Sharlot Hall

Prescott, Arizona, has been very impressive as a small American town.  This town of 50,000 has the slogan: 'Everybody's Home Town'.  We went to see an amazing museum for a town of this size.  Generally, American western towns have a pretty poor record at preserving their history.  Today, it was refreshing to see a town which actually has a great museum showcasing their history. A woman, Sharlot Hall, who arrived from Kansas to the territory of Arizona as a child in about 1880 was the driving force in that preservation.  She became the first Arizona historian, a paid government position.  She made it her life work to preserve and collect the Arizona history and artififacts not only for the Anglos but also the history and artifacts of the native population, the Yavapi.

Sharlot Hall

One of the first buildings she preserved was the Territorial Governor's Mansion built in 1864. This amazing building was hand built from Ponderosa pine logs and chinked with adobe clay.  The site of current day Prescott was chosen as the capitol city of the Arizona Territory in the midst of the Civil War because the more natural choice, Tucson, an actual town with people, was the center of Confederate sentiments.  Prescott came into existence when the new Territorial Governor declared it to be the capital.

The original floor was dirt, and the Territorial Governor worked on one side of the house, while the Territorial Secretary worked on the other.  This house was the center of the political and social life in the created town of Prescott.  Usually, towns are named for a famous person from the region or a natural landmark.  Ironically, the first serving Governor of Territorial Arizona named the new capitol for a 19th century American historian he admired, William Hickling Prescott.  Prescott wrote about the Aztecs and Incas and was a distinguished historian whose books are totally forgotten today, but whose name lives on.

In addition to the Territorial Governor's Mansion, there are three other collected historical buildings:   There is a 19th century 'one room' log schoolhouse as well as one of the first Anglo settler cabins

This cabin is referred to as 'Fort Misery'

built in Arizona in 1863.  It was built to house the newly appointed Governor, Mr. Goodwin, until his territorial mansion could be built.  As is often the case with tongue in cheek nicknames, the origin of the name 'Fort Misery' is lost.  

The other historical building on the grounds of the museum is the 1878 house John Charles Fremont and his wife Jesse Fremont lived in when HE was a territorial Governor of Arizona.  Man, only Kit Carson got around the 19th century west as much as Fremont did.

Jesse Fremont over the fireplace in the
clapboard Governor's Mansion 

Fremont was Governor of Arizona from 1878 to 1881.  He had already been Governor of California as well as the first Senator from California.  Fremont was only one of a long line of territorial governors.  Post Civil War Arizona stayed in its territorial staus until Valentine's Day, 1912.  It was the last territory in the lower 48 to be admitted as a state.        

There is a building put up in the 1930's to house Ms. Hall's growing collection of historical artifacts.  Today, one of its exhibits is 'the map room'.  We discovered that Phoenix, the capital of the State of Arizona is a big time johnny come lately.  It doesn't appear on any map of the Arizona area until the statehood map of 1912.  And, then, it's spelled 'Phenix'.  

In 1977, the museum with the help of the citizens of Prescott, put up a modern building to showcase prehistoric Arizona and the history of the Yavapi.    I especially loved the mural.  

Finally, the women of Prescott planted and now maintain the Territorial Rose Garden.  It was spectacular even in October.  

As always, if you want to see more pictures, click on the link

https://goo.gl/photos/Arhp1txq77EAyW8B8

   

Goldie's Eulogy

Goldie at the time of acquisition

While Goldie didn't get the funeral nor the resting place she deserved for all her faithful service to our vagabond life, let me at least eulogize her memory and express my heartfelt gratitude for every mountain she climbed while encumbered by that blasted trailer dragging down her V-8 power.  She rather liked the bikes; she thought they made her dashing.  She conquered every mountain summit without a hint of complaint, even the mighty Berthoud Pass which was over 11,000 feet at its saddle.

There were many places in the middle of the proverbial 'nowhere' in which Goldie could have stranded us, but with her innate sense of loyalty and service to the Smith Family Adventure Club, she never did.  Nor did she find the logging road up, up and up, around and around Mount Sauk in Washington State beyond her capabilities even though she asked us to at least turn off the friggin' AC while she was working so hard.

