American Folklife Center, Library of Congress Colorado Folklife Project collection (AFC 1991/031) afcl991031_01_039 Journal - Barbara Orbach

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JOURNAL

Day 1—18 August, 1980

Rusty, in our lunchtime conversations, noted that

John Farr is the ideal person to initiate a living history

museum project, because he is well-connected, well-off,

knowledgable about the area, has decided views on local

history and its uses, and is well-known and well-thought

of locally. I had only one click of wariness when in

the course of our driving tour,John mentioned locating the mu

near 1-70 does he share the kind of booster attitude I've

found about the area even on the UCLA library shelves?

Day 2—19 August, 1980

The most exhiliarating thing about today is discovering

that people are willing to talk about themselves and

discovering their wonder at your interest in them and

in their significance to learning about American culture

and American history—even as it is happening.

Cautions: First day feedback from Rusty—mustn't act

so shy, especially around John D. Farr. Reserve is suspect

around here (?)

Interview Concerned about the amount of my intrusion

in conversation——distracting? Bad steering?

Dealing even with a certain fellow-worker—not expressing

my views (on ecology and politics especially) too loudly or

specifically. I think I slipped a few notches with Rusty

by putting forward "vague liberal view of world food

Pr°klem——and blaming all on hard-working rancher". On the

other hand, for my own personal growth, I think it's

• : •— -.'-

C080-BO-J 8/19/80

important to take my stands and let them be known (when

asked) if I'm to be judged accordingly. I can only be me.

May have to agree to be what I consider pushy, in

order to weasel my way into activities of interest or import.

Day 3--20 August, 1980

Rusty and I accompanied Vera McKee ("Ma 'Kee") to the

hay meadows and taped and photographed her as she used a

shovel to dam up the drainage from the ditch in some spots

and open it at others to allow the water to flow downwards

across the field.

She then took us on a walk along the ditch to an

upper hay meadow. As flora and fauna were plentiful along

that route, she responded to our questions by naming as

many as she could. This was the part of our encounter that

she really seemed to warm to--perhaps partly because of

her personal delight in her surroundings. She seemed to

relax and began to offer information unasked, almost eagerly.

Just before we set off on this walk, she answered a

question of Rusty's avout planting habits--whether she timed

her planting by the phase of the moon or other such method.

She said no, but then mentioned that her father had and

recounted a story of his own pea-planting experience that

had proven to them that the phase of the moon really did

effect the plant's growth and development. This seemed to

be the point in the interview when she initially warmed

to our discussion.

She impressed me as a reserved, but warm personready

to respond with whatever help or information is needed--when

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asked. Her recurring phrase is "whatever...". Her description

of her work also impressed me as very independent, self-sufficient,

even solitary. When asked about who maintained the ditches

and how often she replied that just she worked on them every

day or every other day, with I.W. sometimes helping in

spring. Maybe she gets off on coming to this beautiful

place by herself (that is—with her constant companion, her

dog, Killer)?

She most be interviewed again for her personal and

family history, for more specifiers on. her ranching techniques

(tools, timing, guidance) and for her perspective on

her lifestyle and the community.

I was curious to know why Rusty paid so much attention

to the gauge of the wire used in the fencing. We started

talking about the coming of barbed wire fencing to the

range, and Rusty explained that barbed wire represented

not only a technological innovation, but a complete change

in the message communicated by the fencers, i.e. it wasn't

any longer just a guide to keep animals out, but a bald

defensive (offensive?) measure—an intriguing thought.

He also mentioned that when cowboys first encountered the

barbed wire, they assumed it could simply be ridden thgough

like other fencing; often they or the cattle they were

driving got entangled and their bleached bones were found

years later.

Our last task of the day was a combination architecture

lesson and session recording as old assayors' log cabin

on Tiger Road. This proved very interesting, with many

new terms added to my vocabulary:

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"corner timbering" "corner notching" method of finishing corner of log "cornering" structure

saddle-notching—cornering, method: rough interlocking of log ends common in western U.S.

"sills"—4 principle members upon which the rest of structure rests

"plates"—top bearing logs on sides of structure

"broadaxe" or "adze"—axe sharpened on one edge, used for stripping off wood to finish the edge of a log

"snap a line"--snapping a taut string to mark a straight line on material (log), preparatory to hewing

"floor joists"—principle members supporting floor boards. Usually parallel to rafters

"ceiling joists"--support ceiling boards

"collars"—stabilize ceiling boards--usually placed at peak

"tongue-in-groove"--method of florring—finished edges fitting together

"cut nail"--cut out of a long sheet of iron, not necessarily old

More than the terms was simply starting to understand the

process (makeshift or otherwise) by which a structure was

made. This is precisely the kind of explanation that folklife

museums should be devoted to--at once allowing previously

observed features of structures we have all seen fall into

place and, at the same time, prompting us to look more

closely at all structures we encounter, speculate on how

they were made and why in that fashion.

A single example of how Rusty's explanation did that

for me was when he mentioned that business buildings usually

have their doors at the ends of the buildings, while

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residential structures usually have them on the sides—a

feature I've unconsciously absorbed but never thought about.

(The suggestion that there is more behind that general rule

is intriguing—remember to ask for a mini-lecture.)

My conversations with Rusty today about the general

philosophy of doing folklife research were thought provoking

for me. For instance, when we discussed that his having

set Vera McKee to thinking about her father's planting

customs and how she doesn't follow them—even though they

work—will change her view of herself. Rusty pointed out

that such is the effect of folklife researcttr-quite opposed

to research of, for instance, anthropologists, who don't

wish to have any effect whatsoever on their subjects.

When I think about it, my interest in folklife lies largely

in changing people's views of themselves and their relation

to the world by allowing them to see their own connection

to the past, to their contemporaries and to compare and

accept the trad’tions of others with their own.

The word "context" came up in our conversation. I'm

finding that,much as I was steeped in that concept in Leeds—

perhaps because of it—that code word for a whole way of

exploring and analysing folklife materials still holds a

lot of power and excitement for me. Rusty, waving the

handful of grasses he had collected on our walk wifcfhrVera

through the hay meadow as punctuation, explained that if

he were to apply any label to the kind of approach he takes

in his folklife research, it would be'contextual".

Also we discussed rhythms—the difference between the

hatural rhythm, the sort of task-oriented, self-determined

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pace by which some of the McKee family members work (brought

to mind by recalling how they assigned themselves tasks

spontaneously and almost casually at 9 am this morning)

as opposed to the sort of clock regulated eight hour day

more familiar to especially the average city person. (Some

of the family, like Wes, who holds a regular rjob at the

Henderson mine and also does the ranch work, experience

both.) A living history museum with a working ranch and a

mine on one site could really provide a powerful impact on

the visitor by pointing out the contrast between the long

hours clocked by miners meeting needs created by an industrializing

society and the long hours worked by ranch workers completing

the tasks created by the needs of the moment. Sometimes, too,

it can be eye-opening simply to realize that not all lives

are broken up into eight hour blocks of work, leisure and

sleep. (Note that Rusty also pointed out that the rhythm

by which the folklife researcher works is more akin to

the task-oriented, self-determined pace by the very nature

of the work, by the necessity to catch events and personalities

at odd moments and to step back and reformulate at other

moments. I wonder how I, so accustomed to living my life

on a quarterly basis, would respond to the less regulated

rhythm of either the rancher or the folklife researcher.)

Ivcarried away from the work today some practical notes, e.g.:

1) When rdconnoitering, always try to get the names

and, if possible, relationships of all the people present

(e.g. at Knorrs). Useful for making later contact and

for understanding the dynamics of the situation.

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2) When interviewing, always press for clearest

possible identification of people, places or things

mentioned as well as the simplest, most broken

down explanation of any particular event or piece

of equipment. Not only helpful for own understanding,

but also for future listeners,

3) Always try to slip in identification of the site

(each time it changes) and the person being

interviewed when taping.

Day 4—21 August, 1980

While waiting for the Summit County Historical Museum

to pen, Rusty shared some of his personal experiences, as

did Elke. I listened. I'm

beginning to feel like you can never do folklife research

properly unless you've taken a winding road to the field.

(All those accumulated experiences go in support of your

skill and sensitivity as a researcher?)

We examined the artifact, laying outdoors on the museum

grounds. In front was the remnants of a plow and one axle

to a wagon (both identified for us by Rusty). I questioned

the validity of placing "old things" out in the middle of a

yard, where they can only be identified as "old things"—

bearing no recognizable relation to a tool or vehicle

except to the trained eye. Rusty suggested their value in

lending "mood" to the place. Also on the grounds were a

wooden staved pipeline of some sort, a fire engine, and

a buckboard ( in disrepair). Rusty helped me in zeroing in

©h the more interesting and curious features of these

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artifacts (e.g. the extra spring and decorative woodwork on

what appeared to be simply a run-down buckboard.)

Two structures have been set up in the rear grounds

of the museum. One appeared to be maybe vintage 1920—

anyway, we ignored, it.

The other was a restored (deserving quotation marks) log

house—a single pen Stackhouse made from pine logs. It

served as the occasion for another architecture lesson and

building recordeing practice. Rusty talked about typologies

(suggested ">Henty Glassie's Patterns of Folk Housing in Middle Brunvand's Studies and Types of the Southern

Virginia, -foie appendix inty, noting that this speciman folk

belonged to a lower Midwest^building tradition, similar

to those found in Missouri and Tidewater,Virginia. (Note:

typology-is done on the basis of the main portion of the

building, excluding any additions.) Rusty pointed out (with

appropriate expletives) where the back shed addition had

recently been sided with pine slabs. This was merely the

beginning of its restorative primping. From the difference

in chinking materials, we could see where the space occupied

by a fireplace (later discovered to be a stove) had been

covered upt Next to this was a botched attempt to imitate

the hewn log effect, although it had apparently been attempted

with a felling axe rather than a broadaxe, as the edges

were very rough. In this area, too, a window had been

set in--a six sash variety that didn't match the four sash

ones on the opposite side. A^lso on this side were a

number of newly-built appendages, apparently for stocage,

abutting off the main house wall and leading down to a

lower level. They did not blend in well with the rest of the

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building.

We met Mrs. Rebecca Waugh, the director (?) of the

museum, a young woman who seemed to take) at best, a professioni.1

inteiest in our project-^-she offered basic information on

the collections and extended further help, if needed, in

rather a stiff but courteous way. (Rusty took away from

this - encounter an impression that she dislikes us and our

work already; I'm reserving judgement—I think she did feel

tense and under the critical eye in our presence.)

