In 1943, Eleanor Roosevelt took the bold initiative to plant a vegetable garden on the White House’s South Lawn. She called it a Victory Garden. Due to severe food shortages in Europe, Eleanor knew home gardens were imperative to feeding millions of American troops overseas and preventing shortages at home. During World War II over 20 million Americans answered Eleanor’s call to action, producing approximately 40% of our country’s produce. School groups and scout groups cleaned up vacant lots and planted community gardens. Factory workers transformed empty lots adjacent to their work places into vegetable gardens that were tended during work breaks. Americans were involved because they wanted to support the troops while saving some money at home.

The City of Denver quickly responded by establishing a Victory Garden Office. On March 28, 1943, just months after Eleanor Roosevelt’s call to action, Mayor Stapleton dedicated Denver’s first Victory Garden. Stapleton said, “The City of Denver believes this is the most important community project that we have ever undertaken.” The community garden was located at East Eighth and Elizabeth, now Congress Park. Denver Urban Gardens continues this tradition by providing technical support to community groups, institutions and individuals throughout Denver.

Victory Garden, WWII Promotional Poster

A new Victory Garden movement is sweeping the country and our state. Michael Pollan, a journalist for the New York Times and Professor at UC Berkeley, is leading the charge. His article, Dear Mr. Next President… Food, Food, Food, discusses how vegetable gardens are eloquent solutions to: public health, the local economy, global warming, and education. In response to this article and at many groups’ bequests, Michelle Obama planted a vegetable garden on the White House’s South Lawn in March.

Colorado communities are a part of this energetic movement. Leading the effort is Grow Local Colorado. Grow Local is a new project being developed by community leaders, gardeners, locavores, farmers and businesses to help more people grow more food locally. Partners in this effort include representatives from Denver Botanic Gardens, Denver Public Library, Denver Urban Gardens and representatives from the City and County of Denver. Their website is a resource hub for information, expertise and partnership in establishing your own food garden in your home, business, or public space. Grow Local’s goal is to establish 2009 gardens in the Metro Denver area by May 30, 2009. Their site also connects people wanting to grow food with unused space, resources and expertise.

Be a part of this exciting movement. Start a new vegetable garden or help a neighbor with theirs. In a few months you’ll reap the benefits of your labor.

B50 Note: Barbara Masoner is happy that earth day is here and the snow is gone so she can get busy in her own garden. For more local gardening information, she encourages you to visit Grow Local Colorado. If you are interested in the history of urban gardening in the United States, visit Sprouts in the Sidewalk.

For the past 10 years members of the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes have organized the Sand Creek Massacre Spiritual Healing Run as a way of bringing closure to this pivotal event in the history of the American west. The 10th annual Sand Creek Massacre Spiritual Healing Run is taking place November 27-29th, 2008. For more detailed information, download the event brochure.

The following letter was written by Captain Silas S. Soule, who was present at Sand Creek on the 29th of November, 1864. Soule was assassinated in Denver in April of 1865 (close to what is now the corner of 15th and Arapahoe), most likely due to his refusal to fire at Sand Creek and his subsequent testimony against Colonel Chivington.

Drawing of Sand Creek Massacre, courtesy Denver Public Library Western History Department

Silas Soule
December 14, 1864
Letter to Edward Wynkoop

Dear Ned,

Two days after you left here the 3d Reg’t with a Battalion of the 1st arrived here. They then declared their intention to massacre the friendly Indians camped on Sand Creek. As soon as I knew … I was indignant … and told them that any man who would take part in the murders, knowing the circumstances as we did, was a low lived cowardly son of a bitch. Chivington and all hands swore they would hang me before they moved camp, but I stuck it out, and all the officers at the Post, except Anthony backed me.

I was then ordered with my whole company to Major A with 20 days rations. I told him that I would not take part in their intended murder, but if they were going after the Sioux, Kiowa’s or any fighting Indians, I would go as far as any of them. They said that was what they were going for, and I joined them. We arrived at Black Kettles and Left Hand’s Camp at day light.

