Bonny Fleming shared these photos from the back roads east of Rapid City. See or purchase more of her work at bonzeye.asiostudio.com.
The Long Road Home
Tag: pennington county
Meeting the Need
In December of 1996, Dallas and Mary Dietrich had their future planned. The Keystone couple owned four businesses in the Black Hills. Their daughter Dawn and son-in-law Joe Krutzky would soon move from Orlando to manage the couple’s two souvenir shops. Their son Deric, a junior at the University of South Dakota, planned to run their Rapid City and Spearfish ski equipment shops after graduation. But a horrific accident changed all of that.
On Jan. 4, 1997, the entire family was taking Dawn and Joe to the Omaha airport, but blizzard conditions on Interstate 90 made visibility difficult. Dallas drove 35 miles per hour as they neared Alexandria and Mary unbuckled her seatbelt to watch the shoulder. Suddenly, a semi rear-ended them at 75 miles per hour.
“He scooted us one-and-a-half football fields after he hit us,” Dallas says.”So all three of the kids were killed in the back seat and I was crushed between the steering wheel and seat.” Mary suffered non-life threatening broken and cracked ribs, but Dallas had no radial pulse.”They pretty much saved my life in Mitchell with the operation they did on my chest,” Dallas says. He was flown to Rapid City Regional Hospital the next day and rehabbed back and spinal cord injuries for six weeks. Dallas had some use of his legs for a while but now uses a wheelchair.
“With our plans kind of down the toilet, we were sitting around wondering what to do,” Dallas says. He had often dreamed of creating a children’s summer camp”up in the hills.” Mary saw the old Otho tin mine, 4 miles southeast of Keystone, for sale in a real estate magazine.”She said, ‘Why don’t you just buy yourself a town?’ She was joking but I didn’t know that,” Dallas says.”I couldn’t sleep; I just thought about it and thought about it. We came out here and thought, ‘What better way to memorialize the kids than to purchase this place and have people enjoy it for generations to come.'”
The couple bought the mine, established in 1892, dilapidated buildings and all.”Oh man, they were in bad shape,” Dallas recalls.”There were four of them: the bunkhouse, cookhouse, supervisors’ cabin and office. We put foundations under them and my father-in-law and my dad both said, ‘What are you doing? Just level them and start over again.’ But I just felt that this was history.”
As Dallas and Mary worked on their little town, their vision and mission changed. Dallas had long advocated for the disabled. Since 1979 he’s helped organize Black Hills Ski for Light, an event that allows people with disabilities to enjoy cross-country and downhill skiing. The couple recognized the need for accessible vacation options and felt obligated to make their resort available to anyone.”But to get the buildings on the National Historic Register and, at the same time, make them fully accessible was quite a trick,” Dallas says.”It took a lot more time and effort and a lot more money that I ever anticipated, but we got the job done.”
The first group stayed at the resort, now called Meeting the Need, in September 2003 and the Otho tin mine was added to the National Historic Register in 2004. Grants, donations, and volunteers made it possible, and they still operate with no paid employees.
The resort has 23 beds in the original buildings and two new walled tents, but they can accommodate more. There are places for tents and small RVs. Wooden boardwalks connect everything.”Recently we finished the tree house that’s 12 feet in the air. It’s got a 200-foot ramp so little kids in wheelchairs can wheel up and spend a night there, so that’s pretty cool.”
The Dietrichs charge $25 per person per night and guests have access to the fire pit and a few horses.”We have a number of tourist facilities, like Reptile Gardens, the 1880 Train and Crazy Horse, that provide free participation to our guests. And we own an old time photo place so that groups that have disabled family members can get an old time photo,” Dallas says.”It’s pretty affordable for most folks and, of course, if there’s somebody with disabilities that can’t afford it then we would waive all charges.” He’d specifically like to offer free stays to South Dakota’s disabled veterans as a way of giving back.
