Day of Sant Jordi

Deep within Spain's autonomous region of Catalunya lies the charming town of Girona.  The cathedral rises from the skyline, projecting from within the old Roman walls.  Lazy waters of the river Onyar subtly flow past pastel painted houses through the center of town and below the Pont de les Peixateries Velles.  Every 23rd day of April, the Rambla de la Llibertat becomes a spectacle of vendors selling roses and books to lovers and non-lovers alike.  They come to celebrate the day of their patron, Sant Jordi.

Spain is one of the most festive-laden countries in the world, rumored to have a holiday in one of its towns on every day of the year.  While living there during the early 90's, I became acquainted with Holy Week, the Fallas of Valencia, Carnival, The Day of San Juan, Three Kings Day, and numerous other celebrations.  Each one brought an exhilarating satisfaction of being able to experience such an event on foreign soil.

Girona is the only place where I experienced the Day of Sant Jordi.  I can still remember the streets full of people and tables set up with displays of roses and books.  Everything seemed to be festooned with red and yellow, the traditional colors of Catalunya.  It is on this day that the men buy a rose for the ladies, and the ladies buy a book for the men.  The holiday is very much akin to Valentines Day, but with a twist.

El Dia de Sant Jordi, or sometimes called the Day of the Roses, has its roots in a legend that goes back hundreds of years.  Although versions may vary, it is said that long ago, a dragon was attacking the kingdom.  In order to appease, two lambs a day were offered to the ferocious beast.  When animals became scarce, it was decided to draw lots among the people, and to feed the hungry dragon one person a day.  When the lot fell upon the princess, she was taken to the entrance of the dragon's cave where she encountered a knight named Jordi (George).  The knight slew the dragon, thus saving the princess and the kingdom.  As blood issued from the dragon, it transformed into a delicate rose, which the gentleman gave to the princess.

Hence originates the tradition of men giving a rose to the ladies.  As for the custom of gifting books, that didn't begin until 1923, probably to commemorate Miguel de Cervantes and William Shakespeare, who both died on April 23, 1616.

This is a really old photo of the Rambla de la Llibertat on the Day of Sant Jordi, 1994.

As for me, one reason that I took a liking to the Day of Sant Jordi is that it falls on my birthday.  And although I didn't have a significant other during my stay in Girona of 1994, I decided then and there that I would bring the tradition home with me to the States, and buy a rose for my future wife on that day.

I have lived up to my commitment.  For the last 21 years—on my birthday—I have bought a rose for my wonderful wife, Jenelle.  Several years ago I decided to expand the custom to include my four daughters.  I enjoy including them because, being kids, they don't receive flowers too often.   There is a glow of appreciation on their faces.  I think they look forward to it every year.

Now it is again that time of year to gift a rose to those I love.  Jenelle isn't home yet, so I leave hers on the pillow.  My two youngest are excited to see their roses, and Jenna, with a big smile on her face says, "Thank you, Dad!"  Savanah runs up and gives me a big hug.  Kaitlyn is in the shower, so I quietly set hers on her bed.

Brittany's rose is always the toughest one to deliver.  I get back in my truck, make the drive through our hometown, past kids playing in the park and green fields of alfalfa.  Having arrived at my destination, I carry the red rose across the grass and past the other memorials.  Gently, I tuck it behind a pot of flowers and next to a plastic angel that sits at the base of her headstone. ♠

 

The Death of Eri Lacy

Eri & Millie Lacy. The little boy is probably their son, Robert.

Young Earl came bounding down the hillside pumped on adrenaline. Most eleven-year-old boys wouldn't measure up to the task, but Earl was a Lacy, and by definition, that made him tough as nails.

The rugged slope bent steeply toward Plateau Creek, which was now beginning to disappear into the obscurity of darkness. Earl climbed over boulders, pushed through scrub oak, and slid down ravines to make it to the bottom. He carried a Winchester 30-30 rifle, but soon chucked it aside to lessen the burden. As night set in, the January air turned even colder.

