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A GLEN CANYON ALBUM: THE NIELSEN RANCH at HITE (1949-1964) #2 (ZX#56)

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In the first installment of this series, called “Glen Canyon’s Nielsen Ranch at Hite: The Untold Story,” I provided a considerable amount of background information on the history of the Hite (Dandy) Crossing, and the political history behind the building of Glen Canyon Dam.

In addition, I needed to explain just how Beth and Ruben Nielsen wound up at Hite and spent the next 15 years, from 1949 to 1964, in this place they called Heaven on Earth. (I urge all of you who missed Part 1 the first time, to go back and read it. You need the history, especially of Beth and Ruben, to fully appreciate what follows.

In this edition of the “Untold Story” is more of an album than a narrative. This is the first of several albums I plan to post over the coming weeks and months. When Leslie sent me a thumb drive with the complete collection of images, even I didn’t realize the full extent and number of photographs that I had just received. The index that Leslie sent me identifies each photo—the index is almost 50 pages long! That should give Zephyr readers just how much photographic history is here. It is a treasure beyond my ability to express it

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UPDATE: THE 7/4/61 DEAD HORSE MURDERS: THE FORGOTTEN VICTIMS —Jim Stiles (ZX#55)

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For the last two years, I knew there was a vital part of this story that was missing. Like I’ve said so many times before, what about Abel Aragon’s family? What about his wife and five children? I had read the editorial in the Price Sun-Advocate, written the week after the murders, and I wondered if it was already a plea to their fellow citizens in response to a backlash from the community. How did the Aragon family cope with this insane crime?

But I had no idea how to contact the Aragon family. And if I did, would they even want to talk to me? Even worse, had they seen my articles and resented the fact that I have dragged up this awful piece of history from 60 years ago? I resigned myself to the idea that it was one part of the saga that was beyond my reach. But last November, I opened my email and was stunned to see an email from a member of the Aragon family. At first I was almost afraid to read it. Had I opened old wounds unnecessarily and caused them even more pain?

I opened the email. It was addressed to “To whom it may concern…I know that there is a great likelihood that this won’t find the right person and that this is a shot in the dark, but I was wondering if there’s a way that I could provide some information on a topic that Jim Stiles has been writing about for many many years.”

I read on…

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HERB RINGER & his Love for the Rural West’s Small Towns (1940s-50s) Volume 1 (ZX#54) w/Jim Stiles

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On May 30, 1939, Herb Ringer’s life changed forever. As he drove away from his family home in Ringoes, New Jersey, he could not have guessed that as he backed out of the driveway and turned west, that his life would never be the same again. And yet the departure was hardly a happy moment for Herb. In fact, he dreaded it. I’m sure it felt more like the most painful of deaths than the beginning of a new and indescribably beautiful future.

Herb had been married for less than two years, but it had been a disaster. Neither of them was happy. But Herb made a decision that in 1939 was almost unthinkable. He decided to file for divorce. Though his wife was just as unhappy as he was, the stigma of divorce was more than bare. She pleaded with Herb to change his mind. He was barely less humiliated than she was. He didn’t want to be known as “that man” who divorced his wife in the little hamlet of Ringoes. And so Herb made a decision that he thought might make the process less painful for both of them. He would travel all the way across America, to Reno, Nevada. Even then it was known as the “Divorce Capital of the World.”

***
When Herb first started giving me his photos, I realized that he took the time to do what few of us even consider. We took the scenic shots. Herb often turned the camera around and took pictures of the people who were taking pictures. And he stopped to photograph the little towns that most people just wanted to get through. Eventually he would give me all his photographs. Thousands of them. And among them dozens…scores…hundreds of little communities in the West that everyone else ignored.

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EDWARD ABBEY: 34 YEARS LATER in a BRAVE NEW WORLD—Jim Stiles (ZX#53)

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He once said, “ If America could be, once again, a nation of self-reliant farmers, craftsmen, hunters, ranchers and artists, then the rich would have little power to dominate others. Neither to serve nor to rule. That was the American Dream.”