Meeting the need is open May through September and they still have openings for this summer. Able-bodied guests are welcome, but they give preference to those with disabilities. Call (605) 666-4610 or email dallasdietrich@hotmail.com to make reservations.
A Presidential Summer
THEY CALLED HIM “The Man Who Hates Everything,” and no one ever did more to deserve their reputation. H.L. Mencken, writer, social critic and professional deflator popular during the 1920s, made a living lambasting ministers, doctors, Southerners, teachers, his fellow newspaperman and just about everyone else in the country. So when he took aim at President Calvin Coolidge no one was likely very surprised at what came from his toxic typewriter. “Coolidge’s chief feat,” wrote Mencken, “was to sleep more than any other president.” Not only was he lazy, but the President’s perpetually dour expression seemed to indicate he had been “weaned on a pickle.”
People expected that from Mencken. But it was difficult to find anybody who had really good things to say about President Coolidge. “In appearance he was stupendously null,” remembered one of his neighbors, “as if he was lacking in red corpuscles.” Shy, lacking in social graces, almost totally devoid of wit — Coolidge was all of those, and less. To the people at large he was Silent Cal, a stern, no nonsense Vermont Yankee who spoke as if he expected to live 100 years, but feared he had mistakenly been given only enough words to last half that long. Among the nation’s opinion makers he was considered an incredible dullard, if not a fool. He was popular with the business community, but that was chiefly for his stolid determination not to do anything that might rock the economy; he was a chief executive, said one congressman “who raised inertia almost to the level of a way of life.” But it fell to Dorothy Parker’s acid tongue to deliver the unkindest cut of all. In 1933, when she was informed that the ex-president was dead, her response was, “How do they know?”
Obvious though his shortcomings might be, he was still the President of the United States. Which meant newspapers took note of whatever he was doing and wherever he was doing it. And that gave some people from South Dakota an idea. Looking for a way to publicize the Black Hills nationally, Sen. Peter Norbeck and a number of others hit upon the idea of inviting President Coolidge for a visit. And by a fortuitous combination of circumstances, Silent Cal accepted.
In the days before air conditioning, summer reminded residents of Washington, D.C., that their city had been built on a swamp. It was usually hot, muggy and uncomfortable. Everyone who could left town for as much of the season as possible. Coolidge, whose bronchitis was aggravated by these conditions, suffered more than most. In 1925 he had escaped to the Massachusetts shore; the following year found him in New York’s Adirondack Mountains; for the summer of 1927 he resolved to vacation somewhere “west of the Allegheny’s and east of the Rockies.”
That was South Dakota’s signal to launch an all-out offensive aimed at convincing Coolidge to choose the Black Hills. The state Legislature passed a resolution formally inviting the president on Jan. 7, 1927, and in the words of Rex Alan Smith, ”they spared no adjectives when drafting it, and indulged in no false modesty.” There was mention of lofty peaks, magnificent forests, sparkling streams and an “ideal” climate, of course, but also, “splendid fishing, golf, polo and tennis.” To tie it all up neatly the Legislature sought to assure Coolidge that the stories of gunslingers and ladies of the evening were all in the Black Hills’ past. “The population in and about the mountains,” they declared, “is intelligent and moral.”
When Sen. Norbeck delivered the invitation, Coolidge was suitably impressed, resulting in one of the few instances of wit recorded during his administration. “Senator,” he observed dryly, “I can’t tell whether this is a chapter from Revelations or Mohammed’s idea of the seventh heaven.” True to his nature, though, the president said nothing further that day.
His frustrating silence continued for two months. In the spring, one of South Dakota’s two congressmen, William Williamson, met with the president to present the state’s case yet again.
“How are the flies and mosquitoes out there?” Coolidge asked.
“In the mountains proper, few or none,” replied Williamson.
“That’s good,” said Coolidge. “Last place I went they nearly pestered me to death.”
