Finding The Long Lost Moab Burro in Cisco, Utah 2020

In May 2013, I discovered a strange beast resting on a railroad siding at Seven Mile, near the intersection of U.S. Highway 191 and Utah State Route 313. The location was just a few miles north of the infamous Moab Pile, the adjacent Colorado River and the City of Moab itself. The beast was a dusky yellow in color and had an enormously long snout. Since the Moab Giants Dinosaur Park did not yet exist, I knew that the beast could not be from there or the Jurassic Period.

Later, I discovered that the beast was not a cold-blooded animal, but a genetically engineered hybrid. In the 1950s, whoever or whatever created the beast had crossed the DNA of a burro and a crane. With its proximity to the highly radioactive Moab Pile, I suspected that radionuclides might have enhanced the new animal with enormous strength and power.

After some extensive research, I discovered that the beast now featured a diesel engine and a lattice-boom crane, which could include a powerful electromagnet. Its creators had branded the beast on its stern with the words, “Burro Crane.” This version of the beast was a Model 40, originally created by the Cullen Friestedt Company near Chicago, Illinois. Enthralled by the nature of the beast, I knew that I needed more information.

By 2015, the Moab Burro, as I had dubbed it, had disappeared from its former location on the siding at Seven Mile. Over the following five years, I worked incessantly toward a PhD in Burro Crane Studies at the University of Google. My doctoral thesis hypothesized that Burro Cranes had obtained the ability to shape-shift from large to small and to dematerialize and rematerialize in different locations. Although the Google elite had accepted my concepts as entirely possible, they suggested that I obtain physical evidence before conferring the honor of a PhD on me.

In the year 2020, I embarked on a research expedition to Moab, Utah. There, I was hoping to find the erstwhile and long-lost Moab Burro. If I could find the Moab Burro Crane, I could prove my thesis and obtain my long sought after Google PhD. When I pulled into Seven Mile, the siding was still there, but the Moab Burro was, once again, nowhere in sight. Having brought Coney, the Traffic Cone and Plush Kokopelli with me for our long-awaited reunion with the Moab Burro, you can imagine how disappointed each of us were.

With nothing to see at Seven Mile, we decided to return toward Moab on Highway 191. Having heard that various republicans had repeatedly shut down Arches National Park, just for spite, Coney, Kokopelli and I decided to turn in at the Arches National Park entrance and see for ourselves. Once again, uncaring politicians had closed the park for no good reason. When we stopped for a photo opportunity, a group of tourists showed up right behind us. With the speed of a flash mob, Kokopelli led them into some Monkey Wrench action, all in the best spirit of Edward Abbey. Before we knew it the tourists had opened Arches National Park... for the people.

Almost immediately, we found ourselves coughing through a nuclear dust cloud emanating from the remnants of the Moab Pile. As the dust cleared, we crossed the river on the “new” Colorado River Bridge. Once we were across the bridge, we turned left at the remnants of Old Lion’s Club Park. The original park stood on the spot where the 1855 Elk Mountain Mission first camped on the Moab-side of what was then called the Grand River. Stately cottonwood trees that may have shaded the Mormon missionaries at their first campground disappeared on March 31, 2015. Instead, uncaring souls who gave not a hoot for history or the park had transformed the quaint old park into an overheated series of concrete paths and bunker-shaped buildings. So much for progress, I thought.

Continuing our journey up the Colorado Riverway, I soon came to another historical location, which had signs reading “William Grandstaff Trailhead.” To an uninitiated visitor in 2020, the name was colorless, and not descriptive in any way. For those who know their Moab history, the place had once been known as “Negro Bill Trailhead” for many decades. William Granstaff, AKA Negro Bill was one of the early pioneers at Moab. Bill ran cattle in the box canyon that later bore his name. On September 27, 2016, the all-knowing BLM Moab Field Office “pulled a fast one”. In the grand tradition of destroying old Lion’s Club Park, the BLM made a stealthy move. Overnight, and without warning, the BLM changed out the historical “Negro Bill Trailhead” signage and all the road signs referencing the site. Goodbye Negro Bill. Hello William Grandstaff.

