The Women of W.A.C

Simple cues can trigger powerful memories. It could be the trace smell of baked bread, the muted touch of a wool blanket, seeing the intricate details on a Christmas ornament, tasting a scrumptious dish or hearing the first, chiming notes of a melody. For these four women, a flood of memories started with just three letters: W.A.C.

Women’s Army Corps Veteran insignia

“I heard WAC and felt overwhelmed,” said Philomena Herasingh. “I went instantly back to the late ’60s and ’70s. I was excited and emotional because that was a time I was in a different sort of family. This family unit was filled with adventures, lessons and love. Along the way, (this family was) teaching me compassion and self-determination, traits that I carry to this day.”

The women, Philomena Herasingh, Patricia “Pattie” Ehline (formerly Muehling and maiden name Carlson), Viola Nathan and Deborah Wallace, are Vietnam Veterans who proudly served as WACs from 1968 to 1971.

The Women’s Army Corps (WAC) was an auxiliary unit of the United States Army created on May 14, 1942. They engaged in World War II, the Korean War and the Vietnam War.

“The WACs taught me to stop being a crybaby,” Wallace said with a hearty laugh. “They taught me it was OK to venture out and stand on my own. I wouldn’t trade that time in my life at all.”

Deborah (Garrison) Wallace with her aunt

The women didn’t know each other before joining. Wallace and Nathan joined in 1968, while Herasingh joined in 1969. Patti Ehline enlisted in the Army Nurse Corps in 1966 and became a registered nurse the following year.

Nathan attributes her wanderlust and patriotism to the movies. She would save up a quarter to see John Wayne movies at the Roxy Theatre “I loved John Wayne because in his movies, he was so patriotic and caring and he didn’t take any B.S.,” she said. She grew up in the Five Points and Park Hill neighborhoods of Denver, Colorado.

“I love the John Wayne movies too!” laughed Ehline. “And my birth father served in World War II and Korea, so that was there.”

It wouldn’t be until the 1940s that the role of women in the armed forces would take a pivotal turn. In May 1941, the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC) was created; that unit later morphed into the WACs. In 1942, a bill added women to the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps, creating the Women Reservists and the Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service (WAVES). 

Just five months later, the Coast Guard created its own women’s unit: the SPARs, an acronym that stood for the Coast Guard motto, “Semper Paratus, Always Ready.” Just one year later, two all-female pilot organizations merged to create the Women Air Force Service Pilots (WASPs). Even though each women’s agency had its own identity, their basic functions were similar and best understood by the World War II recruiting slogan, “Free a Man to Fight.” Soon, many women were doing jobs other than nursing. Women began serving in a wide array of military professions, including photography, intelligence analytics, heavy equipment operators and mechanics.

Those interested in medic training were trained at Fort Sam Houston in Texas, while the others were trained in Alabama at Fort McClellan. Nathan, Wallace and Herasingh were sent to Fitzsimons General Hospital in Denver.

Women of the Women’s Army Corps, inc. Pattie Ehline, c. 1969Pattie Ehline

After first opening its doors in October 1918, the hospital underwent five name changes. It changed from the U.S. Army General Hospital No. 21 to Fitzsimons General Hospital (in honor of the first American officer killed by enemy action in World War I, 1st Lt. William Thomas Fitzsimons), to Fitzsimons Army Hospital and, finally, in the 1960s to Fitzsimons General Hospital. By 1973, the hospital took its fourth name, Fitzsimons Army Medical Center, which then became U.S. Army Garrison Fitzsimons with the closure of the larger Army base in June 1996. 

Aerial view of Fitzsimons General Hospital Main Hospital Building

When the young ladies told their parents about joining, they sold it with the two biggest draws: “The military pays for school and housing,” and, “Don’t worry, I won’t be sent to Vietnam.” Nathan said she was “so excited to get the chance to see the world. But instead, they sent me twelve miles from my house.”

But that wasn’t exactly true for everyone. After basic training at Fort McClellan in Annistion, Alabama, Wallace, Nathan and Herasingh were ultimately stationed in various professions (LPN, podiatry and dentistry, respectively) at Fitzsimons Army Medical Hospital. Not Ehline. As a registered nurse with the U.S. Army Nurse Corps, Ehline was among the thousands of  women sent to Vietnam. The young woman from Nebraska was sent to Lai Khê in southern Vietnam. Lai Khê was a former Army base of the Republic of Vietnam and U.S. Army base. She went to Vietnam in 1968, one of the deadliest years of the conflict, during which the United States suffered about 16,899 deaths, according to the U.S. National Archives and Records Administration.

“Many of the male vets are shocked when they find out that I’m a Vietnam Veteran and I know what it is like to be shelled,” Ehline said. “I was 21 years old when I went over.”

In fact, Lai Khê was arguably one of the most rocketed base camps in the country, having earned the nickname Rocket City. At times, the camp would receive incoming rockets three times per day and twice per night. 

“We were being shelled more regularly than the guys in the field. What did they expect? The roof was marked with a big red cross,” she said.

Unnamed nurse. Photo Credit: Pattie Ehline

According to the Vietnam Women’s Memorial Foundation, about 90 percent of the estimated 11,000 women who were stationed in Vietnam served as military nurses with the Army, Navy and Air Force. Deployed nurses often worked six days a week on twelve-hour shifts, and were responsible for triage decisions, deciding sometimes who would live and who would not, according to historians. More history can be found at the U.S. Army Women’s Museum in. Fort Lee, Virginia. It is the only museum in the world dedicated to Army women.

The shared history of the other women began from their meeting while stationed at Fitzsimons, affectionately called “Fitz.”

