Author Archive for M. Toole

The Uninvited Wedding Guests

     The day started as most summer days high in the Elk Mountains. The early hours featured a bright, blazing sun, then sparse clouds arrived for lunch. Today was the day that Rudy Triglavic would marry Irene Sulek. Relatives from Baldwin, Pittsburgh, Elkton and parents all the way from Croatia and Slovenia were in town. The night before was filled with merry making and the following morning everyone was moving slow.

     At 1 pm the families met at Queen of All Saints for the ceremony, the I dos and the you dos and then the rice…and another party. The reception was held at the home of Hugo Prespa, superintendent at the Daisy Mine. Guests included miners and their families from the Keystone, the Standard, Jokerville and Smith Hill Mines. Although competitive underground most were having a great time listening to polkas, and tunes on the gusle. They stopped mid-sentence to watch as the bride and groom engaged in the traditional wedding dance. There was prase roasting on hot ash, cevapcici and culbastija and lots of wine. Thoughts of their native Sava ran through the heads of the more recent immigrants to North America.

     It was quite the scene that July day in 1899, just months before 1900 would come calling. Rudy Triglavic had arrived in Crested Butte three years before. He was a quiet man who worked hard. His family ties to the old country had been tarnished by political conflict. In a country divided into distinct regions ruled by the Byzantines, the Austrians, then by the Ottoman Turks it was not hard to make enemies. The Triglavic family had been staunch supporters of Francis Joseph in the hopes that the Austrians would create a Slavic nation like the Magyars of Hungary had won some years before.

     Josip Triglavic, Rudy’s father, had even talked of leaving Slovenia. Things were not so good there for the supporters of the Hapsburgs in the dawn of nationalism. The anarchists were busy, the climate was ripe for what would be World War I. Josip had been mocked by fellow villagers because he insisted that the Austrian monarchy should be recognized as legitimate rulers of his country. There were threats on his life and on the life of his son, Rudy, who had served in Italy with the army and had even attended the university at Innsbruck. When Rudy left Europe, rumors were the residue. Had he informed on a Croatian nationalist in Zagreb? Someone had. Rudy was gone. He was a monarchist. Conclusions were drawn.

     A contingent of nationalists, comprised of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes had sought to throw off the Hapsburg yoke and create a new country. They were led by a man named Draza Petrinja, a charismatic Croat from Dalmatia. Seeking to take advantage of the weaknesses of the Austrians, who had recently been defeated by the Prussians, the French and the Sardinians, the movement flourished. Along the Adriatic, especially in cities like Trieste, nationalists were openly hostile to anything Austrian. With promises of aid from Italy, they plotted a full scale revolt in the fall of 1896. Suddenly, in August, without further provocation, Austrian troops swarmed along the coastline forcing all of Dalmatia to heel. Petrinja and others were arrested and imprisoned in Carinthia. The revolt was crushed.

     The entire Triglavic family, along with other supporters of the Hapsburgs, was suspect. People had looked for a scapegoat. But that was years ago. Surely the family could find reprieve from old world struggles in the Rockies.

*  *  *

     Two cold men stood at the fringe of the reception. Each had a glass of wine in his hand. They smiled cordially although nobody knew them. Each family thought the two were guests of the other. Maybe they were friends of the bride from Ljubljana, where many Suleks still lived. Maybe they worked in the mines. Were they cousins from Pueblo? Maybe they were the caterers. At any rate, they spoke the right language and were welcomed graciously by both families.

     “Which one is he?” whispered the taller of the two men.

     “I can’t tell from this photograph,” was the answer. “We’ll have to wait him out. Someone will drop his name, then we’ll do our business and be gone.”

     “Watch the wine,” smiled the first. “We don’t want to miss. Let’s just take it slow and strike when the party is in full swing. Surprise is our best weapon. It shouldn’t be long before most of the men are well on their way to a good drunk.”