By that time, Coney, Plush Kokopelli and I were all feeling uneasy. If the authorities in and around Moab could hide, disguise, or make history disappear so easily, how might we ever find the missing Moab Burro? Although Coney has uttered a few words, Plush Kokopelli has never said a word in all his 2,000 years of existence. Respecting that tradition, we drove silently, with Cisco, Utah as our destination.

Along the way, we spotted the remains of the old Dewey Bridge, once the longest continuous single span between St. Louis and San Francisco. Although replaced with a newer concrete bridge over the river, the historic Dewey Bridge stood proud for over a century, until it was destroyed by fire in April 2008. That happened during a classic case of a child playing with matches nearby. His “science project” got away from him and rapidly burned the wooden bridge-deck of the old suspension bridge. Once a treasure on the National Register of Historic Places, passing by we could see the support cables dangling in the sky, with no bridge-deck to support.

After traversing that long and winding road known as Highway 128, we transitioned to The Old Cisco Highway and into Cisco, itself. We were not prepared for what had happened in town since our last visit in 2008. In those days, Cisco was a ghost town, without a single operating business and only a few aging cottages showing signs of life. Derelict mining and drilling equipment, some dating back to the uranium boom days of the 1950s lay abandoned all around the place. The shell of a long-abandoned aluminum house trailer still shone in the desert sun.

And then we saw it. There before us was the Moab Burro, with the number B-47 painted on its fading yellow sides. In shock, we saw that the Moab Burro was chained to an unused railroad siding near the old highway. Immediately, we jumped out of my truck and ran for a visit with our old friend, the Moab Burro. From its former resting place on the Potash Branch at Seven Mile to its 2020 home was a rail journey of about forty miles. How long had the Moab Burro been at the old Cisco siding, we wondered? How long would it be in Cisco until it rode the rails to a new destination or transported itself through other dimensions to wherever it pleased?

Now, in August 2024, having achieved my Google PhD in Burro Crane studies, I am planning another visit to Moab and Cisco, Utah in October 2024. Recently, I used the powers of Google maps to look at that railroad siding in Cisco. According to the most rent aerial mapping of the area, the Moab Burro is gone. Only its tender car remained on the siding where the Moab Burro lay in 2020. Stay tuned to find out if and where we might soon find the elusive Moab Burro.

To read the full story of the Moab Burro, click HERE.

Email James McGillis

In Moab, Pioneer Settler and Cowboy, "Negro Bill" Rides Again - 2017

 

In Moab, Pioneer Settler and Cowboy, "Negro Bill" Rides Again

In the Old Testament, the land of Moab, also called “The Far Country”, lay east of the Dead Sea, in what we now call Kerak, Jordan. During the 1855 LDS General Conference in Salt Lake City, forty Mormon men “were called” to establish the Elk Mountain Mission on the banks of the Grand (later, Colorado) River. As memorialized on countless souvenir t-shirts, the “Far Country” would become Moab, Utah in 1902.

One goal of the mission was to minister to the indigenous Ute Indians. After the “missionaries” built a stone fort and planted crops, conflict soon arose between the apostles and the Indians. Having built their stone mission in what is now the Matheson Wetlands Preserve, river flooding, a plague of mosquitoes and rotting potatoes characterized the growing season of 1855.

Depending on which version of history you prefer, either the Indians repeatedly raided the mission’s meager food supply or the Mormon men spurned the offering of Ute women as potential brides. Either way, a gunfight ensued, resulting in the death of three missionaries and the wounding of others. With their hay and corn stocks burned to the ground, the Elk Mountain Mission decamped. The survivors retreated north, seeking shelter at other Mormon settlements.

For the next twenty-two years, only trappers, traders and the Spirit of Kokopelli visited Moab. No one dared settle there until two pioneers, a Canadian fur trapper named “Frenchie” and a cowboy named Bill Granstaff divided the spoils and resettled the area. Since it was a full generation after the missionary debacle, the two men managed to live in relative harmony with the Ute Indians. Frenchie took the ruins of the Elk Mountain Mission as his home. Bill Granstaff ran cattle and lived in a box canyon three miles north, along the Grand River.