It seems the Legislature should have dispensed with all that chatter about scenery in their invitation and concentrated on the insects. Another advantage that they neglected to mention was the relative lack of people in the Hills. Coolidge had been annoyed on other trips by crowds who gathered to gawk at him. He was pleased that Rapid City, population 8,000 and the only town of any size in the area, was a considerable train and automobile ride from where he was going to be staying.
Before the final decision was made, Coolidge dispatched Colonel Edward Starling, head of the White House Secret Service detail, to inspect the facilities. Starling left the state after two days without a clue as to what he thought of the place, and once again the White House was silent.
For the next month there were almost daily news stories speculating on whether or not the president was actually coming. There wasn’t a word from Washington until May 27, when Colonel Starling and several assistants arrived unannounced at the Rapid City train station. Later that day every major newspaper in the state received a telegram from Sen. Norbeck’s office; in their next editions, using type generally reserved for a declaration of war or the seventh game of the World Series, the headlines blared, “President Coolidge To Arrive June 16!”
Preparations for the president’s visit had started long before anyone knew if he was even coming for sure. Now that it was confirmed, things went into high gear. Coolidge’s home while in South Dakota was to be the State Game Lodge in Custer State Park. The president and his wife would stay in the Governor’s Suite, which was a bedroom and private sitting room, with a bathroom down the hall. A new coat of paint was applied inside and out, and a sawmill on the grounds was moved two miles over the hill so as not to spoil the presidential view. Extra lines were strung to handle the increased telephone traffic, the lodge was primped and swept one last time, and everyone hoped that nothing had been forgotten. Colonel Starling pronounced himself satisfied.
Coolidge traveled with his wife Grace, staff members, Secret Service agents, three dozen or so newspaper reporters, the first family’s two collies, Rob Roy and Prudence Prim, and Mrs. Coolidge’s pet raccoon, Rebecca, who lived in a wicker basket. As the train passed into the state at Elkton, the party was joined by Sen. Norbeck and as many other local notables as could wrangle an invitation. An elderly gentleman, not part of the official delegation, climbed aboard in Lake Preston to pay his respects and the train pulled out of the station before anyone noticed.
After yet another formal reception in Pierre with Gov. Bulow and friends, the Coolidges arrived at Rapid City late in the afternoon. The local National Guard band played “Hail to the Chief,” probably the first and only time it ever rendered that particular tune, while artillery on the Box Elder firing range thundered a 21-gun salute. There was a dance at the Alfalfa Palace that evening, but Cal and Grace had a quiet supper of elk steak at the lodge and then retired.
Early the next morning Coolidge prepared to set out for his summer office in Rapid City. Some South Dakotans who hoped to establish the Black Hills as a fishing haven intercepted him, and they had made their plans well. Though the president was reluctant at first they convinced him to try his luck in Squaw Creek. Wearing a suit and straw boater, no angler in history ever looked the part less, or had a better chance to catch fish. His hosts did everything but throw the trout in his basket for him.
About a mile above and below the lodge park officials had installed fishnets across the creek. Into this pen they had dumped more than 2,000 trout from the state fish hatchery in Spearfish. These were not small fry, either. They were “tired old breeding trout … (that) the hatchery had been planning to gel rid of anyway,” wrote Rex Alan Smith. “Years of lazy living on ground liver and horsemeat had left them fat and flabby. But they were big, fearless and eminently catchable.”
Gov. Bulow, who was in on the plan from the very beginning, would pay for his sins. He and his wife were invited to the lodge for supper one evening and the main course was trout, which, the president proudly explained, he had caught in the creek. “(From) the first bite I took,” Bulow recalled, “I could taste the liver and horsemeat on which that trout had lived for years ….” President Coolidge did not seem to mind, though, and the fishing was a good part of why his planned three-week vacation in South Dakota ended up lasting three months.
There was one other person in the Hills that summer who was scheming to use the president’s presence for his own purposes, and that was Gutzon Borglum. Rushmore’s sculptor was well aware of how the publicity surrounding a presidential visit could help his project; it might even push Coolidge to endorse the idea of appropriating federal funds for the carving, which Borglum hoped would free him from his perpetual need to raise money.