At last he arrived at the bottom and emerged from the growth of scrub that grew along the slopes of the hill, panting like a wild dog, blonde hair disheveled, with scrapes and cuts over his clothes and body.  At the top of his worn-out lungs he exclaimed:

“Grandpa is dead! Grandpa is dead!”

Millie Lacy with her two sons, Howard and Earl in 1941.

Eri Lacy—my great-great grandfather—died on January 12, 1941 from a heart attack. High on the bluff, he had been packing a deer over his shoulders, down to the cabin where he lived at the confluence of Plateau Creek and the Colorado River. His grandson, Earl Lacy (Junior), was with him, and carried the rifle with which Eri had just shot the deer. Although the deer was shot out of season, and would be considered “poached” by today's standards, Eri was doing what people did back then to feed their families.

When the news of Eri's death arrived at the cabin, everyone stirred into action. Junior's dad, Earl Sr., had been drinking with a friend from the Garfield Mine, Walter Scott, and the two were quickly roused from their slumber. Junior's younger brother, Claude, was fetching water from a nearby spring and hauling jugs back to the cabin.

Immediately, young Earl led his father and mother up the steep escarpment to look for Grandpa Eri. Claude was ordered to stay behind, and Walter Scott went into town to get help. They carried a coal oil lamp and pushed their way through the ever growing darkness. At the age of thirty-six, Earl Lacy Sr. was still a very strong man, having been a professional wrestler in his early days. Adrenaline helped push him up the hill, as Eri was his father. Earl's wife, Garnette, who was very fond of Eri, followed the man and boy up the slope.

The rugged hike to Grandpa's body was dangerous at any time, and even more so in the dark. The tall ridge raises above the confluence of the Colorado River and Plateau Creek in western Colorado. The footing in some places can be treacherous, and often, the drop-offs fatal. I'm sure this was a route that Earl and Junior traveled often. At the upper end of the hill is a ravine that leads to the top of the plateau, sure to be a prime spot for hunting deer. 

Carving in a rock, indicating the death location of Eri Lacy.

Nearly a mile from their little cabin along the banks of Plateau Creek, the beam of the lantern cast its light on the body of Grandpa Eri. There is no account that I could find that describes the emotion of this event. I'm sure that Earl searched for a pulse, and perhaps shed some tears. We do know, however, that Earl found a large rock and wedged it into the crotch of a tree to mark the spot. Then he lifted his father onto his shoulders, perhaps in a fireman's carry, and began his way back down.

Even for a powerful man like Earl, the hike down was no easy feat—especially while carrying a grown man. Winter temperatures set in, making for a brisk night. Not only did he have to contend with the steep slope, but also with loose dirt, cactus, rocks, branches, patches of snow, and slick mud. The lantern cast needful light upon the path in front of them, but also created distortions with shadows, and failed to illuminate very far ahead. At one point, Earl slipped down a small embankment and hurt his back, an injury that bothered him the rest of his life.

About half way down, the group met with Walter Scott, who had brought Earl's brothers, Howard and Bob with him. They brought headlamps from the mine and helped carry Eri down the hill to the cabin where they could load him into the car and take him into town. He was only sixty-three years old when he passed away.

Eri and Millie Lacy on their wedding day in 1898.

Eri Lacy was born on March 7, 1875 in Burrton, Kansas to James Addison and Catherine Hatton Lacy. His mother was said to be full-blooded American Indian. Eri was the seventh of nine children. On March 16, 1898, he was married to Myrtle Millie Ansel in Newton, Kansas. Five children were born to this union: Howard William, Arthur Earl, Mary Marie, Pearl Kathryn, and Robert Raymond.

Eri and Millie lived in many places throughout Kansas and eastern Colorado. We know that he had his own Wild West Show where he also worked as the “pick-up” man for those who rode the horses⸺he was the one who helped them off their horse. When he lived in Syracuse, Kansas, he worked for the state highway, driving a team of mules to a road grader.