The exhibits inside the museum are not complete, nor is

the space large. scription of m!6eunm interior contained

in field notes 3 The whole impression of the front room

that I received was of the honest attempt to evoke an era,

but of hopeless and distracting clutter that made it difficult

to see anything in relation to anything else. X bo.1

some doubt as to the consistency of the age of the collected

items, which dispelled any evocativeness for me.

Oversell, the museum represented an institution in

flux (apparently Mrs. Waugh, with her professional training,

has only recently taken over)—a poor time to judge its

overall quality and interpretive or evocative success.

Certainly its collections and restorations do not now

represent a very discriminating culling of the aspects of

Summit county history, as I, , < M iC"* , wi$h a very

jumbled view of the trades and lifestyles practiced in the

area, a view dominated by the schoolhouse impression (with

those rows upon rows of proudly displayed--and space consuming—

desks), as if all was summed up on that one autumn day when

the student entered the classroom and dutifully copied off the

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The historical society of Summit County does seem most

active, even aggressive. They have already acquired the log

assayor's cabin we recorded ^yesterday, as well as a log building

now housing the Junktique, as we discovered when we stopped

there to peer over the "junk" (consisting of the usual

thrift store clothes—books—utensils, as well as some

rusted tools, recognizable only to Rusty, acquired during

the estate sale of the house), I was amused as we prowled

through the store that Rusty could identify almost any

object we held up. It must be something to be able to

look at an object out of its normal context and net only

see it in relation to its associated members but also say

something about its quality and probable past.

The square dance was fun. I was interested to see

that "Big Vera"--who hasn't loomed large in our visits to

the McKee's ranch—was one of the leading spirits here.

Not only did she dance solo, "oblivious" to her audience,

but she determinedly led the "Hokey Pokey" and collected the

money from the couples. It would be interesting to find

out what part she has in organizing and running this

weekly event. It was also fun to see the kind of kidding

affection between her and her mother as they discussed their

nicknames, "Big Vera" and "Little Vera".

This session seemed like a social affair (although

it turned out that at least one couple, the Tomoskos (?)

was there for the first time and didn't know the McKee's

at all). I was impressed with how warmly we were received,

especially with the intrusion of all our equipment and flashing

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cameras—they only laughingly wondered aloud what we could

want all the pictures for and didn't we want our pictures

taken? We also benefitted from the fact that they were

ready to welcome Rusty on any terms as long as he would

plug up the hole in their set.

I had forgotten (and here rediscovered) all the non-verbal

communrication that goes on for me in square dancing, with

all its face-to-face contact, and the impressions you pick

up with each grip of the hand or twirl. in nearly every

square dancing situation I've been in it has been a sort of

out-of-time moment of intimacy with strangers. One friendly

corner kept assuring me they were going to "warm me up";

it took me fully two turns around the set to figure out

that he was responding to my (as always) ice-cold hands.

After we left, Rusty, Elke and I chatted about this

aspect of dancing and, again, about how different our approach

of leaping into the heart of the action (the Hokey Pokey!)

is from that of an anthropologist, who would, most likely,

sit in a dark corner and scribble notes furiously.

Day 5—22 August, 1980

Briefing with Rusty Marshall and Elke in the car on the

way to McKee's ranch. We discussed the relative virtues of

possible periods the working ranch should be set in. Rusty

threw out the date 1931, because that would allow for the

use of buckrakes such as those used for haying at Karl

Knorr's ranch. Utilizing old Model T truck frames, they

represent an era of technology less familiar than the

horse-drawn or man-drawn implements that preceded them.

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Interesting to note was that from the information Rusty has

received from John Farr, while 1931 spells DEPRESSION

to those of us who Know our American history in general

terms, the Rocky Mountain ranching industry had experienced

their sl^jump starting in the dacade before and was starting

to pick up by 1931. It would be interesting to know the

actual economic and social dynamics of this "early depression

what factors of supply, demand, and natural phenomena

affected it and how it, in turn, affected the local community

Because the '20's and '30's fall in about the middle of

the span of years of widespread ranching activity in the

valley, because they constitute what Rusty termed the

"classic period" for Colorado ranching, after the initial

ground- and consciousness-breaking labors of the 1880's

had long been complete, this might indeed be the ideal

period to capture at the living history site. (Note that

the reading I did this morning, the pamphlets on the

Holzwarth Homestead and the reconstructed hotel site

chose precisely the era of the 20's in their efforts to

evoke, in these cases, the spirit of the/catereruMto tourists

at the time.)

We discussed the problem of what is "historic", or,

more properly, what is of historical interest. Rusty

explained the criteria adopted by antique dealers—anything

50 years or older constitutes antique, a principle at one

time adopted by the National Historic Register, He pointed

out the absurdity of trying to apply the same standard to

different sections of the country. Historic should be

thought of in terms of particular regions and their

C080-BO-J 8/22/80

"settlement history". His rule of thumb is that it takes

two generations for interest to be sparked about an era, i.e.

people tend to interest themselves in their grandparents'

experiences rather than their parents', a rule borne out

by my own attitudes. I'm interested in my parents' personal

experiences, but less in re-creating for myself t£ifcircumstances

they grew up and married in. On the other hand, to be

pragmatic, one must plan ahead in initiating a museum.

By the time it can hope to be completed (say, 10 years), that

second generation will just about be ready to come around—

so maybe one should aim for the '40's (the "4-Squares" dance

group and the lifestyles of some of our contemporary local

acquaintances are already evocative of that unreasonably

idealized era).

We arrived at the McKee's ranch and, after a few minute's

conversation with Vera and Mary, who were waiting for the

veterinarian to arrive to treat their neighbors' horse, Rusty

and Elke disappeared to record Log Building #2. I pro¬

crastinated as long as possible by getting out my camera

and notes, then I stood stock-still in the middle of the

yard, plunged in doubt. I could see Mary, Vera and the

neighbor, Mrs. Callahan sitting and chatting casually as

they waited beside the corral and I realized that this was

a perfect opportunity to collect more information. But

I was stuck both by my own shyness and the feeling of

what right had I to go intruding on the work--or the rest-

even of these tolerant people; how would I feel if some

stranger kept fluttering around in my path asking naive,

personal, or downright stupiid questions? On the other hand,

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what right had I to waste time? So, I took a deep breath

and went over and conversed with them, trying to shore up

the holes in what I understood about the family history.

I managed to further muddle the Smallwood-McKee lineage)-

someho^John Smallwood—I'm sure they had mentioned that

narae-.gets lost in the shuffle) with all my pointed questions

until I dared not muddy the waters further. They brought out

a transcript of that newspaper article detailing the

family history of Mary Smallwood McKee recorded as she

continued to inhabit their farm in the 1930's—100 years

after the first settlement; it, for the moment, seemed to

clarify things. At any rate, I.W.'s family history appears

to be of greater general interest than Vera Everett McKee's

side of the tree. She could tell me little about them

(note--I did a poor job of preparing the way for that

interview report form and must improve my style in collecting

that information). Mary seemed pretty receptive to talking

with me about any and everything, but I couldn't get away

from the feeling that Vera was merely being obliging and

was glad to escape when she had to leave suddenly to go

help jockey vehicles in the yard.

I spent over an hour watching and photographing the

horse doctoring session after^the vet came. What a relief

to switch into the comfortable and familiar mode of quietly

observing—I could photograph forever 1 Besides which, the

doctoring proved really fascinating (if a little gory).

The vet spent over two hours cleaning and sewing the wound—

he hadn't reached the bandaging stage by the time we left

at 1:30. I was impressed not onlyobout how caredul, gentle,

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but how equally gentle and patient and patient^the onlookers holding horses and bandages were

(Vera McKee, Nell Callahan, Mary Joecks, vet's assistant and,

at times, Wes Dunaway and Dick McKee). All were intent

on this one problem, which demanded a good deal of cooperation;

the cooperation even extended to the animals, as rather than

putting Caroline, the colt's mother, out of the way when she

showed signs of distress as they approached the colt, they

roped her and allowed her to stand over the colt during the

entire procedure--which she quifetly did. The vet and assembled

helpers quietly passed information about horse injuries and

medicines, and joked with Nell about quitting smoking (Mary

had to make a special trip into the house to fetch cigarettes

for herself and Nell at one point)$. suggesting that she

take up chewing tobacco,as they worked. (Note that Nell

must not be very involved in the care of the horses she

and her husband own,as I was surprised to discover that she

had no idea of the name of the vet when I tried to obtain it

from her and it was Vera, not she, that took the initiative

in holding the colt (squatting right .next’to it while Nell

held Caroline from the end of a lead rope) and in dealing with

the vet.)

At the Knorr's later in the day, Rusty really went gung— ho

for information from Karl Knorr (while I, as per usual, hung

back) Point of order: all the information hnd "quotable quotes"

(some real gems) that Rusty relayed to us are his to report,

right? (Information collection could become a real competitive

business in certain personality combinations, couldn't it?2

We had dinner in Kremmling at the Corner Cottage--many

locals eating there, the staple fare: hamburgers, the standard

attire: "Cat" hats.

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Day 6—23 August, 1980

Nicked myself with the razor this morning, band-aided

it.

Bridfing with Rusty at our house. Scotched plans for

Hot Sulphur Springs folk festival and Grand Lakd tour in

favor of working on recording McKee buildings.

On the way to the McKee's, we checked the tires and

radiator (demonstration for ignorant Barb) and Rusty got drawing

us architect's pencils for/ recordings ,

I reviewed Rusty's architecture notes on Log Buildings

#1 and #2 at McKee's--we discussed matters of architecture

and typology.

When we arrived at McKee's, I went into the older

McKees1 house to ask Vera McKee for the address and phone

number of Ed Jonnson, the former owner of the ranch. (Note:

often when we arrive in the morning and knock on Loma and

Dick's trailor to announce our presence, the children

tell us that everyone (the women) is over in the other

house; it's the congregating point?)

Recording of Log Buildings #3,^#4 (with me

happily doing record black-and-white photography) and

meeting with neighbor Paul Callahan, who rode by on his

horse.

