1985-Colorado Springs
Prologue----February/March 1985
Things has started to move pretty fast for me after I had gotten back from my Tucson trip in December of 1984. At that time, I had only put in a month at my new job with Distron (which after multiple changes in ownership, became McLane Foodservice), and by the late winter of 1985 time, I was nearly at four months, I had gotten my own apartment (with Dennis as a roommate) and met Margo at The Class Act. That story deserves a paragraph or two.
It was the evening of February 23, 1985. Dennis and I had spent most weekends and more than a few weekdays drinking beer and dancing at Brighton’s 3.2 dance club, The Class Act. The Class Act was owned and operated by Gina and Joe Stone.
When I had first moved to Brighton the land where The Class Act occupied had been the past home of our A&W. That was also owned by Joe and Gina. But, they, probably she, had decided they wanted a more upscale restaurant. They tore down the A&W, and built Gina’s. I don’t recall ever setting foot in Gina’s. The folks never had the money for dining out, and by the time we kids had our own jobs, Gina’s never crossed our mind. The message never reached us that it was the place to go. It operated for more than a few years, but about 1982 or 1983, they decided to turn Gina’s into a dance club.
3.2 dance clubs were popular in the early 1980s. Colorado was a state with bifurcated drinking laws. When you turned 18 you were legal to drink 3.2 beer. That being beer with alcohol content of no more than 3.2%. It was supposed to like training wheels. Start on 3.2, and by the time you were 21, you go for what we all called 6% beer. Whatever. It was easy to get drunk on 3.2 beer. Especially when 3.2 establishments ran promos like Drown Night and Dollar Pitchers.
But of course the real draw was girls. It was not unusual to have a Ladies Nite or even reduced admission for the girls. The owners of all these clubs knew that stupid, horny guys spent money freely, if there was a remote chance of sex.
Back to 1985. I had broken up with Patty Hunter, who in truth I was only informally going with back then, and my weekend schedule did not make it easy to go out to meet anyone. I was working as a driver’s helper. We would start work around midnight and for the next 10 hours we would drive from Burger King to Burger King making deliveries. I would finish, go home, stay up for a few hours and then go to sleep until it was time to get ready. Like I said I was working or sleeping during the prime meeting-my-next-girlfriend hours.
But, somehow I was off Saturday, February 23rd. Dennis and I arrived sometime in the early evening. I think they opened about 5 PM. I can recall never having to wait at the door when we would go after work. We might have been the first one there on those occasions, but we always walked right in.
Tonight there were people already there. I had not been out in months and I was kind of soaking it in. I paid little attention to the surroundings. My back was to the dance floor and Dennis and I wasted no time in ordering a pitcher. It took less than that one before we were both looking for someone to dance with.
Dennis, who never had a shortage of dance, or bed, partners, and who had been facing the dance floor and the other people, did not seem to have picked anyone out. I turned around and surveyed who was there and hoped to see a familiar face or two. There was no one I recognized, but The Beer tapped me on shoulder and told me to start talking. So I did.
I told Dennis “See that blonde over there?” pointing to a pretty girl, about 10 feet away. “She wants to dance with me.” Dennis egged me on so I got up and asked her if she wanted to dance. To my mild surprise, she said “Yes”, and got up. It was a fast pace contemporary song, whose title I may eventually recall, suitable for big league gyrations. I don’t recall saying anything. during the dance. Apparently The Beer was shocked into silence. The song ended, I thanked her, and went back to my seat. My plan had not extended to the point where I knew what to do then. I guess I was happy for getting a dance.
The very next song was Lionel Ritchey’s “Stuck on You”. It comes on and Dennis’s eyes get big and he starts smacking my arm. It took him a fast second to get the words “Turn around!” out. By the time he did this, the same girl was asking me to dance. “Stuck on You’ is a slow dance. Now, I am a bit slow on the uptake, witness me sitting down after finishing the last dance, but when a girl asks you to dance a slow one, that's a hint even I can understand. We, Margo (my future bride), Dennis, me, and Margo’s cousin, Tammy, danced and played quarters the rest of the night.
Later that night Margo told me about being a single mom, having a six month old, Jolene Elizabeth, at home. She wanted me to know in case things got serious. To be honest, I was in no condition to make any kind of long term relationship decisions at that point it time. But, by time I sobered up the next morning, and mentioned it to my driving partner, Dave Swafford, the next evening (who gave me the advice; “You can’t hold a kid against her”), I had decided that asking her out for a real date would be a good idea. We had lunch at Miceli’s early that next week. I think I even sent her flowers. (She will let me know about that part of the story when she reads this)
We started seeing a lot of each other and I introduced her to my mom a few weeks later. Mom, who is very Catholic, took one look at her and the baby carriage (Margo lived four blocks from my folks, so we walked over), and you could see some apprehension. The instant Margo was out of earshot, in the bathroom, Mom asked me “Who’s baby is that?, in a most accusatory tone.
In all honesty, I had not anticipated that question. Still 21. Still dumb. I laughed and answered the question, telling her Margo had the baby before I met her. It must have put her mind at ease. She and Margo became good friends, sharing an interest in me, but also sewing and crocheting.
Which finally gets us to late spring. I really enjoyed my trip last winter and wanted to take another weekender. I had not earned any vacation time yet, so that was all I could put together. Margo and I talked it over and decided on Colorado Springs. I am pretty sure it was her idea. She told me there was lots to do and see there. She had taken a trip to attend a Future Business Leaders of America (FBLA) competition her senior year. She had noticed signs and been to some of the places with her folks, as well.
It was the evening of February 23, 1985. Dennis and I had spent most weekends and more than a few weekdays drinking beer and dancing at Brighton’s 3.2 dance club, The Class Act. The Class Act was owned and operated by Gina and Joe Stone.
When I had first moved to Brighton the land where The Class Act occupied had been the past home of our A&W. That was also owned by Joe and Gina. But, they, probably she, had decided they wanted a more upscale restaurant. They tore down the A&W, and built Gina’s. I don’t recall ever setting foot in Gina’s. The folks never had the money for dining out, and by the time we kids had our own jobs, Gina’s never crossed our mind. The message never reached us that it was the place to go. It operated for more than a few years, but about 1982 or 1983, they decided to turn Gina’s into a dance club.