Around 1937 they moved to western Colorado where they lived in a cabin north of Palisade. They were the first of the Lacy family to move there—many others soon to follow suit. While in Palisade, Eri enjoyed playing poker at the local bar.

Of her grandfather, who died three years before her birth, Alice Barker spoke highly of him: “My mother, who was his daughter-in-law, said he was probably the finest man she ever knew, which is saying a lot, coming from a daughter-in-law. She just thought he was fantastic. He was crazy about Myrt (his granddaughter) because she was named after his wife. He called her his little Myrtie Ann and had a little rocking chair built like his, to sit beside his, so they could rock together. I wish I had known more about him because it sounds like he was really a nice guy.”

Millie Lacy at the grave of her husband, Eri, at the cemetery in Palisade, Colorado.  (1941)

Seventy-four years later, several descendants of Eri Lacy gathered at the bottom of the hill, near the creek from where their ancestor died. This location has been somewhat of a pilgrimage for us, although I worry that the tradition is dying out with the newer generations. For me, this was my third time to make the ascent, the first as a child with my grandpa Lacy, and the second in 2000 with my dad's cousin, Brett, and his kids, Dustin, Tanner, and Nate, and my brother, Walt.

This latest hike, however, was a little different. It had been many years since any of us had hiked to the location, and we were hoping, although not completely confident, that we would find it. To boot, we brought with us a group of 24 people, including 15 kids, all of them great-great-great grandchildren of Eri Lacy. And it was deep July, heading in to August, and the big ball of sun was already weighing heavily upon us by the time we began.

Abandoned structure near Plateau Creek, near where Eri Lacy lived in 1941.

The junction with Plateau Creek is reached by driving seven miles northeast of Palisade on I-70, and taking the Collbran exit. Immediately on the right-side, after rounding a long corner, is a turnout spot.  This is where we parked. An old stone building sits in decay at the parking spot and I wonder if this was one of the structures owned by the Lacy's in 1941. Any other sign of their being here, such as the service station, has long been torn down and removed. 

View of Colorado River and the Grand Valley Diversion Dam.

With Camelbaks and water bottles, our little horde began the trek up the side of the hill, the steepest part of the entire hike. According to the stories, the path that we took was the exact route taken by Earl, Garnette, and little Junior as they walked with lantern in-hand to retrieve Eri. The route taken by Junior right after Eri died, and while carrying the gun, was straight down the hill and more direct, but steeper and more dangerous.

At the crest of the hill there is a fine view of the Colorado River and the Grand Valley Diversion Dam in De Beque Canyon. Plateau Creek runs into the river near the interchange of the freeway.

Once all the straggling munchkins caught up with the front, we took a small water break and my dad told the full story of Eri's death. Although he wasn't born when his grandfather passed away, the story has been passed down.

From the crest (there is no path), the hike makes a u-turn to the south, but continues upward for a little while longer to create some distance from the precipitous cliffs now on our left. Once on top, the hill either slopes to the Colorado River side, or to the Plateau Creek side, and it is necessary to stay below the ridge on the Plateau Creek side. 

Descendants of Eri Lacy take a breather while hiking to the location of his death.

 

Plateau Creek snakes alongside the highway, as seen from the hike up the hill.

There are some good view-points of the creek and the road that straddles its side, known as the Grand Mesa Scenic Byway. It was at one of these stopping places that we began to learn that we might run into problems. Water bottles now began to deplete, and complaints of the heat from the kids murmured through the ranks. As for where we were going, that was becoming less obvious all the time. The terrain turned rugged and the side-canyon where we would have to go looked to be too wild for kids.

And as for finding “the spot,” we were only hoping to find it. None of us had been there in years. Walt and I had been much younger at the time, and my dad, now sixty-five years old, was exhausted with all the kids. As for myself, I relied on my “Google intuition” that I hoped would lead me directly there.