Bombed with snow by a freak October snowstorm in New Hampshire

I know she appreciated being lovingly maintained both inside and out by her Main Operator even when maintenance conditions weren't optimal.  Her exterior was pristine until I managed to back her into tree branches in Berkeley which scratched her side right down to the metal.  She never said a word, nor indicated her pride had suffered; she knew I was doing the best job I could.  She refused to fold up, crumple and leak radiator fluid when that rude little deer jumped on her in French Canada.  She knew I didn't know all those auto words to try and talk to a French auto mechanic.

Finally, I want to publicly thank her for saving my and Main Operator's lives.  She offerred herself up for us.  Airbag deployment wasn't lightly taken on her part since it meant her own demise.  Because of her sacrifice, we suffered aches, pains, bruises and one slight burn to Main Operator's hand instead of broken bones, internal and external bleeding, concussion and coma.  Sadly, sadly, we mourn losing her.

However, life goes on.  We will be resuming the slightly wacky, sometimes entertaining, and always novel peripatetic show of the Smith Traveling Adventure & Vagabond Club with a new partner.  Meet Hi Ho Silver.  It's going to take some adjustment to have a male partner joining the club, but with his sleek silver paint, two toned leather and suede seats, together with his class IV towing package and Hemi 5.71 V-8 engine, this powerful Jeep Grand Cherokee Limited horse of a vehicle is hopefully going to live up to his specifications.  He's got big shoes to fill, but Main Operator thinks he's up to the challenge.

Hi Ho Silver and his Main Operator

Main Operator schooling Hi Ho Silver

   

    

In the Blink of an Eye

Since 2008 I've known one's life can change instantly.  That was the year my mother died, and I realized my father was suffering from pretty advanced dementia.  We had about 18 months of putting our heads down and slogging through a series of problems and heartaches before we could right the ship of our own lives.  Every major event in one's life give new perspective.  In a real way, my mother and brothers' deaths as well as my father's living death has shaped the last eight years of the choices Drake and I have made.

Well.... last Friday we had another one of those life can change in the blink of an eye experiences.  First, it was a fabulous day.  We had just come out of Zion National Park, without a doubt one of the most beautiful parts in America.  As faithful blog readers you will just have to wait for the pictures, and I'll tell you why in a minute.

We got a call from our daughter just after she walked OUT OF THE WHITE HOUSE!!!!!!  She was actually invited to the WHITE HOUSE, yes, the real one, for a meeting with 50 other people.  We stopped in Page, Arizona to talk to her, and as we talked we were jumping around on the sidewalk, and saying things like "really" and "did you talk".  I'm sure the citizens of Page thought we were crazy.

Getting back in the car, we were on our way to Flagstaff where we were spending the night. Our destination was the Twin Arrows Casino for a little afternoon gambing action entertainment since we couldn't get our October Prescott house until 3pm the next afternoon.  We'd just spend Friday night in Flagstaff, drive the 100 miles or so to Prescott and get the keys to the rented house in Prescott.

We won $180 in three hours!  Sweet!!!!  Drake so loves to play blackjack, and he's such a terrific player, it's nice seeing him rewarded.  For the record, I did win $80 of that booty, but we've always counted our wins and losses as a net together.  Since we few gambling as entertainment not a money making proposition, keeping track is just score keeping for us.  Then, we decided to have a nice steak dinner, and  head to our hotel for the night.  We were taking possession of our Prescott house for our month's rental on Saturday afternoon.

It was 8 pm when we were closing in on the hotel, and I was looking at my GPS realizing we'd just missed the turn for our hotel.  CRASH, BAM, BANG, SCREECH.  It took me a minute to realize we'd been in an accident, and then I heard running and screaming and someone saying, "Are you hurt?  We need to get you out of this car."  Physically and mentally Drake and I were both in shock.  It took me over an hour to figure out exactly what happened.

A newbie 16 year old girl driver was in the left hand turn lane facing us as we were driving through the intersection.  She decided a blinking yellow caution light meant, 'Hurry up!  My light is going to turn red." instead of yield.  So, she accelerated turning left through the intersection while we were sailing through it at about 35 mph on our green light.  She was too new of a driver to check and see if someone was coming through the intersection before she turned.  The upshot was she wrapped her small coupe around the front of our SUV.  Everybody's airbag deployed, and the bystanders, of which there were quite a few, were shocked by the violence of the collision and couldn't believe no one hurt enough to go immediately to a hospital.