     The party went on all afternoon with much dancing and drinking. Then, at about 4:30 there was a toast from the father of the bride, Amill Sulek. The cake was cut. The band played on. It was at that moment that the two intruders first realized which guest was Rudy Triglavic.

     “He’s the groom!” gulped the first. “He’s the damn groom. They didn’t say anything about shooting a groom…”

     “Just relax,” whispered the second man, biting down on his lower lip then swallowing a healthy slug of wine. “We haven’t made ourselves known and there’s still time to finish our business. It’s not like we’re going to shoot the traitor right at the altar.”

     Both men stood silently, confused as to what action to take. This turnabout had taken the wind out of their assassin’s sails. They had no way to consult with the people who had sent them all this way to kill Rudy Triglavic. The powers in Dalmatia had no way to know they had sent two executioners to dust off a bridegroom.

     “We can’t just leave,” offered the second gunman. “If we go back without completing our mission we could end up dead too. You know how much they want this Triglavic. We have no choice. We have to give them their pound of flesh, satisfy the vengeance.”

     The assassins took a seat, smiled sweetly to someone’s grandmother and were presented with a piece of wedding cake. They ate quietly until the band struck up another polka.

     “The powers back home want revenge,” started the first man. “They order us to retaliate for what they believe was a betrayal. They give us steamship passage and pistols. They give us a picture…It doesn’t even look like this Triglavic. They tell us to shoot him. They didn’t say it would be on his wedding day.”

     The second gunman smiled, “They wouldn’t know the bridegroom from Archduke Ferdinand. They just want vindication. All we have to do is provide them with a body. I’m not about to shoot the groom. What do you think?”

     After pushing the last piece of cake into his mouth the first man sighed, “Then let’s give them one.”

     After further consultation the two decided that they would pick out an acceptable victim, one different from the groom. They scanned the reception looking for the proper target. After several circles the taller man nudged the other and gestured toward an irascible crank of a man who was disrupting his corner of the festivities by arguing with his wife.

     “He’s just about the same size,” quipped one of the gunmen.

     “Cantankerous looking fellow,” winked the other. “Who’s gonna miss him.”

     The two plotted the attack and their escape as the wedding party grew more merry. They wanted to wait until they had a clear shot, for the right time. When several of the ladies herded the children into a nearby pasture for games, they drew their pistols and fired. At first the party was not interrupted. The guests turned and thought the noise was part of the celebration. When the victim fell to the ground it became apparent that something was very wrong.

     The assailants calmly holstered their pistols and disappeared as the crowd gathered around the mark, who was propped up on one elbow, talking to himself. A doctor was summoned and the victim was pronounced quite healthy with the exception of a bullet wound in the forearm and a bump on the head, suffered in the fall.

     “Did we get him?” said the first man to the second as they rode furiously up Kebler.

     “I aimed low, you aimed high. He must be dead,” said the second.

*  *  *

     Weeks later the two gunmen returned to Dalmatia and announced that they had concluded the business at hand. Everyone seemed satisfied that a score had been settled. Honor had been served. The traitor was in his grave.There would be more revolts, more trouble in the Balkans, a World War to distract them. No more Rudy Triglavic.

     Five months later as winter began its occupation of the East River Valley the Triglavic family received a small card. Josip, who had stayed in the United States to avoid the troubles in his country and to see his grandchildren born, opened the letter. He didn’t recognize the handwriting or the two first names on the card.

     “It says here these people are very sorry for interrupting the wedding reception,” he frowned. “I remember the shock of it all and the whining from the wounded guest…as if he’d taken a bullet for the cause. That man was always a bother. Who do you suppose they were and what did they have against their target? What strange goings-on though, and at a wedding of all places. Do you really think it’s from the shooters? Why would they go to the trouble of sending a sympathy card when they never even brought a gift.”

