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By now you know about how the City of Greeley’s current pipeline project is threatening local natural and historic resources. And because of the way water law is historically structured, there’s not much Larimer county elected officials or residents can effectively say about that.

But that could change tomorrow night, Monday, Nov. 2. The County Commissioners are meeting to discuss amending the county code so that large pipelines that threaten local resources will need to go through a much more rigorous permit process from OUR county government when going through our county.

It’s the same process utilities like electrical power plants, nuclear plants, electric lines, already follow.

Mary Humstone writes,

Currently pipelines, such as the City of Greeley’s 60″ water transmission pipeline, only have to clear a “location and extent” review process at the planning commission level. This means that projects planned and implemented by an agency outside of Larimer County can destroy historic resources, destroy natural areas, and condemn private property through eminent domain without any public comment and without their projects being reviewed by elected officials in our county. The current system gives the public no effective say in these projects.

Humstone and her neighbors have already spent tens of thousands trying to preserve historic resources on their property because of decisions made in the next county.

If you think local government should be more involved when local property is threatened, Humstone invites you to show up at the meeting tomorrow night to show your support. Being there does matter.

You can be sure the City of Greeley’s Water Department will be there to fight it. In force.

What: County Commissioners’ hearing to adopt 1041 powers for water and sewer transmission pipelines.

When: Monday, November 2 at 6:30 pm

Where: First floor hearing room. 200 W. Oak

Read more: Get the technical details here. (Yes, this is the kind of tedious part, but it’s how regular people like you make a difference!)

Gateway

One hamburger joint Norm may remember:  Morrie’s “In and Out” on South College. It was a little before my time but I know it was popular with a lot of FCHS students because it was relatively close to the old high school building on Remington.” Jim Burrill

Morries

1611 S. College. Photo from history.fcgov.com

“I remember Morries In & Out – the owner was Morris Teel who was a neighbor of my parents. Morrie was a very good golfer and in the 50’s and 60’s gave “Spike Baker” some good competition-by the way they lived next door to one another.   -Captain Bevo

“Morrie’s In-and-Out was located just south of Prospect in the approx location of “Chucky Cheese” It was a popular High School eatery in the fifties and had no inside service. You ordered into a mike and drove up to the window. A foot-long hot dog and a root beer was 35 cents. Beyond that to the south was all farms until you reached Trilby and the popular nightclub “Clancys” on the East side of the road. It later became the Cow Palace etc.” -Norm

norm_profile[What happens when you ask the Lost Fort Collins blog a question? Typically, I just go ask Norm for the answer. Norm Cook has lived in Fort Collins since the mid 1940s, and he remembers EVERYTHING!

Now, you can cut out the middle man and ask Uncle Norm yourself. Just write Norm@lostfortcollins.com.  Answers appear here on the Lost Fort Collins blog]

[This edition of Ask Uncle Norm was taken from recent discussion on an earlier post. If you just can't get enough of fifties fast food at the fort, read (and contribute to) the comments here]

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Hell Tree

Road sign

I think the corner of Horsetooth Road and CR7 should be declared a monument to historical ignorance in Fort Collins.

Look to the Northeast and see what’s left of the Strauss cabin. One of the earliest cabins in the area, restored in the 1990s, and then burned down by some teenagers soon after.

Strauss Cabin Ruins

Que lastima.

But watch your back. Turn around and you’re looking right at the abandoned goat farm where grows the Hell Tree. The HELL TREE!!!!

That’s where a goat farmer used to hang his workers, until they rebelled and hanged him from the same tree. And now you can see ghosts swinging from the limbs after dark, they say. (Or maybe that’s goats, and the story is just a big dyslexic mix up.)

How do I know about the hell tree? Not from any old timers. Not from the museum archives. They’ve never heard of it.

I got the story from the Internet! On a web site about supernatural phenom. I’m not sure if the story was written by a  local, or whether someone far away made up the story in hopes of selling ads for local hotels on his ghost story web site.

It doesn’t matter. The Collegian parroted the story last October, and then  some accounts located it on CR7 (though others put it off North Overland, see comments below), and now College students and the internet savvy (or gullible as the case may be) are making the most of its retelling.

But if you know Fort Collins history at all, you know the story is crazy. We NEVER overlooked serial murder.  Oh, we could wink at vigilantism and we could bypass the law when struck by moral outrage. We were especially prone to moral outrage.

But hanging the help?

Not on our church-going, temperate watch.

And a goat farm? Goats=Satan. Get it? Maybe if he’d have raised sheep like everyone else, he wouldn’t have gone mad.

The story of the hell tree seems completely improbable to me.

But I will admit, the abandoned farm  and that cottonwood do look sinister, don’t they?

Hell Tree

Credits

Kendra Spanjer, author of Aldo Zelnick fame, encouraged me to look into the Hell Tree story. From what I can tell, the property was turned over to the county in the early 1970s. It’s surrounded by gravel pits and such today.

Thanks Kendra! It made for a very fun afternoon of exploring.

