Remembering an Mentor

The Military Mail Station at Shakespeare Ghost Town.

As I was pondering just what the heck to write about this week, I realized I had several topics to choose from. There was that fateful day I 1994 when I signed out of the U.S. Army for the very last time.  There was also the anniversary of the first train arriving in El Paso.  Then I realized, and I was saying a prayer for some new found luck, that there was one anniversary I just had to discuss, the loss of a great lady, and her legacy.

I had the great honor and privilege of knowing Janaloo Hill for over eight years.  Almost from the start, she took me under her wing and shared her knowledge of history and western lore, as much as would actually soak through my thick skull.  And it is thanks to her that I can claim to actually be a cowboy.  I may not be much of a hand, but I earned my spurs working the Lazy FH herd. 

It was April of 1997 (Alright, so I actually typed 1897 the first time around).  The great fire had just  destroyed her home and most of her personal processions, but there was Janaloo, despite the trauma and grief, giving the tours as if nothing had happened.  That was Janaloo.

Throughout the time that I knew her, Janaloo was always the Lady.   Even in work clothes, riding out to hunt down a sick cow, she remained that mythical creature so rarely seen these days.  I knew of only two things that would get her to curse.  It’d take a politician, or a stubborn, ornery cow to get Janaloo to mutter a single, solitary “Damn.”  She didn’t tolerate fools lightly, but she could bring out the best in everyone one around her.

I remember those last few days all too well.  In April she informed us that the Chemo wasn’t doing the job, and it was just a matter of time.  I packed up and headed to Lordsburg in early May.  The game plan was to find a job and a place for the new bride and I to live, before Janaloo got too bad.  As with any great plan, that went out the window as soon as I arrived.  Janaloo was bedridden.  So as Manny stayed at her side to care for his wife, I manned the gate to keep out the riff raff, and allow in the friends and nurses.   Come the 25^th, I headed back to El Paso for a dentist appointment and to pick up the Prairie Flower.  We returned to Shakespeare the afternoon of the 26^th to find Janaloo had taken a turn for the worse.  I did the evening chores and sat on the bunkhouse steps fretting and worrying.  Along about bedtime, the Prairie Flower and I lock up the town for the night, shut down the windmill, rotate dogs, and feed the cats.  We reported in to the main house as usual to report everything was secure for the night.  I’d no sooner sat down and fired up a cigarette when the exterior lights switched on.  Janaloo was gone; she had waited for the day’s chores to be completed before she left. That was back in 2005.

In the years since we lost the soul of Shakespeare, a lot of work has been done, mainly under the direction of her husband, Manny Hough, to keep Janaloo’s dreams and hopes alive.  2010 saw the Hill Family Museum/ Visitor Center built, and the Dance Studio refurbished and opened to the public.  Work has been done on both the General Merchandise and Stratford Hotel.  Manny and many others are still striving to preserve the ghost town of Shakespeare, and research her history.  In a small way, I’m doing what I can to help.  But we all still miss her very much.

 Until next time, take care, may God bless, and keep your powder dry!