[This article first appeared in Mountain Gazette #163]
ACT ONE:
THE SCENE: Along a mountain pass, in that crepuscular moment just before a storm hides the mountain beyond the players.
Just beyond the trees, see that valley? At the bottom is our town. If you step over here, you just might be able to catch a glimpse. From the right angle, it looks about perfect. Summertime, the train steams in around mid-day, and during winter you’ll sometimes see folks out on their sleds, right on the main street. When it snows, it looks like one of those snowglobes your grandma would let you shake, so you could watch the storm you’d just started. In fact, looks like a few flakes coming down now. Don’t mind them. Maybe somebody’s shaking things up again. Shall we go down inside, and find out what’s going on?
You come in from the south? If you’d come the other way, you’d’ve gone right through Ouray, another town about like this one. Not many jobs except gift shops, restaurants, cleaning motel rooms. Mostly summer business, and quiet winters with ‘Closed’ signs in a lot of store windows – not much to do when the tourists take their money home. Anymore, a lot of folks live down in Montrose, drive to work in Ouray or Telluride when they’re hiring, or try to get steady jobs around there. Trouble with keepin’ towns looking like visitors expect is that it’s hard to hide the sounds, smells and sight of what folks call industry. You know, building stuff, fixin’ it when it breaks, that sort of thing. We end up with a lot of stores and condos, offices and such that don’t need more than one or two workers at a time to keep ‘em going, but as our real estate developers say, “That master plan sure looks pretty, doesn’t it?”
You saw another of our towns, the way you came. Durango. Traffic sure was rough on north Main, I bet, no matter what time of day you drove through. Used to be kind of quiet most of the day down there; except when the downtown was hoppin’ with visitors, or with locals going about their business. Anymore though, Main Street is all retail shops and restaurants, with the library moved north of the downtown, the hospital 5 miles out on the highway, and the industrial parks south of town the place most people go to get somethin’ done. Some folks are saying our downtowns feel like a shopping mall, except without enough parking. Go figure. You see that kind of Roman-lookin’ development on the north end of Durango? Built by one of our local car dealers, just before the bubble busted – I hear they sold one or two condos, and haven’t leased a single retail space yet. They finally took down the chain-link fencing a few weeks ago, so it doesn’t look quite so much like a piece of Detroit in the making now. But you didn’t come all this way to hear about Durango, and here we are on the edge of our town. Let’s take a walk, see what folks are doing these days.
The side streets are about like this one, once you get a block or so from the shops, not much for pavement here. Ice-packed most winters, anyway. Backyard clotheslines, piles of firewood, toys – and plenty of dogs, most of ‘em friendly. Look, there’s somebody’s sled right outside the front door, ready for winter. That one’s from our sled-maker. He’s having troubles lately, but we’ll get to that down the way. We’ll turn here, go by the old Kendall Mountain café; closed for some years now. If you’d been here back in the ‘90’s after the fire, you might’ve been sittin’ with a volunteer fireman inside, watchin’ the Town Hall building across the way for signs of smoke through the night. Mid-winter, and so cold that when the firemen sprayed the old building during the fire, it cased the outside in ice – stone walls, so they got the fire out, finally; but it was like an ice castle until it warmed up a few weeks later.
Took a few years, but the townsfolk gutted and rebuilt the offices, restored the old building so it looked almost new. Shows what you can do when enough of us work at something. A young guy that works there, our town planner – he’s in the middle of the troubles too. He got cornered the other day by a FOX network camera crew from Denver, right there along the restored railings. Said he was enforcing the town codes, but they wouldn’t take that for his answer. Then the reporter asked him, “Does it bother you that they’re out of work because of your decision?” He looked like he didn’t quite know what to say. Who can blame him? Our building inspector had tagged our sled-maker’s workshop with a ‘Stop Work’ order, and now they’re dealing with bright lights and muckraking questions until the appeal is heard. As it happens, the reporter got the story wrong, and while the troubles brew, nobody’s out of work, yet. We’ll turn at this next corner, and I’ll fill you in.
