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

Return of the Incredible Shrinking Moab Burro Crane - 2013

 

Return of the Incredible Shrinking Moab Burro Crane

In the spring of 2013, I made one of my many visits to Moab, Utah. The shutdown of the federal government and national parks was still five months away. Arches National Park was open and visitation was climbing. As I approached the main entrance at Arches, hundreds of vehicles waited for entry. Bypassing the turnoff, I drove north on U.S. Highway 191, toward the airport and Crescent Junction, beyond.

As I approached the turnoff to Dead Horse Point and Canyonlands National Park, I noticed an interesting piece of equipment, parked on a railroad siding. The siding was part of the Potash Branch, which is the rail line from Brendel to Potash. That rail line also carries radioactive, contaminated soil from the infamous Moab Pile to a disposal site at Brendel, near Crescent Junction, Utah. After turning on to State Highway 313, I stopped at a barren, windblown area adjacent to the Seven Mile siding.

Resting on the siding, along with its tender car, was a Union Pacific Railroad Model 40 Burro Crane (#BC-47). The Burro Crane is a “maintenance of way” (MOW) vehicle that is self-propelled, and able to lift and move railroad track and materials. With sufficient supplies on its tender car, a small “road gang” can actually build a rail line as the Burro Crane extends the tracks ahead of itself.

With its steel doors and security panels closed, the Burro Crane looked lonely and deserted. That is the thing about Burro Cranes, with their quaint name and anthropomorphic looks. One almost immediately ascribes a personality and other life forces to this mechanical contraption. Although the area was deserted and desolate, I could picture the Moab Burro, as I named it, waiting for nightfall and then scooting up and down the Potash Branch as it pleased.

After taking a few pictures of the Moab Burro, the Seven Mile sign and the La Sal Range to the east, I climbed back in my truck and drove toward Moab. Upon returning home, I began researching the rich history of the Burro Crane. Built in Chicago by the Cullen Friestadt Company, there were many twentieth century iterations of the Burro Crane. Like a 1950's Chevy, the Model 40 Burro Crane was the classic of all Burro Cranes. It was compact, featured a diesel engine, was easy to maneuver and had tremendous lifting capacity.

Later, I was fortunate to meet Frank J. Cullen, the last family member to run the Cullen Friestadt Company as a private business. I like to call Frank J. Cullen “The Father of the Burro Crane”. After researching the Burro Crane online, I compiled all of that history and published it at www.BurroCrane.com. In addition to the official history of the Burro Crane, I also enlisted Plush Kokopelli and Coney the Traffic Cone to help tell the Moab Burro story.

After standing alone on the rail siding at Seven Mile for several years, the Moab Burro had become a fixture of the landscape and a landmark to those who knew it. It even appeared on Google Maps satellite photos of that era. Although the Moab Burro still appeared on Google Maps as of late 2017, the Burro Crane itself went missing by 2015, never to return. Since Plush Kokopelli and Coney the Traffic Cone love a good mystery, I asked them to help find the missing Moab Burro.

Some say that the dynamic duo found the Moab Burro, but that radioactivity from the passing Train of Pain had caused a dimensional shift around it. In October 2017, The Other (a shadowy figure) drove with Plush Kokopelli back to Seven Mile. There, they searched for the Moab Burro and Coney the Traffic Cone, who had both gone missing. Did both the Moab Burro and Coney shrink so small that they became invisible? That was what Plush Kokopelli and The Other hoped to discover.

Upon arrival at Seven Mile, The Other carried Plush Kokopelli to the railroad tracks. Neither Coney nor the Moab Burro was visible. Soon, Plush Kokopelli floated up like a drone, overlooking the scene. As he landed on the tracks, the Moab Burro reappeared, right next to him. Soon, Coney the Traffic Cone reappeared, as well. Neither of them seemed to notice that the Moab Burro had transmogrified from a large piece of railroad equipment to the size of a toy.

To Coney the Traffic Cone and Plush Kokopelli, the Moab Burro looked as big and powerful as ever. Now, let us see if we can get the Union Pacific Railroad to reconstitute the Moab Burro back to its original size. If the full-sized Moab Burro were to reappear at Seven Mile, that would be magic.

