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Show Good old Poverty Flats was not the Garden of Eden it is today or the condominium haven of the future. Red blow sand, bullheads, sand burrs, lizards, and scorpions were the only inhabitants. Scorching hot winds took your breath and the Disappearing Angel played hide ’n seek with your psyche. The Hole in the Rock was a saloon and steak house. The first fast food joint in town was Junior Nordfelt’s Dairy Freeze located on Center Street, two houses from mine. My four year old son had a charge account there-—one ten-cent ice cream cone a day. On Saturday morning he took his dollar allowance to pay his account and Junior gave him a cone for paying promptly. Today my son still has charge accounts, but Junior taught him the value of paying his bills on time. On the other end of town lived a great old character lovingly called the Goat Man. He was a hermit living in a small stone hut reminiscent of his Swiss heritage. As his nickname indicates, he raised goats, made goat cheese, and sold goat milk. He also This really deserves more than LETTER OF THE MONTH status, but I knew I had to find a way to get Ms. Thill’s recollections into this issue. So here’s where she landed.. Our thanks to Irene..JS A FIRST EXPERIENCE LIVING IN MOAB, UTAH, 1952 AD Dear Zephyr, I really got a swat out of the cartoon that aoe Jim Stiles’ "The Last Ride: Return to Moab 2040 AD. (October/November 2001). repaired the delicate swiss movements of clocks and watches. "Can you tell me where Moab, Utah is?” "No, but I can tell you where it was.)" Well, I can tell where.it really was, as far back in the past as Mr. Stiles went into the future. My husband, children and I moved to Moab shortly before the Big Uranium Boom in the early 1950’s. The mighty Colorado River certainly was not up on stilts at that time. However, the spring run-off and the sneaky undertow around the old one-way bridge that spanned it could become "Raging Waters" in a hurry. Dirty reddish-brown water that claimed a number of unsuspecting skinny dippers. At that time it had no intention of allowing mankind to subjugate its powers. Oh, it patiently permitted us to partake of its bounties—-catfish so big they could skewer you before you got them off the hook. We raced motor boats on it in competitions that claimed at least one, each year at the confluence with the Green. It gave us beautiful scenic routes along the shoreline for a Sunday drive of a nice sandy bank for a picnic, but it never let us forget how dependent we were upon it, directly or indirectly. The Moab, I first knew, was an orderly little place. I came from rural Idaho, but I did not know what rural meant until I lived in Moab, 120 miles in any direction out of town to reach a shopping center of any size. A short main street ending at Mill ' Creek was lined with a few necessary businesses. Two service stations, Miller’s food, clothing and furniture store, Woody’s Bar, a couple of motels, Riley’s Drug Store, a café and diner, AND for Heaven's Sake, a First Security Bank! Residential areas were neatly laid on a grid--sort of. A dirt path lead to most _ front doors. If you wanted a party, one phone call spread the word and pretty-soon ‘half the town would be on your doorstep bearing food, booze, and the latest Little , Audry and knock-knock jokes. Once started these parties could last an entire ' weekend. Dancing was Saturday Night Entertainment. Out around Lance’s farm was a wonderful truck garden, run by a Japanese family. _ The vegetables were so fresh, you waited or helped pick them yourself. Great fruit orchards filled the valley. Peaches, pears, apricots, delicious apples, sweet cherries. Fruit my mother in Idaho paid dearly for, was fed to the pigs in Moab. Only the ' biggest, juiciest, most rosy-cheeked fruits were good enough for the old timers there and it did not take long for us to be just as selective. Truck loads of the lush stuff were shipped out to please the palates of outsiders. Although there was a theater on Main Street, Kokopelli was a legend Bel on sandstone walls and Madonna was not even a blip on the entertainment scene. It was not unusual to walk down the street and say, "Howdy", to Jeff Chandler, Rock Hudson, John Wayne and other famous movie stars. The whole area was one big movie set. A lot of classic films were made and taken as just another paycheck along with the farm and ranch crops. Pot Hunters were not searching for something to smoke. They were seeking artifacts of an ancient culture and despite laws to the contrary, I suspect the desecration will continue well into the 21* century and beyond. Maybe something I left behind will grace the shelves of future pot hunters. The spectacular arches, formations, click rock and Dead Horse Point were explored on foot. Wheels were left in designated parking spots. The occasional rattlesnake slithering across the trail in front-of you was worth the slight scare when you beheld the awesome scenery that few "white eyes" had ever seen. [/BSS\n, - Out around Lance's farm was a wonderful truck garden, run by a Japanese family. The vegetables were so fresh, you waited or helped pick them yourself. Great fruit orchards filled the valley. Trene Thill There was only one school-in town K through 12. When the Uranium Boom hit in 1952-53, my youngest daughter started kindergarten next to the furnace room in the basement. I taught a split 5°/6™ grade class in the hall on the top floor. We enjoyed a break every time the senior high schoolers changed classes. We ee a lot of interesting things about senior high schoolers! The Boom. That is another story for.another time. I can only say that the whole oasis exploded with atomic energy. Population went from 1200 and board sidewalks ‘to 5000 and tons of concrete, overnight. There was not time for planning and the town expanded with little rhyme or reason. If the cartoon is any indication, the city fathers have not improved much in the orderly planning fifty years from now, either. Good Grief! 60,000 people? Where you gonna put ‘em? Blast caves in the rimrock? Build Mesa Verde type Condos? Erect skyscrapers on the city dump? Anyway, if it happened once, Mr. Stiles, it could happen again. Your imaginative outlook for the future may not be so far-fetched after all. Since I am as old as dirt, I naturally prefer the serenity and isolation of the Moab in 1950, to the chaos, the demise of the last cottonwood tree and the encapsulation of the Colorado River of the Moab in 2040. It is a sorrowful thing to recognize that one of Mother Nature’s unique and superb gifts to the world is being systematically raped. Progress is inevitable, and I like change, but it makes me sad to see the insensitive disregard for the marvelous historical and scenic wonders no longer in existence, or well on their way out. I cry. Irene Thill Copperton, Utah Great letter. I'm hoping Ms. Thill will write again. And please note my caption of “where Moab was," is a spin on an old Abbey line about Arches...I'm trying to be an honest plagiarist...JS SAM aes i WR Za a thy Cor AY) ni oo Nas.)4 I'm sexy but I'm humble. . aati eae oa nate ie ee ne alee a a tl SS a stihl acct 1 NELIONS HEATING AND nome aoe aoe is just a few weeks away” ARE YOU READY? 1.471 Main St. Desert Plaza 259.7735 aia Years later, when my daughter lived’in Vernal, Utah, she met his daughter who said her father had been a Doctor of Chiropractic medicine in his own country. In the same part of town was the Skakel Ranch. How this wealthy Eastern family wound up with a good chunk of Moab realty, I never knew. When the Skakel family merged with the Kennedy family through Ethel and Robert F., they came sometimes to play among the arches and cavort on the slick rocks. The old white ranch house has undergone dramatic changes, beginning with the Byrds who lived and sold insurance in its hallowed halls. The Glen Victors were next and made it into a gourmet restaurant, etc. etc. I believe the saga of this historic place will continue. Ds Nn REFRIGERATION “YERVING MOAB SINCE 1962" 1070 BOWLING ALLEY LN. "259.5625 |