I started to photograph the log building we had chosen

to do next (#6), but noticed that my knee had begun to

bleed again, so I went to sit in the car and put it up,

using the time to put my notes in order. By the time

Rusty and Elke had completed recording the building, it

still hadn't stopped bleeding, so we drove into Frisco and

'-y—r'fttf nfi#-' rase*

O CO80-B0-J 8/23/80

stopped in at the pharmacy of Bo Bogan, an acquaint^ce of

John Farr's, to see if we could get something to

make the blood clot, presuming that the high altitude

was affecting it.

Bogan is an older man who runs a pharmacy solely devoted

to selling parmaceutical supplies (i.e., no toys or beach-

walkers here). His specialty is high altitude health. He

put some iron sub sulfate in a bottle for me (a kind of

service I haven't seen in a long time), saying that it is

what barbers used to use when they nick their clients

(how appropriate!) The instructuins were to "mix it

with a little blood and spread it on; it will hurt like

hell but it will stop the bleeding".

We stood around and chatted with Bogai and his lady

visitor/client about his ideas and hopes for high altitude

nutrition. He said that my diet-'was completely wrong

for the mountains. "It's all right for the flatlands"

he noted, "but up here you need carbohydrates, junk food--

potato chips, ice cream, bread (but no bran), corn-Plakes,

peanut butter,,," Cheese was on his list on acceptable

food ("mostly fat" he said) as were other dairy prodcuts

and potatoes—but "none of those vegetables!" he cautioned.

He also put his seal of approval on pizza—"just fine—

but don't have sausage on it, just cheese!" I was interested

to hear what he had to say, even if if was delivered a bit

pedantically. But my own ego and pride in my nutritional

know-how introduces some doubt as. to the degree of his

expertise. For instance, I'm not sure that cheese is

proportionally less protein that all the meats I was cautioned

C080-BO-J 8/23/80 \x

to avoid, and certainly some dairy products are shore

protein than fat. I could see how any kid (or grown-up?)

coming to the mountains and being put on Bogan's Rocky

Mountain diet, would think he'd come to Disneyland—all

ice cream and potato chips. Frankly it turns my stomach.

(Note: try to get a copy of Sierra Club publications

for Bo Bogan and establish a contact between them. Rusty

suggested that it would be wonderful if we could write

up his counsel for the magazine Sierra or even JAF. Hmmmmm)

Armed with my iron sub sulfate (which stopped the

bleeding immediately) we returned to Farr's house for lunch

(Bauernfrtihstuck a la Elke^l Afterwards, I rested (feeling

annoyed that not only mechanical breakdowns, but physical

ones(too, keep hindering my doing this fieldwork business),

read up on local history (finished Black's book on Grand

County and looked at Douglas Walter's work on local

historic preservation possibilities—very enticing). From

the reference notes, I concluded that the Summit County

Library—which houses some of the old time newspapers—

and the Summit County Courthouse would. be fruitful for

conducting backup research--perhaps Monday.

Black's book, which concentrates on Grand County, really

did emphasize ranching as dominant in the local economy. It

was interesting to read of Kremmling as a bustling trade

center during the years after the railroad came, when the

area experienced what Black termed the "golden age"of

ranching (p. 329). This period before the First World

War was also when Kremmling became the site of the Grand

County fair and rodeo event. His description of these years

r> --- m>—mr i'

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and the succeeding years of economic slump (1920-1930)

were most evocative, making it all the easier to picture

a museum portraying this period. Interesting, too, was

his rather poetic description of how the cultural landscape

may remain unchanged, while the people who exist

within it may be undergoing less visible change:

Throughout the twenties the earlier Grand County--its pole fences and privies, its eaves dripping ice water on winfer afternoons, its hay stack-centered style of living--lingered on with all the strength of a culture that:had been tested and found workable. Change rested less upon the landscape than in the minds of the inhab¬ itants" (Black, pp. 363-4)

If that depiction is accurate, how can our museum capture

the sense of that statement (that forms remain unchanged

while their function or the attitudes towards them alter,

and yet that the forms, too, excercise their power over

the way people think and act) and that the converse is

also true (that people take up new tools or methods of

doing things while maintaining traditional attitudes and

beliefs--witness Vera McKee and her firm belief in the

efficacy of planting by the moon, although she doesn't

practice it)? The museum should be able to do more than

show how a ranch worked in 1920, it should evoke these

attitudes, the sense of the period when autos were becoming

popular in the county and its ranchers were feeling the

effects of a distant market slump, but within which the

legacy of 50 years of ranching in the region and the legacy

extending through the links of migration from other parts

of the U.S. and of Europe and Canada still excercised their

power over the life that was created here. My hope would

C080-BO-J 8/23/80

be that such a museum would be attractive and different

enough to provoke in its visitors some of the realization

I have had through merely one week of watching and

listening to the McKee's and the Knorrs—that the same

process is still at work today, that the ties to the past,

particularly with people who work with the land and with

animals are still strong.

Day 7--24 August, 1980

Read the Articles of Incorporation for the Rocky

Mountain Continental Divide Foundation—legalese. Also

read an extract from an inter-office report on the Paradise

Valley Project discussing "study vs. survey". Conclusion:

surveys (overviews of the cultural landscape) are sometimes

helpful and necessary, e.g. for "salvage folklore" situations

such as the Bureau of Land Management or the Army Corp

of Engineers are required to conduct before development

of an area. Studies are m^re concentrated dfforts which

attempt to actually analyze and make some sense of a par¬

ticular area or phenomenon.

This piece, together with some thoughts Rusty had noted

down in July about the approach to this project — an attempt

to see what happens with the ranchers, the long-term

residents of this mountain community who remain through

all the comings and goings of miners and tourists and

shopkeepers^ at any particular historical moment—even if that

moment is now.

I'd say that our foray falls somewhere in between a

study and^fli.survey. We are concentrating on two particular

C080-BO-J 8/34/80

ranches ranker tnanjsimply noting down, and bridfly

photographing alV-^ie ranches in the area in order to

create some sort of color coded map of ethnic origins, or

percentages of land holdings, etc. Nevertheless, in our

short two weeks here, we can do little more than document

the material casings of these ranches and attempt to peer

inside at the life histories, the lore, the ctaftsmanship

and the celebrations that make these log memorials live and

breathe. It may be presumptuous to hypothesize some higher

"meaning" in Karl Knorr's use of Model T car bodies for

his haying work, or in Vera McKee's life choice to spend

her working days alone alongside an irrigation ditch in

a blossoming hay meadow, but I believe the glimpses we

catch of these people make only tantalizing missing pieces

to a mass jigsaw puzzle.

Visit to Callahans--Mr. Callahan used to play lead

guitar with Buck Owen's band in California. With not

too much persuasion he brought out his guitar (not the one

he had used in his professional work)—a battered and dusty

old thing, very resistent to being forced back into tune

(even with Rusty giving aid and comfort as Mr. Callahan

struggled with it). He later brought out a banjo, which he

said he had taught himself to play. It came out in the

course of the conversation that he had abandoned the band¬

stand when he remarried because his new wife didn't like it;

Neil, sitting in the corner, nodded complacently in confirmation

of this '.statement.

Mr. Callahan's fingers seemed stiff as they played over

the frets, his voice was hoarse as he half belted, half

C080-BO-J 8/24/80 z

wheezed out the songs (I couldn't get out of my mind the

idea that he had just finished a huge Sunday dinner and

had no room left to breathe,{ that he might be hit by

apoplexy on the spot), and his memory was so rusty that ’■j>T

he ran out of lyrics after cranking out^a few lines. He

had real difficulty even coming up with a tune he still

remembered. He was both apologetic and sheepish'as he

played, and yet he manfully perservered.

I was interested to see how much Mr. Callahan warmed

to his audience; despit 10 years away from the bandstand

and with fingers stiff from roping horses all day and

lack of practice, his mood and his fingers picked up as

he went along.

Nevertheless, it was a rather awkward situation. The

Itise idea had been to^pop m and say hello, although that was

an alteration of the plan that had been discussed with

Callahan the day before. The idea was not a good one; K> Cyl« iae-iX. h> f«rri.

we felt t.,TM ai Rost-y . I was surprised when Elke Cxi (akt« /fi^j i. Hy

proposed to record the/^instrumentals. Although I actually

enjoyed the opportunity to work with Elke setting up the

Nagra with no possible recourse to Rusty, and although

I truly enjoyed watching Callahan rediscover some tunes buried

in his memory, the experience depressed me. This was

clinched when, after^running through the rain and barely

slamming the car doors, Elke and Rusty proceeded to commiserate

about how awful the experience had been.

I suppose it was partly a hurt that some of the

pleasure I managed to find in the experience was dampened

by their negative opinions, but I was really aaddened to

CO80-BO-J 8/24/80

discover that, particularly Rusty, could praise Callahan's

playing and play good ol1 boy relisher of Callahan's nephew's

mediocre forty-five ("I'd really like to have one of those...")

and then step out the door and pan the whole thing.

It disillusions me in terms of life choices. Elke

mentioned today her conclusion that doing folklore (folklife) roco-nk

involves some skill as con artist. I can deal with that;

I unconsciously exercise my own style of con evei^day. But

I can't go into a field where one has to relinquish Sincerity

and I'm wondering if those are the very rules of the game.

Maybe the necessity of purposely and purposefully carrying

on onging, sharing relationships with people of vastly

different backgrourids and ideals means you have to smile yijVe-

and say nice things, while inwardly snickering or cringing—

which isn't much different than doing it with your companions.

I don't know, maybe I do that every day with every situation

anyway and I'm just spcuting idealistic drivel—but is this

really a business where you can be genuinely nice to people

and feel successful too?

Rusty returned after dinner (w/ beer). I think we all

share a mildly down mood. Talked more about backgrounds.

Between elke and her business background and Rusty and

his people-of-the-soil roots, I'm getting slapped with

new perspectives (I'm tired of that word) all the time.

I'm dog tired of feeling like the naive one, though.