– Kevin Haley

WARNING TO BACKPACKERS

The United States Forest and Logging Service has determined that there are at least 200 million illegal marijuana plants currently being cultivated in our federally administered national forests. If you are confronted by one of these evil weeds on the trail do not attempt to apprehend the highly addictive narcotic on your own. Call the sheriff. If you do not have a mobile phone in your backpack simply drop a postcard upon your arrival home. Please specify the exact coordinates so as to facilitate recommended bombing or artillery assaults. If you are attacked by startled plant do not retreat. Avoid eye contact, wave your arms in the air and puff yourself up bigger than life. If that doesn’t work, carefully approach the plant from its blind side and hack it to pieces, assuring that it will never fall into the wrong hands.

                                                      – A message from your National Forests and your local DEA.

LOCAL STATIONS CAUGHT MAKING UP WEATHER

(Bland Junction) Police detained fifteen local weather persons in connection with the alleged misuse of FCC licenses and falsifying or concocting fictitious weather reports. In addition local officers confiscated an estimated ten dollars worth of sophisticated forecasting equipment, a host of neglected bunions and trick knees, several undernourished homing pigeons and a wide assortment of potentially pornographic weather charts.

     “It is clear to us that some really shady behavior was going on right under our noses,” said one arresting officer. “It’s clear that most of these weather hacks couldn’t pass a high school meteorology test!”

     Several of those in question admitted that the station had been making up the weather since about 1990 when the state government cut back on subsidies for toy telescopes and applied environmental controls to the procedures for collecting atmospheric tidings.

     “We admit it,” chided one station manager. “We’ve been rolling dice on weather for quite a while. If we throw a five or a six it’s going to be hot and dry. If we throw a four or a two it will be windy. Doubles usually means rain or snow depending on the time of the year,” he explained. “If we throw doubles twice in a row that means the world is going to end,” he laughed. “Fortunately with the downward spiraling attention span within our audience nobody seems to remember our program the next morning anyway.”

     At the preliminary arraignment one former “weather girl” told of wild parties where wine coolers and chips were often present on the set. The testimony was challenged by attorneys for management who asked, “Is this the kind of behavior one would expect from people who are on record as believing the summer solstice is an evil pagan holiday?”

     If convicted the entire crew could a stiff fine and banishment from the air waves but that is not likely. Calls for immediate deportation to proverbial fields of lore were waved off on the state level.

     “It’s really too bad citizens are too lazy to predict their own weather,” commented a chubby court reporter from the other side of her mouth. “It’s just like fishing. When I was younger my uncle Red used to throw dynamite into a pond and catch his limit in no time. You can’t do that today, can you?”

     She did not, nor was she asked, to elaborate.

-Uncle Pahgre

Cleanup of Nude Beaches Set For Weekend

(Blue Mesa) The annual spring cleanup of the region’s nude beaches will be held this Saturday morning. Persons wishing to participate are asked to bring lawn tools, plastic bags and a good attitude. It is projected that over 400 volunteers will be needed to do the job.

We expect that the cleanup will be completed prior to the summer tourist season including a quick makeover before hunting season so as to prevent unfortunate, although minimal, incidents of the past. These two distinct groups do not interface well and, in the landmark case Elmer vs Tarzan, a hunter allegedly mistook a nude bather for an elk and fired away. Fortunately he was a bad shot and the volatile episode passed peacefully.

“The kind of rough and ready nudists that visit these often frigid shores are in search of solitude, peace and a natural state of affairs,” said Syd Skynn, proprietor of Syd’s Sun Screen Ventures located at Chicken Bay. “Besides, they’re very picky about cleanliness and grooming.”

Nudists, often perceived as minimalists, still leave a footprint. In their efforts to embrace the natural life they are generally respectful and tidy.

Experts project that nude bathers will spend in excess of 4.3 million dollars on the Western Slope this summer which is three times more than the combined sum spent by RV enthusiasts and mushroom hunters last season.   

“We seek to keep the lid on here in thermal paradise,” said Skynn. Coexistence is the key and seasonal priorities have to be appreciated.”