“When I got there, Vi was already there,” Wallace said. “I was alone and so far from home. I told her I needed to go to the store for some things and she said she’d come with me.”

Historic American Buildings Survey, C. & Women’S Army Corps, Lebovich, B., photographer. (1933)

The two would ultimately celebrate more than fifty years of friendship.

Not long afterward they met Philomena. “I guess we all just clicked,” said Wallace.

The women would form more than friendships; they would each find their husbands, all military servicemen, stationed at the medical hospital.

“When you saw one, you saw the other, and the other,” Ret. SSG Trevor Herasingh said. He and Philomena both worked in dentistry; they were married on the base in 1971. 

“Vi introduced me to Debbie in 1970 and we’ll have been married fifty years next year in April,” James Wallace said. 

“I remember Vi and Phil were always giggling over something; it would make you smile hearing them giggle,” said Ret. SSG Edward Brown Jr. 

After being wounded in Vietnam, Brown was a patient at the hospital from 1969 to 1971. 

“I had multiple operations there,” he recalled. Brown took most of his injuries on his right side, receiving wounds in his shoulder, chest, hip and leg. The blast perforated his eardrums. He spent three years at Fitzsimons and had around eleven surgeries recovering from that one bad episode. “But when I was better I used to follow her around everywhere. I kept asking until she finally went out with me.”

Viola and Edward Brown were married in 1972.

Viola Nathan

What impressed the three men about the women was their sense of responsibility, compassion and kindness.

“You couldn’t ask for a better person to cheer you up,” Trevor said of his future wife. 

The women would take the time to visit the patients on all wards. “Vi and I would visit with those guys. A lot of times, we would bring them little things they wanted. But most of what they wanted was for someone to spend time. To take the efforts to drop by and say hello and see someone cared and showed compassion,” Philomena said. “Some had no arms or legs and were missing an eye or nose, it was very emotional. But you couldn’t show them how we were feeling, because we were their support system.”

Debbie Wallace recalls trying to follow up with a patient after she left the WACs. 

“Ronnie was badly injured and had to have his leg removed due to gangrene. I left the military to start a family, but I worked as a civilian at the NCO (Non-Commissioned Officers) Club. One day I went to check on him. He wasn’t in his bed. They told me he committed suicide,” she said with a distant gaze. “I think of him at times, and let me tell you, once you smell gangrene it stays with you forever.”

Deborah (Garrison) Wallace with unnamed patient.

Ehline said, “I commend my fellow vets [Herasingh, Nathan, and Wallace]. I patched them up. But they saw and cared for the wounded and disabled after the shock wore off.”

During World War I it was called “shell shock,” and by World War II, it was called “battle fatigue.” For decades afterwards, it didn’t have a name. But just because there isn’t a name, doesn’t mean it isn’t being felt by thousands of military veterans.  Five years after the Vietnam War officially ended, a formal name was finalized for the restless nights, sweaty palms, vivid memories and feelings of guilt: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

There was finally a name for the war being fought off the battlefield and out of the surgical rooms, a struggle that isn’t gender specific. The female veteran is too overlooked in discussions of PTSD. Women vets faced multitudes of stressors coming from both their military service and the sexual harassment and racial and gender discrimination that can come as part of the experience.

Ehline is a survivor of the effects of trauma resulting from PTSD: “I remember hearing the alarms and tearing to the bunker, and it would be dead silent. And we would just wait it out.” 

One casualty of note was Sharon Lane, a nurse and U.S. Army first lieutenant who was the only American servicewoman killed as a direct result of enemy fire during the Vietnam War. She was working at Fitzsimons in the tuberculosis ward in 1969 when she got her orders to go to Vietnam.

Sharon Lane featured in Wm. McKinley Presidential Library & Museum 

“I only knew her briefly, she was one of the nurses to be my replacement,” Ehline recalled. “She was killed one week after I left.”
In 1970, Ehline left the military with the rank of first lieutenant. She received the National Defense Service Medal, the Vietnam Service Medal, and the Republic of Vietnam Campaign Medal with 60 Device (an award given by the South Vietnamese government to members of the U.S. military). 

The world is finally seeing, acknowledging and honoring women veterans through the hard work of organizations like the Vietnam Women’s Memorial Foundation and Women’s Army Corps Veterans’ Association-Army Women United. The WACVA is the only female veterans’ association chartered by Congress. Alongside various organizations is the Vietnam Women’s Memorial located just north of the Reflecting Pool in Washington, D.C. The memorial was dedicated in 1993. 

As a WAC you couldn’t have children. It was a different time. The women got out of the military to start families. Each said they would have liked to stay in the Army. Ehline, Nathan and Wallace live in Colorado, and Herasingh resides in Maryland. Miles may separate the women, but it is their time as WACs that keeps up their sororal bond.

During a Zoom conference call each of the women credited the WACs for building their character by creating the environment to employ compassion and discipline and fostering their growth as women.

“Vi cared about me from the first time I met her. And she has been my strength for all these years,” Wallace said. “She may have started as my friend but now, she’s my sister.”

Nathan began, “I met some wonderful people, like Debbie. She is one of the best things to happen to me. I have no regrets about my time with the WACs. And when necessary, I still take a ‘military shower’ to this day,” she finished with a wide smile.

“My daughter cared for us when my husband and I had COVID,” Herasingh shared with the women. “ I like to think it was her upbringing to be so compassionate. But you know what? I truly learned compassion when I was a WAC. I’m proud to know I passed those lessons to her.”

Ehline said, “I  just met Philomena, Viola and Debbie, and I honor these women and all the women that served.”

