Willoughby: An ode to Galena Street
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Legends & Legacies
Women fishing on Warren Lake in 1911 when it was a fishing resort. Aspen Historical Society, Masterson Estate Collection/Courtesy Photo
Some of the country’s finest silver came from inside Smuggler Mountain but few know/remember that the mountain had another treasure that was carted down the mountain and sold, peat moss found in the Warren Lake area at the top of the mountain.
There were a variety of uses and forms of peat for as long as history has been recorded. In the early years of Aspen there was increased production and use. Ireland and Scotland led because of the abundance and began using peat to make electricity. Peat was used in Sweden to fuel locomotives. Ground peat powder was used in medicines for dressing wounds. In 1902 peat was discovered in Colorado in Park and Lake Counties.
Legends & Legacies
Galena Street before the city had resources to upgrade sidewalks, paving and gutters and building owners spruced up their buildings. Willoughby collection
Sheltering in place created a media demand so I filled it watching the 1990s television series Northern Exposure. The setting is a fictional town, Cicely, Alaska but scenes were actually filmed in Roslyn, Washington. The streets and buildings reminded me of Aspen in the 1950s.
Those of my generation, especially those a few years older, have a nostalgic view of Aspen in that decade that avoids the actual details. It was a fantastic place to grow up, a small town but with a growing cosmopolitan character, but it was also a run down town that needed massive repair, rebuilding and higher construction standards.
Little Nell as it looked in its early days.
In my early childhood I lived in the Cowenhoven Building and spent many hours skiing Little Nell. At that time there were empty lots behind the building so I put my skis on in the backyard and skied over to the base. The only challenge was that sometimes the snow melted on the only pavement along the way, the highway, Cooper Street, and I would have to take off my skis, or slog across oblivious to what it did to the bottoms of my wood skis.
At that time there was no kindergarten so my school was on Little Nell. My aunt, Doris Willoughby, taught me how to ski. More accurately, she accompanied me until she felt I could manage on my own. At that young age instruction in the art of turning was not necessary, but riding the T-bar lift was difficult. She put me between her legs at first, then tried side-by-side, but her waist and mine were at very different heights so the two-person “t” in t-bar did not match. Most likely that is why she ju
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