I got the brunt of the collision, but Drake got the airbag injury

In other words, we all walked away from the collision.  It was so very, very fortunate the little girl didn't pick up a buddy for her quick trip to Walmart because that child would have been killed.  The passenger side of her car was completely crushed.  I'm so grateful that 16 year old wasn't really injured and didn't have to live with hurting someone else.  That said...

There's no way an insurance company pays value for a Drake Smith 2003 creampuff car.  He's just had the transmission rebuilt as well as did some other expensive work to keep a 13 year old car running to peak.  We've realized for years we would take a bath if we wrecked the Aviator.  And, yes, the car was totalled, and we will take a bath.

We stood around on the street corner for three hours after the accident while the police gathered info. Four witnesses said not only was the girl at fault, she actually accelerated into us!  It took the tow drivers an hour to figure out how to get the cars apart and clean up the intersection.

Since Friday night, we've realized what pro football players feel like the day after a game.  Basically, I hurt from the bottom of my ears to the top of my tailbone.  My sternum and breasts are bruised from the seat belt, and my nose is sore, but not broken from the airbag.  Drake has a chemical burn that covers the entire back of one hand from the airbag.  Yesterday, seven days after the accident, both of my hands started hurting.

On Saturday, we managed to rent a 15 foot truck to tow our miraculously undamaged cargo trailer.  We then went to the tow yard to clear out the Aviator, and, oh, when I called the agent who rented us the Prescott house and explained what happened, her reaction as, "Does that mean you'll be late to pick up the keys?"  You know, what I really, really didn't need was a house in Prescott right now, but her complete lack of compassion will come back on her.  That kind of person always gets her comeuppance sooner or later.  What goes around comes around.  We then drove to Prescott from Flagstaff and picked up our keys - on time.

Sunday, we sorted out our belongings and realized what we needed to do was use the big truck to tow the trailer back to Sun City, unload it and drop it there. Meanwhile, Jay and Sarah were flying in for the family wedding (which precipitated the Prescott house rental in the first place) on Thurday night in Phoenix.  We left Sunday and drove to Sun City, and unloaded the trailer - boy, that helped those sore muscles.  Yes, that was sarcastic irony.

Monday,  we took the trailer to Drake's sister's house, rented a car, returned the truck, and started shopping for cars.  Tuesday, we spent 5 hours at the Emergency Room - peak day for pain for both of us.  We were x-rayed and cat scanned.  They were particularly afraid my sternum was cracked.  Fortunately, all is pretty well, but I have a follow-up appointment.

On the upside, we managed to get a car bought on Thursday - a 2010 Grand Jeep Cherokee, Limited with a class 4 tow package.  We attended the Prescott wedding which was a real wanted spot of fun, and we managed to get Drake's mother's party in Phoenix at 'the home' pulled together and pulled off to her delight.

Slowly, life is returning to normal since we were unexpectly tossed about like fruit salad.  Surprisingly to me, both Drake and I have been having PTSD like symptoms with disturbed sleep, irritability, driving fears and other indications that this incident has also had a mental toll.  On the physical side,  I now know where all my arthritis is located.  Woo Hoo!  And on a positive note, nine days after the accident, my sleep was uninterrupted last night for the first time since it happened.  This too will pass, and it's great fortune a little girl will not have to live with dire consequences of a foolish driving mistake.        

     

Leaving Colorado...

In the past twelve months, we've spent seven of them in Colorado.  We lived two months last fall on the 'back range' in Fraser, a tiny alpine town of 1168 people. This year we spent five months on the 'front range' in Colorado Springs, a big town of 600,000.  Every state I've been to, and I think it's up to 46 now, has some element of natural beauty.  However, Colorado got more than its share when gorgeous was passed out.

I decided rather than write, write, write about my impressions of living here, I'd let my pictures do the talking.

https://goo.gl/photos/EhfTAxGgQNSYExcFA  

We leave Colorado Springs next week, and we're going on vacation.  (OK, laugh, I know you want to.)  We're visiting the Black Canyon at Gunnison National Park, Capitol Reef National Park, the Grand Staircase Escalante, and Zion National Park.  We've even rented a jeep at the Grand Staircase since the roads are mostly dirt or just 'tracks'.  Then, we will be in Prescott, Arizona for the month of October.

This is one place I'm sad to leave.  I'd like to stay and see the aspens turn yellow and the snow fall.  