It has been more than four decades since Congress disbanded the Women’s Army Corps and women were fully integrated into the regular Army, serving in the same units as men. However, the service they learned doesn’t just stop. Now, there are thousands of women, perhaps your mother or grandmother or the older neighbor lady down the street, who now serve as living history to a different era.

Published as guest contributor for History Colorado https://www.historycolorado.org/story/colorado-voices/2020/11/04/women-wac

Of Starships and Mental Health

It’s sensible and commonplace to make a plan for the future. Some of us have five-, ten-, or even fifteen-year plans, but not Alires Almon. She’s happily uncommon. And because of this, her plans stretch a bit further; she’s working hard on a 100-year plan and not only that, her plans focus on locales that are 62 to 140 million miles up. 

Almon, 51, is a woman with a commanding presence who effortlessly walks into almost any room with ease. Her presence is constant no matter the environment, whether it’s a boardroom at Colorado Space Business Roundtable, a conference room at the Iliff School of Theology’s Artificial Intelligence Institute, the offices of Mental Health Center of Denver, or even in a virtual room with gamers or members of NASA. It doesn’t matter where she is; her draw is when she is.

Her understanding of the opportunities created by advanced science and technology ensures that the cultural and social impacts of technology are taken as seriously as its technical components.

Almon has come into her own as a distinctive type of innovator and people are taking notice. She was tapped by former astronaut and first Black woman in space, Dr. Mae Jamison, to join her as she leads the 100 Year Starship program. The program, launched in 2011, endeavors to allow humans to be capable of trekking beyond our solar system in the next 100 years. The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency and NASA’s Ames Research Center are providing funding for this ambitious initiative. As the program’s Orchestrator of Engagement, Almon is responsible for the development of executive strategy for delivery and management of global programs that promote the organization’s mission. Almon found a mutual sense of purpose with Dr. Jamison through books like Isaac Asimov’s Foundation, a classic that appealed to both with its ambition and reason. “I love logic!” she said with an elated, wide smile.

Alires Almon

“It’s one of those seminal books I come back to,” she said. “It’s the book that kicked off my curiosity and nerdiness…. From that book, I wanted to be a psychohistorian. I wanted to explore human behavior on a civilization level. And that’s guided my decisions to go into psychology, decision theory, space exploration—the whole thing!”

Almon wants to discover a methodical model that helps explain human behavior and she’s with the right people to do it. The audacity of such a tremendous undertaking will “take more than one group, one country, or one organization,” according to the 100 Year Starship mission statement. The appealing logic in the Starship’s statement of purpose ties directly to her personal path of discovery.

“It’s OK to be curious and find your own interest. You don’t have to define yourself by what others expect.” Almon said. “It’s only recently I’ve been comfortable in my nerdiness.”

After earning a psychology degree from the University of Georgia and a master’s in experimental psychology from New Mexico State University, the self-proclaimed “Child of the West” moved to Colorado in 1996. She knew only her mentor, Felix Cook. Cook and his wife, Margie, extended their home to her as she transitioned to Colorado. “It was our pleasure to have her in our home,” he said. “She is honest and so comfortable to be around.”

And while it may have taken her some time to truly see and embrace her own curious way of thinking and infectious magnetism, others, like Cook, have felt it all along.
“I’ve always admired her entrepreneurship and her ability to tackle tough tasks. Alires is a very smart and dedicated person,” he said. “She is a forward thinker; ahead of her time.”

Cook met Almon when she was a 23-year-old intern with the US Bureau of Reclamation. He recalls her being a strong person with great intelligence and a unique ability to get along with others. “She was able to develop a core of people that respected her; even to this day.”

Cook, 81, retired from the Bureau of Reclamation in 1991 and was the first electrical engineer in the position of Director of Engineering and Research for the Bureau of Reclamation.

“Because she always looked toward the next big event, I’ve always had high expectations for Alires. And she has exceeded them,” Cook said. “Alires is someone to follow. I have no doubt that whatever she takes on she will be successful.”

Throughout their decades of friendship, they found their careers intersecting, both of them serving on the Colorado Supreme Court Disciplinary Hearing Board. The strong devotion to the community has found Almon giving her time and efforts by participating in various programs and on many different boards, including A+ Denver and iGIANT, and as the chair of Colorado Space Business Roundtable.

Colorado is no stranger to the space race, perhaps because of its insulated inland location. Indeed, the state has played a pivotal role in the industry since the end of World War II. In the 1950s, it wasn’t considered safe to transport missiles and arms to Colorado from coastal states, so the state quickly developed its own homegrown weapons industry. The Martin Company (now Lockheed Martin) began in Waterton Canyon, building and testing Titan Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles (ICBMs). Soon after, the Department of Defense established the North American Air Defense Command at a revolutionary facility in Cheyenne Mountain near Colorado Springs. And Ball, the canning company, even spun off its own aerospace division in Broomfield, Colorado.

NORAD blast doors, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. USAF photo. URL: https://www.cheyennemountain.af.mi. Wikimedia Commons. United States Air Force

At the same time, the University of Colorado Boulder became a hub of space tech and science, producing a total of fourteen astronauts, including two recent Colorado natives: Jessica Watkins and Matthew Dominick. The pair became NASA-certified astronauts in January 2020. They are among the first class of NASA explorers to graduate since the announcement of the Artemis program in May 2019. Lockheed Martin is building the Orion capsule, which will play a major role in NASA’s Artemis program. The program’s goal is landing “the first woman and the next man” on the southern polar region of the Moon in 2024. Maybe it’s something in the air—the state has long called to explorers, and Almon answered that calling into the unknown.

