the Schnapps ourselves, giving little to the rest of the party goers.  As for me, the Schnapps and pizza went down easily and came back up even easier.  At some point I was removed from the party by Lorna or Chuck, Ruthie’s parents, and laid down in one of the rooms to “sleep it off.” 

I woke up in my own bed sometime the next morning to my father calling me from downstairs.  Apparently, I had some chores to do.  Aside from the slamming cupboard doors, the electric mixer and police scanner, I would say that our house was as quiet a place anyone could find.  My hangover was colossal and my father made sure I felt it.  Immediately following breakfast I was assigned the duty of mowing the lawn.  Now anyone who has ever had a hangover knows that work in the hot sun with a very loud electric lawnmower is the last thing you would want to do.  My father took advantage of my condition to “teach me a lesson.”  That day was filled chores and outdoor activities, all of which were part of the “life lesson” that my parents were giving me. 

As for me, not only did I learn my lesson on drinking too much (I still have to take remedial courses every now and then), but I am no longer able to consume anything that even remotely tastes like Peppermint Schnapps, mint liquor or hard alcohol of the clear variety.