3.2 dance clubs were popular in the early 1980s. Colorado was a state with bifurcated drinking laws. When you turned 18 you were legal to drink 3.2 beer. That being beer with alcohol content of no more than 3.2%. It was supposed to like training wheels. Start on 3.2, and by the time you were 21, you go for what we all called 6% beer. Whatever. It was easy to get drunk on 3.2 beer. Especially when 3.2 establishments ran promos like Drown Night and Dollar Pitchers.
But of course the real draw was girls. It was not unusual to have a Ladies Nite or even reduced admission for the girls. The owners of all these clubs knew that stupid, horny guys spent money freely, if there was a remote chance of sex.
Back to 1985. I had broken up with Patty Hunter, who in truth I was only informally going with back then, and my weekend schedule did not make it easy to go out to meet anyone. I was working as a driver’s helper. We would start work around midnight and for the next 10 hours we would drive from Burger King to Burger King making deliveries. I would finish, go home, stay up for a few hours and then go to sleep until it was time to get ready. Like I said I was working or sleeping during the prime meeting-my-next-girlfriend hours.
But, somehow I was off Saturday, February 23rd. Dennis and I arrived sometime in the early evening. I think they opened about 5 PM. I can recall never having to wait at the door when we would go after work. We might have been the first one there on those occasions, but we always walked right in.
Tonight there were people already there. I had not been out in months and I was kind of soaking it in. I paid little attention to the surroundings. My back was to the dance floor and Dennis and I wasted no time in ordering a pitcher. It took less than that one before we were both looking for someone to dance with.
Dennis, who never had a shortage of dance, or bed, partners, and who had been facing the dance floor and the other people, did not seem to have picked anyone out. I turned around and surveyed who was there and hoped to see a familiar face or two. There was no one I recognized, but The Beer tapped me on shoulder and told me to start talking. So I did.
I told Dennis “See that blonde over there?” pointing to a pretty girl, about 10 feet away. “She wants to dance with me.” Dennis egged me on so I got up and asked her if she wanted to dance. To my mild surprise, she said “Yes”, and got up. It was a fast pace contemporary song, whose title I may eventually recall, suitable for big league gyrations. I don’t recall saying anything. during the dance. Apparently The Beer was shocked into silence. The song ended, I thanked her, and went back to my seat. My plan had not extended to the point where I knew what to do then. I guess I was happy for getting a dance.
The very next song was Lionel Ritchey’s “Stuck on You”. It comes on and Dennis’s eyes get big and he starts smacking my arm. It took him a fast second to get the words “Turn around!” out. By the time he did this, the same girl was asking me to dance. “Stuck on You’ is a slow dance. Now, I am a bit slow on the uptake, witness me sitting down after finishing the last dance, but when a girl asks you to dance a slow one, that's a hint even I can understand. We, Margo (my future bride), Dennis, me, and Margo’s cousin, Tammy, danced and played quarters the rest of the night.
Later that night Margo told me about being a single mom, having a six month old, Jolene Elizabeth, at home. She wanted me to know in case things got serious. To be honest, I was in no condition to make any kind of long term relationship decisions at that point it time. But, by time I sobered up the next morning, and mentioned it to my driving partner, Dave Swafford, the next evening (who gave me the advice; “You can’t hold a kid against her”), I had decided that asking her out for a real date would be a good idea. We had lunch at Miceli’s early that next week. I think I even sent her flowers. (She will let me know about that part of the story when she reads this)
We started seeing a lot of each other and I introduced her to my mom a few weeks later. Mom, who is very Catholic, took one look at her and the baby carriage (Margo lived four blocks from my folks, so we walked over), and you could see some apprehension. The instant Margo was out of earshot, in the bathroom, Mom asked me “Who’s baby is that?, in a most accusatory tone.
In all honesty, I had not anticipated that question. Still 21. Still dumb. I laughed and answered the question, telling her Margo had the baby before I met her. It must have put her mind at ease. She and Margo became good friends, sharing an interest in me, but also sewing and crocheting.
Which finally gets us to late spring. I really enjoyed my trip last winter and wanted to take another weekender. I had not earned any vacation time yet, so that was all I could put together. Margo and I talked it over and decided on Colorado Springs. I am pretty sure it was her idea. She told me there was lots to do and see there. She had taken a trip to attend a Future Business Leaders of America (FBLA) competition her senior year. She had noticed signs and been to some of the places with her folks, as well.
Day One—Monday, August 26, 1985
I was very much in my infancy when it came to planning a trip. We made a reservation for a couple of nights at The Garden of the Gods hotel on W. Colorado Ave. No internet in 1985. I honestly do not know how we decided on the hotel. I know in 1994 when we did our cross country trip, we used the Chamber of Commerce for some help. We might have here, too. We used the internet some in 1994, but that was in the very early days of the internet and it was of very limited help. In 1985 even that limited help was not a option. It is sad that I can only guess what we did to make our plans. Phonebook, maybe? I just don’t remember. but, somehow we managed. Margo has always been a proponent of an early start. I on the other hand was working swing shifts in those days, and I was not getting home until midnight or later. The compromise we struck was to get a start around noonish.
The drive down to Colorado Springs is spend predominately on I-25. You have your mountains on your right side and the Great Plains on your left. I spent what time I wasn’t watching the road glancing out to my right to see the mountains. Even at the 10-20 miles away they were still pretty and every changing.
In the back seat in her car seat was Jolene. She was always a great baby, well at least by the time I knew her. Margo tells me that when she under six months she was allergic to damn near every milk or formula she tried to put in her. She would feed her and then wear it a minute or so later. So glad I missed that part.
The drive down to Colorado Springs is spend predominately on I-25. You have your mountains on your right side and the Great Plains on your left. I spent what time I wasn’t watching the road glancing out to my right to see the mountains. Even at the 10-20 miles away they were still pretty and every changing.
In the back seat in her car seat was Jolene. She was always a great baby, well at least by the time I knew her. Margo tells me that when she under six months she was allergic to damn near every milk or formula she tried to put in her. She would feed her and then wear it a minute or so later. So glad I missed that part.
As I was to learn in the coming years, Jolene traveled very well. Driving in the car would put her to sleep and if she was up she didn’t fuss, or at least not much. She was never colicky, at least not after six months. So with minimal to distract us and only 90 miles to cover we were in Colorado Springs in early afternoon.