…“Now you have landed in Denver, a place that has allowed you to continue to blossom and grow and be yourself all over again. Curious, fearless, and outgoing. It is here where the center of your village resides; you have friends of all types—bankers, teachers, scientists, astronauts, and actors,” Almon recently wrote in a letter to her 18-year-old self, which she shared on a segment with Denver’s 9News.

Her unyielding passion has complemented her well, especially in her current role as the Director of Innovation for Mental Health Center of Denver.

“It brings into focus the implications of technology. How technology is in the real world and who gets to participate. We are starting to see the implications but not enough to address it as its own problem,” she explained, adding that she aims to focus on those implications in her newly named position. “Mental Health Denver has always been known for innovation and I am the manifestation of their innovation journey.”

Almon is part of a team working on the Digital Front Door to healthcare. This new integrated digital experience uses personalized mobile and web platforms to help users easily access their information and manage their health. She sees the resource as more than a customer portal, and instead refers to it as a multi-layered digital experience. She’s excited to figure out how to more fully transform the Mental Health Center’s brick-and-mortar resources into an accessible digital experience.

So, just how do mental health and space coincide for Almon?
“No one talks about the mental aspects when you look at the history of space; they were weeding out the diagnosable mental conditions. But now NASA’s Human Research Program is starting to view humans as a subsystem of the machine, of the vehicle. The question is: How do you get that vehicle to work optimally?” she explained. “You reduce stress, use human factors to make it user friendly, and you use the techniques to make and keep that body healthy. Inflight issues may come up—depression and such—so for me [the question] is, why can’t you make an alarm system for psychological distress?”

Like she said, she loves logic.

Once fearful and hesitant that her different perspectives would be shunned, she carried on with her innate curiosity. This approach helped her develop her passion and stamina, and manifested in a compelling leadership style. In the letter to her 18-year-old self, she further explored this evolution.

“As much as you tried to deny and deflect the responsibility, you took it on as people put their trust in you to lead them into new places,” she wrote.

The goal for her legacy is to move the needle and to contribute to something bigger than herself, even if it means she won’t be around to see it, she explained with a comforting ease.

“My legacy is my contribution to these long-term efforts.”

So, while you may see Alires Almon in a director chair, a board chair, or even a gamer chair, she keeps her head far above the clouds. That’s because Almon tends to live in fantastical places that don’t exist. Well, not yet. But she’s working on it.

Published History Colorado Center 9/3/2020: https://www.historycolorado.org/story/2020/09/03/starships-and-mental-health

Elena Brown 

Guest Contributor

A Connection to Heal

On April 8, 2004 Sandra Fillon was on her computer. She clicked the ‘submit my comment’ button, closed her eyes and let out a small breath of air. It wasn’t a comment she submitted but more of a plea; and it was finally sent.

“I am looking for anyone that knew my father Robert Graham Curl. He was KIA 12/2/69 in the province of Phuoc Long. I never knew my father; I was almost 3 years old when he was killed. He is a stranger that I know from pictures. I am now 37 years old and with a child of my own and long to speak with anyone that knew him or was with him on the day he died. My mother passed away and all the answers to the many questions that I have of him passed away with her. I basically know his name, that he was from Walled Lake Michigan and he was only 24 years old when he died. He was a SSGT with the 11th Armored Calvary Regiment F Troop 2nd Squadron. Any information you might have would be greatly appreciated.”

The posting was placed on the Blackhorse 11^th Armored Cavalry Veterans of Vietnam and Cambodia (11ACVVC) guestbook for those seeking information about people killed in action (KIA). Sending out the plea wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was the waiting. And once the fifth anniversary of her web posting came and went she frankly admitted that she sort of forgot about it. “I was kind of fishing anyway,” she rationalized.

One afternoon, Terry Thomas, 63, hopped on his computer and began looking through his old regiments’ website. While he’d known of the 11ACVVC he joined the organization this year. It was on their website he saw Fillon’s posting on the guestbook. He said his only thought was, ‘I’ve got to get a hold of her’. He immediately called the number and left a voice message. “Hi. I served with your father in Vietnam. Please give me a call.”

The pair separated by more than 1,300 miles—Thomas lives in Kansas and Fillon lives in Florida—was united by a seven-year old web posting.

“When I got that message, I just about fell out my chair.” Fillon said. “I couldn’t wait to give him a call!” They spoke for hours. “We both cried and laughed and cried some more,” said Thomas. “So much for me being a manly man. I was just so happy to have found her.” By that weekend they had spoken on the phone numerous times were already Facebook friends.

Thomas began filling Fillon in on how he knew her father. Thomas a Vietnam volunteer first met SSG Robert Graham Curl, his drill sergeant, during basic training in Ft. Knox in 1969. The last time Thomas saw SSG Curl was just a few months later in December. “I didn’t think ‘Oh, that’s my drill sergeant,’ I was just happy I saw somebody I knew,” said the M16 gunner. Thomas wasn’t in Vietnam long before he was hit on his right side and left temple during the firefight in the Phuoc Long Province, South Vietnam. He was standing in-between SSG Curl and SSG Robert Raines. Thomas laid wounded and a few inches from him, SSG Raines and Curl were dead. Both men were on their third tour of duty in Vietnam.

“Of all the people that I could have found it’s the one guy that was next to him when he died,” said Fillon. “Listening to Terry, I was bawling like a baby.”

The September reunion of the 11thACVVC in Orlando was just the perfect time to meet face-to-face. As the day approached, Thomas had some trouble sleeping, this time not triggered not by the memories of Vietnam but by the excited anticipation of meeting fellow troopers and most importantly, meeting the daughter of his dead sergeant Sandra Fillon. “I really couldn’t sleep then. When something you know is about to change your life it’s hard to rest,” he said.