Borglum decided to hold a dedication ceremony on Aug. 10. He had already dedicated the mountain in 1925, but Borglum never let logic get in the way of a good time. It was typical of him that he scheduled the event before asking the guest of honor to attend. It probably did not occur to him that the President of the United States might have something to do other than attend a Borglum event. He was not even deterred by the fact that Coolidge had repeatedly let it be known he did not wish to make any formal public appearances while on vacation.
Borglum’s opening shot was dramatic, romantic, slightly foolish, dangerous and couldnít have been more ill-timed. He hired Clyde Ice, the famous barnstorming pilot from Spearfish, to fly him over the lodge at low altitude; at the appropriate moment Borglum pitched a large flower wreath from the open cockpit onto the lawn. “Greetings from Mount Rushmore to Mount Coolidge!” announced the card that accompanied this sky borne bouquet.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the ideal time. President Coolidge had summoned General Leonard Wood, governor-general of the Philippines, to South Dakota for consultations. At the very moment Borglum came roaring overhead the general and his commander-in- chief were seated on the verandah discussing the possibility that an insurrection could flare up in the islands. History has not recorded Coolidge’s reaction, though it is unlikely the strait-laced president appreciated being bombed with flowers during an important meeting.
Coolidge eventually consented to attend the dedication ceremony. The last mile up to Rushmore at the time was little more than a muddy trail, and on the day of the ceremony one of the autos became impossibly stuck, blocking the way. President Coolidge was forced to use alternate transportation, and so, wearing a business suit, a 10-gallon cowboy hat and fringed, white leather gloves, he arrived for the ceremony on horseback. The assembled citizens loved it, as did their president.
Silent Cal and Grace left town a month later, with rather less ceremony than when they arrived. As it turned out, the single biggest news of the summer turned out to be something Coolidge decided not to do. Around 30 newspaper reporters comprised the White House press corps, and by Aug. 2 they were frankly bored with Rapid City. When Coolidge invited them all into his office, their curiosity was aroused. As soon as they were all present Coolidge handed each of them a slip of paper, on which was typed a single line. “I do not choose to run for president in nineteen twenty-eight.” For a moment the group was shocked into silence. No one in the entire country had expected such an announcement. Finally someone asked the President of the United States if he had anything else to add.
“No,” he replied. And having said that, he left.
Editorís Note: This story is revised from the March/April 1996 issue of† South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.
Black Hills Winter
John Mitchell shared these recent photos of a snow-covered Black Hills. View more of his photos on Facebook and at sodakmoments.com.
End of the Deerfield Chapter
Deerfield Store had been shuttered for 10 years we met Tom Sawyer in 2005. He was living in the old building, deep in the Black Hills, with a tabby-colored old tom cat. His wife, Sherrill, had died a few years earlier.
A “Closed For Good” sign hung out front but it didn’t deter old customers and friends from stopping to say hello. Tom’s living room was the main store. Shelves still rose above the old wood floors. A piano, once the center of attention at many impromptu parties, was gathering dust in the corner.
Sherrill, who had studied music in California, was the spark of the tiny community. She would play for anyone, anytime. She could cuss as well as anyone if the situation warranted, but she was clearly the first lady of Deerfield. “She was hell for the first 25 years but she got soft later,” Tom joked.
Tom said the store began its decline in 1972 — 40 years ago. And it wasn’t because of competition from Rapid City or Hill City. It was a stupid, stupid murder.
Tom and Sherrill raised two sons at Deerfield, Mike and Jim. The boys loved the excitement of the store, where good times flourished. “I don’t think the folks ever planned the parties,” said Mike, many years later. “Local people and the visitors, the fishermen and hunters, would just show up and everybody would have a few drinks and have a good time. Mom was good on the piano.”
Mike still raises cattle in the Deerfield community, among other things.