We checked into the Garden of the Gods Hotel. It was not far from, drum roll please, The Garden of the Gods. I did have plans to visit, but that was not our first stop. From day one Margo has always been one to unpack when got to a hotel, and with a diaper bag, she needed to be doubly sure about everything. So she took care of getting us ready in the hotel and making sure she had all of the essentials for the baby and we were soon on our way. Our first stop was to get something to eat. Traveling not only makes you hungry, but it throws you off your normal eating routine. So we were a little late with lunch, but we had snacked on the way up, and a bottle kept Jolene happy. |
Across the street from our hotel was homey looking place called The Mason Jar. I checked and 33 years later, it is still there. The name suggested old fashion meat and potatoes, American fare. Fried Chicken, Biscuits and Gravy, that sort. We were not disappointed. Our waitress even got Jolene a placemat and some crayons. This was not nearly as common a thing in 1985 as it is now. Or maybe I just never had a need to notice. But, I thought it was great touch and Jolene happily scribbled a work of art for her mother.
For the most part, the day was over as far as attractions were concerned. Most of the ones in town closed up around 5 PM and by now it was 2:30ish. But, we knew we had time for at least one, and then we could go over to The Garden of the Gods, which did not close until night. So we climbed into the car and 10 minutes later we were pulling into the parking lot of The Cave of the Winds.
Cave of the Winds is a long time Colorado Springs attraction. Technically it is in Manitou Springs, as are so many of the places we would eventually visit. It was “discovered” in 1880 and someone or another has been giving guided tours of the caves since 1908. It sounded like fun and I told Margo that I had enjoyed the tour I took last year at Colossal Cave in Tucson. Margo was game for about anything as long as Jolene was included.
We drove up and I remember that I thought the views of Williams Canyon were pretty. We parked and soon found out that we had a bit of a wait. The tours were going about every half hour, but the next one was sold out. The one after that was at 3:15, and we were able to get tickets for that.
For the most part, the day was over as far as attractions were concerned. Most of the ones in town closed up around 5 PM and by now it was 2:30ish. But, we knew we had time for at least one, and then we could go over to The Garden of the Gods, which did not close until night. So we climbed into the car and 10 minutes later we were pulling into the parking lot of The Cave of the Winds.
Cave of the Winds is a long time Colorado Springs attraction. Technically it is in Manitou Springs, as are so many of the places we would eventually visit. It was “discovered” in 1880 and someone or another has been giving guided tours of the caves since 1908. It sounded like fun and I told Margo that I had enjoyed the tour I took last year at Colossal Cave in Tucson. Margo was game for about anything as long as Jolene was included.
We drove up and I remember that I thought the views of Williams Canyon were pretty. We parked and soon found out that we had a bit of a wait. The tours were going about every half hour, but the next one was sold out. The one after that was at 3:15, and we were able to get tickets for that.
While we waited Cave of the Winds had set up a play area of kids. One section of it had some kiddie rides like you would find in a grocery store. Put a quarter in them and it would bounce and jostle the kid about for a minute. Just about perfect for a one year old.
I found the change machine while Margo and Jolene picked out the first ride. I don’t remember which that was, but we have pictures of her in three different one. Jolene looks positively intense sitting on the elephant. She was a cute baby and had a very expressive face. Near the ride arcade was a small photo spot where the owners of our spelunking adventure had built the Cave of the Winds Jail. Margo managed to get Jolene to hang onto the bars and I snapped one of the best pictures I have ever taken. She could pass for being in jail, or at least acting like it. She was not quite a year old, so acting was not what was happening. |
Between the ride arcade and the jail we had killed enough time to go stage for our tour. When I had bought the tickets the ticket agent had warned us that the cave is a year round constant, 54 degrees. It was August and none of had a jacket. I didn’t need one. I worked half my day in a freezer at work. 54 degrees, especially in the August heat felt good. Margo was OK for as long as we would be there. Margo had dressed Jolene in a long sleeve shirt and pants. I’m thinking that she knew, or at least suspected the cave might be cold and damp. I was just happy to be doing the tour.
I remember little of the actual tour. Our guide was a guy, not much older, if even, then I was. He had a jacket, though. And to be honest he looked good in it. He told us about the cave being discovered in 1880, and that it was called Cave of the Winds due to the whistling sound the winds made through it. He said it could sound eerie at night.
I can recall him telling us that the milky white color of the flowstones was caused by dust. We were warned not to touch anything. I touched when he wasn’t looking. There was one area where we had to made a turn like we were in a queue, and positioned right there was a stalactite. People had be using that as a guide to make the turn for decades and the white had worn away. This was pointed out to us more as curiosity, as opposed to a warning.
I remember little of the actual tour. Our guide was a guy, not much older, if even, then I was. He had a jacket, though. And to be honest he looked good in it. He told us about the cave being discovered in 1880, and that it was called Cave of the Winds due to the whistling sound the winds made through it. He said it could sound eerie at night.
I can recall him telling us that the milky white color of the flowstones was caused by dust. We were warned not to touch anything. I touched when he wasn’t looking. There was one area where we had to made a turn like we were in a queue, and positioned right there was a stalactite. People had be using that as a guide to make the turn for decades and the white had worn away. This was pointed out to us more as curiosity, as opposed to a warning.
That was about the extent of what I remember. It was interesting and worth the 45 minutes or so we spent in the cave. At the end of the tour they positioned our whole group and had us look up at a spot and took our picture. This was my first experience with what is now a normal part of every tourist attraction's revenue stream; the souvenir photo. By today (2018) standards it was not very good. It was black and white and had the look of being developed in a dark room on site Maybe it was. But, it was clear enough. I actually look happy.
Most places were going to start closing around 5 PM. It may have been the height to tourist season, but the family friendly attractions of Colorado and Manitou Springs did not attract nearly enough of those money-spending creatures in the evening. The evenings were spent at home, the hotel pool, or maybe over at Seven Falls. We would be doing that ourselves tomorrow.