The Blackhorse 11^th Armored Cavalry Veterans of Vietnam and Cambodia is a non-profit corporation that aims to honor those that fought and died during Vietnam. They were founded in 1985 and began having annual reunions in 1986. More than 1,100 people and 82 “first-timers” were in attendance during the reunion. “Many (first-timers) didn’t know what to expect but they felt right at home as soon as they walked in the door and saw the first Blackhorse insignia,” said the president of 11thACVVC Allen Hathaway. “Once I was there I felt a warm welcomed,” said Thomas. “This reunion, even though it’s my first, has sparked something in me and will not be my last.” With next year’s reunion in Indianapolis, IN, the pair hopes to make a stop in Michigan to visit SSG Curls’ headstone.

On a sunny Florida Sunday Sandra and Terry sat poolside and shared 43-year-old memories. “He’d carry a picture in his breast pocket and no matter how many times you’d seen it he was happy to brag about his daughter,” said Thomas. “He loved her deeply.”

Fillon knows that picture. She has a picture of her father holding up a picture of her. “Finding Terry is like finding a lost family member,” she said. Thomas agreed, “I have another daughter in Sandra.”

The pair discovered that as Thomas dealt with Post Tramatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) memories and the ‘survivors guilt’ of losing a friend Fillon never knew he died in Vietnam. Her Korean mother was notified of his death a year afterwards when a birthday card returned.  She was later told her father died in a car accident. “Because my mother could never speak or write English. I think the misinformation was due to the lack of translation,” said Fillon.  In the early 70s her mother married and brought her to America. Sadly her mother died never knowing the truth. It would take 30 years before Fillon discovered her father’s name and the circumstances surrounding his death on the Virtual Wall (www.virtualwall.org). SSG Robert Graham Curl, F Troop, 2nd squadron name is on the Vietnam Wall in Washington, D.C at Panel W15, Line 16 and is buried in his home town of Walled Lake, Michigan.

“Once I discovered this I began digging. Searching for any and all information about him,” said Fillon. SSG Curl wasn’t married to Fillon’s Korean mother and as Fillon tried to reach out to her father’s family she was met with chilly reaction. “Me, a mixed raced child of their dead baby brother who died while fighting in Vietnam was like opening a very old and painful wound. It hurt, but I understood. Maybe they’ll be open to speaking to me later,” she said. “Meanwhile I figured I’d try other ways to find out about my father.”

She has discovered various websites such as findagrave.com and togeterweserved.com where she was able to find more people that knew her father, including her fathers’ high school classmate.

Just before getting Thomas’ message Fillon posted this on myfallensoldiers.com: “I am now 45 years old, almost twice the age you were when you died at 24. We never met in person, we’ve only seen pictures of each other. My mother never got over you and somewhere in the background your memory was always kept alive. I wish life turned out differently and you would be a 66 year old grandfather enjoying the latter part of his life but that wasn’t God’s plan. You have lived on in my heart though and you will never be forgotten.”

This meeting astonishes Fillon and Thomas, a meeting 43 years in the making.

“I’m sure Sandra is missing some pieces about her father,” said Terry as Sandra’s brown eyes swelled with tears. “And I’m excited to fill in those missing pieces,” he said as he cupped Sandra’s hand. Their new relationship is sealed. They vow to be a part of each others lives because when it’s all said and done, Sandra misses her dad and Terry misses his friend and through their union SSG Robert Graham Curl’s spirit remains.

Thomas said, “After all these years I’m glad to let Sandra know she was high on his love list.”

-Elena Brown

Special to the Emporia Gazette

—END—

Originally Published in Emporia Gazette Pull-out Section 11/05/12

VetEmporiaGazette2012

O no-no’s: ten things black people shouldn’t do to celebrate Obama’s victory (Repost)

Chill…
10. No uncontrollable giggling.
9. No naming babies “Barack” or “Obama” or any mash-up of his name.
8. No changing your e-mail to Obama_Mama@yahoo.com
7. No smugly walking up to white people and saying, “Boo-Yah!”
6. There will be no “Hustle,” “Running Man,” “‘Electric Slide” or dances inspired by Soulja Boy.
5. No Negro Spirituals or suggestions to change the National Anthem to “Lift E’vry Voice and Sing.”
4. No quoting Wesley Snipes from the movie Passenger 57 — the part when he said, “See? I told you. Always bet on black.”
3. No taking a day off from work… this isn’t a holiday!
2. Do not refer to the president-elect as “My Nigga.”
1. And no expecting that forty acres and a mule.
— Elena Brown (Forst published in Westword, 2008)

Documentary uncovers scars of Vietnam

It’s well after midnight by the time Oscar Soliz clicks off his lamps and shuts down his computer. His brown eyes are strained, his neck and back are stiff, his hands tingle. He rubs his salt-and-pepper beard; it’s time for bed.

He’s just finished another 13-hour day producing a documentary about four local Vietnam vets and how their powerful memories have barely diminished with the passage of time.

The hour-long documentary, titled “Deep Scars,” features retired Staff Sgt. Edward Brown Jr., retired Sgt. Trini Cruz, retired 1st Sgt. William J. Johnson and retired Sgt. 1st Class Dion Soliz III. The veterans, all Purple Heart recipients, recount their struggles on the battlefield and off.

“I’m showing the feelings and fears of being in combat as well as its affect on their lives after returning home,” says Soliz, a self-taught videographer and owner of Ozman Visual Media Productions. “There are so many stories. So much had happened to them.”

The documentary opens with images and narration explaining the politics of the Vietnam War, the lives lost and the toll it took on men such as Brown.