Here we are. That pile of willow sticks is for the kicksleds. They get hand-carved into sled handles. No two alike, as you can see. Probably curing out here in the alley until they’re needed, they’ll carve easier that way. There by the door is the order from the city, and a ‘Notice of Violation.’ You can read ‘em if you’d like. Plenty have. Says our sled-maker should’ve had a permit, architect, change of use hearing, and so on. It’s all there. Stick your head inside; let’s see what they’re building. That’s the wall that got ‘em in trouble, the 2 x 4s with plastic stapled to ‘em. For a dust-free finish room, I hear. There are a couple of the woodworkers now. They didn’t come to work just to entertain us, so we won’t interrupt. These are the sleds they make here. Good work – nice cuts, even finishes. It looks like they’re about to start assembling the bodies from that stack of seats and backs. Over there is a finished one of the Flyers. See how the maple glows under that finish? They’re pricey, around 4 or 5 hundred each; but nice work, if you can get it. Lots of celebrities and regular folks have found ‘em worth the price. Let’s go see if we can find our sled-maker, across the alley in the shipping room.
Yep, there he is – looks like some sleds are going out soon. Interesting story – grew up in a down-valley town, about a hundred miles from here. Majored in Chinese, speaks Mandarin, got married, became an activist, had kids, started a couple businesses, sold ‘em, and then moved up here about seven years ago and started building sleds. Did a new take on the old Flexible Flyer ideas, started making kicksleds, and folks all over liked ‘em. Says with the price of materials in Colorado, he wasn’t making any profit to speak of until he found a little factory in China to make the cheaper ones, so he could just build the more expensive ones here. Has a couple of ideas for new designs, and once this winter starts winding down, he’ll build and test them out on the mountains around town. That is, if he still has a workshop by then. Oh, here come a couple of drinks from across the street. Rum and Coke likely, looks like the work-day is done, and those two guys wrapping that pallet will be relaxing soon enough. Sound good? Let’s step across, while I finish.
What you drinkin’? The Purple Passion is a new one on the menu. Rum, fruit juice, and who knows what else – packs a punch before you’re done. Tell the mixologist over there and she’ll make you one. The sled-maker started this distillery too, along with his wife. Their kids’ll likely pop their heads in after awhile. Nice kids, like livin’ here. The guy turning knobs over there is drawing off some of the alcohol they call the heads, making sure the rum coming out of that still tastes as good as what we’re drinkin’ now. Says he used to be an attorney, somewhere else. He seems happy at this work, doesn’t he? This building used to be a lodge, had a couple rooms upstairs, a bar here. Closed down, business got too slow for too much of the year. Now the rum ferments in the basement, is distilled in that copper still in the middle of this room, and it ages upstairs. There on the wall is one of the sleds, and a toboggan on the other side of the window, just past the still. Looks like a fantasy come true, but they tussled with the same town department on setting up this distillery, too. Had a different interpretation of the rules, just like this time. Town agreed with their appeal, that time. We’ll have to see if there’s a way to keep the woodworkers working, satisfy the codes, and get the parties to sit down over a hot toddy or two after this round of troubles dies down.
Maybe it’s this Purple Passion talkin’ here, but here are some things to remember, when you come through town. There’s always a past; in the buildings, and in the people, too. Folks live right across, or just up the streets from each other, and somehow, after the troubles settle down from whatever last shook up the little globe I’ve been calling ‘our town,’ neighbors will have to get along, or ignore each other as best they can. That or leave, and too many are having to do that right now, what with high rents, over-valued mortgages, low wages, and more and more of the real jobs where people make and fix things going to the coasts, or to China. Our sled-maker says his ideal solution to this whole dispute would be something that leads to full buildings in the downtown, with people going in and out of stores and workshops, busy with all the things that folks find to do in a town with a future as well as a past. I think he feels like he’s come up against an interpretation of rules that may make this just one more downtown that looks like a shopping mall, with industry that started here pushed somewhere down-valley, lost in a park of big box buildings, out along a highway clogged with commuter cars full of workers that can’t afford to live in their town anymore. As you go home, take a look at Durango, Flagstaff, Moab, Glenwood Springs, Santa Fe; or pick your own poison near a snowglobe you used to love.