Our July heat was very different from the January chill that Earl and Garnette felt as they climbed the hill in the dark. I'm sure they carried no water, nor stopped to enjoy the views along the way, nor to eat a granola bar. I have to admire Earl Jr. for leading them to “the spot” in relative darkness. The trees and the rocks and the slopes begin to blend together when you're not familiar with them. This leads me to believe that for the Lacys of 1941, this was their stomping ground where they played, climbed, and hunted. That would also explain how Junior managed to run straight down the hill without getting ledged up.

Amidst the pleas to turn around and return to the vehicles, Walt and I persuaded our group of kin to stay with us for just fifteen more minutes. “If we don't find anything by then,” we told them, “you can go back.”

During the next quarter-hour, my hopes began to diminish that I would be able to show my kids where Eri Lacy died. We approached the mouth of the little canyon where we knew we must enter, but the terrain continued to push back with steep embankments, thorny bushes, and bouldering rocks. I knew that the mothers carrying toddlers on their backs would never want to venture further, and all but the hardiest of kids would refuse.

At last, we gave everyone the choice to continue on, or retreat. With most water bottles now empty, every person, except Walt and I, chose to return. We sent them on their way, but promised to join them shortly. This put pressure on us to hurry and find the location, so as to not leave them waiting too long.

The hike makes a turn into this side-canyon.

The side-canyon that pours from the plateau is where Eri died, but the question remained as to how far up the canyon we needed to go. From our hillside perch, we had to descend around the bend of the hill over very tricky earth. Without the kids to slow us down, we could now move at a quicker pace.

Sometime after the death of Eri, one his sons, probably Claude, returned to the spot and carved in a rock: “ERI LACY DIED JAN. 12, 1941.” This he did next to the tree in which he had wedged the rock. I remember when I had visited the site many years ago that the rock had then moved several feet above the ground, raising with the tree as it grew. These two landmarks, the rock and the carving, marked the spot that we searched for.

Once in the side-canyon, Walt and I split up and each scoured the area along the drainage in places where we thought it might be. My first two spots proved to be wrong.  As I began to move up-canyon, I heard Walt yell out that he had found it.

I hurried toward his voice and found him standing in the middle of the canyon bed, next to a large boulder that carried a faint inscription on it. None of the letters were as pronounced as I had remembered—the day and year had almost disappeared. To the left of the carving was another inscription, this one less deep and hurried that read: “Claude, Walt, and Karson Lacy.”

Walt pointed out to me that the tree that held the rock had blown over and was now lying next to the boulder. The rock that Earl Lacy placed inside the crotch was still there. 

The large boulder on the left is the rock that Earl Lacy carved to indicate that Eri Lacy died here.  The fallen tree is the one with the stone placed in the branches. 

 

Looking up-canyon.

I couldn't help but to wonder how long this little memorial would last. The inscription had faded since I had last seen it, and the tree had blown over. In another seventy-four years, would every sign of Eri's death be obliterated?

We spent another twenty minutes loitering around the site, searching for other relics. I would have liked to hike further up the canyon and onto the plateau to see if I could find where Eri might have killed his deer.

At length, Walt and I strapped our light loads onto our backs and began working our way back down. We knew we had it easy because our steps had the advantage of full sunlight and we were not carrying dead-weight over our shoulders. When we arrived at the bottom, we found that one vehicle had been left for the two of us to take back to the hotel. We unstrapped our gear and then I walked across the road and dipped my entire head into Plateau Creek, swishing it around for a few seconds, then dabbing it off with an old shirt. We stepped in the vehicle, cranked up the air, and drove to Palisade. 

Claude Lacy and family at site of Eri Lacy's death in 1992.