But, as for right now, we decided to head over to Garden of the Gods. It was about a 15 minute drive to Garden of the Gods. The sky was looking a bit ominous in at least one direction, but it was still mostly sunny and hot. With Jolene in the car, and it being a bit of pain to drag all of her stuff in and out, we only stopped a few times. My impression was that Garden of the Gods was OK, but unless you were a climber, it didn’t have much to offer. We did get a decent look at Balanced Rock and a picture.
We did see plenty of climbers. Any rock of more than 50 feet seemed to have someone doing some type of climb on it. I didn’t know much about rock climbing then, and know little more now. I have heard it seems to be like surfing, in that the practitioners speak of it in tones of awe, usually reserved for your recent religious convert.
But, as for right now, we decided to head over to Garden of the Gods. It was about a 15 minute drive to Garden of the Gods. The sky was looking a bit ominous in at least one direction, but it was still mostly sunny and hot. With Jolene in the car, and it being a bit of pain to drag all of her stuff in and out, we only stopped a few times. My impression was that Garden of the Gods was OK, but unless you were a climber, it didn’t have much to offer. We did get a decent look at Balanced Rock and a picture.
We did see plenty of climbers. Any rock of more than 50 feet seemed to have someone doing some type of climb on it. I didn’t know much about rock climbing then, and know little more now. I have heard it seems to be like surfing, in that the practitioners speak of it in tones of awe, usually reserved for your recent religious convert.
I’ll bet we spent less than half an hour there. On the way out, a sign near the Garden of the Gods trading post caught Margo’s eye. It said “Cameron’s Doll and Carriage Museum”. Now if it had been my, by myself, I would not have given it a second thought. Margo, however loves dolls, and wanted to stop. We pulled up, and saw that it would be closing in 20 minutes, but it was not a large building. So I gave the lady $4 and we set off to explore.
I know as much about dolls and I did rock climbing. Rock climbing at least appealed to my sense of adventure. Dolls did not register. But, I did admire the carriages they had on display. There were some that had to have been made before the turn of the century.
Margo recalls that we were only allowed to snap a few pictures. I don’t recall that restriction, but we only have three pictures from the museum. It is evident by both the content and the superior framing that Margo was manning the camera. If she only took three pictures there was either a restriction or we ran out of film.
I know as much about dolls and I did rock climbing. Rock climbing at least appealed to my sense of adventure. Dolls did not register. But, I did admire the carriages they had on display. There were some that had to have been made before the turn of the century.
Margo recalls that we were only allowed to snap a few pictures. I don’t recall that restriction, but we only have three pictures from the museum. It is evident by both the content and the superior framing that Margo was manning the camera. If she only took three pictures there was either a restriction or we ran out of film.
With it now being after 5:00 PM our attention turned to our stomachs. I am reasonably sure we returned back to our hotel and decided on the Mason jar again. We liked the food and the service. With a one year old in tow, and essentially traveling all day we went back to the hotel to unwind for the night.
We did have an incident that night that nearly caused a fight. Recall Margo and I had been seeing each other for just six months, and this was our first trip together. I was sitting on a chair and Jolene was kind of hanging onto my leg. Margo was kind of across from me as we talked. All of a sudden I felt this piercing pain on my thigh Jolene, who was teething had bit me. I just reacted and swatted her on the leg.
Margo went in Grizzly mode pretty fast. I had just hit her child for no apparent reason. Well, she had to have figured there was a reason when I yelled in pain, but still.
Immediately after the swat I yelled “She bit me!”.
At least she knew the “why” part now.
“Did you hit her in the face?!” Margo yelled at me.
I had not. What kind of person would I have been to hit a baby in the face? I suppose that is what Margo was trying to find I out.
I told her I hit her on the leg.. She took Jolene, confirmed the red mark from my swat was leg and not face, and said little else. She was still mad, but her anger dropped from “nuclear” to “propane torch”.
Jolene was crying. But it did not last long. I would like to tell you she never bit me again, but she did. In another blog, I will have tell you that story. In the end I think I apologized, but I think Margo also figured if Jolene had bit her, she would have gotten a thump on her mouth. I don’t recall us going to bed mad, but it was certainly awkward.
We did have an incident that night that nearly caused a fight. Recall Margo and I had been seeing each other for just six months, and this was our first trip together. I was sitting on a chair and Jolene was kind of hanging onto my leg. Margo was kind of across from me as we talked. All of a sudden I felt this piercing pain on my thigh Jolene, who was teething had bit me. I just reacted and swatted her on the leg.
Margo went in Grizzly mode pretty fast. I had just hit her child for no apparent reason. Well, she had to have figured there was a reason when I yelled in pain, but still.
Immediately after the swat I yelled “She bit me!”.
At least she knew the “why” part now.
“Did you hit her in the face?!” Margo yelled at me.
I had not. What kind of person would I have been to hit a baby in the face? I suppose that is what Margo was trying to find I out.
I told her I hit her on the leg.. She took Jolene, confirmed the red mark from my swat was leg and not face, and said little else. She was still mad, but her anger dropped from “nuclear” to “propane torch”.
Jolene was crying. But it did not last long. I would like to tell you she never bit me again, but she did. In another blog, I will have tell you that story. In the end I think I apologized, but I think Margo also figured if Jolene had bit her, she would have gotten a thump on her mouth. I don’t recall us going to bed mad, but it was certainly awkward.
Day Two—Tuesday, August 27, 1985
After a night’s sleep we were all better and ready to enjoy our first full 24 hours in Colorado Springs. First up would be the Manitou Cliff Dwellings. It was about the furthest westward attraction of the day. We would be working our way back east.
We arrived not long after it opened for the day. When I first saw the Cliff Dwellings, I thought “Wow! These look like they should be in Mesa Verde. They look out of place here”. I was later to find out I was right. These adobe dwellings used to be in the Four Corners area of Colorado, and were sort of moved in 1907 to Manitou Springs to protect them from relic hunters and other forms of vandalism. “Sort of” means that, with what reading I have done since our visit, these were more remade from the crumbling and broken remains of a dwelling, than disassembled brick by brick and reanimated in to a relic of the past. I suspect altruism was at least matched by commercialism in this endeavor. But, they look really good.
The Dwelling were, are, very much hands on. The norm at these kind of exhibit has signs telling you not to touch, with suggestions of consequences unimaginable, and unpleasant. Lots of people touch anyway, treating it as a dare, not to be left unchallenged. But, because these “ruins” are not exactly the way their builders left them, kids and adults get to climb the ladders, enter the rooms, touch the walls, and enjoy them in a manner of a guest in a home, rather than a guest in a museum. It was kind of fun. But as they are small, the novelty wore off fairly quickly.