Jim was a Custer policeman who helped the Southern Hills on the night of the tragic flood of 1972. He was so busy that he didn’t sleep in a bed for the next three nights.
On the fourth night after the flood, the young policeman was called to investigate a break-in at a Custer saloon. The suspects were still there, and they took the young officer hostage. On a nearby hillside, he was shot with his own gun. The murderers escaped with $37 and a saddle.
They were later caught and given life without parole. But of course the damage was done. Tom and Sherrill and Mike were grief-stricken. Sherrill closed the piano cover and the store changed.
“That was pretty much the end of her piano playing,” Tom told us in 2005.
A dozen years later, the store closed. The Sawyers had run it for 42 years.
Tom regained his good nature. He held court at the closed store for a few years before moving to Rapid City. He died this week at age 92, ending a chapter in Black Hills history.
Today, visitors get their fuel, bait and beer at the Deerfield Lake Resort, two miles east of the old store. It’s a nice place, run by very friendly folks. But there’s no piano.
Change is inevitable, and it often hurts. But for $37 and a saddle?
Prairie Black and White
Joel Schwader, Rapid City, shared this gallery of black and white images. “I think they tell a better story than color ever could,” Schwader says.
West River’s Fleeting Fall Color
The colors of fall can be elusive in a predominantly prairie state like South Dakota. Our national forests are mostly made up of evergreens. Autumn winds can blow relentlessly through the rest of the trees as winter’s long arm begins to creep down from the north. Wild weather swings, as evidenced by this past week’s brutal snowstorm on the west side of the state and tornados clipping the southeast corner, don’t help autumn’s splendor stay around for long either. To me, fall’s fleeting nature is what makes photographing its beauty so fun and fulfilling.
This year, I was able to break away from the normal routine to spend a few days searching for autumn color. From Sunday, September 29 through Tuesday, October 1, I made a wide circle through some of the prettiest country our state has to offer west of the Missouri. Last year, I discovered that the valleys and draws of the Sage Creek Wilderness offer some unique fall scenes with the Badlands as a backdrop. I got there maybe a week before the trees were in prime color, however, I found that the early morning sun backlighting the leaves brought out fall’s tints anyway.
My next stop was the northern Black Hills. This area contains two of the most scenic canyons in the state and they are particularly beautiful when dressed in autumn’s hues. Vanocker Canyon Road between Nemo and Sturgis is a short but beautiful drive. Spearfish Canyon’s scenic highway is also a must see during this season. At Savoy, you can get out and hike to waterfalls, alongside creeks and nature areas that will take your breath away.
Around a hundred miles north and a little east of the Black Hills is the furthest eastward unit of Custer National Forest. This narrow band of trees grace the tops and sides of the Slim Buttes of Harding County. I have seen and been impressed with other photographers’ images of that area taken in the fall and always wanted to go and experience it myself. I’m glad I did, as there are views and vistas that had me saying”wow” out loud. I’m not kidding. After only allowing for an afternoon’s visit, I was kicking myself for not allowing the whole weekend to explore. It’s that good.
On the way to the Slim Buttes, I stopped off in the Hoover, SD area to shoot the South Fork of the Moreau River. I grew up near the Moreau River proper around 90 miles to the east of Hoover so this landscape of cut banks, cottonwoods and cattle made me feel like I was home again. After spending the night in Isabel, I made an early morning stop at Little Moreau Recreation Area south of Timber Lake. This relatively wide and scenic creek valley in the middle of the prairie is thick with trees. I had never witnessed what it looked like in the fall before this year. The early morning view was not a disappointment. I had arrived a few days before prime colors, but the scene was still impressive. As a photographer, I’d rather catch fall early than late as the remaining greens can contrast nicely with the autumn’s yellow, oranges and reds.