The Castle in Manitou Springs

Manitou Springs was founded by the railway magnate, William Jackson Palmer, and his partner, William Abraham Bell.  They brought the railroad to Colorado Springs.  In post Civil War America of the 1870's and 1880's, a health craze was sweeping the country.  Palmer and Bell thought Manitou Springs, a site nestled in the foothills of the Rocky Mountain front range, and an area known for hundreds of years for the naturally carbonated springs which flow up through the granite, was a natural site for a town based on attracting people for 'water cures'.  To ensure the town's success, they even built a railroad spur directly into Manitou Springs.  Thus, Manitou Springs, just a scant 10 miles from the heart of Colorado Springs downtown, has always been a tourist town.

With today's medical knowledge, the idea you could recover from tuberculosis or other ailments by drinking carbonated water seems silly.  However, during a time in which medical care was mostly about trying to do no harm to the patient, the fresh mountain air and a water cure certainly couldn't hurt them.  People came by the droves from the time of the town's founding in 1872 until the 1920's.  Some came to find cures for ailments while others came to vacation in a charming town which developed more and more tourist attractions many based on the spectacular scenery of the location.  Middle class people in post civil war America had disposable income to indulge in the vacationing - a new possibility in the 1880's.

One of the people who came to recover his health was a Catholic priest by the name of Jean Baptiste Francolon, a French aristocrat

who followed another aristocratic French Catholic Bishop to New Mexico in 1878.  By the early 1890's Francolon was suffering from a digestive malady which would not go away.  There are unsubstantiated rumors he was being slowly poisoned by his New Mexican parishioners.  In any case, he was transferred by the New Mexican Bishop to Manitou Springs to recover his health.

With the backing of his mother's wealth, he immediately began designing a magnificent home in Manitou Springs.   This became known as Miramont Castle.  It originally contained 14 rooms, numerous open air porches and a conservatory.  
Upon its completion Father Franolon immediately sent for his mother.  She arrived with a gigantic four poster bed which was too large for the bedroom Francolon had designed for her use.  A quick remodel ensued, and his French speaking mother was accommodated.  The castle was completed in 1892 mostly of 'greenstone', a type of granite which today has been quarried out of existence.

The interior woodwork, except for Madame Francolon's bedroom, was of lowly pine, but the carpenters and woodworkers led by the pictured Gillis brothers knew their business.

Grand Staircase of Miramont Castle

Madame Francolon's re-designed bedroom was huge, and her woodwork was fashioned out of oak.

One-half of Madame Francolon's bedroom

Her son's bedroom was much more modest in keeping with his clerical vows. However, he didn't seem to have much of a problem reconciling his clerical vows of poverty by living in a mansion which was certainly extravagant for the small town of Manitou Springs.  As a French aristocrat, he must have viewed his housing in Manitou Springs as barely adequate.  

1890's period Catholic vestaments

During the Francolons' occupancy, there were several open air porches which were used during the summertime.  Interestingly, one of the main porches didn't have a 'rail', but rather the outer perimeter of the porch was set with granite slabs of stone about 4" high, just enough to stub your toe and warn you of the edge of the second story porch.  

Miramont is two connected French words which basically mean 'look at the mountain'.  The eight sided conservatory with the 18' ceiling, which was also glass in Francolon's design, would have been an interior green house to take in the mountain view during the winter months.  

The Miramont Castle View

Father Francolon and his mother only lived in his castle for 8 years.  Her health failed, and he returned with her to France where she died.  He was then sent to New York for his final posting.  Father Francolon left Manitou Springs and his castle behind, but the grounds and building were purchased for $1300 by the Sisters of Mercy, a convent of nursing nuns, who transformed Miramont into a sanatorium for tuberculosis patients.  They enclosed porches, and partioned the large rooms into smaller patient bedrooms.  

To get the patients out into the 'beneficial air' during the summer, they also built 'tuberculosis huts' where patients slept in the summertime.  This is the only one left on the property.  The Sisters ran the sanatorium into the 1920s.  

However, from the 1930's until the restoration of the building began in the 1980's, Miramont dwindled into a shabbier and shabbier structure.  By 1947 it had devolved into small apartments for returning GI's.  There's only one piece of original furniture in the house, and it's a built in bench at the top of the grand staircase on the landing.  

The Manitou Springs Historical Society over the years has diligently returned Miramont Castle to it's 1890's beauty with money and labor provided by the service clubs and citizens of Manitou Springs.  This restoration has taken them decades.  Their accomplishment is impressive when considering the town only has a permanent population of 5,000 people.  Today Miramont is a National Historical Site, a tourist attraction, and a local tea room.  