We arrived not long after it opened for the day. When I first saw the Cliff Dwellings, I thought “Wow! These look like they should be in Mesa Verde. They look out of place here”. I was later to find out I was right. These adobe dwellings used to be in the Four Corners area of Colorado, and were sort of moved in 1907 to Manitou Springs to protect them from relic hunters and other forms of vandalism. “Sort of” means that, with what reading I have done since our visit, these were more remade from the crumbling and broken remains of a dwelling, than disassembled brick by brick and reanimated in to a relic of the past. I suspect altruism was at least matched by commercialism in this endeavor. But, they look really good.
The Dwelling were, are, very much hands on. The norm at these kind of exhibit has signs telling you not to touch, with suggestions of consequences unimaginable, and unpleasant. Lots of people touch anyway, treating it as a dare, not to be left unchallenged. But, because these “ruins” are not exactly the way their builders left them, kids and adults get to climb the ladders, enter the rooms, touch the walls, and enjoy them in a manner of a guest in a home, rather than a guest in a museum. It was kind of fun. But as they are small, the novelty wore off fairly quickly.
But, really the highlight to the visit was the Indian Dancers. This was a group of Native Americans who would put on a show for the Dwelling crowds. I’m pretty sure they stopped doing it, as I can’t find anyone mentioning it, online, since 2007. I would not doubt that some have dubbed it to be “exploitive” but maybe the Tafoya family, who were the dancers for 3 generations, just ran out of family who wanted to spend their summers entertaining.
The dances would be in traditional (I guess. How would I know?) Native American dress, and would perform cultural dances for the crowds. I seem to recall a Hoop Dance and an Eagle Dance. It was entertaining to watch, even if we did not get the best viewing spot. I don’t know if they were paid a wage, but they did earn money via tips and would pose for pictures. I took Jolene up on stage and got a picture. In 1985 I would have left a dollar tip.
The dances would be in traditional (I guess. How would I know?) Native American dress, and would perform cultural dances for the crowds. I seem to recall a Hoop Dance and an Eagle Dance. It was entertaining to watch, even if we did not get the best viewing spot. I don’t know if they were paid a wage, but they did earn money via tips and would pose for pictures. I took Jolene up on stage and got a picture. In 1985 I would have left a dollar tip.
At one of our stops yesterday we had picked up promotional flyers for anything that looked good. Like I mentioned in my Day One narrative, I was in my infancy of travel planning, doing much more learning that preparing. But, we started our day armed with information and we were off to our next destination.
Actually are next destination was a waste of time and given the source of the endorsement of its entertainment value, we should have known better. When we told people that we were going to Colorado Spring, a family friend of Margo’s, Larry Hoffman, mentioned The
Actually are next destination was a waste of time and given the source of the endorsement of its entertainment value, we should have known better. When we told people that we were going to Colorado Spring, a family friend of Margo’s, Larry Hoffman, mentioned The
Miracle House. He both told of its wonder and awe, and poo-pooed it, in the next breath. We decided to stop and see for ourselves.
The Miracle House is billed as a house where marbles roll up hill and a myriad of unforgettable illusions would mystify and baffle us until our dying days. It was really a shack built on a hill. It created an optical illusion, inside the house, where an upward slanting shelf appeared to slant slightly towards down. The marble did appear to roll up hill, but it was more a curiosity than anything else. We walked out of there, after less than 15 minutes, feeling time and money had been wasted. |
We would be a bunch of places in rapid fire succession this morning and afternoon, with almost all of them being right on Business 24 in the heart of Manitou Springs. First up was the Buffalo Bill Wax Museum.
I’m a fan of the old west, growing up watching John Wayne westerns with dad. It grew into a fascination with the gunfighters and outlaws of that storied, and mythologized period of our history. Myth or not, the people existed and they are still influencing our culture to this day
Our pamphlet promised over 100 western personalities, all immortalized in wax. In 1985 my experiences with wax as an art form was limited to different color candles. Mom had told my about visiting a wax museum when she took a California trip to visit her sister, Sister Stephanie, nun and all around nice person. She said all the star looked smaller than they appeared on TV, except for The Duke. Naturally.
We paid our money and began pushing Jolene around the building in her stroller. I can’t say that I was impressed. I probably took about a dozen terrible pictures of the wax subjects. But, it was more in the context of participating in a scavenger hunt. There’s Wyatt Earp. Click. There’s Buffalo Bill. Click. There’s Sitting Bull. Click.
I’m a fan of the old west, growing up watching John Wayne westerns with dad. It grew into a fascination with the gunfighters and outlaws of that storied, and mythologized period of our history. Myth or not, the people existed and they are still influencing our culture to this day
Our pamphlet promised over 100 western personalities, all immortalized in wax. In 1985 my experiences with wax as an art form was limited to different color candles. Mom had told my about visiting a wax museum when she took a California trip to visit her sister, Sister Stephanie, nun and all around nice person. She said all the star looked smaller than they appeared on TV, except for The Duke. Naturally.
We paid our money and began pushing Jolene around the building in her stroller. I can’t say that I was impressed. I probably took about a dozen terrible pictures of the wax subjects. But, it was more in the context of participating in a scavenger hunt. There’s Wyatt Earp. Click. There’s Buffalo Bill. Click. There’s Sitting Bull. Click.
The exhibits were set up in context, with Buffalo Bill on a horse and the Earps and Clantons squaring off at the OK Corral, they just did not look very realistic. They were different, in that the men did not have the same face, but they were not going to be mistaken for a real person, unless said person was in a dark room with them.
I did like the set up with Black Jack Ketchum. He was on a gallows, seemingly just seconds from dropping down snapping his neck. But, I knew the story, even way back then, and it may even have been told on the exhibit label.
During a proper hanging, the noose is situated in a position, that if the hangee falls far enough, it will snap his (or her, Huh, Mary Surratt?) neck. This produces if not instant death, at least painless and quick death, as opposed to slowly strangling to death if the neck is not broken.