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By James McGillis at 04:57 PM | | Comments (0) | Link

Plush Kokopelli - The Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth - 2015

 

Plush Kokopelli - The Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth

In September 2007, for the first time, Spokesmodel Carrie McCoy and I visited Moab, Utah together. While flying back to Casa Carrie in Simi Valley, California, Carrie stopped at Phoenix International Airport. There, in a cavernous airline terminal she saw a retail cart that was selling Arizona souvenirs. Among the various items there, she found a multicolored beanbag toy small enough to fit into her carry-on luggage.

A week later, when I arrived home, Carrie presented “Plush Kokopelli” to me, as a gift. From that moment on, nothing was the same. Standing only twelve inches tall, in his plush stocking feet, I never expected that little character to change my life, but he has.

Later in our mutual story, Plush Kokopelli would meet Coney the Traffic Cone, Moabbey the Coyote and Silver Girl. Together they would form a band of superheroes that would change history, as we know it. Perhaps they only changed history as I know it, but that is good enough for me. Later, Plush Kokopelli and Coney would found their own credit union, in Moab, Utah

As a character in my online novel, “Walking through Time”, Plush Kokopelli has enjoyed many adventures. First, he met Coney and Moabbey, but soon thereafter, he and his friends welcomed Silver Girl to their troupe. Before they set out on their quest, Plush Kokopelli and the other superheroes first went on vacation to the Cozy Cone Motel in Holbrook, Arizona. Soon, they were to take the High Southwest and even the Low Southwest (Arizona) by storm. Righting wrongs and protecting the desert environment, the superheroes began their long and winding road to recognition and respectability.

Before they knew it, the superheroes were involved in an international art mystery, seeking the identity of the mid-twentieth century artist, C.Proietto. With aplomb, Plush Kokopelli, Silver Girl and Coney solved the art mystery. During a European tour, they discovered that the artist was none other than Costantino Proietto (1910 – 1979). Originally, from Randazzo, Sicily, Tino Proietto became the “Master of Impasto” and later lived as artist in residence in Stuttgart, Germany.

In 2012, then Governor Jan Brewer of Arizona arrested Plush Kokopelli on suspicion of being an illegal alien. Incarcerated in Maricopa County Jail, Sheriff Joe personally dressed Plush Kokopelli in pink jail clothing. With his multicolored coat hidden beneath the pink jail garb, Plush Kokopelli lost all of his magical powers. Soon, it was the shy and retiring Coney the Traffic Cone’s turn to save the day and to save Plush Kokopelli too.

After Coney freed Plush Kokopelli from jail in Phoenix, Arizona, the little flute playing character hopped a jet to Moab, Utah. There, he was seen around town and was photographed on the wing of the jet airplane on which he had arrived. Neither Sheriff Joe nor Governor Jan Brewer had the power to extradite the multidimensional, fugitive plush-toy back to Arizona.

Once free from incarceration, Plush Kokopelli headed directly to Burning Man at Black Rock, in the Nevada desert. There, he communed with a giant Kokopelli, which was soon to burn during the 2012 festival. By then, Plush Kokopelli was gaining traction in various social circles. Just before the company went bankrupt, Hostess Twinkies offered Plush Kokopelli a spokesmodel gig. Soon after making his first TV commercial for Twinkies, Hostess ceased doing business and stiffed him on his royalty check.

Undeterred, Plush Kokopelli went to the Atlantis Casino in Reno, Nevada and won big on the slot machines and at the blackjack tables. Not that he needed the money; but his winnings meant that Plush Kokopelli instantly became the ninth richest plush toy in the world. Still, he knew that there was more to his fifth dimensional life than money alone.

Although he is mute, Plush Kokopelli has an uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time. Recently, when the Colorado River ran dry, he was there with the other superheroes to help orchestrate a spectacular, yet environmentally sensitive demise for the coal-fired power plant known as the Navajo Generating Station. In the end, the destruction at Navajo was just part of a movie script. Still, Plush Kokopelli played a pivotal role in getting that script pitched to the executives at Atlantis Pictures in Hollywood, California.

When Atlantis Pictures refused to green light the superheroes’ disaster movie script, Plush Kokopelli and the other superheroes turned their attention to another mystery. This time it was the “Great Burro Crane Mystery”. In 2014, the Moab Burro disappeared from Seven Mile, near Moab, Utah. Fearing that nuclear waste from the Train of Pain had contaminated the Moab Burro, Coney the Traffic Cone and Plush Kokopelli set out to find and save the errant Burro Crane. To read the full story, please go to MoabBurro.com.

