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| 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!”
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.”
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| Descendants of Eri Lacy take a breather while hiking to the location of his death. |
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| 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.
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| 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. ♠
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| 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.