Now Mr. Ketchum, had a several month stint in jail as he was tried, and then convicted for train robbery. The architects for his gallows had weighed him before he spent months doing little except eat. When the time came, the “drop” length was not shortened. So the now much fatter man fell that distance and instead of his neck snapping, it failed all together, and the audience got to see death by decapitation, instead. Yum. When is lunch?
The exhibits were set up in context, with Buffalo Bill on a horse and the Earps and Clantons squaring off at the OK Corral, they just did not look very realistic. They were different, in that the men did not have the same face, but they were not going to be mistaken for a real person, unless said person was in a dark room with them.
I did like the set up with Black Jack Ketchum. He was on a gallows, seemingly just seconds from dropping down snapping his neck. But, I knew the story, even way back then, and it may even have been told on the exhibit label.
During a proper hanging, the noose is situated in a position, that if the hangee falls far enough, it will snap his (or her, Huh, Mary Surratt?) neck. This produces if not instant death, at least painless and quick death, as opposed to slowly strangling to death if the neck is not broken.
Now Mr. Ketchum, had a several month stint in jail as he was tried, and then convicted for train robbery. The architects for his gallows had weighed him before he spent months doing little except eat. When the time came, the “drop” length was not shortened. So the now much fatter man fell that distance and instead of his neck snapping, it failed all together, and the audience got to see death by decapitation, instead. Yum. When is lunch?
That was it for Buffalo Bill et al. Just down the road was Colorado Car Museum. I enjoyed cars a lot more back in the 1980s then I do now. I was less than a year from working as a counterman, so it was kind of my trade. Now they are more or less, just transportation.
I still enjoy seeing a muscle car of the 60s or 70s, or even of the 2010s, but that is more a throwback to youth.
But in 1985 visiting this museum was a trip back in time. I don’t think there was anything in it that was younger than 15 years old. These were cars with historical context. Cars going back to the origins of horseless travel. Margo enjoys seeing all of the old cars. I think they touch her the same way they do me. Some are little glimpse of our own history growing up, and others are like glimpsing through a window that looks back in time. I barely remember any of the cars. I have a brochure and several really bad pictures to help my memory. Even with that I remember really only the two cars that have some sort of White House pedigree. |
One was a Lincoln Continental which President Kennedy used to ride in. I am pretty sure it was not the one he was shot it. That I would have remembered, and I doubt it would have ended up in a tiny
museum in Colorado. The other was some sort of Presidential limo. The sign in the picture said it was bulletproof. I seem to remember that they had the windows rolled down, and you could see they were at least an inch thick. Quite the job modifying them.
We couldn’t have stayed very long. There was not a lot to see. I would be surprised if we lasted an hour. But, our next stop was going to be more memorable, and in a good way. It was just a few blocks down the road to Ghost Town. I will start right out by saying that I really liked Ghost Town. It one of the few attractions which we visited in 1985 which has survived to see the sad state that America has become in 2018. But, I digress. The name suggests that we would be wandering dusty streets, looking in dilapidated buildings, looking for ghosts, relics, or the old city cemetery. Nope. |
Ghost Town is housed in a building, completely inside. It has several parts, one of which is a recreated pre-1900 town. They had rescued buildings from all over the area and preserved them here. Inside each building were accoutrements which you would expect to find in the building represented. They had a Drug Store, Blacksmith, Saloon (of course), and a newspaper, The Ghost Town Bugle.
The articles and advertisements in The Bugle were authentic sounding to time in the distant past. The editorial called for the ouster of an unsavory element, called Mr Curly Wolf. Mr Wolf was an analogy, but the entire piece sounded like it came from 100 years earlier. There was an ad for Miller’s ’97 bicycle lamp and several mentions of alcohol, drunkenness, in a decidedly Prohibitionist tone. Not at all uncommon for the time.
But the fun part of the paper was the headline. The banner headline was two lines, and changeable. The top line could be typeset and was designed to have someone’s name inserted there. The bottom line had several precast headlines which you could choose. I had to have one. Mine says “Bill Kretzer Kills Huge Grizzly Bear”. It was the most masculine of the choices. I seem to remember getting one for Jolene, but I haven’t seen it for a while. I think it had her winning a beauty contest.
The articles and advertisements in The Bugle were authentic sounding to time in the distant past. The editorial called for the ouster of an unsavory element, called Mr Curly Wolf. Mr Wolf was an analogy, but the entire piece sounded like it came from 100 years earlier. There was an ad for Miller’s ’97 bicycle lamp and several mentions of alcohol, drunkenness, in a decidedly Prohibitionist tone. Not at all uncommon for the time.
But the fun part of the paper was the headline. The banner headline was two lines, and changeable. The top line could be typeset and was designed to have someone’s name inserted there. The bottom line had several precast headlines which you could choose. I had to have one. Mine says “Bill Kretzer Kills Huge Grizzly Bear”. It was the most masculine of the choices. I seem to remember getting one for Jolene, but I haven’t seen it for a while. I think it had her winning a beauty contest.
The whole place was just packed with things from the past. They had an old magneto wall phone with the handheld earpiece. When you picked it up and put it to your ear you found that you were listening in on a conversation, on what was called a party line. I could remember hearing stories of those when I was a kid, and Margo said they had one when she was very young.
A party line for anyone under 60 years old was a loop type telephone system where everyone was on the same “line”. A call placed to a particular person was not private. Anyone could just pick up their phone and hear what was going on. There was usually a soft click when the receiver would be picked up, so those talking were clued in that someone wanted the line. A second click meant they had hung up. But, either click was easily missed, so you never knew if you were being eavesdropped upon.
You also were at the mercy of whoever had the line first. If two people were talking, they could monopolized the line for hours, meaning no one else could make or receive a call. This was the biggest complaint to the phone company. Not only did we get to listen in on the party line conversation of a couple of gossipy |
women, in the gift shop they had a recording of it. We thought it funny, and spend hard earned money for a copy of that cassette.
I am pretty sure we spent more time in Ghost Town, even if it was not much more than an hour, than we did at anything else, until Seven Falls. There was that much to see and do. If we are ever touring Colorado Springs again, I am sure we will stop by. My only regret is that I think we took only a single picture.
I am pretty sure we spent more time in Ghost Town, even if it was not much more than an hour, than we did at anything else, until Seven Falls. There was that much to see and do. If we are ever touring Colorado Springs again, I am sure we will stop by. My only regret is that I think we took only a single picture.