Since Plush Kokopelli operates in five dimensions, rather than our mundane three-dimensional time-space reality (3DTSR), it is easy for him to play inter-dimensional tricks on those around him. One day, Plush Kokopelli spontaneously grew to twenty-six inches tall and reproduced his body twenty times. All of this, he did in secret at Denny’s Wigwam & Trading Post in Kanab, Utah. In the spring of 2015, when I visited the trading post,  Plush Kokopelli was planning a quantum leap in energy. At the time, he planned to multiply himself like a plague of locust in the Great American Desert.

Luckily, Plush Kokopelli was only able to multiply himself twenty times before I found him at the trading post. I then purchased all twenty 26” RGU Group “Zoona” Plush Kokopelli still in original condition. Showing great attention to detail, Plush Kokopelli had even produced his original descriptive tags, which remain intact. Only these twenty remaining original 26” Plush Kokopelli feature authentic, multicolored (rainbow?) plush coats.

Now, upon his unspoken request, Plush Kokopelli would like the last twenty of his reincarnated selves to go to good homes… and at a good price. Plush Kokopelli is now available at MoabJim.com for only $99.00, plus shipping & handling. But wait, if you buy two 26” original RGU Group Plush Kokopelli, they are only $79.00 each. Just pay separate shipping and handling.

Plush Kokopelli as about the size of a small dog or a two-year-old child. He never barks, bites, cries or wets himself. In fact, he is mute. As such, Plush Kokopelli makes a perfect traveling companion. His beanbag bottom helps him sit up straight on an automobile seat.

If you search long enough, you may find a 12”, 16” or even a tired old 26” RGU Group Plush Kokopelli on eBay or some other auction website. Only when purchasing from MoabJim.com will you receive new, never-been-hugged, 26” Plush Kokopelli bean bag soft toys. With his tie-dyed, multicolored (rainbow?) plush fabric discontinued and out of production, when this final batch of Plush Kokopelli are gone, there will be no more.

Picture yourself meeting Plush Kokopelli at the Visitors Center at Arches National Park. That could be the thrill of a lifetime. Maybe you and Plush Kokopelli could drive along the highways and the byways of the High Southwest. Lean back, slow down and enjoy the scenery while Plush Kokopelli "rides shotgun" in your car or truck. He is a great photographic model and is now famous among the cognoscenti. If you want to commune with among the last of the original Plush Kokopelli, now is the time to act.

Email James McGillis

By James McGillis at 12:17 AM | Personal Articles | Comments (0) | Link

In Keeping with Hopi Tribal Tradition, the Word "Ruins" Disappears From Homolovi State Park, Arizona - 2013

 

In Keeping with Hopi Tribal Tradition, the Word "Ruins" Disappears From Homolovi State Park, Arizona

In May 2008, when I first visited Homolovi Ruins State Park near Winslow, Arizona I enjoyed it for what it lacked. There was no visible water, only a few parched trees and an RV campground with few amenities. With water and electricity brought in from underground to each campsite, the place was more pleasant than it first appeared. In the heat of the day, I could retreat into my air-conditioned coach to read or watch the old analog television signal that emanated from a tower in the nearby town.

Developed decades ago as a unit of the Arizona State Park System, Homolovi seemed teetering on the brink of extinction. Rangers no longer staffed the entry booth, although a campground host did arrive to collect my money and answer my questions. Few of the campsites had occupants during my stay, yet I loved the place for its solitude and lack of activity. Later, in 2010, the park did close for a time.

As a metal sign indicated, only half a mile from the campground was “Homolovi Ruin I”. Throughout the southwest, travelers often see the remains of grand edifices created by the ancient tribes we call the Anasazi or pre-Puebloan. Unlike the great Kivas of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico or the Twin Towers at Hovenweep National Monument, Utah, only a few foundations of a once-great civilization survive as the “ruins” at Homolovi.