“Hmm, lemme see, I’ve been recovering from my injuries for 44 years and counting,” Brown, 63, says with a chuckle. “Physically, I spent 32 months in various hospitals.” Brown was injured on May 14, 1968, in Binh Duong Province, Vietnam. In the uncut version of the film, Brown recounted how his fellow soldier Ron E. Clark fell into him after being hit by a grenade from a rocket-propelled launcher. “I looked into his eyes as he died,” Brown said. “His death was fast, and his survivors should know he didn’t suffer (alone).”

The documentary also recounts the hostile reactions many returning vets received from their fellow citizens.

Cruz spent 39 months in different hospitals recovering from his injuries. In the film, he tearfully recounts arriving back home in the United States still in uniform and walking with a cane. Cruz wanted a cup of coffee but he had no money. “I gave [the man behind the counter] one of my medals and said I’ll come back and pay for it. The man said, ‘We don’t take medals. We take cash here. I can’t give you a cup of coffee.’ We’re over there fighting this war, and nobody would give me a cup of coffee.”

Soliz is seeking a distribution deal for the film and, in the meantime, hopes to show it to various local veteran organizations. For now, he’s working on it primarily for the men featured in the video.

The documentary has been a year in the making, the last three months on editing alone

“You can get lost in editing,” he says. “Sure, I get tired and frustrated but that’s nothing. It’s a difficult documentary.”

“Deep Scars” had an effect on the subjects of the documentary.

“Being a part of Oscar’s movie is the first time I ever talked in-depth about my experiences in Vietnam,” says Dion Soliz, 64, Oscar’s brother. “And now I want my daughters to see the movie and understand what the nightmares and screaming at night were all about.”

It’s also had an effect on its director, who did not serve in Vietnam.

“I have a good life, but I still think I should have been over there,” Oscar says. “I have guilt of not going to Vietnam. But since my brother was enlisted, I couldn’t go; he wouldn’t allow it.”

Soliz’s only sibling served three tours in Vietnam (1967-1971) and was awarded the Purple Heart and four Bronze Stars.

“No need for mom to lose us both,” says Dion, explaining why he wouldn’t allow his younger brother to follow him into battle. “It wasn’t the politics so much as I felt it was my duty. But once you’re over there, family is all you live for. It keeps you going.”

Funding for the film came from $5,000 in prize money Soliz, 63, won in the 2011 Pepsi Challenge Grant. The program awarded grants for projects that benefit the community, environment and schools. While $5,000 is a pittance compared to what most films – even documentaries – cost, Soliz spent carefully and stayed within his budget.

“I bought the things I truly needed, like the green screen and software and some things I bought at a discount, like the Sony mc2000 camera.” Soliz said.

The film includes both comedic and painful recollections, such as Cruz’s having a tailbone removed, Soliz’s encounter with an elephant, Brown’s blown eardrums and the time Johnson was shot twice in two days.

Soliz says that for him, an unforeseen benefit of his working on the film is that he is now closer to his brother because he better understands Dion’s wartime traumas. “I’m trying to draw out the inner feelings of their reality. To understand how the wounded veterans survived during and after the war,” he says.

“I know my brother is real patriotic and feels plenty of guilt about not going over to serve in Vietnam,” said Dion Soliz. “But I tell him ‘Hey, I served your time and mine. I served for America, and that includes you.’ “

By, Elena Brown, Special to the San Antonio Express News

Elena’s Story_Doc uncovers scars of Vietnam

Blackhorse Essay

Essay

Field of Study:

The Blackhorse patch means something great. It means to be held to a higher standard. And while I may not have that patch on my shoulder the pride is in my heart. I aim to put the committed standard of excellence, seen within the men and women of Blackhorse, by achieving a degree in Journalism.

Worthiness of the 11ACVVC Scholarship:

My dad, retired Army SSG Edward Brown Jr., and I try to make the annual four-day reunion of the 11th Armored Cavalry’s Veterans of Vietnam & Cambodia
 every year together. It’s our father-daughter time. It’s where stories I never heard at home are shared. I was 13 when I went to my first reunion in Louisville, KY and since then I’ve attended 12 of the 25 reunions. I’ve watched men return and mourn the men that didn’t. The Vietnam reunion is intense and the 40-plus years of history is filling. There is a bond that defies race, religion, or personal politics. The 11^th Armored Cavalry’s Veterans of Vietnam & Cambodia allows “outsiders” the privilege and opportunity to learn of what our dads, uncles and grandfathers experienced during Vietnam. This is an extraordinary reunion of men who became bonded by serving their country during an unpopular war. It is not special because I say it is special. It is special because of where it has been and the things it has accomplished, all because of the men and women who served, are serving or will serve and carry on the great legacy of the Blackhorse. The reunion is where people can sit at any table and look at pictures of teenagers in tanks thousands of miles away. Its where most stories start with “How about the time?” or “Remember when?” But it’s not just a time for them; the men at the reunion celebrate family.

Through the years, my dad’s brothers-in-arms became my honorary uncles. There’s something uniquely comforting about knowing I can be just about anywhere in the world and have a goodhearted man there to watch over me. That sense of security gives me confidence. It is with this confidence I am bolder, brasher and certainly more respectful woman.

The morals instilled within me gives me the confidence to interview the elderly lady being fined for “feeding the meters” on others cars, to speaking with a survivor as he recalls being shot at Columbine High School. I am direct, open and honest because my father, a man forged by the Blackhorse, taught me to be.