Anthony then approached to within one hundred yards and commenced firing. I refused to fire and swore that none but a coward would. for by this time hundreds of women and children were coming towards us and getting on their knees for mercy. Anthony shouted, “Kill the sons of bitches”. When the Indians found that there was no hope for them they went for the Creek, and buried themselves in the Sand and got under the banks and some of the bucks got their Bows and a few rifles and defended themselves as well as they could.

By this time there was no organization among our troops, they were a perfect mob every man on his own hook. My Co. was the only one that kept their formation, and we did not fire a shot. The massacre lasted six or eight hours, and a good many Indians escaped. I tell you Ned it was hard to see little children on their knees have their brains beat out by men professing to be civilized. One squaw was wounded and a fellow took a hatchet to finish her, she held her arms up to defend her, and he cut one arm off, and held the other with one hand and dashed the hatchet through her brain.

One Squaw with her two children, were on their knees, begging for their lives of a dozen soldiers, within ten feet of them all firing – when one succeeded in hitting the squaw in the thigh, when she took a knife and cut the throats of both children, and then killed herself. One old Squaw hung herself in the lodge — there was not enough room for her to hang and she held up her knees and choked herself to death. Some tried to escape on the Prairie, but most of them were run down by horsemen.

I saw two Indians hold one of anothers hands, chased until they were exhausted, when they kneeled down, and clasped each other around the neck and were both shot together. They were all scalped, and as high as half a dozen taken from one head. They were all horribly mutilated. One woman was cut open and a child taken out of her, and scalped.

White Antelope, War Bonnet and a member of others had Ears and Privates cut off. Squaws snatches were cut out for trophies. You would think it impossible for white men to butcher and mutilate human beings as they did there, but every word I have told you is the truth, which they do not deny.

I expect we will have a hell of a time with Indians this winter. We have (200) men at the Post – Anthony in command. I think he will be dismissed when the facts are known in Washington. Give my regards to any friends you come across, and write as soon as possible.

Yours, SS
(signed) S.S. Soule

—-

At 8am on Saturday, November 29th, there will be an honoring ceremony at Riverside Cemetery in Denver, where Soule is buried. The healing run then continues on for an 11:00am presentation at the Colorado State Capitol and a noon reception at the Colorado Historical Society, 1300 Broadway, Denver. Everyone is welcome to attend this event.

In 1982, I was a bar fly. Six days a week, my friend Janice and I went to Walabi’s at 22 broadway. We’d meet around 9 pm after our jobs; Janice was a tele-marketer or somesuch and I worked days at my parents hardware store. We’d dance for hours, stopping to only to smoke, pee or to take a quick hit from a warm beer. Occasionally we’d ask guys to dance. But Janice was my main partner, we’d rigorously hop up and down for hours to music that sounded so good and so original and was wholly homegrown.

We were accepted as regulars pretty quickly, by the bands and friends-of-bands, and most importantly by the bouncer and doorman, Jim Scott. I was just 21 and pretty naive about things. Jim, a black guy at well over 6 feet tall and older than us, kept an eye out and became a friend. He ministered good advice — “Donna, don’t drink your beer with a straw” — and tips on who was good to hang out with and who was not so great. And he’d see us safely to our cars.

Most of the music was new wave with some rock-a-billy and punk. We’d wear un-breathable plastic pants in black or red with anything tight on top. We’d park on Broadway, lock the car and walk as fast as we could to the safety of the club. We’d pogo all night in short heeled ankle boots and leave at closing to go have a 3 am breakfast at Reed’s on 8th and Speer. Whether Reed’s was a gay and drag place all the time or just late night I don’t know, but Janice was hopelessly in love with one of the regulars so we’d go and eat eggs and drink coffee before going home to start all over again the next day.