Also, reading Rirsty's hastily scribbled ponderings and

John Farr's legal mandates, I alternately feel hopeful about

the idea of a museum, an attempt to capture the "cultural

personality of a region..in a geocultural context", to see

CO80-BO-J 8/24/80

"how culture ticks rather than watching the clock", etc—to

O'vvke connections with our concept of the past etc, etc, etc,—

phrases that at times excite me, until they roll out to the

point of emptiness and I sink down muttering, what's it a little more about

all for? Is it really so people all over can know-how

things work (and don't workand what creates meaning

for other lives; or is it so more touris^ts stop off 1-70

and generate business for Frisco? Is is so folklorists

and students can really discover how tradition works and

sort-out and analyze while meeting real people; or is it

so people back in Washington can look at a Jphoto layout

and know that we tried? Is is so Vera McKee and George Knorr

can know that the'stupid feds recognize that they are

worth more than the taxes for the ground they stand on

and that they are the real sinew of American culture and history-

som^ething they've known all along; or is it so some folklorist

racking his brain for a thesis topic can retreat into

the offices of the folklife center and claim he's discovered

"traditional culture"? What's it all for?

Day 8—25 August, 1980

A.M.--Solo trip to County Courthouse in Breckenridge.

Not too fruitful a visit in terms of actual information

about the McKee and Knorr properties or their former

inhabitants, but interesting for me in terms of learning

the offices, domains, and attitudes of the county record

keepers. a) so for getting hands on materials and realizing

how technical such records are and how prepared one must

be before attempting to examine them.

CO80-B0-J 8/25/80

first stop: County Clerk and Record Office. I asked

for Ms. Arlys Ward, County Clerk, to whom I had been referred

by John Farr. I was sent to her office, which lies inside

the Motor Vehicles Office. Neither she nor her secretary

were in. I waited. Her secretary (Colleen?) arrived and,

after listening to my explanation that I was doing research

on two particular ranches in the areo^and wanted to see

any records pertaining to them, but specifically probated

wills and records of property exchange,,sheAtook me across

the hall to the County Assessor's Office. ^The clerk who

waited on me looked singularly unenthused. She had difficulty

understanding that I wanted to see records on exchanges

(note: correct word is "transfers") of the McKee property

("Old Johnson Homestead") on the Lower Blue. Finally she

searched for the McKees' name on her microfiche index

and went in search of their card, which, she said, should

list all of the previous owners of the property. The card was

not where it was supposed to be filed, although she agreed

that there was no way it could have gone out of the office.

After asking some of the other office people, she secured it;

it was a white record card (I deduced from scattered comments

that white cards represent residential property, green

card?are for another classification including ranch property).

It carried a legal description, valuation and photograph

(taken in the winter) of the property. This was stapled

to a yellow diagram card with measurements and groundplan

of the buildings and a description and evaluation of

each building listed on the back. I took notes and had

the diagram xeroxed ($1.25), although the layout of the

C080-BO-J 8/25/80

groundplan did not look the slightest bit familiar, on the

theory that I might not be looking at the diagram correctly

and that*building arrangement might have changed since

the ass<3sment was done. (Note: the card was not identified

in any way, either by code number or name, except by being

stapled to the record card so identified.)

I also, requested the record cards for the Knorr ranch

and for the property belonging to Wheaton College (the

McKee hay meadows leased from the college). The clerk

was unable to find the card for Wheaton College, but

advised me to take down the book/page numbers listed on

the microfiche inde^, which refer to deed books filed

in the County Clerk and Record Office across the hall.

The Knorrs appeared at least 5 times of the microfiche

guide. I was given 3 cards listing their properties. I

selected the card for a 695 acre tract on Blue River Rt., most likely

as the one/;referring to the ranch we've been recording.

I took down pertinent information (legal description,

valuation), but because I was unsure of the site, I did

not have a erox of the diagram of the 5 cabins on the

property made.

ad a question about the coding system on the evaluations

of the McKee buildings—an assortment varying from "A" to

‘'poor", with one "10" noted in the middle. I asked

another of the office workers . She couldn't interpret

it and went into a back office and brought out a young

man (the county assessor?)' to answer my questions.

He proved relatively helpful. After peering at the rating

chart in question, he concluded that the "10" was an error.

C080-BO-J 8/25/80

He explained that the huildings are examined and subjectively

rated be the assessor on a basic poor-average-good scale..

He also explained somewhat the manner in which the

Assessor's Office works (or doesn't work). Assessments

are suuposed to be done every four years, but he noted that

they are considerably behind schedule, partly due to the

high rate of employee turnover in the office. Moreover,

properties with poor access are likely to be attended to last.

Based on the handwriting on the McKee record card, he

believed that the McKee assessment had been done by an

employee no longer with the Office (initials: "J.V.H." or

"H.T.H."), probably ca. 1976. I mentioned that the groundplan

diagram didn't resemble the actual layout from wnat I could

tell; he responded that the buildings could easily have

been torn down or new buildings put up since the assessment.

Not only did he answer my questions, but he also searched

more diligently than any office person heretofore for

an older record card for the McKee property that would

cite the previous transfers, commenting as he did so that

some of the record cards were incredibly misfiled.

He expressed interest when I explained that I was

researching these ranches for a projett on ranching history

in the area, in the interest of starting a working ranch

museum. He allowed me to loo& at some of the photographs

of old buildings on the outdated record cards he was flipping

through. He suggested that I get in touch with local

historian and author, Mark Feister, about "Bill's Ranch"

(a subdevelopment started by "bill" during the Depression).

I left a RMCDF card with hi^m and went across the hall to

the County Clerk and Record Office.

CO80-BO-J 8/25/80 'it

After explaining my mission, I was shown to "the

vault", a storage room opening off bhe main office area

whose walls were lined with small binders--the dded books— .canvas-covered,

and large'leather-bound tomes—the reception (registry?)

books dating from the late 1800's to 1977. After

brief explanation and instructions from a hoarse voiced, female

office person (name?) I was left to examine the books.

I found deed records for the transfer of the Knorr

property from (mother) Corinne Knorr to George, Karl,

Greta, William and Gordon Knorr, dated 1 August, 1967. The

deed book that was cited as listing the McKee property

transfer (176/893) was not only rnis-labeled, but was not

paginated to p. 893 (at which point I began to feel that

the McKee property was destined to be^buried "inaccessibly"

on the Lower Blue).

The office lady, though unable to solve this mystery, did

show me how to go back through all the General Reception--

Grantee books, which list all transactions recorded with the

county ca. 1880-1976. I was to look for a "Warranty Deed"

listing Blue River Highlands, whom I knew to be the-former

owner of the McKee property, as grantees; then, by looking

at the corresponding "grantor" recorded in the adjoining

column, I could see whom they had obtained the property

from. Following this process for each grantee cited, I

could trace the transfer of the property backwards to the

original owners.

I was able to trace the incorporation of Blue River

Highlands—a partnership between Cjarence A. Decker and

N. Marcus Bishop—in 1968, and a correction warranty deed

C080-BO-J 8/25/80

for the property (cited as Lot 3-4 S3 VRS STS S4 T4S R78W),

but I searched back through the grantee books as far as

1904 and never managed to see either Decker's or Bishop's

name listed as >. acquiring the property.

Trying a different tack, and a longshot at that , I

searched through the late 1800's and early 1900's for

record of a "Johnson" or "Edward Johnson" as either grantee

or grantor of the property, but there were simply too many

Johnsons (lots of Scandinavian sounding names in those years)

for such a haphazard search. Besides,which, we don't

know if Johnson really was the earliest holder of the

property.

Knowing that Karl Knorr's father, William Knorr, had

acquired that property in the early 1900's, I was able to

find a reference to the release of that property to William

Knorr, dated 10 October, 1903, in Grantee book tt9. That

notation referred me to deed book #78, p. 269, where I

read and partially copied the "instrument" whereby this

legal procedure, a release:of a deed of trust, gave William

Knorr legal title to the land. Wading through the strings

of legalese, much of which I couldn't understand, I found

the most interesting parts of this document to be the

exceptions stipulated in the property transfer—a "burying

ground" belonging to W— A. Guyselman and a plot for the

schoolhouse, While examining the reception books for these

years, I noticed that the name "Theodore Knorr"came up

quite frequently-^usually, from what I could t&ll, in

reference to the transfer of town lots. William Knorr

CO80-BO-J 8/25/80

was listed in deed book #43, p. 78 in an indenture agreement

involving a promissory note with Rudolph Levine, and also in

book #93, p. 28 as the grantee for some town lots, dated

6 Sept., 1908.

While I was at it, I also examined the deeds for the

Wheaton College property, According to deed book #208, pp.

233-235, it was deeded over to the Trustees of Wheaton

College, "an Illinois educational corporation" by Richard

L. Smith and Betty J Smith for $10 on 1 June, 1971 (recorded

23 June, 1971). On 6 Dec., 1971, deed book #213, p. 674

recorded the Trustees transferred title of the property

to Richard L. and Betty J. Smith for $10. There was still

another citation for the college in deed book #148, p. 366,

but I didn't have a cnance to look it up.

All the deeds I examined were phrased in terms of very

specific locational abbreviations (lots, sections, townships

ranges). When I asked the office person if there was

a map to which these referred that I could look at, she

replied rather vaguely that no, there was no map they just

referred to the sections... All the deeds reflected not

only the transfer of lands, but the transfer of the attached

water rights as well.

I had concluded, after my wild goose chases for the

McKee records and after I had been assured by the clerk sitting

at the front desk that there is no other way to go about searching

for them, that it would be faster and simpler to get

di_]f0ctly in touch with Ed Johnson, whose address we already

have, and/or with Clarence A. Decker (helpful office person

had already told me that she believed that N. Marcus Bishop—

C080-B&-J 8/25/80 -31

the other half of the partnership—had recently died). They

could probably tell us whose hands the property had gone

through and, if it were still desirable, we could use

that information to return to the reception books. Yet

another office person assisted me in obtaining the address

of Clarence A. Decker from data on the

McKee transfer records (microfiche).

Feeling a little bleary) I stepped over to ArlyjWard's

office to introduce myself. She is a youngish woman, very

matter-of-fact in manner. She appeared to be very busy,.and

I got the impression^cme is lucky to catch her in. Standing

with her in her doorway, I briefly explained our project,

mentioning John's name. I asked her if she had any other

suggestions on steps I could take to get further information

on the particular ranches I was looking at. She reviewed

with me all the searches I had already undertaken; all

she could suggest was thtt I consult the Summit County

Abstractor (for a fee), because properties reviewed by

the abstractor are listed by legal description, rather than

by transfer of title, making them more accessible for

my purposes. Otherwise, she recommended the Summit County

Historical Society for information of ranching in general.

She seemed mildly interested in the project; I thanked her

and gave her a RMCDF card.