My last stop was the Foster Bay Road of extreme northwest Stanley County. Here the draws were in full autumn splendor. I found bright reds in the thickets and rich oranges and yellows along the hillsides. I spent a good hour, just taking it all in. A lot of miles lay behind me, but viewing these last bursts of color before the dull and muted hues of winter arrive was truly a blessing. Yes, fall is fleeting in our great state, which means catching it even for just for a moment is a treasure. It’s a good life lesson, really. Life is fleeting, but there are moments and experiences that stand out in vivid color. Enjoy those moments, take pictures and treasure the views!
Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog.
Gramma’s Delicacies
Making delicious, healthy meals can be daunting to new cooks and busy cooks alike. Enter B. Angelique Mills of Box Elder. The England native makes it easy to be a whiz in the kitchen with “Gramma’s Delicacies” — her array of low-sodium, MSG and gluten-free seasonings, sauces, jellies, syrups and spice mixes.
An intolerance to monosodium glutamate inspired Mills’ creations.”A lot of people don’t realize that MSG really messes with their system,” she says. With the prevalence of high blood pressure in our society, low-sodium products were a natural thought.”If they want to add more [salt], that’s fine,” she says. Almost all her products are gluten free except for her meatloaf and burger seasonings, which contain an oatmeal base.
Mills brings her best advertisement to shows with her. Her husband, Reuben”Joe” Mills, has a physique that attests to the quality of her cooking. They met when the Louisiana-born Air Force serviceman was stationed in Angelique’s native land, England. The military landed them in Box Elder in 1982.”When we first realized we were coming to South Dakota, we kicked and screamed, you know … and then we got here and gave it a chance, and we got to know the people, and they’re wonderful. We loved it, the kids loved it, we built our home here and the rest is history.”
Much of the raw material for Angelique’s products comes from the Mills’ busy Box Elder farm. Their goats provide milk for soaps and lotions. Sheep wool becomes hats, gloves and mittens. The animals’ manure fertilizes the Mills’ large garden, promoting the growth of the plums, apples, chokecherries and herbs that end up in Gramma’s Delicacies.
Mills also shares her cooking expertise by teaching classes with Community Education of the Black Hills.”The average young mother is busy, busy busy — they have children, they have work. In a rush, they may opt for unhealthy but convenient fast food. Mills teaches them how to get healthy food on the table within an hour or less.”You can put a stir fry together in two seconds. And it’s not as expensive as people think it is.”
To get a taste of Gramma’s Delicacies, visit their website or Facebook page … or better yet, follow your nose to Angelique and Joe’s stand at the Rapid City farmers’ market this summer. They’ll be handing out samples and serving lunches on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays starting the second week of June. The menu will vary, but will include a Creole gumbo with rice, Jamaican jerk chicken or pork, and pineapple chicken.
Mix It Up
Mills’ dip mixes come as simple packet of spices with serving directions. We sampled three of the flavorful blends: garlic dip, spicy chili cheese bacon dip and herbed dill dip, and served them with mixed veggies and crackers. Here are some other serving ideas for these South Dakota-made spices.
- Mix one cup of plain yogurt and one cup of sour cream with one package of dip mix.
- Combine 4 oz. cream cheese and 4 oz. sour cream.
- For a vegan-friendly, dairy-free treat, beat the spices with a package of soft silken tofu.
- Add the packet to a batch of whipped feta cheese.
- Mix the spices with two cups of homemade yogurt cheese.
- Add a tablespoon of spices to olive oil for a flavorful accompaniment to fresh bread. A smaller amount of spices & oil makes a simple, zesty pizza sauce.
Art Alley Spring 2013
Lori Kiehn shared recent photos of Rapid City’s ever-changing Art Alley. It’s located between Main Street and Saint Joseph from 6th to 7th Street.
Kiehn lives in the Black Hawk and Rapid City area. “I have been in love with photography since I was a young girl,” Kiehn says. “I started off by playing with my grandparents’ old ‘brownie’ camera.”
Owanka Ghost Town
Joel Schwader of Rapid City shared these photos of Owanka. The West River ghost town is located 40 miles east of Rapid City in Pennington County. Caption information taken from an article written by Connie J. Mickelson.