Although Frenchie was of Canadian origin, Moab-locals variously identified Bill Granstaff as Black, African American or with the more popular and catchy "N-word" epithet. Years later, the good people of Moab ran Bill out of town, ostensibly for selling liquor to the Ute Indians. As usual, there was an alternate version of Moab history. In the alternate version, the white folks in town trumped up false charges in order to steal Bill’s cattle. Either way, for the next eighty-five years, locals called Bill Granstaff and his canyon home “N-word Bill” and “N-word Bill Canyon”.

By the 1960s, in deference to the civil rights movement, the canyon where Bill had lived was renamed “Negro Bill Canyon”. Somewhere along the line, writers and historians added the letter “d” to Negro Bill’s name and he became Bill Grandstaff. Later still, around 2010, some high-minded Moab folks decided that Bill’s name was actually “William Grandstaff”. The new, politically correct name made no mention of his racial heritage.

In the 1960s, Moab began preparing for hoards of tourists to come. As part of that plan, the State of Utah paved Highway 128 from Moab to Cisco. This newly paved highway provided easy access to the Colorado River (formerly the Grand River). Other than some tight turns overlooking the river, the automobile trip from Moab to Cisco, Utah and on to Interstate I-70 became easy. Until the late 1970s, travelers on Highway 128 barely noticed the unsigned and poorly identified “Negro Bill Canyon”. In 1979, an incident involving the “Sagebrush Rebellion” changed all of that.

In this case, the “rebels” included a loose coalition of off-roaders, states’ rights advocates and other radical fringe elements. Among the luminaries who expressed sympathy or support for the rebels were then-Colorado Governor Richard Lamm, Utah Senator Orrin Hatch and presidential candidate Ronald Reagan. The collective ire of these loosely affiliated groups and individuals focused on then-President Jimmy Carter. In his attempts to protect precious natural resources, the rebels accused President Carter of usurping state and local power.

In order to open more land to off-roading and prove their point about states’ rights, a small group of rebels used a bulldozer to cut a new dirt road up Negro Bill Canyon. The hiking trail, which bears his name, leads to both Morning Glory Bridge and the Negro Bill Wilderness Study Area. Although now largely rehabilitated, the remnants of that 1979 road are visible to hikers in the midsection of Negro Bill Canyon.

After the rebels defiled the canyon with their bulldozer, no one knew quite what to do. Over the years, the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) gated the trail, paved a small parking lot, installed pit toilets and erected signage identifying the place as the “Negro Bill Trailhead”. By then, participants in the Sagebrush Rebellion had moved their activities to other parts of Utah and the West. Still, with the recent advent of smaller quad-type off-road vehicles, more land has fallen prey to motorized destruction than the Sagebrush Rebels ever imagined possible.

Around 2010, some high-minded residents and politicians in Moab and Grand County, Utah decided to sanitize several historical places and names in the area. The first to go, they decided, was the offensive name, “Negro Bill”. It was demeaning and inappropriate in the twenty-first century, they said. Three times during the next five years, the Grand County Council voted narrowly to keep the name. When they could not eliminate all references to Negro Bill, the political elite of Moab settled for defiling and destroying old Lions Park, three miles downstream.

Old Lion’s Club Park stood on the spot where the 1855 Elk Mountain Mission first camped on the Moab-side of the Grand River. Stately cottonwood trees that may have shaded the missionaries at their first campground disappeared on March 31, 2015. Along with any vegetation in the park, all of the classic stone and wooden signage around the intersection of Highways 191 and 128 disappeared, as well. In place of the historical wooden signage was a hodgepodge of sanitary looking metal signs.

Like a plague of rats, the sanitizing of Moab history was on the march, heading upstream toward Negro Bill Canyon. This culminated on September 27, 2016, when the all-knowing BLM Moab Field Office “pulled a fast one”. In the grand tradition of destroying old Lions Park, the BLM made a stealthy move. Overnight, and without warning, the BLM changed out the historical “Negro Bill Trailhead” signage and all the road signs referencing the site. If the motto of the United States is, “In God We Trust”, the motto of the Moab BLM Field Office might be, “The BLM Knows Best”. Two nights later, the new “William Grandstaff Trailhead” signs disappeared. As of this writing, no one knows who or what spirited the new signs away.