I also checked with the District Court record office

upstairs for records of probated wills on the families

concerned. The clerk, a large, older woman, replied in an

affronted tone that the records were there, but were not

CO80-BO-J 8/25/80

available to the public, regardless of the amount of time

since the death of the person in question. "I vouldn't

want strangers to be able to find out what I'd left behind,

would you?"

My impression of the county administrative offices

was mixed. I felt very coolly received when I first arrived

on my quest; -I attribute that partly to its being early

on a Monday morning when office people were not yet into

the swing of business, and partly to the fact that I have

difficulty articulating precisely what I need and why in a

convincing enough manner. I was pleased that I was allowed

to spend as much time over the records as I needed. Although

no one went out of their way to help me obtain information,

they gradually warmed to answering my questions. (I think

the clerks in the Clerk and Records Office were impressed

that I spent so long poring over the reception books—working

straight through the crucial lunch hour.)

The records themselves I found exceedingly disorganized—

partly a case of a stranger walking in on a new filing system

which is bound to prove confusing, and partly the result

of inefficiency. Reference systems for the materials

seem incomplete at best. Finally, I've concluded, as I suspected

before I ever set foot inside the door, that in order to

get maximum use out of the facilities, one must know precisely

what to ask for (not depending on the ignoramus act to ^re¬

produce more expansive explanations and suggestions--it

only produces suspicion) and have a good command of legal

jargon, the lack of which limited my understanding of

the documents. Also necessary: a set plan about what is

worth xeroxing (far more efficient and accurate than copying

CO80-BO-J 8/25/80 33

(budget) longhand) and moneyAto spend on said xeroxing. As I worked

through the round of offices it occurred to me fittingly

and was later driven home to me in conversation with Rusty

that it-shelpful (witness these nameless notes) and important

to collect people's names as you request help from them. ^^

Unfortunately, in my own little non^assertive way, I have V——

trouble asking for names and titles without making it sound

like I'm contemplating reporting them to higher authorities.

Interview with the Knorrs--Just spent the evening

with the Knorrs. If folklore can provide as exhilarating

moments as these, maybe I can stick to it. I'm feeling

really good and good about what we accomplished for the

first time this trip.

Mr. Knorr had assembled excellent family photographs

that had been taken by his mother. As he went through

them, answering Rusty*s questions, my picture of ranching

activities“-through the seasonal round and through the round

of years—really gained dimension.

I was interested to note Knorr's keen sense of the

geology of his territory—that the rocks in his field were

the result of glacial deposits. It reminded me of Michener's

Centennial, which insists on relating a saga of the area

starting foom this geologic base. Sure enough, Knorr

mentioned his admiration of that very work and his belief (yyWtV' ca***- y.rs*-- s , Of tXa. rvOV t »/)

in its accuracy. *

Knorr's family history was exeeedingly interesting to

me. Father William ("He was 'Wilhelm' there but 'William'

when he got over here"--note: the family name seems to have

originally been spelled Knftrr, according to a family photograph,

CO80-BO-4 8/25/80

although neither of the Knorrs seems to recognize it) came

over from Germany in 1882-3 in order to avoid military

induction. He came to Colorado, where an uncle was Already

living. He came to mine. His brother Theodore followed.

They ran a saloon together in Breckenridge: The Knocr

Bros.' Pioneer Saloon. A momento of the saloon survives in a

metal matchbox with the Rnorr dog, "0uke" pictured on

one side and the saloon's name inscribed on the other.

(My own interest in taverns and tavern life as an entree

into social history pre-disposes me to latch onto this family

venture. What was saloon life like? Was it purely a social

gathering place? A place for transacting business? Who

patronized it? Was it considered respectable by the citizenry?

How much was it a family business (i.e. were the brothers

married yet and, if so, did the wives work in the saloon)?

Why did they get out of the business? etc., etc.,etc.) Theodore

seems to have preferred the town life, judging from the evidence

I saw in the reception books.

There was originally a post office on the site of the

Knorr property—the Lakeside P.0. From what I've read about

locating post offices in those days, it was a pretty significant

feature, opening possibilities for communication and trade.

I was pleased to have an opportunity to hear fkusty

conduct an interview. Things that struck me about his manner

were that he first warned Knorr that the tape was tunning machine

and then virtually made it seem as if there was no /\ there

at all He expressed his CWn interests in the information

being passed (also recognize that his curiosity and, in some

ways, the interview was impelled by his Cwn recent experience

CO80-BO-J 8/25/80

in Nevada—e.g. comparison to Nevada terms like "buckaroo"

and attitudes towards cowboys), pursuing subjects as far

as he could and then calling the line of questions back.

He followed a sort of double helix structure of discussion,

talking on the one hand, about the photos Mr. Knorr had

before him, using their random order (^>r§2|§Ambled by

Knorr?) and their subject matter to lead the questions;

interpolated with this was an attempt to discern the seasonal

tasks of the rancher, following the cycle from spring onwards.

At times this structure threatened to become confusing, but

it also served to reduce the feeling (and tension) of a

structured interview. Having the pictures in front of him

really warmed Mr. Knorr to his tcpic--and occasionally even

drew Mrs. Knorr over to look and offer quiet comments.

(I was curious throughout to gain an impression of

Mrs. Knorr. She remained studiously removed during most

of the taping, reading a paper-back book in a recliner

chair in the living room. But any suggestion of stand-offishnes

was erased in those moments when she was drawn over by

curiosity, . when she dug out extra photos and the

family Bible for us to look at, or when she silently winked

at me from the kitchen as she unloaded dishes and brewed

coffee. She spoke of "Mother"--Karl's mother, Corinne—

with obvious love and respect when she mentioned the care

Corinne had taken to keep family records.)

That Rusty wasn't adverse to continuing the tape

while breaking up the formal dynamics as we chatted over

coffee and cookies, impressed me with the attitude (hard

for me to adopt) of letting the tape run no matter what.

C080-BO-J 8/25/80

^lso, he was careful to push for details on names and locations,

especially in reference to the photos, no matter how

irrelevant they might seem to the matter at hand.

Naturally, as soon as the tape was off, the conversation

picked up. The Knorrs showed us their trophy room--full of

heads and horns captured in the U.S. and Africa. While

Rusty and Mr. Knorr talked about ranching matters, Elke

and Mrs. Knorr and I talked a little bit about her past.

She discussed her experiences as a school teacher in a

one room schoolhouse at Lakeside (now defunct town), where

she h&d to do her won janitorial work as well as teach. She

mentioned that she never hit a child as punishment--she

simply let them sit it out and think about it (a method now

hung with all sorts of behavioural and humanistic psychology

j argon!)

Both the Knorrs seemed quite warm, once you break

through the initial reserve. They kept us there chatting

until nearly 11, although we were concerned about getting

out of their way as they have to get up early. Mrs. Knorr

seemed reluctant to let us go at all; she proposed in her

off-hand way that we should simply stay the night, as they

have extra beds. I like her habit of winking at you, as

if it's understood that everything's all in fun.

Day 9--26 August, 1980

Rotary Club meeting—I was impressed with the level of

interest Rusty's talk about the museum aroused among these

pracrU cal businessmen, as signalled by their to-the-point

questions. It was something new being among those that are

C08U-B0-J 8/26/80

involved in running a community.

It was a shame that the tape of the talk didn't cQme

out. We reviewed the talk afterwards in the car, discussing

the rhetorical techniques involved. Aside from the

obvious one of addressing interests and matters close to

the hearts of businessmen, e.g. taxes and tourism, there

was the sort of one-two opening of frankly declaring his

intention to "sell soap" (you can't con a businessman?).

Also there was the listing of the living history museums

in the western region, suggesting simultaneously the level

of competition and of marketability there exists for such

an enterprise. (Rusty admitted that he had purposely

left out mention of the ranching museum opening in Boulder,

which constitutes very real competition.) It was interesting

to me that, in this setting, I could accept the purely

pragmatic, entrepreneurial outlook (museum as "enterprise",

involved in "competition") as inextricable from the more

idealistic concerns that preoccupy me.

One exchange that sparked me during the post-talk

chatting was the idea of "recoverable history" (Rusty's

phrase). I could picture a scene in which people who

normally wouldn't concern themselves with "history", would

get involved in the actual process, that unending struggle

to get at a "true" recons^ructiop^'rwKx9hrna5iwa^§ssends out

ripples of trying to fit it into the wider historical f,, •••**)

context. We talked about how daring it would be to set up

a museum set in the 1940's. I opined that that was too

painfully recent—a sense even I, a child of the '50's

have. Or is that my generational prejudice?

C080-BO-J 8/26/80

We went out to Knorrs. Mrs. Knorr was too busy

to talk (preparing to entertain), so we gave har a gift

of aanall can of Folger's coffee (fortuitously her brand!)

and arranged to-talk to her tomorrow a.m. I'm beginning to

really like the lady; in her understated way she really makes

me feel safe (daughterly?). She gently patted my bottom

as we stepped back outdoors.

She seemed quietly hospitable as she stood on her

front porch talking to us and allowing us to take her

picture. She mentioned to Rusty that he would have to

explain our project more fully to Karl, as he really

doesn't understand what we are about. I was pleasantly

surprised at her honesty.

She was sorry that she couldn't spare the time to

show us her antique shop, but she gave us the key and

told us to go look around, mentioning a spot behind the

stove that she believed to have the oldest newspaper wall

covering. Her manner in discussing the shop, and more so

in talking with Rusty and Elke about particular pieces

when we returned with the key gave me the impression that

she is a hard-headed business woman (and not about to

donate her cast-offs to any museum).

Those snatches Elke translated from the German language

newspapers on the upstairs cabir. wall gave me one of those

rare instants of time travel—Come to California and pick

raisins! Learn to be a barber! Come to the promised land!

Better yourself!

This morning's turkey talk and my scraps of reading

in the Colorado Cattlemen's history (must be an active group)

C080-BO-J 8/26/80

set me to musing on the way home about obtaining large-scale

funding for this ranching museum project. I wonder how

likely it would be to get funding from the likes of the

Colorado Cattlemen, and what kind of onerous conditions

would be attached? Rusty mentioned some other possibilities,e,g.

Western Stockgrowers Association. He also posed the question

of transportation--how would we get visitors from 1-70 to

a ranch up the Blue? If mass transit were arranged in

cooperation with the :Copper Mountain Project, who could

use it in the winter, using electric jitney buses, it

could be framed in terms of energy/conservation, "appropriate

technology" and possibly attract. .. a grant from the

Energy Dept. A lot to consider.