Currently I’m a jet-setting freelancing journalist with more than a decade as a flight attendant. It’s a job, a good job, but it’s not my passion. My passion is writing and reporting. And I would like the opportunity to further develop and hone the skills I have acquired over the years by obtaining a degree in Journalism. My articles appeared in The Denver Post, the Denver Business Journal, The Gazette newspaper in Colorado Springs, both Denver and 5280 magazines and Thunder Run. I’ve won a regional Mark of Excellence Award for in-depth reporting from the Society of Professional Journalists and received the Colorado Press Association Scholarship. Recently I completed an internship with the award winning alt-weekly newspaper, Westword, thanks in part to my fellowship at the Academy for Alternative Journalism at Medill’s School of Journalism at Northwestern University. 

I am a hard working and motivated person with both short-term goals and long-range ambitions and when I set goals for myself I do everything in my power to accomplish them. If I happen to fall short of my goal then I pride myself in not how I fell but how I get up, which is something my father has taught me. Despite these tumultuously difficult economic times I know having a degree makes a difference. And, simply put, I need funds in order to continue the final years of my higher education at Metropolitan State College of Denver. It’s with the help of the 11ACVVC Scholarship that would take me one step closer to not just a dream but also a reality. 

Truth, honesty, and determination are some of the many slogans or mantras made up to inspire recruits, however, Blackhorse pride, a blazingly arrogant pride, comes from the heart. Therefore, I am worthy of this because I am an outstanding person who contains all the qualities a scholarship leader should possess. I respect all of our brave men and women that have served our country but the Blackhorse Troopers are family. And my family values education. It would be a great honor to be chosen to represent the men and women who have served our country in both Vietnam and Cambodia with award of the 11ACVVC Scholarship. And to make my family proud.

                                                                    —END—

Bridging the Past

Bridging the Past

The day hadn’t been anything special as he sat and filled out the warranty guarantee card for the weed-eater he just bought in a local lawn care store. Another day, another errand, he thought.

The salesman looked at the card. A rush of recognition, a wide smile and a hint of sadness flashed across his face.

“Oh wow, I used to know a Ron Clark back in high school. One of my best friends. Died fighting in Vietnam,” said the salesman.

“Yeah,” he said nodding his baseball-capped head. And with a simple smile he stated, “That was my dad.”

Ron K. Clark, 43, is the only son of Blackhorse Trooper PFC Ron E. Clark. Clark senior was 22 years old when he was killed in action on May 14, 1968 in Bin Duong Province, Vietnam and is buried in Indianola, Iowa. He died three months before his only son was born. Clark’s name is located on panel 60E line 009 of the Vietnam Wall in Washington, D.C.

Ron didn’t know too much about his father and his family didn’t talk much about him. His mother remarried when Ron was a year old. It wasn’t until he was well into adulthood that people began to open up to him about his father.

“They’d tell me I have the same personality. That I’m quiet and laid back just like he was,” he said.

Gerry Costa served with Ron’s father in A-Troop. They were friends and even shared a birthday. Costa frequently writes memorials on the Virtual Vietnam Wall to his fallen friend. One entry from May 15, 2001 states: “[sic] Hello again my friend. Just wanted to let you know that after all these you are not forgotten. I toasted you yesterday at 4pm just like every year. I will never forget you or the time we spent in Nam. I am very, very sorry I could not have protected you better and kept you from harms way. Allons always.”

Costa visited the Clarks in Iowa in 2003. They went to the grave site and placed a Blackhorse patch on the headstone. Ron could sense the visit was a part of a real healing process for Costa and chose not to bring up many battle memories. “I know Gerry carries a lot of Vietnam on him,” Ron said. Even though they didn’t talk much about the war, Ron didn’t mind. “He’s a good man, and I’ve made a dear friend.”

Having met Costa, Ron was invigorated and motivated to learn more about his father, the Blackhorse regiment and, most importantly, attend a reunion.

The Blackhorse 11th Armored Cavalry Veterans of Vietnam and Cambodia is a non-profit corporation that aims to honor those that fought and died during Vietnam. They were founded in 1985 and began having annual reunions in 1986.  In 2006 Operation Embrace was formed. Operation Embrace strives to locate, notify and welcome the family members of the men killed-in-action to the reunion. This year, Ron was just one of the 11 family members of KIAs that came and joined the 1,063 people, which included surviving soldiers and their families, at the August reunion in St. Louis, Missouri. Some of the men he met included Edward Brown Jr. and James “Jim” Sowinski, men that served with his father.

Retired SSG Edward Brown Jr. served with A-Troop from 1967-1968 and had been in touch with Ron through Costa for about four years. They had spoken on the phone and thru Facebook but had never met face-to-face. Brown was nervous and delighted when he was informed Ron would attend the reunion.

“I know he wants to know more details of the day his dad was hit. It’s hard, reliving that— And to share that with him,” Brown said with a heavy sigh. “But I will.”

Brown recounted Ron E. Clark falling into him during the fight. Clark took a direct hit from a rocket-propelled grenade launcher. “His death was fast and his survivors should know he didn’t suffer (alone).” Brown said. “I looked into his eyes as he died.” While Clark died during that fight, many were injured including Brown. The blast perforated his eardrums and he received injuries on his right side, with wounds in his shoulder, chest, liver, hip and leg. Brown’s recovery included 14 surgeries and a skin graft that took nearly three years in the hospital to recover.

“I owe Young Clark and his family. To answer any questions if I can, and to let them know he did not die alone.” Brown said. “God left me here for a reason. It’s my responsibility to share that Clark died a hero. He had a cause.” For his ultimate sacrifice Clark was awarded a Bronze Star with Merit, a Purple Heart, National Defense, Vietnam Service and Vietnam Campaign medals.

“I always wanted to know if there was something significant on the day my father died. But I learned it was a typical day in Vietnam. Sometimes people died and sometimes they didn’t,” Ron said.