Postscript. The rifle that Earl Jr. tossed as he ran down the hill was a Winchester 30-30. It was found a year and a half later by Eri's son, Howard Lacy. They were hoping that if they found the gun that it would still be usable, as times back then were difficult. Their hopes were in vain, however, and the rifle proved to be rusty and of no use.

Eri's wife, Millie, continued to live in Palisade after her husband's death. Her grand-kids knew her as “Little Grandma Lacy.” Sixteen years later on February 12, 1957, she was killed in an automobile accident in Deschutes County, Oregon while traveling with her grandson. She is buried alongside her husband—just across the fence from a corn field—at the cemetery in Palisade. ♠

The pink line represents the approximate hiking route to site where Eri Lacy died.

Sources

Barker, Alice Lacy. Interview by John Lacy, March 30, 2009.

Lacy, Claude. Conversation with John Lacy, June 27, 2000.

Lacy, Claude. Interview by John Lacy, August 16, 2005.

The Lacys Come to Palisade

They spent the first night down by the river. Muddy water from the Colorado flowed past the willows and tamarisk, and mosquitoes swarmed hungrily around their meager campsite. They had pulled a camp trailer from Kansas, and that's what the small family slept in. This was a new place with new surroundings, a long ways from their old home in Kansas. The evening must have been peaceful, with the subtle sound of a creeping river and dark shadows of forlorn cliffs. Claude, who was just a young boy, remembered that first night for the rest of his life.

Earl and Garnette had brought their little family to Palisade, Colorado in search of work, most likely at one of the coal mines or in the peach orchards. Earl's brother and father already lived there, but they didn't know where. The next day they found his brother, Howard, and learned that he lived in some cabins near the Garfield Coal Mine. They quickly moved the camp trailer next to Howard's cabin, and there they began a new life on the western slope of the Rocky Mountains. The year was 1937.

The Lacy Family at the Garfield Mine in 1937. (L-R) Earl Jr., Earl Sr., Garnette (holding Myrt), Claude.

Earl Lacy is my great-grandfather. I would like to have met the guy, but he died before I was born. However, colorful stories of him abound. He was a tough man who wrestled in the carnivals, as well as a gentleman with the touch of a teddy bear. He loved to drink, which led to a lot of fights, which, in turn, produced so many colorful stories.

A couple years ago I came to Palisade with the idea of learning a little more about my great-grandfather and the rest of the Lacys who called this place home for nearly ten years. I was able to visit a few of the locations that I had read about in our family history, putting an image with the story.

Coal mining was a big part of our family history, especially around Palisade. I remember my grandpa, Claude, pointing at the Book Cliffs on the north side of I-70 and telling stories about his father working in the mine. All the stories and references that I've heard him tell refer to the Garfield Mine. But when I went to Palisade and talked to the people at the city office building, they had never heard of a Garfield Mine. Instead, they knew well of the Gearhart Mine, which is in the same area of the Book Cliffs. Whether the Gearhart and Garfield are the same mine, or two different entities, I may never know. But on this day, the Gearhart Mine served my purpose just fine.

Gearhart Mine in Palisade, Colorado.

A lightly used lane, with the distinct name of “35 8/10 Road”, ducks beneath the freeway and comes to a car park at the foot of Mt. Garfield Trailhead. The hiking trail steeply climbs the Book Cliffs, past old mining debris from the Gearhart Mine, and eventually leads to Mt. Garfield, a prominent summit along the top of the cliffs. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to make the arduous climb, but I did take a moment to get a feel of this place that was nearby where my great-grandfather worked.