Day 1Q--27 August, 1980

Stop at Charlie Lund's ranch--cluttered kitchen scene,

Charlie eating breakfast (mumbles and dribbles eggs down

his stubbly chin) Charlie's speech was difficult to understand,

and I wasn't sure how much of Rusty's "pitch" he was taking

in. I didn't envy Elke the task of interviewing him.

After we left, Rusty and I speculated about how the

girls (Pauline and Sherri) ended up at the ranch. Rusty's

hypothesis: "freaked-out MIT students" playing a back-to-nature

trip, their own dyeing, etc. An interesting survival

from the days of dropping out of society on a Rocky Mountain

High—a phenomenon of the '60's and early '70's, and one

very vivid to Rusty,apparently. I reserved judgement.

Interview with Mrs. Knorr. On the whole, a leisurely,

but full morning's work. My conversations with Mrs. Knorr

C08C-B0-J 8/27/80 *10

about what she missed about her childhood, about her

grandchildren and her regular communication with her

children, and about her reliance, almost dependence on

the mail were(to me(both articulated and unarticulated

testimony to her feelings about family closeness. After

a full morning of talking about her many activites^. experiencing

some of them, seeing her pride in her possessions, her skills,

and her family, and discussing her past and her views on

the ranching, I gain the impression of her as a^elf-»contained/< c'ft :,*J'

lady, contented with her lot. Yet, perhaps lonely and in

need of people, too?

Notes on interviewing:

--Don't interrupt so much. If you leave empty space in

the conversation, sometimes the other person will add

more information to fill it

--Try to stick to one subject and spin it out as far as

it will go

--Remember to persist about names, dates, locations, and

spellings

I was sorry to have to say good-bye to Mrs. Knorr

Day 11-28 August,1980

Read article: Rodnitzky, Jerom L., "Recapturing the

West; The Dude Ranch in American Life" in Arizona and the

West, col. 10, no. 2, summer, I960, pp. 111-126.

Stirred up questions about our own project. In some

ways we approximate the ideals first embodied in dudtranching--

of giving the non-rancher a taste of real ranching life.

CUtiU-iiO-O ti/Z&/BU

Some of the factors that allowed it to become a popular trfrtCA&t*

viacation pastime/approximate some of the factors we expect , vu. 't°-

to increase the visitation of a working ranch museuny?. The

informality of ranching life attracted tourists; it offered

a "trip through history, back through the life of a nation"

(p. 124). In the 1940's the war created restrictions on

foreign travel, thus increasing the dude ranches' popularity.

In the 1980's, the gas crunch should limit long distance

travel, driving people more intensively to local regions

and local offerings for entertainment and instruction.

What distinguishes the "working ranch museum" from a - As i

daytime version of a working dude ranch? Bude ranches

developed, according to Rodnitzky, they offered visitors a

t\

chance to test the hoped-for reality against the popular image.

They were not interested in testing these images of ranches

and cowboys (gleaned from movies) against reality, but in

seeing if ranch life lived uP to the image projected by

the movies." (124_ "The dude went West to pretend rather

than to play or relax. He was driven by the same charisma that

drew the pioneers. But the .magic spell was temporary, and

the reality was the unexciting job to which he would soon

return." (123) I think I've been dedicated to the proposition

of breaking up images of the ideal in ranch living with counter

images of the mundane and back-breaking in ranch living. But

images belong to the outsider; where does the insider's

reality lie?

Rodnitzky1s article also brought to the surface a

concern that has been nagging me all along. When I looked

at the histories of Colorado on the UCLA shelves. I was

0/Z4/0U

mildly distressed because all of them were purely narrative,

with much of their attention focused on what happened,

and little concern for how or why, or for fitting it into

a wider historical framework. In the same way, there is

too little analysis in what we do. I know we're only

beginning to collect the facts and are hardly at a stage

to sift and make grand conclusions. But we need to distinguish

between the various sorts of information we're collecting

and understand why they're important. We could start

with ourselves and ask why we are so attracted by this

ranching stuff in the first place. What images am I nursing?

Looked at the AHLFAM newsletter--intriguing museum

news, mentioning activities all over the nation. For the

first time I'm seeing these museums formally connecting

with economic history (Joyce Appleby, of'mercantilism fame,

participating in a conference at _-Kagley Museum,

Delaware!) Also mention of Boulder ranching museum--

seems already very much a reality and well-supported.

Jeep ride with John Farr up to Rexford and Wise Mountain,

overlooking the Blue River Valley. Redressed some of the

imbalance created by concentrating on ranching these two

weeks by examining mining sites and peering down mine shafts

dug right through the tundra. As J.D. mentioned, the

fascination of mining in the Rockies for people stems

from the sheer technology of working and transporting

in this altitude and terrain.

As John vralked us through the Rexford site, and as

he continued to drive and talk, I becanxmore and more aware

of his wider vision of what he calls the "high mountains"—

CO80-BO-J 8/22/80

a vision encompassing geological formation, forest ecology,

and human culture in one complex.

His philosophy of forest management goes beyond even

the concept of "controlled burning" that I have only recently

become familiar with through P.R. from the Forest Service,

which works by the theory that it is necessary to burn

off +ike underbrush periodically in order to reduce fire

risk and to allow new trees to -grow. John Farr believes that

we should select unfavorable tree specimins--those that

won't achieve good or straight growth--for/bur^ning as

wellirhis would allow space and light for other growing kees

and game. My instindt is to reject any suggestion of

interfering in the natural cycle; yet John's argument

is that once the land has been penetrated by man and the

natural condition altered, it can never go back to a

"natural cycle". It's an argument that makes me tnink--

and debate.

Paradoxically, John showed a ready respect for those

very interferes in the forest cycle. When he relates

the fact that men chopped and burned trees somewhat in-

discriminantly and mined and milled to the detriment of

the landscape and the diversion of the streams, it is

tempered by his acknowledgement of the limitations on

their surveying information and devices and the reminder

that everything they built, they built by hand at tremendous

effort.

This fact was driven home by the time we reached Wise

Mountain--about 13,000 feet high--and gazed down mine

shafts dug through the tundra and lined with notched logs.

CO80-BO-J 8/2J/B0

Two of them were cohered wiib log structures that to/myj

mind, looked of as quality workmanship as those we

seen below in the Blue River Valley. I marveled at the

effort people had gone to to simply sample for mineral-bearing

ore at the top of a mountain. I asked if there couldn't

have been some simpler method of erecting diggings; John

replied that cheap a human life was back then, there really

vere greater safety measures taken to prevent accidents in

these mines than in factories back East. I speculated

that the kind of people that pursued the ore up into the

mountains, meeting with discomforts and incredible set-backs,

must have had a different attitude towards f rustration—indeed,

an altogether different world-view.

We made a (rather hairy) descent; interpolated with

the tail-ends of the fanily history I was collecting from

John was a history of his interest in this museum enterprise:

his discovery and love of the high mountains; his disillusion¬

ment with federal land management agencies (Dfcpt. of Agric.);

his understanding that any phenomenon—whether natural or

cultural—has to be interpreted for visitors to be appreciated;

his experience of other museums in the area; his meeting with

Rusty Marshall, a person he recognized as not only having

cogent ideas about open air museums, but also a real appreciation

for John's own region. He continued to speak about his

vision of the museum as a place that would interpret the

area holistically, incorporating wildlife and natural history

into the saga of human history in the area. He emphasized

the idea of the interpretive center, where displays via various a

would be available.

This expanded by image of the museum, which had heretofore

concentrated on the actual living history display, It was

obvious that John had thought seriously about how the

museum would support itself; his idea that the center

would draw winter tourists as well as summer tourists and

that it could serve to fill in the picture of the seasonal

round of ranch work not visible in snow-covered fields

a sound business through media display^ demonstrated

sense (which I was already aware John had), but also a

concern for providing as educational an experience as possible.

I had a question, prompted by discussions with Elke

about how successful communication could be between a

real ranching family trying to get their work done

and gawking tourists. John's answer surprised me, simply

because it partially contradicted what Rusty had lined out;

he would use students, e.g. interested drama students from

universities, as interpreters. i4y initial reaction was,

"How would they be able to convey the insiders' understanding

of ranching?" But John's reasoning made sense: they could

work in conjunction with the real ranchers, dealing with the

toristj, and they (or their replacements) could provide a

continuity that

might not. That he had concerned himself with continuity

was clear by his statement that a manual would be written to

serve as a reference guide for authentic performance of

ranching tasks.

I was curious as to what John Farr hoped to achieve

with this museum and asked him this point-blank. John's

cotsu-iio-u u/n/ao *i\.

answer was eloquent. He wanted people to take away some

understanding of high mountain life—what it is and what

it was. "I don't know why I think it's important, but

I think it is important^*1 I used those same words once

in trying to articulate to someone why I want others to

care about history as much as I do. It moved me.

I came down from the mountain overflowing in thoughts

and impressions and quickly scribbled notes before they

could drift away. With John's words and the full impact of

water-trees-rocks-minerals-game-birds-men-animals, it was

all starting to fit together.

nevertheless, in my more hard-nosed moods, I have to

ask myself if caring about and studying history will serve

everybody as a path to human understanding; in the same

way, I think we hate' to ask ourselves if a museum, no

matter how good, can draw the average tourist, much less

create the kind of understanding John idealizes. I wouldn't

want to work towards building a revenue-creating Disneyland

for the high Rockies. The idea of communicating the complexity

of the mountains' natural and human lives appeals, but I

must wonder how receptive the visitor will be.

Note^-ln this tour John made mention twice of the

Indian population in the area, orfe in reference to the

immigration policy which created the problems for the Indians,

and once in reference to the Utes' use of the high mountain

area as a summering spot--a place both bountiful and beautiful.

I was wondering if the Indians were to be totally left out

of the picture.

Interview with Charlie Lund. Strange atmosphere when

CC80-BO-J ti/Z't/tiO

we walked into Lund's kitchen about 9 p.m. and encountered

Charlie and the two women, plys about 3 men whose faces

blended into raucous laughter.

We set up; Charlie came into the living room ((quite

tidy and obviously unused, at least, in this season) and

seated himself in the appointed chair.

I didn't listen mucht as I was taking care of photography.