Without a vote or any public comment, the Moab Field Office had dealt with the issue directly. In their infinite wisdom, they had relegated Negro Bill and his former canyon home to the dustbin of history. Thank you, Moab Field Office for saving us from our own history. Thank you, “Monkey Wrench Gang” for removing and safely storing the new trailhead signs for the edification of future generations. Because of your actions, Moab Field Office and you, the politically correct members of the Grand County Council, we are now closer to the treeless, sanitized history that you crave.

Then, on August 4, 2017, like a thunderbolt from Mt. Olympus, the Utah Committee on Geographic Names voted 8-2 in favor of retaining the name, “Negro Bill Canyon” as its official geographical "place name". Since the BLM controls the trailhead and parking area, they can keep their newly sanitized signage in place, unless the “Monkey Wrench Gang” or some ancient spirit steals them again.

The three-mile stretch of Colorado Riverway from Moab to Negro Bill Canyon is of both historical and spiritual significance. In that area, the Spirit of the Ancients is still active, as seen by the image of ET (The Extraterrestrial) recently carved by nature in the sandstone cliffs. In addition, Plush Kokopelli and Coney the Traffic Cone have been active in the area. As seen in the accompanying photographs, everywhere Plush Kokopelli and Coney go, the names on roadside signs spontaneously change. “William Grandstaff Trailhead” reverts to “Negro Bill Trailhead”. Various arches fall, spiritual paths begin and end. According to the signs, a new “Moab Jim Canyon” also appears, just half a mile south of Negro Bill Canyon.

Author’s Note - Although the mischievous Plush Kokopelli and his shy partner, Coney the Traffic Cone were photographed near the scene of the William Grandstaff Trailhead sign-disappearance in September 2016, there is no evidence that either character played a role in that theft. In fact, Plush Kokopelli and Coney were there to install a new Kokopelli Federal Credit Union automated teller machine (ATM) at the trailhead parking lot. All fees collected by that new Moab Bank ATM will be used to install new "Negro Bill Trailhead" signs, should the need arise.

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By James McGillis at 03:13 PM | | Comments (0) | Link Tweet

Going to The Back of Beyond in Downtown Moab, Utah - 2012

 

Going to The Back of Beyond in Downtown Moab, Utah

On April 17, 2012, I departed the Pack Creek Campground, taking U.S. Highway 191 North. After a two-mile drive, I stopped in the parking lot of the Gearheads Outdoor Store, at 471 South Main Street. There, in the parking lot I saw the shadow of the Other, examining an old white Jeep pickup truck. As I approached the little truck, I could see that its frost-white and pale green paint job was new. With a bed full of patio furniture, this was a work truck, not a show truck.

To me, it looked similar to the Jeeps and Jeepsters that I remember from the early 1950s. Below the chrome, 4-Wheel Drive logo, bits of Moab’s red dirt clung to the body. During an extensive internet search, I found other examples of Willys Jeep pickup trucks. The front end of a 1950 model that I found was identical, right down to the eight-by-four grill opening.  While standing there, I decided that this classic model Jeep Truck was where it belonged – in Downtown Moab, Utah.

After admiring the vehicle, I jumped back into my own truck and headed for Downtown Moab. After parking on Main Street, near the Moab Information Center, I walked across the street and entered the Back of Beyond Books. For the past several years, I have provided the hardware and the remote internet server for a Moab Books live webcam, installed at the back of the shop. Today, it was time for a webcam tune-up, which consists mostly of blowing a lot of red Moab dust out of the computer fans.

Next time you are in Moab, be sure to visit the Antiquarian Section, at the back of the bookstore. In my experience, it is the best source for Moab, and Colorado Plateau antique books anywhere. Spending an hour in the Antiquarian Section is like a baptism in the Grand River, or its later incarnation, which is the Colorado River. While you are in the store, look up and locate the small flashing red light. Every ten seconds, that webcam transmits a digital image of the bookstore to the worldwide web. Once you locate the webcam, it is acceptable to make faces or even to smile at the camera. Just remember that there are over 600 million Chinese online now and most of them are probably watching you as you make a fool out of yourself. Before you leave, please tell the staff that the webcam brought you in that day.