Speaking of poison, it looks like the storm is picking up. It’s about time for that appeals hearing to start. Likely will be a lot of folks turning out, with a lot to say. If you want to listen in, let’s drain these Purple Passions, head over to the old Town Hall, and find a couple of seats in the back row. I’m going to ask you not to say a word though, because neither you nor I can really build a future in this town, unless we move here, get a job or provide some jobs, and then stay awhile. Since I’m buyin’ this round, I will ask you to study how the storm started and how it finishes, before you go try to fix the snowglobe town of your dreams. Our towns have been here awhile now, and some of us want them to be here for the kids coming through the door right now.
ACT TWO:
THE SCENE: Silverton, Colorado.
2002: Brice Hoskin starts Mountain Boy Sleds in a shed on Blair Street.
2003: Business incorporates, moves to former garage on Cement Street.
2004: Contracts for manufacture of 800 sleds in China, while making 70 high-end sleds in Silverton.
2005-2008: Business continues to expand, receiving patents on designs and offering more models of sleds and toboggans.
2008: Now up to 8,000 sleds per year from Chinese manufacturer, along with almost 200 handmade in Silverton, Mountain Boy rents current space in Silverton’s downtown, in an alley off of Greene Street. Previously a print shop and office equipment fabrication facility, Mountain Boy uses it as an overflow shop/warehouse.
2009:
September - Mountain Boy loses lease on Cement Street shop, moves woodworking equipment to Greene Street shop for 2009-2010 winter production.
October - Building inspector posts ‘STOP WORK’ order on Greene Street woodworking shop, citing wall construction and change of use. Mountain Boy files appeal, saying cost of wall-building is below threshold requiring building permit, and providing letter from print shop owner to defend current use as similar to previous activities.
November - By now, at least four newspapers, one television camera crew, and an inveterate home range wanderer have asked for quotes, pictures, and sound-bites, from some or all of the people involved. All players (workers, town officials, and business owner) look and sound tired of the troubles.
December About 50 town citizens, interested parties, and the curious turn out at Town Hall, for a Board of Adjustments appeal hearing on whether sleds are being ‘crafted’ or ‘manufactured.’ Building permit dispute is off the table for discussion.
SLED-MAKER: “Each sled is built by one guy, signed and numbered.”
TOWN PLANNER: “Their business license said ‘sled manufacturing’.”
VOICES OF THE TOWN:
“In a small town like this, we need to be flexible.”
“I don’t know of any town that allows manufacturing in the downtown core.”
“I don’t for the life of me understand why this has to be so difficult.”
“I would like to see both sides sit down together.”
“Can’t we all get along?”
Board denies appeal, recommends that business be allowed to continue if an application for a zoning variance is filed. Discussion of building permit dispute is not allowed.
OPERATIONS MANAGER: “Can we go to work in the morning?”
TOWN ATTORNEY: “Yes.”
Sled-maker schedules meeting with town manager and town attorney to discuss re-zoning options for workshop.
ACT THREE:
EMILY: “Mother Gibbs?”
MRS. GIBBS: “Yes, Emily?”
EMILY: “They don't understand, do they?”
MRS. GIBBS: “No, dear. They don't understand.”
The STAGE MANAGER appears at the right, one hand on a dark curtain which he slowly draws across the scene. In the distance a clock is heard striking the hour very faintly.
[Vignette from Our Town, a play by Thornton Wilder (1938)]
Trying to understand the troubles of people living, working and dying in a snowglobe town, ‘THE SCENE’ can shift to a community theatre presentation of Wilder’s classic play; or to conversation with some town locals over a warming brew, where no stage manager appears, and we find that the play has no end.