One thing that arrested me through my camera lens was

Charlie's hands. They were more broadened and calkused

and roughened even than Karl Knorr's. Charlie straightened

Elke and Rusty out on the various structures in the Slate Creek

Schoolhouse complex. He also spoke briefly about when

the ranch was used partLy as a dude ranch. I was interested to

hear that someone else was in charge of the "dude" end of

it; rather analogous to letting students run the tourist end

of a working ranch museum?

It was difficult to tell how foggy Charlie's memory

was--he didn't remember precise dates, but he seemed to

comprehend and answer all questions readily and to

the point, with only his toothless pronunciation and grizzled

air contributing to the impression of senility. I couldn't

help but feel as we left and he shruggingly invited us to

return to ask more question^ (warning us to give advance

notice, as he is not always home--he's planning a trip to

Peru!) that we probably weren't much different in Charlie's

eyes from his young ladies who cook for him, and leave him

to his own devices as long as they can keep to theirs--on his

property. We all want something from him. What's really

going on inside his mind?

CO80-BO-J 8/27/80

I was intrigued by Charlie's mention of the "Luchtfest"(?),

a Christmas festival involving a special fish ("stockfish"?).

From what Charlie recalled, it seemed to be one of the

few elements of the Danish heritage his family hung onto

after they arrived. Why did they divest themselves so fast?

Day 12—29 August, 1980

Chatting on the drive to Hot Sulphur Springs, we got on

the topic of immigration history. Elke and Rusty talked

aoout what they knew of the circumstances of German immigration.

Elke spoke of the landless condition of many German laborers

m the 19th century, and^of the large influx of Germans

into the United States after the revolution on 1848 (?).

It was this group., drawn from the educated classes who^1

began German language newspapers and other intellecutal

endeavors in the u.S. I was feeling regretful that I'm

not more boned up on German history. But I found myself

getting really excited about the possibilities of studying

immigrarT history and immigrant traditions and material

culture of exploring what makes people transfer themselves

and what happens to their way of life whtn they do so.

Visit to the Holzwarth Homestead. This was to be Elke*s

and my chance to critique a living history museum. We walked

into the restored cabin set at bhe beginning of the path to

the homestead. The captioned displays inside detailing which

families and Indians had lived in the area were long and not

terribly interesting. Rusty was trying to keep his mouth

shut, so as not to effect our critique of the museum, but

he couldn't refrain from reminding us that this was the

COSO-BO-J 8/29/80

introductory interpretation—and, as we would find out, the

only interpretation--offered to the visitor (other than the

road sign which promises to show "how the first pioneers lived".)

The cabin itself was poorly restored, as Rusty demonstrated

at various points. Particularly noticable were wooden

pegs driven into the door frames as bucfes--an effort,as

Rusty described it, to imitate the nailless construction

that would be authentic at Plimoth Plantation, but as

we have seen, is not appropriate in Rocky Mountain log

building construction.

£Hke and I walked on along the patn to the homestead,

pointing laughingly to the one horse grazing along the

bordering fence as a fine example of "living" history.

We came upon the homestead complex, taking in the goats

and the assembled log buildings in a few camera shots. As

we approached the main cabin, we noticed an older couple

sitting on the front porch. Dike, under the impression

that the place still serves as a dude ranch, wondered if

they were g\&ts. We rather hesitantly asked if we could

go into the house. They assured us we could. We stepped

into a rather fustily decorated cabin, reflecting the tastes

of the 1880's-1920's, I suppose. Nevertheless, the mix

struck me as not particularly attentive to detail, or is

it true that a family would have their best linens and

photographs of themselves on display? It also struck me

as odd that one room would feature two large beds, face to

face as it were, unless it were to show off their heirloom

bedclothes. f-——* «»*>'•» ^

The odor of baking sourdough bread draws one almost

directly to the kitchen in the back of the house; indeed, we

CVJ»OU— OVJ—U U/4L?/U<J

spent a good 15 minutes there, giving the other two rooms

of the cabin a cursory glance. In the kitchen we encountered

one of the interpreters—a seasonal park service employee

who has spent the last 3 years of his 6 year seasonal stint

with the National Park Service at this site. He was quite

willing to answer our questions, not put off in the least

by our clipboards and clicking cameras, and he was disarmingly

frank. S-vyc.

He was dressed in jeans, .boots, a id shirt and a

straw cowboy hat; he had the hearty coloring of one who

spends his time outdoors. The heartiness extended to

his manner as well—almost to the point of being forced.

He explained that the interpreters do not try to

impersonate the Holzwarth family members; they simply

dress in appropriate style, "soft of". They"try the old

methods" as their interests dictate; for example, tne

young man we were talking to attmpted tanning animal skins

and taxidermy "using Papa's1 books" ("Papa" Holzwarth

made money on the side by doing taxidermy learned in a

correspondence Course). The interpreters also make

sauerkraut, dandelion wine and sourdough bread (using

a recipe they picked up from a source other than the Holzwarth

family). They also make lye soap.

He said that none of the staff were trained specially

for this work; there are five permanent employees this

year: two women and three men, some of whom live in the

surrounding cabins. At least one of the employees is

from the Student Conservation Association. They also get

volunteer help from the Youth Conservation Corps. The

CG80-B0-J 8/29/8o

season is now nearly over and some of the employees have left.

Tne interpreters cover various sites on the premises on a

rotating basis through assignments to "kitchen duty",'laundry

duty" (doing the wash in old tubs located outside the

back door of the "Mama" cabin), or "goat d utyr’. At each

duty they meet and answer the questions of any visitors

that walk up. He mentioned thay they used to run guided

tours of the.homestead, but not as many peo;le could see

the place per day as they can now accommodate ( on peak

days they get up to 450 people). Besides, he felt that

it was better to let people go through at their own pace;

some visitors even enthusiastically join in on the chores.

Other acitivites that were apparent were chopping wood,

tending, a very small garden and, judging from the poke

of material in'main house bedroom, rug weaving.

What he impressed upon us is that whatever is done at

the homestead is done on the initi ative of the employees:

the livestock (chickens, 2 goats, rabbits, pigs) are eadged

by them. They are also expected to maintain the buildings

and environs. He pointed out where the foundation of the

taxidermy shop is being eaten away by water and mentioned

that the logs needed to be treated with linseed oil, the

sod roofing on the ice house needed replacing, and the buildings

needed to be rechinked. This is labor they are not trained

for and, like their interpreter activites, it is learned by

trial and error.

He did comment that the staff is djiven ample time

to study the period and the paritculars of the Holawarth

Homestead history, and that they have access to 79 tapes made

cuou-bu-j e/zy/tsu

by Johnny Holzwarth about the life on the site when it was

a working dude ranch. They also recently received a visit

from Johnny himself. Because the National Park Service

received the entire ranch intact, they had no need to look

elsewhere for collections and can consult with Johnny

Holzwarth about the placement of furniture, etc. (nix my

comments oh the beds?)

As we stood with the interpreter outside next to

the taxidermy shop, he pointed to an old wagon in the main

yard, mentioning that at one time they had brought visitors

in by wagon. But they found that the visitors then became

too preoccupied with the wagon schedule and how sooti they could

return to their cars to enjoy the exhibits t(an interesting

problem to keep in mind in tern's of our own mass transit

solutions to the museum access problem). His feeling was

that it was good to get tourists out of their cars for a

little walk.

Overall, he gave the impression of a valiantly hearty,

politely bored employee, who was mildly dissatisfied with

the form of the museum ("the dude ranch effect is ruined—

one horse just doesn't make it") and even less tolerant

of the museum's funding problems. As he succintaly put it,

it simply isn't a priority site with the park service;

his statements about the limitations and demands placed

on the employees went is support of that.

After a quick look at the guest cabins, we returned

to the car and proceeded to critique the museum.

I felt the young man's statement about the homestead—

I ve gone as far as I can go with it"—went to the crux of

U(0U-OU“0 &/ 4.2/ OU

its problems. For as far as it goes, the staff does

a fine job, but this "homestead", this sample of "pioneer

life", this recreation of a "working dude ranch" simply

does not go far enough. I took away with me the lingering

memory of sourdough bread and butter and the leisurely, almost

dejected air of the Yosemite tent cabins at noon. It it had

been presented as if all the dudes were away on a day

expedition, it might have passed. Yet, the museum makes

no attempt to provide a full-fledged depiction of either

a working ranch (no cows, no hay, no machinery) or of a

dude ranch (no dudes, a solitary horse). In essence,

the museum recreated nothing except scattered elements of

old-timey life.

Obviously, the museum's lack of ambition stems from

its funding limitations and its position, from what I gather,

as a step-child of the Rocky mountain National Park Service.

As Rusty explained it, this park, unlike some in the

East, is designated as a "nature park"--nature being

wildlife, geology and Indians. Human history, or "culture"

is of secondary importance here. While I understand the

need for priorities in a system as large and diverse as

the national parks, it is painful to think of the opportunity

that was handed to them on a silver platter and at which

they barely nibble.

The interpreter had told us that the site had originally

held some more modern buildings, which were torn down by the

park when they inherited the property. In a sense, they have

alteady annihilated some of their valuable legacy, because

the newer buildings might have served both as contrast to

COttU-BO-J U/2V/U0

the homestead buildings and to graphically illustrate how

the ranch continued to function until its closure. Rusty

remembers when the deserted meadows we passed on the way to

the site were tended much as the Knorr hay meadows we

have observed, and from which we have learned so much,

about one aspect of ranching and about the natural landscape.

If the ranch could only be utilized fully as the "unnatural"

resource that it is, it could allow the visitor to Rocky i

Mountain National Park to make some significant connections

between the natural environs and the sequence of human

impact on them, of the kind John Farr suggests for his

own region. In the process, it could come closer to achieving

the goals (I assume) of the park service in heightening

visitor awareness and understanding.

Another feature of the homestead that Rusty pointed

out that hadn't dawned on me is the problem of access.

Though I fully sympathsized with the wagon/scheduling impasse,

the half-mile dirt trail to the site effectively places it

off-limits to wheel chair visitors--which is strictly

illegal by federal law—as well as mo-king it an undesirable

stop for many inactive, overtired, or child-saddled tourists.

Overall, the museum suffers in design and in conception;

it never seems to have gotten the benefit of prior planning

and caring attention, so it buffets from year to year amid

the whims of its current staff. This year it will draw

over 18,000 visitors. Isn't it worth the consideration of the

powers that ke?