The furnishings were all mostly forgettable as are so many in restored houses.  In lieu of pieces of furniture and other decorative items original to the house, these types of places are furnished with 'period pieces' which are historically accurate but lack any cohesive decorative scheme.  Miramont definitely falls into this catagory, and to make up for the lack of original furnishings, several rooms are set up as mini-museums.  One such room is the re-created study of the head Judge of the World War II Nuremberg Trials who was from Colorado Springs. Another current exhibit is about firefighters of Manitou Springs.  None of these added much interest to the house itself.  

In this house's defense, in all my tours, I've only seen ONE house which is completely furnished with all original pieces. Most restorations, like Miramont Castle, have to peel away decades of alternative use.  When that happens, all original decorative pieces are long gone, and members of the restoration committee pour over every available period photograph or painting to try and determine what each room originally looked like.   

As always, to see more pictures of the house, click on the link:

https://goo.gl/photos/45f8atpZSJpLrcBC6        

Are you Labor or Management?

The Labor Day holiday got me to thinking...  Labor Day was born in the 1890's to acknowledge the contribution of labor (workers) to the industrial revolution which transformed the American economy in the 1800's.  By the end of the 19th century, wealth distribution could be described as between the 'robber barrons' and the hordes who labored in their factories.

In 1880 the workday in those factories was 10 hours a day, six days a week. There was no safety net for workers.  If you got hurt in those factories, and they were ALL incredibly dangerous and hazardous, then you were just fired.  Your pay was whatever the factory owner decided, and, for instance, if all the steel mill owners got together to decide what they would pay in their factories as well as blackball any 'agitators' or 'troublemakers' trying to organize their laborers, well that was just good business.

If the working conditions weren't bad enough, up to 40% of the industrial workers made less than a minimum wage necessary to feed and clothe their families.  These desperate conditions gave rise to the labor movement which was about safety first, second a reduction of working hours to the eight hour day, and finally, to be able to bargain as a group to set their wages.  This was a fight to gain acknowledgement of the workers' contribution to the industrial production as well as gain a portion of the incredible wealth the production generated.  And, trust me, it was a fight.  There were laws outlawing unions, striking for better working conditions, as well as gaining that slice of the wealth.  Police as well as the rest of the judicial system was in the pockets of the owners.

Old news, right?  What does all this history have to do with you today?  Well, look around.  We are in the midst of another revolution.  Our entire society and economy is being remade by the Electronic Revolution just as surely as life in the USA was remade by the Industrial Revolution.  Today, we have the increasing gulf between the few and the many.  What is the 99% movement if not a nascent labor movement?

The means of production these days in America is shifting away from the strong back, and the manufacturing base of the traditional labor union.  Instead, as the Electronic Revolution continues to roar forward, isn't it increasingly obvious the means of production are brains not backs?

The wealthy have learned a few things since 1880.  Their factories are clean, upbeat environments with breakfast bars, free food for lunch, well lighted, air conditioned and heated with company gyms, and lots and lots of other perks for their workers.

However, all those trivial trappings aside, if you work in one of these places, believe me when I tell you that you are labor.  You can be fired without cause at the whim of the Board of Directors whenever there's a company downturn, however slight or temporary.  Your job can be at risk every three months.

You are being trained to work seven days a week, twelve or fifteen hours a day. Your company is keeping you working those hours through that marvel of the electronic age:  the smart phone.  Balk at those hours?  No problem.  You'll just be 'laid off', that new euphenism for being fired.  Object to your pay?  Beware, your name just moved to the top of the list to be 'laid off' in the next round of cut-backs.

 Get to be 50+ and have worked hard and faithfully to get to the top of the wage list?  Congratulations.  Your name also just moved to to the top of the cut back list.  Why pay you for your expertise and knowledge, when a new hire thirty years younger can be had for half of your wage.  Are you working the equivalent of two jobs because your company has laid off so many people?

Wages throughout the economy are stagnant; there are few pay wage increases because company's don't recognize the contributions of labor to their profitability.  However, the gap between what the upper echolons of companies are being paid (or paying themelves) is huge compared to their employees' wages and steadily growing.  And the stock markets, the measure of American business profitability just keeps going up.  Yes, sir, the wealthy robber barrons have learned a few things since 1880.