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There once was a boy from a desolate  town that had only one girl worth dating. And when she left him, he came to Fort Collins to float his broken heart in Fat Tire, because you couldn’t buy that where he came from.  Before long,  he discovered O’Dells IPA. It was even better. Probably because she had never even heard of it.
One night, we were at Road 34 disagreeing about whether you can believe in love but not in God, when I realized I’d let him get too drunk.
“I’m going to buy you a burrito,” I said.
“Do you have McBurritos here?” he asked. “The only girl worth dating–we always ate there.”
I put him in my car and drove right past McBurritos, and he was too drunk or too new to insist on it.  Instead, I took him to Big City Burrito.
There wasn’t a line, so I didn’t tell him the rules for ordering…
(The tortilla guy doesn’t want to know what kind of burrito you’re having. Just tell him what kind of tortilla…he’s only pretending to listen to the rest. The filling guy will ask you…never mind. OH, unless you’re getting potato, you have to tell the tortilla guy if you’re going to get potato.)
The boy from a desolate town ordered a potato burrito, and then turned down the Ranch dressing. “Nobody turns down the Ranch dressing with potato,” I said.
“What?” he asked.
“Nevermind.” It was his Big City Burrito and I knew better than to think I could save him from his own bad decisions by now. So I poured us both an iced tea. He found us an unelegant table in a room with sobering lights.
The burritos and the tea did their work. When I was nearly done, I went to pee.  When I returned he was talking to a girl with a damp table rag about John Cage, and she was leaning toward him.
That potato burrito with no Ranch started the cure. Within days, he stopped talking about the only girl worth dating. And he stopped talking about where they ate.  And he stopped talking about love all together.
But he kept eating at Big City. Every day.
And he never stopped talking about God.

BigCityWindow

There once was a boy from a desolate  town that had only one girl worth dating. And when she left him, he came to Fort Collins to float his broken heart in Fat Tire, because you couldn’t buy that where he came from.  Before long,  he discovered O’Dells IPA. It was even better. Probably because she had never even heard of it.

One night, we were at Road 34 disagreeing about whether you can believe in love but not in God, when I realized I’d let him get too drunk.

“I’m going to buy you a burrito,” I said.

“Do you have McBurritos here?” he asked. “The only girl worth dating–we always ate there.”

I put him in my car and drove right past McBurritos, and he was too drunk or too new to insist on it.  Instead, I took him to Big City Burrito.

There wasn’t a line, so I didn’t tell him the rules for ordering…

(The tortilla guy doesn’t want to know what kind of burrito you’re having. Just tell him what kind of tortilla…he’s only pretending to listen to the rest. The filling guy will ask you…never mind. OH, unless you’re getting potato, you have to tell the tortilla guy if you’re going to get potato.)

The boy from a desolate town ordered a potato burrito, and then turned down the Ranch dressing. “Nobody turns down the Ranch dressing with potato,” I said.

“What?” he asked.

“Nevermind.” It was his Big City Burrito and I knew better than to think I could save him from his own bad decisions by now. So I poured us both an iced tea. He found us an unelegant table in a room with sobering lights.

The tea did its work. I went to pee.  When I returned he was talking to a girl with a damp table rag about John Cage, and she was leaning toward him.

That potato burrito with no Ranch started the cure. Within days, he stopped talking about the only girl worth dating. And he stopped talking about where they ate.  And he stopped talking about love all together.

But he kept eating at Big City. Every day.

And he never stopped talking about God.

My day job is interfering with my blog this week. That’s why I’m offering something more creative than historic. Something I wrote in the middle of the night recently. More relevant posts to come when the real work is done.

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The recycling tub paradox

Old bins (middle) and new (right)

Old bins (middle) and new (right)

Recently, the city of Fort Collins adopted changes to ordinances that, among other things, require trash haulers to offer new, larger recycling bins. This as part of a larger plan to meet “diversion” goals that will send 50% of our city’s waste to recycling rather than the landfill.

Great idea. But what do we do with the old, smaller recycling tubs?

“I have 15,000 tubs out [in the community],” says Mark Glorioso, from Gallegos Sanitation. And while many customers are choosing to keep the old tubs for storage containers as they upgrade to the newer bins, plenty are sending the old ones back.  Glorioso estimates he currently has between 100 and 200 on hand.

The old tubs are, themselves, recyclable. But not really. “They’d have to be shredded or pelletized before a recycling facility would accept them,” Glorioso says.

So, that leaves potentially thousands of excess plastic recycling tubs as a byproduct of our new and better recycling policies.

But let’s talk about solutions.

Gallegos has at least one: The hauler is talking to Poudre Schools about donating the tubs for worm compost bins.  The repurposed tubs would house worms who would eat your food scraps. The resulting worm poop is as fine a gardening amendment as anything from a pricey nursery. I think it’s an excellent idea.

Although I will say that worms can’t take the Christmas and summer off. And that might mean that instead of babysitting Otis the Turtle during school vacations, families can expect to foster the 3rd Grade Worm Farm.

But that’s just me speculating. Glorioso says that if you’ve got a great re-use situation for a stack of has-been recycling tubs, contact Gallegos Sanitation at 484-5556.

recycle-old

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