Month: July 2022

THE WWII BASQUE O.S.S. SPY from New Mexico: (ZX#19) …by Jim Stiles

by stiles • July 31, 2022 • 11 Comments

“My brother and I are Basque, you know. We came from the Pyrenees before the second world war,” Armando explained.

“Really,” I said. “What did you do when you came over here?”

“Well,” he replied, “I went to work for the OSS.”

“The OSS?” I knew what the OSS was…the Office of Strategic Services, the military intelligence agency during World War II. I know my WWII history pretty well, and since I also believe that in my last life I may have been the pilot of a B-24 Liberator in Europe and was shot down over Belgium in August 1944, I could converse fairly intelligently with him on the subject.

“The OSS?” I said. “Did you ever meet the director, Bill Donovan?”

“‘Wild Bill’ Donovan? Of course…I met with him several times in the President’s office.”

“The President’s office? Which president do you mean?”

“Why President Roosevelt’s office. The Oval Office. The White House…”

HERB RINGER at the GRAND CANYON (The Complete Collection: 1950-1957) ZX#18

by stiles • July 24, 2022 • 7 Comments

During the past 34 years, I’ve mostly limited the range of Herb’s photos to the West. But Herb traveled all over America and into Canada. Though this issue starts with a very familiar and beloved location–the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, future editions will expand Herb’s work to locations from California to New England. At some point when I can find the time (like when I quit mowing the grass), I’d like to make this feature our second “Zephyr Extra” of the week, appearing each Thursday. I may not always be able to live up to that plan, but I will do my best. We’ll see how it goes.

Herb and I spent countless hours together over the years. He gave me all his old images, his journals and other memorabilia of his life. He started to lose his eyesight during the last few years and I often visited him at his home in Fallon, Nevada. After his passing, I wrote a long story about my buddy and mentor. I will include the link here but I wanted to share this one passage from it:

“His mind is as clear and crisp as the Rocky Mountain streams he spent summers by, in years past. But his body is failing him. As I watched Herb disappear into his darkened bed room, I knew he was making his way there by memory as well. His eyesight has deteriorated to the point where he can’t even see the vast collection of photographs he took of his favorite places over the last half a century. But he can still enjoy them. He pointed a finger to his head and said, ‘In here, I can still see everything.’”

RANGER JIM CONKLIN: Copter Crash Hero/Scapegoat (ZX#17)… by Jim Stiles

by stiles • July 16, 2022 • 15 Comments

Jim Conklin was furloughed for the winter and the two of us took some road trips together. We helped move our friend Dave Evans, a ranger buddy at Bridges, to his new job at Carlsbad Caverns and there was plenty of time to talk. The topic of the chopper flights weighed heavily on Jim and he often spoke of the possibility that a faulty aircraft, a helicopter he knew was dangerous, might kill him.

He came back on duty in late February, but quickly learned that nothing had changed. The helicopter surveillance flights would continue. And often, the BLM would still use the Hiller 12Es. The first scheduled flight was Monday, March 14, 1976.

Just a few days earlier, Conklin and I had driven over to the west side of Horseshoe Canyon, via the old Green River road with its amazing ancient wooden bridge over the San Rafael River. I had never seen the Great Gallery before, though Jim had been there several times. Jim decided not to tell me when we were getting close; he wanted me to have that singular moment when I looked up and gazed upon this most extraordinary work of art for the first time. I think Jim was as thrilled by my reaction–the surprise of it–as he was to return and see the pictographs again. That was Conklin. We lingered into the early afternoon, then made the steep hike up the West Trail and the long drive home. He reminded me that he started work in just a few days and hoped he’d live long enough to visit Horseshoe Canyon again. He was that worried and that preoccupied with the risks.

UT Hwy 95: The Road To Glen Canyon & Hite Ferry w/ Edna Fridley & Charles Kreischer: 1959-62 (ZX#16)

by stiles • July 10, 2022 • 21 Comments

In this selection of Kodachrome transparencies by Edna Fridley and Charlie Kreischer, I assembled the images as if one were traveling from Hanksville to the Hite Ferry, and then eastward through White Canyon, and past the Bears Ears on the way to Blanding. The entire journey was about 135 miles. These photos were taken by both photographers and at different times, between 1959 and 1962. I’ve done my best to assemble them in order, based solely on my recollection of the landscape after driving Utah 95 hundreds of times over the past 51 years…JS

POKING THROUGH the RUINS: KUTA-AM RADIO in BLANDING, UTAH (ZX#15)…by Jim Stiles

by stiles • July 3, 2022 • 26 Comments

But the AM station I relied most heavily on, and the station I still miss, was KUTA in Blanding, Utah, “1450 on your AM dial.” It sat atop “Radio Hill,” about five miles north of town and just off the old highway. When the Recapture Dam was completed and US 191 was re-routed to go over the top of it, the traffic outside KUTA ground to a halt, but the little station kept broadcasting from its cinder block headquarters . It was probably one of the most scenic locations for a radio station that ever existed. And until the Millennium it was probably the only station that a traveler or a resident could pick up during the day. Once the sun set, the more powerful “clear channel” stations, those boasting 50,000 watts of power, would start to override the small AMs and completely dominate the airways. We all knew them by heart and where to turn on the dial.

But until the sun went down, it was pretty quiet out there. If you were in need of the sound of a human voice, there were few options. I have discovered for myself that I love solitude and peace and being away from noise and human chaos, as long as it’s optional. If I know I can return to friendly faces and people who care about me, if I know that my solitude is limited to the amount of time that I enjoy it, then it’s perfect. But when total aloneness is the only choice left to me, that’s when, for me, being alone feels more like ‘lonely.’