I really don’t recall where we broke for lunch. It would have been somewhere in this area and it was likely fast food. August in Colorado, even the elevated Colorado Springs area is still hot. We would have been happy to sit and relax for a half hour or so.
Margo wanted to visit the Van Briggle Pottery factory, but for some reason it was closed. Must have just been our luck. Truth be told I wasn’t that keen on seeing a bunch of pots. But, with 30 plus years of hind sight, it could have been cool.
But, not far away was The Hall of Presidents Wax Museum. I’ve always liked history, so the theme of the place sounded good to me. The building itself was a bit surprising. It had kind of government-official look to it. There was a towering flag pole, hanging a star spangled banner of presidential size.
Margo wanted to visit the Van Briggle Pottery factory, but for some reason it was closed. Must have just been our luck. Truth be told I wasn’t that keen on seeing a bunch of pots. But, with 30 plus years of hind sight, it could have been cool.
But, not far away was The Hall of Presidents Wax Museum. I’ve always liked history, so the theme of the place sounded good to me. The building itself was a bit surprising. It had kind of government-official look to it. There was a towering flag pole, hanging a star spangled banner of presidential size.
We paid our fee and went in. True to its word there were Presidents all of the place. This was a more professional set up compared to the Buffalo Bill Museum, but all of the figures look like the came from the same factory. They had all of them, at least as far as I remember. Almost all of them were set up in a contemporary, if not exactly, historical setting. They had Washington set up crossing the Delaware River in preparation to kick some Hessian ass. Grant was in his Civil War uniform, sitting, with Zach Taylor, in his Mexican War dress, as they bookended the ineffective and forgettable Buchanan, Pierce, and Fillmore.
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FDR was with Winston Churchill in a radio broadcast setting, as Eleanor looked on. The modern president were more or less lined up in their business suits. I thought Eisenhower and Ford looked a bit weird and Nixon looked downright happy. It was a little creepy, as I growing up, I don’t ever remember him smiling. Not even when he did his cameo on “Laugh In”.
They had non-presidential figures as well. The Apollo 11 astronauts were posed as if taking their pre-flight press photo, with Kennedy looking on. There were some French aristocrats, Lafayette, Louis XVI, and Marie Antoinette, at a party with Ben Franklin and John Adams. Adams had been a diplomat to France, prior to becoming president.
I thought it was OK, but it did not really grab me. They just did not look real enough. But, we did get one surprise. In addition to the historical figures, the museum also housed Enchanted Fairyland, a very Disneyesque place and something Margo was much more familiar with. They had Alice (of Wonderland fame) sleeping in the White Rabbit’s Tree, the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, Snow White and the Dwarfs. Peter Pan and Captain Hook were there, with the crocodile in the water looking for a Hook meal. Sleeping Beauty and Pinocchio were there, too |
. I thought these were much closer to reality, but that was likely because their animated originals left how their real life embodiments appearance with much more play then the real people, who visages were well known.
We left thinking well it is too soon for dinner, and way too soon to head out to Seven Falls. We wanted to see the falls lit up and that would not be for at least five hours. There was another museum nearby, which I was apprehensive about, but Margo thought it would be neat. We had time and nothing better to do, so we went back up the street to the Clock Museum.
I liked the Clock Museum. Well, maybe more in hindsight. The Clock Museum was a monument to one man’s passion with, not clocks, but the creation of mechanical things. You felt like you were in the man’s, George, according to the pamphlet, garage. There were not just clock, but a many-belled truck and a pump organ. The pamphlet gave a biography of George, listing his prior occupations as a carpenter, mechanic, gunsmith, machinist and trick roper. He had always wanted to be a watchmaker
The museum was set up in an ameturish manner with hand-made signs, full of misspellings and grammatical errors. It was obvious that book learning was not George’s strong suit. But, his mechanical things skills were likely genius level. The main draw was his large pendulum clock. The pendulum swung in a pit about 20 feet into the ground. The clock has four parts to its 10 foot face and three hands. It also had several cutouts to read the year, day of the week, month and I don’t know what all. I could tell by the picture that I took of it that we were there on the 27th day of the month at 4:30 PM. My picture was not very good, so finer points could not be determined from the pic. We saw a lot of other clocks. Many cuckoo clocks and some odd ones which George had built. It was kind of a smallish place, with the pendulum clock really dominating the area. We didn’t really stay long. I don’t recall meeting George. He was likely working on something else. But, I think it must have been his wife, Clara, who took our money when we arrived (All of $3 for all three of us). I sort of remember her as an elderly lady, and that we had the place to ourselves. I remember thinking that it could not stay in business much longer, as it was just not interesting enough, and not well presented, even if some of the stuff was pretty cool. It closed before the decade was out, but that was about a 20 year run. So, what do I know? |
We had dinner at an unremembered location. I don’t think we did the Mason Jar again, we only had so much money and fast food was cheaper. We would have been done with dinner easily by 6 PM, and I think we went back to the hotel to freshen up a bit. I would think that Margo needed to get more supplies for Jolene’s diaper bag, although knowing her, she would have had the extras in the car.
Regardless we were at Seven Falls by just after 6 PM. Both Margo and I wanted to see the falls lit up at night. It just sounded very pretty. The signs that directed us into the park told us we were seeing “The Grandest Mile of Scenery in Colorado”. I remember thinking that was quite a boast. But, by the time we parked, it was at the top of my list, but I had not seen much of Colorado back in 1985.
Regardless we were at Seven Falls by just after 6 PM. Both Margo and I wanted to see the falls lit up at night. It just sounded very pretty. The signs that directed us into the park told us we were seeing “The Grandest Mile of Scenery in Colorado”. I remember thinking that was quite a boast. But, by the time we parked, it was at the top of my list, but I had not seen much of Colorado back in 1985.
Margo has bad knees, even back then and she was not looking forward to climbing the stairs to the viewing platform. I seem to remember that there were two sets of stairs, but don’t quote me. I am sure that on set of stairs took you up to a viewing area, and then for those who wanted to see the top of the falls and even continue on the grave of author Helen Hunt Jackson, you could continue up.
