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From the Editor - Telluride Magazine
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WithIn 25 years later and I have writer's block. What can I say that hasn’t been said before? In this, our twenty-fifth anniversary issue, I hoped to let photographs speak for the past and humorous anecdotes provide a whimsical interlude into Telluride’s cadence. I wanted to let a thousand faces paint a portrait of Telluride’s character, but we could find space for only half of them. If a picture says a thousand words, we’ve packed almost five hundred thousand words into five pages via images gleaned from our files and archives. We (referring to our two-person editorial department and a slew of veteran contributors) sharpened our tongues and wit, putting together some nostalgic moments and a quiz to challenge the most seasoned locals. Words can paint an amusing picture The famous and infamous Edward Abbey knew the power of words. His 1977 essay on Telluride sets the stage for this issue, expressing trepidation for the tiny mountain hamlet he visited in 1957. He saw the enchantment and sensed the coming of money, dreading the change “they” would bring. Little did he know that many invited that revolution. I asked Joern Gerdts, who is sharp as a tack at 89, to put together a collection of photographs that would give readers a feel for Telluride in its economically dark age: between the end of the mining era and the opening of the ski area. Gerdts captured the town in transition—a window into the subtle unfolding of the new Telluride. The ski area brought rapid change to the valley, just as the train did in the late 1880s. Historian Paul O’Rourke takes us on a ride up the canyon on the RG&S railroad—from Montrose to Dallas, over the pass and through the canyon to Telluride’s mines we go. For a light-hearted interlude, read Rob Story’s “Clump,” another ride, this time on the hood of a car with (anthropomorphized) passionate and playful snow. And to kick things into the present, linguist Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer gives a quick lesson on how to wax eloquently in the terrain park. Ed Abbey would have stood slack jawed. For those seeking the wildness that Abbey so feared civilization would forsake, it can still be found. Writer Lance Waring discloses the delights of the backcountry. You can venture out and, with a little planning and effort, spend the night in a primitive hut—or in some cases, an actual lodge complete with wood burning stove and cozy beds. Ah, yes, the wilderness with just enough comforts to make it an approachable adventure. If I could convey all of this with a photograph, I would. Maybe a collage would do the trick. In my 25 years at Telluride Publishing, I have witnessed the twists and turns, political struggles and personal triumphs that all communities wrangle through. Luckily, Telluride is still relatively small. But unlike 25 years ago, I don’t recognize all the smiling faces when I walk down main street. Growth assures that change will come, and change affects the picture; be it a new trail, a new face, a new deal, a new tale. Writer’s block averted, I feel a picture coming on. Thank you all, Mary Duffy (for Edi Rullet, who is vacationing in Tristan da Cunha this winter) |
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