I left for art school late in 1982, leaving the town and all the music I loved. I plastered my Kansas City dorm room with flyers from my time at Denver clubs, memories from nights at Walabi’s, Straight Johnson’s and the Mercury.

My favorite bands were The Pink, The Aviators, and The Rock Advocates. Great nights were also spent with the Astrobeats, Crank Call Love Affair and the Rotisseries — I don’t remember seeing anything I couldn’t dance to.

B50 Note: Walabi’s closed its doors in 1985. Show flyers are courtesy of Trash Is Truth, where you will find images of hundreds of flyers from concerts in denver between 1977 and 1986. Donna Stephenson (formerly van horn) is an artist who lives in Denver. Her most recent exhibit was at Ironton Studios; her work can be seen on her website, donnastephenson.com.

every summer, city spirit would host fashion shows from the years 1994 to 1996 (not sure what years they were exactly). denver fashion designers always looked forward to showing their designs. there were as an amazing variety of fashion being shown. the designers themselves and the models came from many different points of view and walks of life.

in one show, you might see uzi designs (they sold their designs and other fetish-wear on colfax and pennsylvania, garden girl dresses (a retro-look if memory serves me right), ladybug clothing (fashion-forward), nur jewelry (the models would wear african-inspired headwraps), sugar twist kids (club kids who made everything they were wearing including their very high platform shoes which made them tower above everyone else in the show) and my own designs. at the time, i used the fashion shows to force me to come out with new lines on a regular basis as i was beginning my wholesale business. my big designs back then were candy-colored fake fur jackets, hats & bags and mini a-line skirts (some things never change!) and little mini-dresses with contrast vinyl banding at the empire waist.

i’m sure all the participating designers were working really hard beforehand and when everyone arrived and dressed in the basement of city spirit, there was a lot of excitement in the air. each “posse” would check out what everyone else was wearing. you could always count on uzi to make a big scene even before the show. they would undress without modesty and make a lot of noise doing it. my models were pretty girly so they would scurry to dress behind the portable doctor’s screens that we used as dressing rooms.

someone from the restaurant would come down, i think i remember the owner, susan wick coming down once, and try to get everyone’s attention and finally announce that the show was about to begin. before you knew it, the room had emptied and the show was on. while waiting to go on, the groups of fashion models would wait behind the restaurant.

once my models told me they were ready to get into a scrap with the sugar twist kids in the alley because they were dissing my fake fur clothes. it was definitely a competitive atmosphere at times but i think everyone enjoyed the competition and vying for the audience’s attention.

once you got through the restaurant, there was a runway on the sidewalk where people were sitting in chairs. a lot were fans of the designers, but there were a lot people walking through on their way to the bars in lodo and they were in a for a big surprise but they seemed to love it. there was a lot of hooting and hollering.

in the second year, the show had gotten so much word of mouth, that it was necessary to open another space next to the restaurant. the music was eclectic and you never knew what was going to play next. most of the modeling was more like dancing. occasionally, a person from the audience would get up and groove on the runway. the craziest moments were always provided by uzi. they would feature models in diapers or with whips and i remember hearing from a few shocked but amused audience members that the uzi people were whipping onlookers.

i learned a lot from doing those shows. i’ll never forget clio ortiz’s work. it was my second fashion show ever and she had about a dozen gorgeous black models, all in “body-conscious” red dresses with black hats. it was a lesson in branding for me and i knew i had a lot to learn and i did! thanks, city spirit, tracy weil and especially susan wick for so generously hosting such fun fashion extravaganzas!

B50 note: Mona Lucero is a fashion designer and proprietor of Mona Lucero Design, located at 2544 15th St, Denver, CO 80211. For more on City Spirit, read part 1 of the story…

This is Bill Tall Bull’s digital story titled “This is my Home” from the Colorado History Museum‘s Imagine a Great City: Denver at 150 exhibit. This story was made in a workshop facilitated by The Center for Digital Storytelling‘s Denver office. Posted in conjunction with Mile High Stories.