I think it's time for a new labor movement.  Just because you don't get dirty, or sit at a keyboard, or walk around with a hand held computer when you work doesn't make you management.  It's time to take some lessons from those organizers of the late 19th and early 20th century.  There, of course, would be crucial differences this time in how to obtain a slice of the economic wealth of this country, but collective bargaining would certainly be a step forward in wealth redistribution just as it was 100 years ago.

It's State Fair Time

I was thinking the other day about agricultural fairs.  There are county fairs, which are usually very small, with limited exhibits since they are only from one county, and then all the counties contribute to the state fair.  Some state fairs are in the top ten across the country year after year.  The Minnesota State Fair and the Iowa State Fair are always in the top five.  The Texas State Fair usually makes the top ten, and as Texans know, it's huge, lasts for weeks, and has a big college football game as part of it.

Colorado is one of those states which is schizoid.  Half the state is rolling plains dotted with small towns while you can see the ranch and farm land shrinking as the state urbanizes.  It's dry ranching (non-irrigated) and farming, but mostly ranching.  Right at the eastern edge of Colorado is where you find corn, wheat, and don't forget, marijuana cultivation.  The Rocky Mountains explode right down the center of the state, and there's no agriculture in the mountainous terrain. West of the Rockies once you leave the back range foothills tends to be more desert in character, but the very southwestern corner raises dairy cows.

We went to the El Paso County Fair a few weeks ago (see blog), and this past week we decided to take in the Colorado State Fair.  This was not a top ten fair.  We were hard pressed to find five hours of entertainment.  As always, what we were interested in were the 4H kids showing their animals.  While the El Paso County Fair offerred the first annual Cat Show, the state fair stuck with more traditional animals.  We checked out the heifer show as well as the ewe show.  This is my favorite picture from that day

We also took in the Creative Arts Pavillion as well as the Fine Arts Pavillion.  Ironically, we just went to an art gallery in Colorado Springs which had a couple of artists displaying at the Colorado State Fair.  Here's one of them.  

The 'Beehive' by Julia Masterson

No fair is complete without quilts, and the Colorado State Fair had some dandies.  However, I really enjoyed visiting with this quilter who was exhibiting her skills for the enjoyment of the fair goers.

She quilts 10 stitches to the inch, and she was great offerring ideas about assembling
the crazy quilt I've been working on for three years

We did see the weirdest couple of dudes at the Colorado State Fair.  They were guys wearing horse costumes.  No, it's not the guy INSIDE the horse costume; it's two guys riding horse costumes.  Anyway, here's the picture - one picture, 1000 words, well, you know.

I interviewed this pair, and it turns out these guys are frustrated actors (home base California) who wear their 'horses', wander around fairgrounds, take pictures with people, and have a 'horseback' stand up routine.  It turns out State Fair committees contract with these guys, fly them in to the fair locale, pay for hotel rooms and meals, as well as a 'fee'.  These guys follow the 'fair circuit' the same way cowboys follow the 'rodeo circuit'.  What I couldn't figure out was how they took a 'comfort break'.  Do you hitch up your horse and open your fly or what?

It was a superfun day, and I finally figured out why I love fairs.  It was an activity of my family, and included one of the three annual opportunitie in my childhood to eat sugar.  I always went first for the biggest cotton candy I could get, followed by a sugar daddy.  My mother didn't believe children should eat sugar.  There were only a few times a year she relaxed about sugar consumption: Easter, Halloween, and the Tulsa County Fair.  

When I hit my teens, the fair was prime teen territory.  I'm looking at the inch long scar I got after a couple of my jokster 'friends' forced me on to that horrible, horrible ride where they put you in a cage which spins independently while it's being rocketed around in a vertical circle. Oh, I can still remember leaping out of that cage screaming at those two idiots while waving my bloody hand in their faces.   I was so terrified during that carnival ride a metal 'burr' dug into my hand the entire time.  it's a wonder I didn't develop lockjaw. Considering, I still have the scar 50 years later, it was not a trivial cut.  On a better note, my high school steady (not part of the aforementioned group), and I always rode the ferris wheel hoping to get stuck at the top so we could indulge in a little necking action.  Yes, indeed, fair time was prime date time.

So, here are the pictures if you want to see more kids showing animals.  

https://goo.gl/photos/EvPYnawtyXYAAF8d6