Many of the older New Westerners love Ed Abbey but have no idea what that means. They’ve read all his books and they follow and “LIKE” his quotes on Facebook, but they understand far less than they realize. Many of the younger New Westerners are too busy recreating to care. Solitude isn’t even a priority (And please note, in the spirit of Abbey, I’m generalizing here and judging a generation who I know has its own shining stars. If there is any hope to be found, it is in those young people.)

What Abbey always hoped we’d take away from his writing and from his life was a sense of ourselves as individuals, as men and women who could take control of our own lives and our own destinies. Abbey spoke disapprovingly of a “nation of bleating sheep and braying jackasses.” He longed for a people with dignity and courage and he loathed the mindless “bleating” that he found even in his own readers

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GLEN CANYON’S NIELSEN RANCH at HITE—The Untold Story Pt. 1 —Jim Stiles (ZX#51)

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Even as the Utah governor and crowds of celebrants cheered the opening of Chaffin’s Hite ferry , plans were already underway to make the ferry obsolete. But the notion of a 700 foot high dam flooding almost 200 miles of the Colorado River and burying Hite under 150 feet of water was almost too much to comprehend. Or even believe. Its reality seemed eons away. And it was more than that. There was something magical about the place. Something special. Surely no one could do harm to such a place.

Even as the Utah governor and crowds of celebrants cheered the opening of Chaffin’s Hite ferry , plans were already underway to make the ferry obsolete. But the notion of a 700 foot high dam flooding almost 200 miles of the Colorado River and burying Hite under 150 feet of water was almost too much to comprehend. Or even believe. Its reality seemed eons away. And it was more than that. There was something magical about the place. Something special. Surely no one could do harm to such a place.

It was to that incredibly remote, hidden Eden that drew Ruben and Beth Nielsen to Hite and the Colorado River, already knowing, though barely believing the stories, that their new home might someday be wiped (or drowned and buried) from the face of the earth. They were coming to the isolated canyon and the recently opened ferry to make a home for themselves. It was the ferry itself that made the dream possible, but for Beth and Ruben, it was a dream come true. Their love for Glen Canyon and the crossing at Hite was only exceeded by their love for each other. That mutual love for Glen Canyon cemented their personal connection even more. It was such a shared love that their life and their marriage, in a way, was bound together in one living breathing joyful experience. Over the years, everyone who met Beth and Ruben could feel that bond and be a part of it. Fern Frost may have called their home “a little Heaven of your own,” but the truth was, the Nielsens loved sharing Heaven with everyone they met.

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AN INTERVIEW w/ ED McCARRICK: WW II HERO at the BULGE: & Famous Moab “Arch Hunter”—– w/ Jim Stiles (ZX#50)

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“This is where I saw Patton. We were stopped in this convoy, and I was in a half-track. I saw these three vehicles come down and as they got closer I saw the two stars–it’s got to be Patton I thought. Patton climbs out and yells, ‘Where’s an officer?’

“Meantime, this French vehicle comes flying down the road, and Patton yells, ‘Stop that vehicle!’ The Frenchman gets out and makes a real snappy salute, and Patton smiles and says, ‘Bon.’ If he hadn’t saluted Patton like that, he would’ve been chewed out.

“By this time, somebody found an officer, Captain Newton, and Patton yells, ‘What outfit is this?’ The captain responded, ’87th Reconnaissance 7th Army Division, sir.’ Patton says, ‘If this is reconnaissance, why the Hell aren’t they at the front?’ After a few more questions he says, ‘Where’s the communications vehicle?’

“I was in the next vehicle back, and I ducked down because I didn’t want him yelling at me. Besides, I was a lowly PFC. So he goes back to the vehicle and yells, ‘If there isn’t some audacity shown around here, some officers are going to be busted!’

“He went back to his Jeep, and which way did he go? He turned around and went back the other way. The next day in Stars and Stripes, big headlines read “PATTON VISITS TROOPS AT FRONT.” This is the kind of publicity crap that went on about Patton. Hell, he was five miles from the front! He was such a glory hound. Anyway that was my major encounter with General Patton, that jerk. My captain got killed at the front and Patton got the glory, five miles away.”