At the rear of the store, I went into the staff area, which is off-limits to customers. My approved plan was to blow the dust from the computer, adjust the camera, check its timer and be back on the road as soon as possible. In front of those café doors, the customer sees the results of careful book selection by Andy Nettell and his capable staff. Behind those swinging doors, I found the spirit that makes Back of Beyond Books such a special place.

Rumor has it that many years ago the Monkey Wrench Gang met in the back room of the bookstore. “Back of Beyond”, itself is a reference to their mythical hiding place. From there, this country’s proto eco-terrorists planned their sometimes mythical and sometimes actual plots. On the other hand, was the gang’s association with that particular backroom just a story in itself? Soon, I would have more clues than I could process.

As I looked up from my dusty work, Kokopelli appeared above me. His multicolored blush told me he was up to something. As I stood up, I could see that he had found an old sign, which he had propped up on a nearby laptop computer. As I read the words printed on the sign, a chill ran up my spine. The magnetic decal sign read, “Back of Beyond Expeditions, Jos. Smith Prop., Hite, Utah”. Had Kokopelli stepped into another Edward Abbey time warp? On the sign, I saw the name, occupation and locale of the fictional character, “Seldom Seen Smith”. Edward Abbey featured Seldom Seen Smith in his classic novel, The Monkey Wrench Gang. While looking at the sign, I wondered if Smith might indeed be a real person. After a clandestine meeting in that backroom, perhaps he had rushed out the back door, leaving the famed magnetic sign behind.

Then, from behind me, I sensed that two piercing blue eyes were staring at me. Turning to look, I saw a watercolor painting that captured the feeling of the redrocks around Moab. Standing before the Arches he sought to protect, was the Bard of Moab himself, Edward Abbey. Displayed next to his intense, if not worried countenance were the words, “Abbey & Friends”. Below that was the French phrase, “Livres Disponibles en Francais”. While looking straight into my soul, Abbey silently, yet dispassionately said; “You are going to do the right thing, aren’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question. I almost blurted out, “Yes, of course I will”, but somehow I managed to remain silent.

Years before, I had asked the Spirit of Edward Abbey to accompany me to Sunset Campground at Navajo National Monument. In his first classic book, Desert Solitaire, Edward Abbey had decried the supposed destruction of the monument in the late 1950s. At that time, the federal government paved the access road and upgraded the campground to contemporary standards. In spirit, he could see that not all the changes to his own personal “Back of Beyond” were harmful. If visitors could not access and enjoy these sacred places, his spirit realized, there would be no one ready to defend them from future harm. Now, from his perch in the backroom of Back of Beyond Books, Edward Abbey still had the power to startle visitors and readers alike.

By the time I left the bookstore, Kokopelli had already reappeared on a bench outside. Behind him, window signage advertised “Rare Books” and “Moab Earth Day”. For me, it felt good to take a deep breath then a walk across town that afternoon. I remembered purchasing a Signet Paperback First Edition of Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road” novel at the old ABC & Beyond Bookstore, which once occupied a storefront across the street. I headed toward that shop to see what paperback treasures they might have on hand for me that day. For only two dollars, I found a small book that contained all of the “Utah place names”.

While walking back to my truck, I spotted another interesting Jeep pickup truck. This one was easier to identify than the 1950’s era Willys pickup I had seen earlier that day. After later searching the term “Jeep CJ Truck”, I found this Jeep truck with ease. With its removable half-cab and longer wheelbase, this was a red 1981 – 1984 Jeep CJ-8 Scrambler, 2-door pickup truck. During its four year production run, Jeep sold less than 28,000 CJ-8 trucks. With its special wheels, red & white paintjob and taped graphics, the Jeep looked almost original. Only a pair of lift-brackets beneath the front bumper indicated that this CJ-8 now ran with a higher ground clearance.

