La Jara

La Jara is the town that was my mailing address for years. I went to school there and a lot of my childhood memories swirl around it.

My Great Grandfather J. Luis Rivera and family. The little girl is my grandmother. The house still stands and is occupied.

It was the rails that of course made it a town. The D&RG Railroad had built down towards Antonito. The idea was to ship produce and livestock to markets outside the Valley.

In the course of my research, I’ve found records in old Newspapers of how my Great Grandfather, J. Luis Rivera, sent sheep via rails to the markets in Denver and beyond using the La Jara Terminus.

Some of my earliest memories of the town is going to school. This was the old school that was probably built about the time the town was founded. It was a two-story brick structure with a basement that housed classrooms, the furnace room and the cafeteria. The train would go through town about noon; it’s whistle blowing and the wheels rumbling. The lights would sway as the steam engines produced a mini earthquake from the power of the drivers. Class would come to a screeching halt as we all watched it come smoking and chugging though town.

My old Grade School. I haven’t been able to find a picture of the one I started in. This building is still in use today.

When I was in the third grade, they finished the new High School south of town. Formerly, the high school had been right next door to our old school. Once it was vacant, our teacher told us to pick up our chairs and follow her. We did and that simply, the elementary school moved into what had been the high school next door.

The old school and gym were torn down shortly afterwards.

Another fond memory was shopping at Kelouff’s Market in town. They gave out tickets with your purchase. You wrote your name and phone number on them and once a month they had a big event in the middle of town. A truck with a big hand cranked drum would park and you’d turn in your tickets along with everyone else’s. The collected tickets were put into the drum, they’d spin the drum, and someone would pull a single ticket out. Whoever was lucky enough to have their ticket pulled won a shopping spree at the store worth several hundred dollars. That doesn’t sound like a lot today. But when you consider the average monthly wage then wasn’t much, then it became a big deal.

The other big deal, at least until I was in about the fifth grade, was the Christmas Show. Max Gumper owned a building that housed the town’s movie theater. It had been closed as long as I could remember, but every Christmas, for one day only, that changed. The heat was turned on, the projectors woke up, and Santa Claus rode in on the fire truck. Kids from all over the county would be waiting for him to show up. He’d toss candy and have a good time. it was a big parade with the marching band and the police escorting him in. Once in front of the theater, he’d dismount from the truck, unlock the doors, and welcome us in. While our parents went shopping, we’d be treated to several hours of Disney cartoons, Tarzan movies, and Bugs Bunny. When we left, the local organizations would give each kid a bag full of candy, popcorn balls, and an orange.

We were allowed to go off campus at lunch time and that usually meant one of three places. One was McCarroll’s, a small store owned by a local family. The other was the drugstore. Or the Pecos Cafe.

The first two destinations meant treats. Mr. McCarroll had an freezer full of different kinds of ice creams. The fav among everyone was as Rainbow sherbet that came in a push up container. It was so well liked, you probably weren’t going to get one. They’d be sold out in under five minutes.

The Drugstore had a different kind of draw for me. Model airplanes. But, that’s a whole other story which I’m going to save for later.

The Pecos Cafe had something no other store had. Fresh pastries. They made doughnuts there. For ten cents you could buy one and sink your teeth into the warm, chocolaty goodness of what some call “The Food of the Gods.”

The Pecos was one of those old style diners that had their menu on the wall. Once when I was there, I saw something that got my interest. “Tuna Fish Sandwich” it read. I had no idea what that was (what can I say, I’m from the sticks) but it sure sounded good. It was priced at the godly sum of twenty-five cents.

I decided right there, I was going to try one. That meant scrounging for change, doing odd jobs till I had the money. I walked in the following week with fifty cents in my pocket and ordered one and a coke. It was served up on toasted bread and with chips.

A foodie was born that day.

Ah, life in the small town.

Capulin

Capulin is another town that holds a lot of memories. Located about 9 miles West of La Jara, it was established in 1867. These settlers came up from Ojo Caliente, New Mexico. Several pieces of my family history crisscross through this small town. The Muniz’s, Rivera’s, and Malouff’s all played a part in it’s history or called it home.

St. Joseph’s Parish, the church of my boyhood.

A common misconception is that the Capulin Volcano is nearby.

It’s not.

The Capulin Volcano is well over a hundred miles away and north of Raton, New Mexico.

Capulin is Spanish for “Chokecherry.” The trees grow in abundance about it. The locals have used them to make jams and wines for decades.

My biggest memories of the town are my aunt’s store, our church, and playing with cousins.

Ah, comics as a kid!

It was my aunts store that a lifelong love was born. I’m not talking about a food or a girl, I’m talking about comic books (Suprise – I love ’em). But we’re talking comics few people have even heard of. Comics like the Gold Key version of Space Family Robinson, Magnus: Robot Fighter, and a comic version of Twelve O’Clock High. There was even the Gold Key Adaption of Star Trek. Add the usual dose of Superman, Worlds Finest, and Classics Illustrated and you’ve got a card carrying comic nerd.

When I was in college and in the military, this carried on. I got into graphic novels like Cowboys vs. Aliens, Batman (especially the ones in the far future), The Rook (where Sheriff Will Diaz gets his dress code) and of course, Dr. Who.

She kept them out on a rack, and I’m sure she sold very few comics. But they sure got read.

Heading west and when the road turns to head North towards Monte Vista, is the town of El Centro. It figures into my stories because someplace up there is Max’s home. Max is an old friend of Will Diaz’s and the subject of the homicide in the book “Event Horizon.”

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