Volunteers are asked to arrive by 8 am. Participants may bring brooms and buckets but not vacuum cleaners since the sand plays havoc with the workings of the otherwise functional tools and they are quickly plugged up.  Plastic bags will be provided. A light lunch will be served after the sanitization.

Nude beaches have been legal in Colorado since 1900. For a map of the nearest natural cove or bare bay stop at the local chamber of comments.

“With a little elbow grease, polish  and some disinfectant we will be ready for increased summer traffic,” added Skynn. If we all work together we’ll continue have the best nude beaches in the nation.”

-Dusty Pearl  

CAN THE CLOCKS AND CALENDARS FOR JUST A MONTH

“So little time, so little to do.”  – Oscar Levant    

     While perched firmly behind a bottle or two of merry-go-down the other night my friends and I may have actually stumbled onto something meaningful, or at least worth sharing with introspective readers such as yourselves. Here we sat, broken men and women who, having rendered to Caesar what is Caesar’s, must now wait for the riches of the summer season to replenish our mountain coffers.

     “It wouldn’t be so bad if being broke was like it was in the old days around here,” said Mick, a fit but gray scalped brute who used to make the rodeo circuit but now sells tires to survive.

     “I know what you mean,” gulped Ellen as she sipped her Pabst and stared out the fogged window into the late spring strewn streets, still mildly soggy from the morning’s pitiful attempt at rain. “I’m swamped. Between fronting my shop for the summer and covering my rear from the gov’ment I feel like an three-minute egg in a lock-jaw vice.”

     It was at that moment that somebody else chimed in suggesting that what we all needed was a good rest. Not a vacation. Not a night on the town. Not a nap, but a real reprieve from all the crap. More specifically what we needed was a grace month, in which to recoup, lick our wounds, reflect on our blessings and get back into the saddle before full summer comes roaring down the cosmic bike path.

     Now that’s a tall order.

     Imagine an enchanted 30 days falling into our high altitude laps, and at what better time than the windy spring when the world is working on its second cup of coffee in most locales but still has its sleepy head buried deep in the pillow ‘round here.

     All we’re asking is for one glorious month in which to depart the treadmill and do whatever one didn’t get around to during the traditional twelve month square dance. One could just sleep if he felt like it, watch Bogart/Hepburn movies, or fish for 30 days and 30 nights. Can the clocks and calendars and smash that annoying hour glass against the salt mine door! Stay in your pajamas all month.

     Or walk around wearing nothing at all.

     Forget about working four tens or six sevens or any of that time clock propaganda. Forget about calling in sick or making silly lists of chores that just have to get done. Don’t answer the phone. Don’t make the bed. Don’t even feed Rover or Kitty if you don’t feel like it. (With all the time they have on their hands you’d think they could rustle their own grub). Make doing nothing the main focus of the daylight hours then drop back into a semi-comatose state in the early evening drifting into plant-like flaccidness by dark. Why would anyone look forward to some chronologically-imposed pasture perpetration when each year he had a month to get his ducks firmly entrenched in that illusive row.

     There are some of you out there who might feel that this concept is of philosophical danger to the productive operation of the planet but are we doing such a good job or anything as it is? Would the earth have time to recover from our ecological blunders in 30 days? Probably not, but at least the old girl could have time to catch her breath or take a long weekend in Las Vegas or New Orleans. Maybe.

     Getting back to the subject of pets, have you ever seen a dog look at his watch or a cat refer to her daily reminder? Hell no. They don’t even know what day it is and it doesn’t change a thing. They can amuse themselves with the household garbage or a piece of string and have the ability to fall asleep without provocation. These creatures could serve as the primary roll models. Next we have only to look at our very own federal government.

     Can anyone out there tell us when, how many times and why the government has shut down in 1996? Did anyone really notice? Is the thing still shut down? How many naps does the average Congressman take in a workday? How can politicians earning say $300,000 per year end up millionaires in a few short terms?