As I drove back to the Pack Creek Campground late that afternoon, I paused to think about the day’s activities. I had seen two classic Moab 4-Wheelers, updated the Back of Beyond Books webcam and discovered clues to the onetime whereabouts of the Monkey Wrench Gang. In all of that time, I had seen only one other human being – Edward Abbey, or was it the Spirit of Edward Abbey? A visitor never knows what they will see or who they will meet in Downtown Moab, Utah.

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By James McGillis at 06:22 PM | | Comments (0) | Link

Kokopelli is Energized by the Moab Xstream Race - 2012

 

While Visiting the Moab Pile, Kokopelli is Energized by the Moab Xstream Race

On April 14, 2012, I headed toward Moab, Utah on U.S. Highway 191 South. By the time I picked up Kokopelli at Canyonlands Field, it was mid afternoon. As we approached the Moab Pile, I turned right on to the Potash Road and then a quick left into a dirt parking area. From there, we could look down on the Moab UMTRA toxic cleanup site.

Since my last visit to the UMTRA site, federal stimulus funding had run out. Now the Moab Rail removal process was running only part time. In addition, flooding in 2011 had wiped out the bicycle path along the Colorado River. As I viewed the toxic and radioactive waste site, there was no human activity at all. Seeing that lack of activity was disheartening, but expected under current economic conditions.

Turning my attention to the Potash Road, I spotted a variety of bicyclists heading downhill towards Highway 191. With numbers affixed to their chests, they appeared to be near the end of an extreme athletic adventure. Two men with the number 227 across their chests were waiting there for a team member who had faltered on the racecourse. Talking with them, I learned that all of the bicyclists were part of the Moab 2012 Adventure Xstream Race.

After watching a lone rider’s slow descent of the Potash Road, I noticed a couple who had stopped nearby. From the 227 team, I had learned that an individual, a team or a couple could enter this race. All in one day, the race includes paddling a kayak down the Colorado River, a cross-country run, a rope-assisted climb up a rock face and then a repel down another steep slope. After all that, participants ride their bicycles many miles back to the finishing line near Moab.

Stopping for only a brief rest, the couple looked in good shape to complete the race. As I spoke with them, Kokopelli got restless while sitting in the truck. Soon he started glowing more different colors than the old Atlas Uranium Mill, below. Not wanting to risk his blowing a flux capacitor, I invited Kokopelli out to meet the race participants. With his unique personality, Kokopelli and the female racer bonded immediately.

In order to document the scene, I asked the man to hold my old Moab sign while the woman gave Kokopelli a squeeze. Just as I snapped the picture, a flood of new energy light came down from the sky above the Moab Rim. Such plasma flows are common in and around Moab, but this was the first time I had seen new energy light anywhere near the Moab Pile. Unless you count the phosphorescent purple dust devil I had seen the year before, I believe this was the first such documented event.

After getting his picture taken with the race participants, Kokopelli calmed down and dropped to a lower energy state. It had been a light snow season in and around Moab the previous winter. Even so, an early spring storm had just dropped a fresh white frosting on the nearby La Sal Range. As plush Kokopelli and I headed toward our campsite at the Moab Rim Campark, he snapped the picture of the La Sal Mountains that you see here.

The following day, Kokopelli and I planned to visit Behind the Rocks, looking for evidence of environmental degradation at that site. I will save that story for my next article.

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By James McGillis at 05:21 PM | | Comments (0) | Link

New ATM Technology Helps Eliminate Waste, Fraud and Theft - 2012

 

New ATM Technology Helps Eliminate Waste, Fraud and Theft

Other than a few ascetics, penitents and abstainers, almost everyone likes money. Even better than hard-earned money, is free money. To get free money, you could win the lottery, but the odds are against you. Robbing an automated teller machine (ATM) has recently become another method of choice. Becoming a bank robber is both risky and illegal. Usually, such actions result in a prison sentence for anyone so foolish as to try.

Regardless of the consequences involved, my two previous articles about ATM robbery continue to be among the most popular on this blog. As the website administrator, I can see which articles receive the most “hits”. Over time, I have watched as individuals Google “ATM Robbery” or “Bank ATM Robbery”. The number of such searches is an indicator of trans-personal economic stress. Whenever the world economy wavers, I see more search phrases that include "bank robbery". With my articles, I hope to discourage, rather than to encourage any plans to rob a bank or ATM.

