“The year the company purchased the electric snowplow Bus Long was the motorman and he was afraid to come off the hill with the big plow so it was left standing on the side track until mid-winter and the road was snowed in. The company asked Pop Sampson to open the road. He took the car crew and 12 other men with shovels to go get it out. I was one of the 12. When we got there and shoveled out the plow and side track, Pop asked me if I would run the fan on the plow. Everyone was tense and excited. The motorman most of all. The plow had never been tried out and no one knew whether the brakes would hold or not; and the road between the quarry and the town was known to be the ‘steepest, slickest, smoothest railroad in the world.’ Captain Bill Hafner showed me an article in a magazine called Rock of Ages, published somewhere in the east, making that assertion.
“We got along pretty well until we got on top of the hill at the rotary station, the motors were warmed up, the brakes were hot, and everything in excellent shape if we had only kept coming down. But the hill looked pretty steep and the motorman welcomed a chance to relax; so we all went into the station, ate our lunch, and rested about an hour. The plow was chained to the rail and the brakes were set, so we were sure everything was alright. We stayed just long enough for those hot brakes and wheels to form ice and freeze hard. I started the fan and Long unchained the plow and started releasing the air a little at a time until the air was all gone or released, and there we stood on the brow of that steep hill. The grade immediately ahead was 17 per cent.
“Bus next applied one notch of electricity, or juice, as we called it. It just stood there and hummed. Then he gave it two notches, and it still hummed. He then applied three notches and it broke loose—all at once! And we were over the hill at a fast speed. Being excited the motorman applied all the brakes we had, and set all the wheels. We were in a dangerous runaway; the outfit completely out of control.
“There was only one door and that was on the uphill side. Pop gave orders to jump to save our lives, and he led the way. As one would get ready to jump—a tree, or a trolley pole, or a ledge would show up right in the face of the one trying to find a space wide enough to make a safe landing. The snow was deep and jumping at that rate of speed made some comical sights; some landing on others and rolling down the hill together. I, having a greater sense of humor than good common sense, was having the laugh of my life until only two of us remained.
“Bus was like a chicken with its head off, running from his controls in front, to the door in the middle of the car. He, being the motorman naturally wanted to be the last man off. He yelled in my ear and said, ‘Hurry up and jump, so I can.’ I said, ‘Go ahead and jump. No-one is holding you.’ I was having too much fun to miss seeing him take his spill. Each jump was more comical on account of the increased speed.
“After I was left alone in this mad race that looked as if it might end in death, I began to see the more serious side of things and decided it was time for me to act in some way to save myself. The least I could do before making my exit would be to shut off the motor that ran the fan. After doing so the snow, not being able to go through the plow, began to pile up in front; within seconds the snow was piled high as the plow and the speed began to slacken off. No one but me, will ever know the feeling of comfort and relief that came over me.
“Then Sampson and the boys came running—some limping—down the track, expecting to find me and the plow piled at the bottom of the hill, instead there I sat with my feet hanging out the door, still laughing. They did not know that there had been a spell of soberness between then and the time they had left me.
“Bus Long was through being motorman and I was drafted to that position. After I quit in the fall of 1931, Frank Morse, who had been continuously with the company through all their operations, told me I was the only motorman who had run the trolley car any length of time without having at least one crackup in a runaway.
“When the big marble block for the tomb of the Unknown Soldier was taken out, there were two motormen who brought it down. I was the head motorman hooked to the front, and Johnny Fenton was hooked on the back with his motor.” (Signed) Elmer Bair
Elmer Bair left the company employment Sept. 30, 1931, and leased all the company’s range land and ran sheep in 1932. He purchased the Chidester, Cookman, Barnes, and Baroni places—approximately 1,000 acres—in 1935. And in 1952 he bought approximately 1,700 acres from the company and now runs 2,100 sheep in this area every summer.
Our tourists with very few exceptions are awed and thrilled by our magnificent scenery. George Rosenberg, managing editor of the Tucson Daily Citizen, Tucson, Ariz. is no exception. He and his family vacationed in Marble and Carbondale for the first time in 1958. His enthusiasm for Marble is recorded in a story with pictures, he published in the Citizen, Aug. 2, 1958, where he says:
“If you haven’t taken your vacation yet, and if you think you can talk the little monsters out of going back to Disneyland ... if either of these shoes fits, then take my advice ... head for the Hills of Marble.”
John Chapman, dramatic critic (New York Daily News), whose hobby is vacation travel, wandered through some ghost towns in his native state of Colorado, took pictures, and wrote an article extolling the grandeur of the Crystal River Valley. This article together with colored pictures appeared in Sports Illustrated, Oct. 7, 1957.
Mrs. Robert J. Hall is another short story writer who visited in Marble in the fall of 1958. She wrote an article which appeared in the Weekly Star Farmer, Kansas City, Mo., Jan. 21, 1959, describing the beauty and resources of the Crystal River Valley in general and Marble in particular.
After the Vermont Marble Co. pulled out, things were rather dull for a few years, then it began to forge ahead as a tourist attraction. Good fishing and hunting, a delightful summer climate, and scenery that can not be duplicated, bring in more and more people every year and it is fast becoming one of the better resort sections of the western slope. It is often referred to as “The Swiss Alps of the United States.”
At present Beaver Lake Lodge and Cabins owned and operated by the Wade C. Loudermilks, formerly of Buckeye, Ariz., is the only tourist accommodation in Marble. But once a person stays in the clean, modern cabins or partakes of the delicious meals served in the lodge, he is sure to return again and again. Other popular services of the lodge are their horse and jeep tours (operated as an insured common carrier) to the various mountain tops of 12,000 feet or more, and the licensed guided pack trips into the wilderness areas.
ST. PAUL’S EPISCOPAL CHURCH—Marble, Colo., building moved from Aspen, Colo., in 1909. Bell and altar donated by Mrs. Mortimer Proctor of Proctor & Gamble Soap Co. Now used as a community church. Any denomination welcome to conduct services here. —Photo courtesy Glen L. Gebhardt, Denver, Colo.