Visited Rusty's family home on Grand Lake. Beautiful

site that it is, Rusty pointed out its flaw in lying too

C080-BO-J 8/29/80 J'J

close to National Park territory, and thus being at the

mercy of picknicking tourists. This explanation, compounded

with the statements at the Holzwarth Homefctead about

visitors' impertinence and precfcupation tounhed a nagging

chord of ambivalence in me about tourism. Although I

have so often been a tourist myself, and although I recognize

tourists individually as members of the hjaman race, tourists

en masse can't seem to avoid having a negative impact on

an area. They can't avoid collectively tromping--eaen on

the most hallowed ground—they need loos, food, information,

and trash cans ad infinitum, and they seem to inevitably

add up to mass inconsideration. So what are we doing

putting historic preservation and promotion of tourism

together in the same brilliant thought?

Stopped at the Grand County Historical Museum in Hot

Sulphur Springs. It didn't occur to me to compare it

specifically with the Summit County Historical Museum in

Dillon. Yet, like that one, it is located in a nicely

restored schoolhouse building near the edge of town.

Outside the building are log structures set at various angles

and apparently in the process of being restored for museum

display. Not much has yet been done on them. (I was interested

to note that one of them seemed to have tattered canvas

for chinking).

The interior of the museum was nicely done, being contained

in three uncluttered rooms that allowed free movement from one

to another.

The larger middle room housed a display of a current

«

local photography contest. I only glanced at it, but it

did seem encouraging that this community activity was

housed in the community's museum.

We discussed this museum after we climbed back into

the car. While Rusty and Hike commended the museum for

its w&ll laid out, uncluttered displays-, with which I had

to agree-, I couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.

It is difficult for me to know what to expect from small,

indoor local museums; I suppose the most they can really

do is to leave one with certain impressions about the

settlement of the region and dramatic points in its history

(e.g. Hot Sulpur Springs" famed "shootout" knocking off of

the feuding county commissioners), encouraging one to look

fafther for a more comprehensive view. In all of this

the Grand County Historical Museum succeeds. It seems

that such museums would really hold more meaning for the

"insider", the community member who could identify the

sites pictured or recall the names mentioned and weave

those references into a fabric of prior existence in the

territory. This seems to be verified in terms of attendance

at this museum; a glance at the guest book indicated that

a large portion of the visitors are from the Grand County

area.

What different goals and forms the two museums we

$ aW today take--the one an outdoor museum designed to

involve the outsider in a whole style of living in order to

create some understanding about a past reality, the other an

indoor museum designed to touch off interest among insiders and

ousiders alike in a past that can't be depicted in one coherent

scene

wou-bu-j a/^y/eu

I wondered aloud whht kind of funding this county

maseum, so car&fully and neatly Kept up, was receiving;

Rusty speculated that they might be receiving a grant from

the Association*for State and Local History.

Rode through Kremmling and down the Blue River Valley,

ticking off features—grasses, locations, etc. Finally I

can feel on an emotional level what before I only understood

on an intellectual level—what context is all about. I

silently said good-bye to this place, feeling sad that

just now, when I'm starting to understand things and feel

on top of the project, it is ending.

Stopped to say good by to Bo Bogan. watching him

interacting with his customers, I got the feeling he is

a true community resource.

After dinner went to Farr's to settle up and for another

attempt at dubbing the recordings. What a lesson in

mechanical tyrannyl There just didn't seem to be any combination

of wires and plugs that would produce the defeited result.

It seems like no field trip would be complete without a

goodly share of mechanical screw"ups and break-downs. I

logged the Mrs. Knorr tape, immensely relieved that it,

at leasi^ had come out (volume was a little low). It was

interesting to critique my performance as an interviewer.

As I had suspected with the Loma interview, i have a tendency

to interrupt or interfere too soon and too frequently

in the flow of dialogue, partly because by watching the

person I'm talking to, I don't realize they have more to

say. I did notice towards the end of the tape that I left

larger pauses which Mrs. Knorr, perhaps feeling more comfortable

C080-30-J 8/29/80

by then, would fill. It's often the case that those pause¬

filling comments—afterthoughts tacked onto the direct

answer to the original question—turn out to be the most

insightful and eloquent and personal statements; for example,

Mrs. Knorr's comments about not baking on gloomy day-because

the bread doesn't seem to rise as far—perhaps she's

simply different on gloomy days, really added another

dimension to my perception of her personality-'-a competent,

common-sensical woman with an underlying sensitivity to

herself and others.

Another thing I noticed about my interviewing manner was

the frequent intrusion of my "appreciative guffaw". I told

Rusty it was nervous laughter, which is in some senses

true; I would like to reduce its intrusion on the resulting

tape, but I also realize that it is my expression to my

listener of myuappreciation and my attention, which I feel

is extremely important. It is difficult to listen to an

interview tape and not feel a little foolish, but I have

to recognize that my comments and those personal statements

I make are part of the interviewing process as it is happening

and that without them, the resulting tape might demonstrate

more craftsmanship and less about the person being interviewed

The third thing that I noted about the interview is

that I have improved about gathering information from the

basics up* I still fooget to push for full names and

spellings in casual conversation, but I was better about

stepping backwards and having Mrs. Knorr describe a whole

process, like butter-making, from scratch. Lastly, I did

remember some of Rusty's cue words, like "rule of thumby

for trying to discover personal customs that might not

be mentioned if they were labeled such.

Although I still hate a long way to go in conducting

interviews, in putting the other person and myself at ease, at

covering the whole body of material and of thinking quickly

enough ahead to what subsidiary bits of information or new

lines for discussion are opening up, I feel, too, that I

have made some progress in the last 10 days. I mostly

recognize the difference between being prepared—how much

easier it is to ask Mrs. Knorr about yeast and bread baking,

which I am familiar with, than to ask Mrs. McKSe about

creating ditch outlets—and the huge degree to which feeling

secure with the person you're interviewing (I trusted

Mrs. Knorr to be sympathetic and not imposed upon) influences

the success of the interview. Now it's a matter of persuading

myself that folklife research is not always a process of

imposing unwelcomely on people..

As I logged, I watched Rusty pack up, and I marveled at

the incredible amount of planning and forethought and organiaation

(tgoes into preparing for a field trip, and how that has to

follow through to the packing to leave, so that as few

details as possible get overlooked or mislaid.

Rusty, Elke and I sat down for a quifct few minutes

to evaluate how the 10 days had gone. I was feeling flooded

with gratitude. I wanted both Rusty,, and Jbhn Farr to know

in a real concrete way that the field work may be going

to make the museum a reality, but it had alao borne fruit

in a special way by teaching one person—me—so much about a

region, different lifestyles, the process of doing fieldwork

LOOU-CU-iJ O/^S/OU

(and staring down mechanical difficulties) and about myself.

I feel like I really had to confront my shyness—my greatest

handicap—and push beyond it; Rusty, by creating an atmosphere

of trust and mutual good feeling, g2ve me time and space to

do that.

We talked about next year, the hopes for more field

time, the possibility of getting <§tants to continue the

work with less painful extraction from shriveling pocketbook,

and the fact that next year would concentrate on hardrock

mining.

In a way that is very difficult to articulate, I could feel

now what was meant by an exploratory field trip, and could

accept that while what we had discovered would not even

be the outline for a definitive book on Blue River Valley

ranch life (then or now), it had pointed directions, had

signposted the path as it were (for future travellers^-like me?)

Although on the surface hardrock mining exploration interests

me less (somehow it lacks that poetic integration between

the rhythms of man and nature and poses harder, more discontinuous

lmages), I could feel that catch of wonder I first sensed

as we stood over the shaft on Wise Mountain that

people could have the drive to come so high to gamble so much.

I yonder what fieldwork in an industry not soi much practiced

anymore would be like--library work^ I thin|; with a gleam

of those stacks and stacks of reception books listing mining

claims at the County Courthouse.

We talked about what we itfould change or add to the

research arrangement. I tossed in a bid for Ron Emrich or

someone equivalent,in the flesh to serve as a guide through

the wilderness of county and historical records--my documented

history bias still pleads for better grounding in actual

written records. We all voted to*up the-ante to 6 weeks

of field time, or 4 weeks at a minimum. |£ow it's simply

a matter of molding those pipe, dreams into realities.

I wondered aloud about how I could get more practical

experience recording buildings; Rcsty suggested that the

local societies for historic preservation who are constantly

examining and recording sites to be put on the national

register of historic buildings would probably welcome

(even pay for?) help.

Rusty §ave us a pitch about the opportunities for

women working (skillfully) in the field of material culture—

especially if they were to stow the quilts and turn their

attention to something like buckrakes. I thing I've already

been sold, though, from watching Rusty, I get the impression

it will take several more experiences and much more ruminating

to really get a feel for how important it is to record the

activities and machinery used today, always looking to

the future, to creating posterity for those 50 years hence.

Day 13--30 August, 1980

Early morning stop at Farrs' to drop off laundry,

finish a roll of film and say good by.

Rusty and I had a quiet talk. I was again impressed

with his sudden flashes of sensitivity; it startles me ^ ci>*+!-ax^ y

to find that he seems to think intuitively about poeple and

their culture as I often do, in terms of imagery and parallels

perhaps everyone does and it's the only way it can be compre-

u/ uvy y .

hended. Anyway.* he was mentioning how much different it

was to work with ranchers in Nevada, how their personalities

seemed to reflect the hardness and the barreness of the

terrain, and how that terrain shapes -.one's moods and actions.

I was again struck by that gut level surprise and satisfaction

to realize that it is true that people—no matter hww

they live—are of a piece with their environment (using the

caution of not thinking too behaviouristically or symbolically inaccrs* sii

about the matter, mind you). This land is high) often

hard, with expected and unexpected beauties meeting one at

every turn; I think I've found the pe^ople—Vera McKee

and the Knorrs especially—the same.

We spoke about Mrs. Enders. Rusty sees the beauty of

her ride on the machine. I responded to the sense of

choreography in the whole haying operation. We're both

waxing too poetic.

Rus£y planted some more seeds in my fertile brain

about studying hardrock mining lore with Wayland Hand

and about concentrating on German folklore as an area

study as preparation for studying German immigrant

folklore.

Said good-by^ Returned to the intern house to finish

cleaning up and packing, and headed off down 1-70 West

towards home