In May 2008, I wrote about after-hours break-ins to bank ATM rooms. Poorly armored and alarmed ATM rooms were easy prey for break-in artists. After demolishing a demising wall from an adjoining suite, the robbers might utilize a high-speed plasma torch. With such a torch, it is easy to penetrate the lightly armored back of an ATM. With a combination of luck, skill and criminal intent, robbers could make off with more than $100,000. Better yet, the untraceable twenty-dollar bills come neatly concealed in currency cassettes complete with carrying handles.

Defeating ATM robbery attempts is relatively easy, but often neglected by even the largest banks. A combination of video surveillance, motion alarms and high-decibel alarm-horns would eliminate most such robberies. Still, many strip-center bank branches have ATM security no greater than door locks. Until the banks wake up to their vulnerabilities, I expect a continued increase in ATM break-in robberies.

In December 2011, I wrote about a new, more brazen ATM robbery. That month, in Laguna Hills, California, a local Chase Bank branch had an outdoor ATM disappear overnight. Using a large truck, robbers rammed the building, dislocating the ATM from its moorings. Using a truck-mounted winch, the robbers grappled the ATM and hauled it away. In only a few minutes, the thieves absconded with the ATM, leaving a gaping hole in the wall of the building. As of this writing, the Chase Bank Laguna Hills robbers remain at large.

There is an easy solution to the ATM-snatch-robbery phenomenon. All outdoor ATMs should have concrete filled steel bollards installed to prevent ramming by heavy equipment. A recent visit to Kokopelli Federal Credit Union (KFCU) showed no such barriers installed. Beyond exposure to “smash and grab” robbers, the lack of barriers leaves customers exposed to errant drivers. Only when enough banks settle liability lawsuits from injured customers or incur sufficient losses from outright ATM theft, will the situation change.

During a recent visit to KFCU, the ancient spirit Kokopelli was correcting their ATM problems. Seemingly everywhere at once, Kokopelli oversaw the installation of both crash barriers and new Diebold ATM security. Although busy removing an old ATM at the time, Kokopelli stopped to show me the differences between old and new ATM technology.

An old ATM, Kokopelli indicated, was a glorified envelope-processing machine, with a cash dispenser. Each day, an attendant removed the deposit envelopes, placed them in bags and couriered them to a processing facility. There, staff counted the cash and processed the checks through the Federal Reserve System. Upon receipt, a high-definition camera would photograph the contents of each envelope. That way, the bank could reconcile any discrepancies between the recorded amounts and envelope contents.

Careless or disreputable customers often deposited empty envelopes. The more brazen would later claim that they had enclosed money or checks. Although most ne’er-do-wells quickly admitted their malfeasance, some demanded proof that their envelope was empty. Either way, the process took time and money, thus creating losses for the banks. With fraud and abuse becoming rampant, banks need new ways to stop the fraudsters at their source.

 

 Diebold New ATM Technology

 

In order to eliminate ATM fraud, Diebold Corporation designed KFCU’s new ATM with electronic, photographic and communications modules. By combining new hardware and software, KFCU eliminated the use of deposit envelopes and deposit slips altogether. As you feed cash deposits into the new ATM, a photographic reader rejects any defaced or counterfeit bills.

When you deposit a check, the reader sends data to both the Federal Reserve System and to independent fraud detection. Once the software accepts the account as valid, the ATM requires the customer's approval, as well. Upon agreement, the ATM provides immediate check truncation, thus debiting the check issuer’s account. Thereafter, the scanned image becomes a substitute check, eliminating further need for the original paper check. Thereafter, the paper check serves only as backup to the electronic version.

After explaining the new technology, Kokopelli exposed the backside of the new ATM. The machine contains a high-speed central processing unit (CPU) similar to a home computer. As the brains of the ATM, the CPU connects electronically to the KFCU processing center. The center connects in turn to both the Federal Reserve and fraud prevention. Included in the new machine are check and cash readers, with storage bins for each media type. Finally, there is a device that every customer loves - the Diebold cash dispenser.