     What about the Dark Ages? Was anyone watching the clock during that era? How long did these opaque decades linger and does anyone feel their affect today? Would it have mattered if the entire population of Western Europe had engaged in playing hackeysack for that time period?

     Are you aware that some people sit and watch Cubs’ games almost every afternoon from April to October?

     What are we driving at here? Who knows. What does it all matter? It’s shoulder-season and all the smart people are out of town anyway.

     So let’s explore the possibilities outlined herein. A month of leisure. We could all meet at the intersection of Cosmos Lane and Eternity Avenue and throw a big pot luck three times a day and if everyone would bring their dogs, nobody would have to do the dishes! We could just eat dessert if we wanted. The bars would probably do well except that there’d be no bartender on duty.

     All that time. I’d finally get to play enough bingo and memorize all of the zip codes in the Rocky Mountain region. What about a Colorado Elevator Music Festival? Does anyone out there want to get in on the ground floor?

– Melvin O’Toole

MONTROSE CALENDAR

Con Artist Exhibit Set for July

     The recent work of local con artists will be on display at the Montrose Ditch Rider’s annex through July 15 according to organizers of the event. Along with acknowledged masterpieces from the past decade, tools of the trade from aluminum siding scams to “too good to be true” telephone offers are featured. Although the controversial show has drawn slim crowds up to the present, promoters say the information herein is valuable and may prevent consumer fraud scams in the future.

     “The artwork of these felons is really quite creative in its own right,” said Paula Chicane, a semi-rehabilitated savings and loan officer. “We expect a more substantial response with the inclusion of the Colorado River water sale exhibit over the weekend.”

     Chicane reminded would-be victims of shady dealings that personal greed is a key element to all underhanded ventures.

     “In most cases you still can’t cheat an honest man,” she said.

122nd Annual Chicken or Egg Seminar

     Forces representing both sides of the age old question will once again meet to attempt to iron out differences on July 24 at the Henny Penny Pavilion here. Featured speakers include former Pentagon official Humpty Dumpty, Michael Tyson and the third cousin of the late Colonel Sanders. No ducks will be admitted during rituals. Readings from The Egg and I will be presented intermittently throughout the day. Culinary demonstrations focusing on the separation of whites and yellows will terminate with the beginning of preliminary fist fights in the parking lot.

How to Get More Out of Your Employees

     The local Office of Perpetual Education will sponsor the next phase of its popular Business for the 21st Century on Tuesday nights through December. The impetus of this month’s conference centers on getting more out of your employees, hosted by members of a crack Walmart traveling management team. Off-the-clock Walmart employees will be on hand with coffee and donuts. It all starts at eight sharp with doors locked until at least ten. Local businessmen and others with a keen interest in manipulating underachievers are invited.

GET TO KNOW THE INS NIGHT

     All illegal immigrants are invited to the first annual Get To Know Your Immigration and Customs Enforcement, formerly the Immigration and Naturalization Service, slated for July 31 at 7 pm. While the politicians talk about legalization and recognition of this burgeoning section of the population INS officers will get down to the business of handing out temporary Green Cards and gift baskets for the needy. Then ICE will confiscate the materials as contraband. Maps of the Sonoran Desert and recommended Mexican restaurants in the US will be handed out as part of the innovative Have a Heart Program sponsored by unnamed local missions.

Fried Food Channel Kicks Off Service

     Consumers interested in subscribing to the new Fried Food Channel on cable are reminded to attend a Kick-off Luncheon on Thursday 11 am August 20 at the Sunnyside Executive Suites. In addition to acquiring necessary technology to receive the signal, an assortment of fried foods will be available. Note: Persons with the Lifelike Aroma Module already built-in to their television sets should show up at noon effectively skipping the introductory song and dance. The first 100 subscribers will receive a leftover Naughty Easter Basket compliments of Muscle Clover’s.