Between 1930 and 1968, the Gearhart mine produced 172,000 tons of coal. Once the coal was mined from underground workings high on the palisade, the ore would be transported down the mountain via an areal tramway to a tipple at the foot of the hill. My grandpa told me stories of their high-tech system, and how his dad used to grab the tail of a mule to climb the steep hill:

“Dad did that when he first started working in the coal mines with his two brothers. They were working in the Garfield Mine. One of them had to get up every morning and get the tail of that mule, and they went up to the top, and they had a loaded car up there and they'd turn it loose and it would pull everybody else up in an empty car, up to the top, and then they got off and started to work. But somebody had to walk up there in the morning, and it was steep. Then they took the mule in the mine and that's how they moved their cars around in there, their empty cars. So, they would load it on up and the mule would would pull it. It was pretty level. It would pull it out to the outside and they would hook it onto the hoist and take it down and it would pull the other car back up. Then they would take it down there and empty it. Then, the next time, another loaded car would pull the empty car back up to them. They didn't have much mechanized stuff in there. That was a steep trail going up there. When my dad first started out, he did that, and then when his younger brother, Bob, came along, they let him do that and Dad got to ride up. The mine is closed down now. There's nothing left there; just traces of it.”

Earl and Garnette Lacy family in 1943.

At the end of the day, miners would speed down the slope on the tramway, which was dangerous, but fast. They would leave the mule on top and it would always find its way down to the bottom to greener pastures. The mule would always be near the same spot where the first miner would find him in the morning, grab his tail, and work his way back to the top.

When Earl came home, he would often carry a bag of coal over his shoulder, which they would use to heat their home. When he left for work in the morning, he usually took the car, but if didn't start, then he would walk.

Earl worked in the Garfield Mine for several years, making about two dollars a day. This was on the tail of the Great Depression, and times were tough. Sometimes during the summer, the mine didn't work that well, so Earl went to work in the orchards where he would make from 50 cents to a dollar a day.

Peach Orchard in Palisade.

Palisade is known as “The Peach Capital.” Even in the early days of settlement, the locals learned that it was an excellent place for the cultivation of fruit, and especially peaches. The area has a milder climate and fewer freezes than anywhere else in the valley. The growing season averages 182 days, and 78% of those days are sunny. Irrigation allows for exact watering.

Mesa County drew many settlers from the mid-west, such as the Lacys who hailed from Kansas. Many others moved from Iowa to Palisade and today there is an Iowa Avenue. On the south side of Palisade, across the river, is Orchard Mesa, where groves of peach trees continue to thrive.

Claude's first job as a boy was in the peach harvest. He didn't pick the peaches, but hauled them in from the fields. It only last a couple of weeks. I wonder how many of the local boys work in the peach harvest now-days. When we drove on Orchard Mesa, we saw a tractor hauling a flat-bed trailer with ladders—and a bunch of Mexicans. 

Modern-day peach workers.

Trying to keep track of where the Lacys lived while in Palisade can be a difficult task for anyone who didn't experience it. Exact locations and dates can be vague, impossible to pinpoint, or sometimes appear to contradict themselves. The best I can come up with is that they moved into the area in 1937, lived there for a couple years until Earl and his family moved to Hasty, Colorado where he worked for a year on the Caddao Dam. They returned to Palisade around 1940. By 1944 they were living near Cameo, or at the mouth of Plateau Creek. A year or so later they moved back into Palisade where they lived in a house for their final two years before leaving for Utah in 1947.

As far as I know, Eri Lacy and his wife, Millie, lived at the mouth of Plateau Creek up until he died, and she continued to live there for a few years before moving into Palisade.  She lived in two locations in Palisade, including an apartment building. As for Earl's brothers, Bob and Howard, I don't know their exact time-line.

Earl Lacy home as it appeared in the year 2000.

The only structure that I've seen that I know they lived in was the last house in which they lived in Palisade. My Grandpa, Claude, is the one who showed it to me in 2000, and although I didn't write down an address, one can judge from the picture that it is close to the Book Cliffs, on the south side of I-70. When we returned in 2015, after my grandpa had passed away, we searched everywhere and couldn't find the house.

We do know, however, that Grandpa Claude attended Mount Lincoln School until the eighth grade. The white, flat-topped structure still stands, although it is now a residence. Back in the day, it was a two-storied building, with an auditorium on the west side, and a ball field on the east. 