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Desolation. And Abundance: the Unexpected Comfort of Canyon Rapids, Origin & Family—By Brandon Hill (ZX#49)

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The river, when functioning accordingly, is a great democracy. “River Democracy.” All are equal. All are welcome. All are held accountable to one another for sustenance. If you can’t contribute, or perhaps more specifically, will not contribute, you will not be invited back. But if you can, as I have learned, you will be welcomed into one of the greatest gifts known to humankind; the River Family.

Family has never been easy for me. I have a hard time telling my mother “I love you” (even though I clearly do), and I tend to stay immersed in the day-to-day happenings of my own life that I forget to call and check in regularly. I have never been a great sibling to my younger brothers and sister. While I love them to death, our upbringing was, at times, chaotic and unstructured.

But on the river, family is a necessity. One of the greatest joys of the river is accountability to one another. To rely on one another. To help one another. To know that we are all in this together, for better or worse. Aside from running a class III or IV, this is one of the most enjoyable yet fundamental elements of river running with a group. Adhesion and effort. But on this trip, “family” had a new dynamic because, after almost a lifetime of existence, I had just met my biological father weeks before. And though he wasn’t with me physically on this river journey, his presence was very much felt.

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UTAH’S INFAMOUS POLYGAMIST ALEX JOSEPH: From Big Water to Amangiri & Outlier Outlaws to Opulence —-by Jim Stiles (ZX#48)

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But in 1975, Glen Canyon City was the domain of the controversial polygamist and constant thorn in the butt of Kane County politicians— Alex Joseph. He and his cult had been booted from one federally owned section of land after another. But they finally found Glen City and nobody seemed to care. It was ready to fall down anyway. Here Alex would build his own kingdom. I had heard about Alex from a ranger friend at the dam. “If you’re headed for Kanab,” Popovich said, “stop at the Red Desert Cafe. The food’s good and you might get to meet some of Alex Joseph’s gorgeous wives.”

I was skeptical but I thought, what the hell. The next morning, I left Page and after the long incline from the lake, in the middle of nowhere, I spotted a collection of ramshackle houses and trailers, long abandoned cars and pickups, and a plethora of tumbleweed. You’d think they were raising it as a crop. The Red Desert Cafe didn’t look much better, but I was hungry and curious about those wives.

Sure enough, Popovich’s description was spot on. Alex was at the bar, looking a tad taciturn. Several of his wives were there too, some cooking and some working as waitresses. They were all over-qualified to be food servers. I learned that among Alex’s wives, one was a doctor, another was a lawyer. Another was a realtor…they were all quite lovely. Alex walked over and said hello. He had a beer gut and stringy black hair pulled back in pigtails and he needed a shave and I thought: What does this guy have that I don’t have?

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HERB RINGER @ ZION & BRYCE( 1946-1965): The Complete Collection* (ZX#47)

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Herb Ringer and his mother and father started traveling extensively after the end of WWII. Until then, most of Herb’s wanderings were in the vicinity of Reno, Nevada or the far eastern side of California. he especially loved exploring the abandoned mines and ghost towns of Nevada. But in 1946, the Ringers headed for the Grand Canyon and other parks of the Colorado Plateau. They were stunned by the Grand Canyon and Herb’s father, Joseph, recorded his thoughts in the journal that Herb gave him for Christmas 1944. Joseph would maintain that journal until his death in 1963. Many of those journal entries are included in this story.

The Ringer Family’s first big trip to Utah came in 1946. They were still driving their 1941 Lincoln Zephyr, though you will only see one photograph of it, farther down in the Bryce Canyon section. So many Zephyr readers love Herb’s cars as much as the scenery so I have included excerpts from Joseph Ringer’s journals about both. You’ll find the history of their car purchases to be remarkably detailed. And that makes sense since most Americans then (and now) are more worried about their vehicles running than geology.

This album and the excerpts are from numerous trips that began in 1946. But most of them are from trips in the Ford Woody and the turquoise Ford truck with the camper, between 1950 and 1956. I include a couple additional photos from 1962, and one from1965, when Herb was now traveling alone with his mother. Joseph died of cancer in 1963, a year before Medicare legislation was passed. Herb later told me that he spent the family’s entire life savings, $37,000 trying to save his father…JS

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