Margo and I both carried Jolene, although when I took over I carried her the rest of the way. Margo did get stuck with the downhill part, because when we got to the top the viewing platform, I wanted to keep going. Margo had her fill of the stairs after the first three and was firmly against going higher. I took some pictures for her.
Back on the bottom, they had a display of golden trout, which I think are native, and definitely only are found in lakes and streams at higher elevations. They are varied in the amount of yellow, but are still very distinctive. |
By now it was dark enough for the falls to be illuminated. It was pretty. My camera back in that day had very limited night capabilities, so I don’t think I even tried to take pictures. I imagine we picked up a trinket or two before we left. Even back then we liked to bring home remembrances. We liked Seven Falls and hoped to return on day. But, for now, it was time to head back to our hotel and bed down for the night.
Day Three—Wednesday, August 28, 1985
We got an early start on Wednesday with the goal of visiting the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo. As we would be heading hole after today’s adventures, we checked out of the hotel. The Garden of the Gods hotel had been a nice home base.
I was looking forward to this because, the Cheyenne Mountain part is the Cheyenne Mountain; NORAD’s Cheyenne Mountain. The Cheyenne Mountain from the movie War Games, released just a couple of years earlier.
The zoo is on the east side of Cheyenne Mountain, and the NORAD, cool, part is south of that, by about two crow miles, but kind of around the side. So, I wasn’t going to see anything NORAD, but I would get to experience Mountain. When I say that the zoo is the side of Cheyenne Mountain, I did not misspeak. The zoo is very hilly and it seemed like my entire day was pushing Jolene’s stroller uphill. I swear, it was uphill, both ways, and Jolene got fatter as the day wore on.
I was looking forward to this because, the Cheyenne Mountain part is the Cheyenne Mountain; NORAD’s Cheyenne Mountain. The Cheyenne Mountain from the movie War Games, released just a couple of years earlier.
The zoo is on the east side of Cheyenne Mountain, and the NORAD, cool, part is south of that, by about two crow miles, but kind of around the side. So, I wasn’t going to see anything NORAD, but I would get to experience Mountain. When I say that the zoo is the side of Cheyenne Mountain, I did not misspeak. The zoo is very hilly and it seemed like my entire day was pushing Jolene’s stroller uphill. I swear, it was uphill, both ways, and Jolene got fatter as the day wore on.
But, I am getting ahead of myself. The zoo opened at 9 AM, and we were there not long after that. We had been to Denver Zoo before, so we were interested to see how this one compared. Overall, I felt it compared favorably. I felt like we got closer to the animals. At the Denver Zoo everything seemed to be in the distance. Here you might be just a few feet from the animals.
There were just a couple of moments that have stood the test of time. The first, Jolene was asleep when we were viewing the big cats. The lions were right there. A male African Lion roared when we were in front of it. In my youth, I read that a lion’s roar could be heard for miles. Standing right there, you got it. It was loud, but it was the low tone, or something similar that you could feel and gave you the absolute feeling that there was sonic energy there. Jolene slept through it, much to our amazement
There were just a couple of moments that have stood the test of time. The first, Jolene was asleep when we were viewing the big cats. The lions were right there. A male African Lion roared when we were in front of it. In my youth, I read that a lion’s roar could be heard for miles. Standing right there, you got it. It was loud, but it was the low tone, or something similar that you could feel and gave you the absolute feeling that there was sonic energy there. Jolene slept through it, much to our amazement
The other was with the giraffes. I was impressed by the enclosure that they had. It was spacious with several tall trees, or maybe they were just poles. Either way, the giraffe’s dinner was placed up there, so the tall animals could feed naturally. Then Off to one side was the building that was used for shelter. It had very tall doors for the animals to walk in and out of. Inside were cages for the animals. There was a very young giraffe inside. It still was over six feet tall.
Separating us from the giraffes was a tall chain link fence. But, the holes were large enough for the giraffes to stick their tongues through. I saw one flick, and it really was faster than I thought a big tongue could move, in the direction of someone’s head. What most struck me most about that sight was the color of the mouth muscle. It was black. Really quite striking when you are expecting some shade of pink.
Separating us from the giraffes was a tall chain link fence. But, the holes were large enough for the giraffes to stick their tongues through. I saw one flick, and it really was faster than I thought a big tongue could move, in the direction of someone’s head. What most struck me most about that sight was the color of the mouth muscle. It was black. Really quite striking when you are expecting some shade of pink.
We saw a lot of different animals. They had several other big cats. I know we saw a tiger. There was a rhinoceros and bears. And you were able to get close enough (still behind barriers or bars) to see them pretty close. It was fun and we hoped we would be able to come back soon.
Included with the price of our ticket to the zoo was admission to Will Rogers Shrine to the Sun. I knew who Will Rogers was, but I had no idea he had any connection to Colorado. The connection was a friendship between Mr. Rogers and Spencer Penrose, the most prominent man in Colorado Springs. Mr. Penrose established the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo and built The Broadmoor Hotel.
In 1934 he started building what would become the Shrine to the Sun. In 1935, Will Rogers and Wiley Post were killed in a plane crash in Alaska. Spencer Penrose decided to name the tower after his friend.
The Shrine to the Sun is stone tower, 100 feet in height. We did not spend a lot of time here, as we still had a 90 minute drive to look forward to. But, inside is a chapel and the cremated remains of Spencer, and wife, Julie Penrose. You can climb to the talk. That was Margo’s perspective. “You” can climb to the top. I will wait downstairs for your return.
In 1934 he started building what would become the Shrine to the Sun. In 1935, Will Rogers and Wiley Post were killed in a plane crash in Alaska. Spencer Penrose decided to name the tower after his friend.
The Shrine to the Sun is stone tower, 100 feet in height. We did not spend a lot of time here, as we still had a 90 minute drive to look forward to. But, inside is a chapel and the cremated remains of Spencer, and wife, Julie Penrose. You can climb to the talk. That was Margo’s perspective. “You” can climb to the top. I will wait downstairs for your return.
That was it for our trip. We got in the car and drove home, making it before dark. It had been a great first family trip. I really had no idea at the time that we would make so many trips around the country in the coming years. While the Tucson trip was the one that whetted my appetite for travel, this is the one that made the template. Myself, Margo, and our girls would make many of these sojourns in the coming years. If I only knew.