 

Watch the desert sunset at Homolovi State Park, Arizona

What destroyed the great buildings of Homolovi was water, rushing in the desert. Early in the Second Millennium CE, the Great Disappearance took place throughout the northern reaches of the Colorado Plateau. Most scientists agree that the ancient peoples fled south, first to places like Homolovi. At that time, with reliable flows of water in the Little Colorado River, Homolovi seemed like a peaceful and abundant place to settle and farm.

As with so many landscapes on Gaia, or Mother Earth, appearances can be deceiving. For years, and perhaps decades, the balance of nature prevailed. The new arrivals from the north built structures near the river and used irrigation ditches to water their corn and other crops. Then, similar to Superstorm Sandy flooding the subways of Lower Manhattan Island, New York, the formerly benign Little Colorado flooded much of ancient Homolovi. Without warning, the river became a torrent, liquefying the adobe dwellings and washing them away.

When twentieth century archeologists dug in the area near the river, they determined that ancient Homolovi was flooded and partially destroyed at least twice. Whether repeated flooding or an intensifying drought led the ancient residents to abandon Homolovi is unknown. What Anglo archeologists concluded, however, is that the place was a ruin.

In May 2011, when I again stopped to enjoy the solitude of Homolovi, some things had changed and some had not. Although still a unit of the Arizona State Park system, at their own expense, the Hopi Tribe now managed the park, including its museum and the campground. Among their first acts, the Hopi eradicated the word “ruins” from the park. This was an easy task, requiring only the painting-out or taping-over of the offending words.

To some, it may seem insignificant to expunge the word “ruins” from Homolovi State Park. To the Hopi it was a sacred act, honoring their ancestors and other ancient dwellers of the area. Contemporary Southwest American Indians believe that the spirits of the ancients still dwell in the areas like Homolovi. “May the spirits be with you”, is the unspoken greeting of current tribe members.

In the various legends of the Southwest, there is no other character as ubiquitous as Kokopelli, the flute playing minstrel and god of fertility. Both anecdotal and archeological evidence points to Kokopelli first appearing as petroglyphs on Hopi tribal lands. For that reason, I invited Plush Kokopelli to accompany me on my May 2013 visit to Homolovi State Park.

Upon arrival at Homolovi campground, Plush Kokopelli wanted to see the river. It was late afternoon, so I set up camp and told him that we could visit the river in the morning. As evening approached, I took still-camera shots of the setting sun. Unlike my 2008 visit, with its colorful skies, my 2013 sunset was clear and dry. The video shows the progression of the 2013 event, followed by the vivid colors of the 2008 sunset.

Some may think it is strange or eccentric to travel with a Plush Kokopelli who is about the size of a two-year-old human, but I find him quite entertaining. For the most part, he minds his manners; plays his flute and watches the scenery go by as we travel. Still, when he wants something, he somehow makes it known. Early the next morning, I awoke to the visage of Plush Kokopelli staring at me. “OK, OK, we can go to the river right after breakfast”, I said.

Viewing the Little Colorado River at Homolovi can be a risky thing. As you approach the Homolovi I trail, there stands a sign reading, “Danger Keep Out. Unstable Bank, Quicksand, Strong Current”. Plush Kokopelli was undaunted, urging me on past a washed out chain-link fence and then to the riverbank. From experience, I knew that the Little Colorado River no longer supported a perennial flow. When the snows of winter melted upstream, there was a rapid and intense flow for only a matter of weeks.

By our visit in mid-May, the flow was sluggish and diminishing rapidly. Soon the running water would become pools of standing water surrounded by quicksand banks. Having experienced the quicksand during an earlier visit, I entreated Plush Kokopelli to stay on solid ground. Almost before I knew it, there he sat, on a snag overhanging the Little Colorado River. Like a parent scolding his child, I placed Plush Kokopelli on an old railroad tie that rested on dry land near the edge of the riverbed.

When I offered to take his picture sitting on the railroad tie, Plush Kokopelli leaned forward and made a run for the river. If I had not captured his movement with my camera, few readers would believe my story. By then it was getting hot along the quicksand banks of the Little Colorado River, so I swept Plush Kokopelli up and carried him back to my truck.

If you ever want proof that the spirits of the ancients still dwell at Homolovi, just invite your own Plush Kokopelli along for a stroll by the river. If you do, be prepared for his tricky behavior while visiting the unstable banks, quicksand and strong current of the Little Colorado River.

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By James McGillis at 01:24 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link