With the exception of its fascia, Kokopelli installed the entire ATM from inside the building. With proper structural reinforcement and crash guards, thieves can no longer grapple a KFCU ATM and pull it through the wall. If every bank and credit union were as careful as KFCU, the incidence of ATM theft and robbery could decline. Thank you, plush Kokopelli and KFCU for continuing to cover our ancient assets.

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By James McGillis at 02:13 PM | Technology | Comments (0) | Link

Is it the Cozy Cone Motel or the Wigwam Motel? To Find Out, Watch the Movie Cars - 2011

 

Is it the Cozy Cone Motel or the Wigwam Motel? To Find Out, Watch the Movie Cars

Anyone who has seen the Pixar movie, “Cars” will recall the Cozy Cone Motel. As with much of that animated movie, a real motel looks surprisingly like the place that McQueen the race car spent the night. At the Cozy Cone Motel, the individual rooms resembled giant orange traffic cones. At Wigwam Village, also known as the Wigwam Motel in Holbrook, Arizona, the individual rooms resemble giant Indian teepees.

 

With a 2009 population of just over 5,000, the City of Holbrook grew by over three percent in the past decade. Among its claims to fame are the only regulation golf course along Interstate I-40 between Flagstaff, Arizona and Gallup, New Mexico. A stretch of Old Route 66 makes up its business district, while I-40 skirts the town to the north.

 

I found Holbrook a pleasant place to spend a Saturday afternoon. After shopping for groceries and talking to locals at the Safeway, I drove across the street to check out the Wigwam Motel. Not wanting to intrude on their business, I approached the old main office, only to find that it was deserted. While researching the place, I discovered that most days, the motel opens for business around 4:00 PM.

 

Even when unoccupied by physical human beings, the place feels like the spirits of ancient travelers still inhabit the grounds. In front of each whitewashed teepee is a 1950’s vintage automobile. Did someone really arrive the previous night in that ’55 Buick Century? Are they inside their teepee, planning to spend another night? As the afternoon wore on, no one entered or exited their teepee to tell me their story, so I made up my own.

 

Years ago, I found a traffic cone in Henderson Nevada. Originally stenciled with the words “SW Gas”, it stood abandoned in a strip mall parking lot. Thinking that I might later need a traffic cone to protect my travel trailer, I named him “Coney” and he has traveled with me ever since.

 

Those who have studied the Pre-Puebloan Indians of the Four Corners region know about the mythical flute player we call Kokopelli. The Ancients chipped images of Kokopelli on to stone canyon walls throughout the region. Some hypothesize that Kokopelli represented the real flute-playing minstrels who wandered from one ancient camp to another. The playing of his flute upon approach to an unknown encampment signaled that he was peaceful and perhaps bore news from elsewhere along the trail.

 

Soon after Coney joined me in my travels, I received a stuffed Kokopelli doll as a gift. Now, whenever I travel in the High Southwest, a smaller version of Coney and my stuffed Kokopelli travel with me in the cab of my truck. When traveling alone for days on end, it is tempting to start up conversations with myself, but I prefer to talk with Coney and Kokopelli. Although they rarely answer my questions, when they do, their advice varies from sage to hilarious.

 

As we approached the Wigwam Motel, they both wanted to get out of the truck and stretch their legs. Well, actually, only Kokopelli has legs, but Coney stood up for himself and demanded time in the fresh air, as well. As we toured the ersatz Indian Village, they wanted to pose with all of the rolling stock that lay around the yard.

 

“Hey, that tow truck looks like Mater from the movie, Cars”, Coney said. Indeed, I could see the resemblance. Soon, Kokopelli was leaning back against Coney and pretending to drive an old orange Ford V8 dump truck. After posing with several of the vehicles, Coney and Kokopelli were ready to move on. Just then, however, a Santa Fe Railroad locomotive sped along the tracks behind the motel.

 

The sun was low in the afternoon sky as we contemplated the loop road at Petrified Forest National Park. After that, we would stop for fuel in Gallup New Mexico. Our final destination that night was Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. “Come on, guys. Let’s go”, I said as we all jumped into the truck. Off we went down West Hopi Drive, also known in the legends of travel as Old-66.

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By James McGillis at 05:38 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link