Claude Lacy's class at Mount Lincoln School (1939).  Claude is on the front row, third from the left.

Mount Lincoln School in 2015 is now a residence.

The year 1941 began as a traumatic year for the Lacys, as their patriarch, Eri, died from a heart attack while packing a deer down a steep hill near his cabin at the mouth of Plateau Creek. Although only nine years old at the time, Claude remembered the incident vividly sixty-four years later:

“Eri Lacy stayed in a little place at the mouth of Plateau Creek. He liked to hunt and was always up on the mountain poaching deer. We used to go with him quite a bit. In fact, he died on the mountain poaching a deer. He was carrying it down the hill and died of a heart attack and my brother, Earl, was with him at that time, and I can remember that real plain where Earl was coming off the mountain top. He was coming off the side of the hill there yelling that Grandpa was dead. And my dad had been drinking and he was in there sleeping in the house. But he got up and he and Mom and Earl went back. They went up the mountain trail and he carried Grandpa most of the way down. Now, by the time he got him almost down, his two brothers, my uncles, Howard and Robert, they got up there then and helped him carry Grandpa. But Grandpa was only sixty-three years old, and that happened January 12, 1941.”

Decoration Day, 1941, at the grave of Eri Lacy.

Another day during that year that proved memorable was December 7, 1941, the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. In those days, it wasn't the television that leisurely entertained families in their living rooms, but the radio. The Lacys had a small radio that they listened to. Claude enjoyed programs such as The Green Hornet and The Shadow, and he remembers them coming on around eleven o'clock. On the Sunday morning of the attacks, he recalls getting ready to listen to his programs and being on the fight because they were all replaced with news coming from Pearl Harbor!

Abandoned structure in Cameo.

During our visit to Palisade, I knew that I wanted to visit the abandoned ghost town called Cameo. Nothing is here now, except a power plant and a few abandoned structures. Just a few miles north of Palisade, up De Beque Canyon, Cameo was once a small town associated with the Cameo Coal Mine. Earl and his family used to live in Cameo and Earl worked in the mine. Exactly where they lived, I don't know.

When we drove there, we took the exit from I-70 and crossed the Colorado River, then the railroad tracks, and then traversed a canal after passing a power plant on our left. We didn't go too much further, but far enough to get a feel of the place. On this day, it was hot and dusty. A couple of four-wheel drive vehicles passed us coming from up the canyon.

There is one story associated with Cameo that has always fascinated me. While Claude was living there, he and his friends got the idea that they wanted to go to a cabin back in the hills. One of his friends borrowed a horse and they packed all their gear on the unfortunate animal. It was wintertime and they got up to a place that was slick and the horse couldn't keep its balance. It slid back down and over the cliff with the pack and everything on it. The gear was scattered everywhere! Laughing about it years later, Claude said, “That poor horse. We should have known better than what we did. We didn't. I can see it right now. We started up that long hill there and it just couldn't keep its balance and started sliding down. Boy, it sure shot off there, off that hill! We never did get up to the cabin.”

The Lacys ran this service station at the mouth of Plateau Creek (1944).

During the fall of 1944, a new arrival was delivered to the Lacy family. Although she can't remember it, Aunt Alice does a good job describing the day she was born:

“My parents had a little service station and kind of a convenience store right at the junction of Plateau Creek and the Colorado River and I was born there on September 9, 1944 at about one o'clock in the morning. At the time, our cousin, Ronnie Coleman, was staying with us and when my mother went into labor, my brothers, Earl and Claude, and Ronnie, were sent to go get the doctor. Well, they couldn't get the car started. So they all three piled onto a mule that we had and rode into town to get a doctor. My mother had me really fast, so my dad delivered me. My sister Myrt always said that he dropped me on my head when I was born, but that's not the truth I'm sure. I don't know how long we lived there. We didn't live there very long after I was born. My Grandparents Lacy lived right up the canyon from us. It was probably two blocks (in length), and they had a little house up there. My grandpa Lacy had died by that time. He had died three years before I was born.”

