TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT…Jim Stiles A personal note about Pete Parry–How he saved Canyonlands AND my Dogs The History (and LOVE!!!) that Lives in my Fridge SOWING CLOVER…Tonya Stiles The Last Picture Show? The Poetry of DAMON FALKE…
TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT…Jim Stiles Glen Canyon, 50 years after the Dam About the Grand Canyon Trust, ‘A Just & Healthy Future,’ & Doug Meyer’s Honest Response The Rise and Fall of Hair…A History SOWING CLOVER…Tonya Stiles The Trouble…
For decades, the iconic routed wooden signs, in national parks across America, were a familiar sight to tourists. They were works of art…
But leave it to the government to find one. Someone in the Department of Transportation, his/her identity lost to history, decided to take a look at the park signs and saw red flags everywhere…
“These signs! These signs are NOT in compliance with federal highway safety standards!!!”
The toughest, most decent ‘cowboy’ I ever met hasn’t been ‘lanky’ since he was eighteen. He barely reaches 5 foot six inches, and could not, in anyone’s wildest dreams, be regarded as laconic. In fact, it was because of his gift for gab that 25 years later, hestill comes closer than anyone to being like a brother to me. Though he is 10,000 miles away, in the southwest corner of Australia, we are kindred spirits. In fact, he just called this morning and we had, according to Aussie custom, another great “chin wag.” Nobody wags better. (And he doesn’t say, ‘Giddy up.” he shouts “Oi!!!”)
His name is John Wringe and we met at a roadhouse 200 miles north of Perth, while both of us were traveling south, by bus — me to catch a train, the Indian Pacific, back to Sydney and the long flight home. John had been visiting his son-in-law and was now returning to his home, 150 miles south of Western Australia’s (WA) capital…
Suddenly, one of the assistant scoutmasters, Mr Schneider yelled, “What the hell…heck is that?” (He didn’t want to corrupt his boys). We all looked skyward as he pointed to three bright lights moving silently across the sky. It was like nothing any of us had ever seen before. Imagine a pencil dangling from a string, in total darkness, but with three lights attached to it, at both ends and the middle. It almost appeared to be wobbling across the sky. We were all speechless. It crossed our field of view diagonally, then paused, pivoted on its front light, and changed direction. As it disappeared over the tree line, the three lights seemed to waver, like a snake crossing open ground. It’s been more than half a century since that night. But I was hooked.
When we finally got home, my parents asked about the hike, but all I could talk about was the UFO.
The position of these men (like John Wesley Powell) and many others in the Federal Government was that Native Americans were stuck in the barbaric stage and needed to be civilized. The Bureau of Indian Affairs, since their inception in 1849, implemented a number of unsuccessful strategies to bring the Indians “up” to modern intellectual and moral standards, while failing to acknowledge that the divide was fundamentally a philosophic one. William Henry Holmes, who had responded to B. K. Wetherill’s first letter, later expressed the violent aspect of the government approach. He believed that the dominant culture was destined predominate and that “the complete absorption or blotting out of the red race will be quickly accomplished. If peaceful amalgamation fails, extinction of the weaker by less gentle means will do the work.
Powell elaborated on Morgan’s theory in two articles: “From Savagery to Barbarism” and “From Barbarism to Civilization”. He maintained that civilized society is not only technologically and intellectually superior, but morally superior as well. “In savagery, the beasts are gods; in barbarism, the gods are men; in civilization, men are as gods, knowing good from evil,” he wrote.
In 1989, my own seasonal ranger “career,” (if you could call it that) had ended, much to the relief of most park managers over the GS-7 pay level. But I still maintained good friendships with some of the older NPS staff, many of whom had retired years earlier but who had decided to live in Moab. I was particularly blessed to call two park veterans, Lloyd Pierson and Lyle Jamison, as dear friends. While newer park personnel loathed my irreverent, outspoken side, Lyle and Lloyd appreciated it. In fact, Lloyd’s humor was somewhat biting, and he was always willing to speak his mind, and let the chips fall where they may. He gave new meaning to the expression “unbridled candor.” It’s why, so many years ago, I concluded that, “When I grow up, I want to be just like Lloyd Pierson.” I’m still working on it.