Shortly after Alice was born, Earl and Garnette moved into town at Palisade with their four kids⸺Earl Jr., Claude, Myrt, and Alice. Alice recalls the front of the house being on street level, but the back had long stairs leading down to an alley. The house also had a chicken coop and outhouse. 

Palisade High School in 2015.

Palisade football team (1945). Earl is on back row, third from left; Claude on middle row, second from right.

At this time Claude made the transition from Mount Lincoln to Palisade High School. It was there, while as a freshman, that Claude began his wrestling career. It is true that their father, Earl, had been a professional wrestler, but of amateur wrestling, he knew very little. For me, this is a very pivotal time in our history because it is what continued the Lacy tradition of wrestling that continues to this day. In my family line alone, there have been five generations of Lacy wrestlers, with 100% of the males participating, and several State Championships. Even the females participate in stats-keeping. Without that one decision that my grandpa, and his brother, Earl, made to wrestle for Palisade High School, wrestling in the Lacy family may have fizzled out over fifty years ago.

The man responsible for coaching Claude and Earl Jr. was a former college wrestler by the name of Carl Cox. Claude recalls his first match that year, as a freshman. He wrestled 138 lbs. in Olathe, Colorado, and got beat. He would quickly rebound from his loss, and went on a roll until the end of the year, when he took third place at the State Championships in Denver. Back in those days, they didn't have classifications such as 1A, 2A, 3A etc. They were all grouped together. The little schools like Palisade wrestled with the big teams from Denver.

The following year, Claude wrestled 145 lbs. and didn't lose a match until the Western Slope Championships where he lost to a kid by the name of Alvis Fetters. The following week at the State Championships in Denver, Alvis Fetters got beat, and Claude defeated the kid who beat him. This would be the first of three State Championships for Claude.

Speaking of his older brother, Earl, Claude said, “He was just a one-time state champion in Utah. He didn't get started until he was a sophomore. If he would have been around and started wrestling as a freshmen, when I did, he would have been a two-time state champion. He came in fourth when he was a junior, and then came to Utah and became a state champion. He was a year older than me.”

Little Grandma Lacy (Millie) with Wolfie in 1946.

In 1947, Earl and Garnette Lacy, with their four kids, left Palisade for good and moved to Carbon County in Utah where Earl got a job at the Columbia Coal Mine near Draggerton. His brothers, Robert and Howard, eventually moved away also, but their mother⸺Little Grandma Lacy⸺stayed in Palisade for the rest of her days.

Even after leaving Palisade, the Lacys continued to call it home and would visit there often while Little Grandma Lacy was still alive. Aunt Alice tells a humorous story of these memorable trips back to Palisade:

“My mom would always drive so my dad could drink beer while we were going. It seemed like every time Mom and Dad and I would go to Colorado, they'd get in a fight, and they'd be just on the east side of Green River, and Mom would pull over and kick Dad out. And she and I would go on to Palisade—and we were going to visit his mother's house—and I can remember, clear as a bell, we would show up at her house and Grandma would say, 'Earl didn't make it again, huh?' And Mom said, 'No. He'll be here tonight or in the morning.” He'd hitchhike the rest of the way and stop wherever he wanted to. It happened just about every time we went.” ♠

Descendants of Eri Lacy at a park in Palisade, Colorado.

Sources

Barker, Alice Lacy. Interview by John Lacy, March 30, 2009.

Lacy, Claude. Conversation with John Lacy, June 17, 2000.

Lacy, Claude. Conversation with John Lacy, June 27, 2000.

Lacy, Claude. Interview by John Lacy, August 16, 2005.

Lacy, Claude. Interview by John Lacy, July 23, 2006.

Lacy, Claude. Interview by John Lacy, August 2, 2009.