Lloyd Pierson was the Chief Ranger at Arches from 1956 to 1961. He and Superintendent Bates Wilson oversaw the Mission 66 project during those most tumultuous years. The building of a new road was inevitable, and so both men played a role in determining the new highway alignment in a way that would have the least impact on the park they both loved.
Lyle Jamison worked as the Monument administrative officer from 1959 to 1960, but as they both later explain in this story, his duties in those days were “wide and varied.” . Lyle took another job in the NPS system that year, but a decade later returned to the newly formed Canyonlands National Park. It was Lyle who oversaw the hiring of seasonal rangers at Arches. I had signed on as a volunteer in the winter of 1975-76 but applied for the Arches seasonal campground job and often stopped by the old headquarters office downtown to check on my status. Using every technique possible, I told him that at volunteer pay I could not sustain myself on a diet of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Finally one day in March I poked my head in his office and Lyle looked up and grinned, “Stiley!”
…Lloyd retired from the Park Service a few years before my arrival but was a well-known face in Moab. A historian by trade, Pierson was an active board member of the Moab Museum and his frequent letters to the Moab Times-Independent were legendary. Lyle retired from government service just a few years after my arrival. But like Lloyd, he was hooked on Moab. He and his wonderful wife Lois bought a home in Spanish Valley and stayed active in local issues related to the parks.
When I decided to start The Zephyr, I was anxious to use it as a way of keeping and preserving the history of Southeast Utah. The first two people I sought out were Lloyd and Lyle. One cold morning in January 1989, I coerced both of these guys to take a ride with me through Arches to remember and recall the “good old days,” and observe the changes that have occurred over the years. We all bundled into my 1963 Volvo and I sat a tape recorder on the dashboard. I pushed the record button and off we went.. The overriding theme was: What’s changed? What’s here now that wasn’t here then? How different does this place feel to you? For the next hour and a half, they talked and I mostly listened…
I’ve never written anything like this before — not in the 33 plus years I’ve been publishing The Zephyr. Not ever. It’s personal and it’s painful; it’s about mistakes I have made, and regrets I will carry to my grave. It’s about loss and and unexpected events in our lives, and how we deal with them. We all seek our own paths — some find comfort with family and friends. Others turn to their church. Some try to ride it out on their own….still others seek “professional help.”
In the context of this story, it’s also a cautionary tale –– a warning to all of you about the mental health system in this country and how badly it can be abused, intentionally or unintentionally, by the people who oversee and manage that system. I believe that mental health services, when professionally administered by people with true consciences and a genuine concern for their patients, can be of great comfort to those dealing with grief and despair–the pain that can create serious emotional problems. But it can also be abused. It can cause even more damage to the very individuals the mental health “professionals” claim they are trying to help.
Everything you are about to read is true…
Two epiphanies would come from that moment. On the back jacket, I read both biographies and realized that Abbey had written the 1956 novel “Brave Cowboy,” upon which the 1962 film, “Lonely are the Brave” was based. I had seen that movie on television, a decade earlier, and it had a profound effect on me and on my future. To this day, it’s one of my favorites. The bios also included photos of both men. I studied them closely and decided to learn more about Mr. Hyde as well.
Eleven years later, when I started The Zephyr, I knew exactly where I had stored Phil’s calling card, so I signed up Phil Hyde as a complimentary Lifetime subscriber. A few months later, to my surprise, I received a card from Phil. He still remembered our encounter from 1978 and wrote to thank me for the complimentary subscription and to wish me well in my endeavors. Over the years, he became a Zephyr supporter and contributed a few letters to the Feedback page.
I would speculate that most humans, especially those who have lived their lives in jobs requiring any type of secrecy, arrive at a place in old age or near death where they would like to divulge some of those secrets.…