The Army was hit hard in 1968 reaching more than 10,500 deaths that year, according to statistics founds on The Wall-USA.com, which is a 15 year old website dedicated to honoring those who died in the Vietnam War. Like a weighted backpack, many survivors carry the Vietnam experience with them in the form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Although PTSD is often associated with Vietnam veterans, it appears in veterans of all wars and eras. Once known as Battle Fatigue and Shell Shock, PTSD symptoms may include intrusive thoughts, distressing dreams, flashbacks and irritability. It can also mean a reduced ability to concentrate, experience pleasure, feel tender emotions or imagine a positive future. Many vets are finding support when learning to cope with their Vietnam experiences. During the reunion psychologist Dr. Candace Drake and daughter of a Blackhorse trooper, Dennis Drake (HHT 3/11), hosted a veteran’s seminar explaining PTSD and the options available for veterans. Brown attends a fully packed weekly PTSD group at Audie Murphy VA Hospital in San Antonio, TX. “Meeting Young Clark has helped me with my guilt but I’m still sad Clark never met his son, but when I go back home, I’ll have a sigh of relief,” he said.

For about four days the fellowship is visible as stories flow in “The Bunker”.

In military terms the bunker is usually a reinforced concrete underground shelter. Here, at the reunion, it’s a place where the men embrace each other with the welcome they never received when they returned home from the

war decades ago. This is where they laugh and cry over memories, photos and have a beer or three. “I’d never thought I’d be sitting here laughing and having a beer with Clark’s boy,” Brown said with excitement. “Brown wasn’t the only one thrilled to meet “Young Clark;” James ‘Jim’ Sowinski

contributed to the shared memories of Ron’s father. “It’s good to meet Clark’s son! I got a clear picture of his dad. Sowinski said. “Everybody’s got a piece of something to give Young Clark.”

This is an exceptionally intense reunion of men who served in an unpopular war. There is a bond between them that defies race or religion. And the void that Vietnam left in the souls of vets grows smaller with each reunion, it is a place to remember and a place to heal.

“It’s important for me to be here. I know that Ed and Gerry have a lot of guilt. But I don’t look at it that way,” Ron said. “I’m glad my dad had good friends over there that were with him when he died. I’m here to thank those guys that were there with my dad.”

Ron still sees the salesman in the local lawn care store. He likes to talk with him about his dad. Ron said, “With the guys from Blackhorse, attending the reunion and the salesman, well, its just another thing that makes me feel a connection to him.”

-Elena Brown

Published in Thunder Run 4th Qtr, 2011

Guess it’s time.

I apologize

I remember how I eased the pain of your scraped knee or hand? I remember blowing on the wound and caressing my little girl’s wound…. “There it will go away now” . I would put on a band-aid to patch the pain. What happens when this little girl is now an adult, nursing a broken heart? A band-aid cannot patch the gaping hole in her heart.

I’ve stared at you, my lovely daughter your sad eyes upon me or listen with just as much pain in my heart as the pain in your voice. Oh no was all I could say. I couldn’t believe it. And I am helpless — helpless to help her overcome her grief.

I know I am the cause of your attitude about men and relationships. I know there is no such thing as a perfect parent, but I could have been much better than what I was. I could go on and on about my parental mistakes, and how I damaged you. for my behavior during your growing up years, but I love you too much not to apologize for the pain I have caused you.

You are looking for the happily ever after — sometimes it shows up quickly, but we don’t believe we are worthy of such a good thing and we mess it up — and watch happiness walk away. Then we search again — and again — and again until we realize that we have to know ourselves before we can give ourselves to another.

Your pain is my pain. Your hurt is my hurt. Your tears are my tears. You are my daughter — I would give up my life for you. I could not live my life without you.

I can’t say don’t be sad — because that’s a really silly statement. What I will say is hang on and reflect, because life is fickled, but it straightens out and you will find joy and happiness.

Love ya bunches,

Mom

All That Jazz

Denver’s historical Five Points neighborhood, once known as the Harlem of the West, is full of heritage and a renewed sense of purpose.

The kids in the cramped back room tapped their toes and snapped their fingers as the music flowed in, smooth as the liquor their parents drank in the lounge. The lucky ones who snuck in were so close to the stage they saw the tiny spheres of sweat glisten off Bill “Mr. Bojangles” Robinson or Nat King Cole. “We weren’t so much concerned about how much it cost to get in. All we were concerned with was how we could sneak in,” says George Morrison Jr. with a heavy laugh. “You had to at least try,” he says. “It was jazz at the Rossonian!”

Harlem, Philadelphia and Chicago are famous for their jazz cultures, but so too was Denver’s own Five Points, a staple of western jazz culture. During the roaring ’20s, the Great Depression and World War II, the neighborhood earned its title as the Harlem of the West, a must-stop for any jazz musician.

Historic joints, such as the Casino, Benny Hooper’s Ex-Serviceman’s Club and Lil’s After-Hours ran along Welton Street and jumped with the sounds of Louis Armstrong, Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Dizzy Gillespie, Lionel Hampton, Billie Holiday, Charlie Parker and more.

The Points was the bee’s knees and the cat’s meow, a place to settle in and sip some (at times) legal hooch and listen as a canary on stage sang to the hypnotic beat of a skin tickler. The musical mash “” the sweet brutality of hopes and dreams, both achieved and dashed, and the freedom to let loose with heart and soul “” everything got played in the Points.

George Morrison Jr., 88, is the son of acclaimed jazz musician George Morrison. His dad was known for jazz but was a classically trained musician who performed for the Queen of England. But even that wasn’t enough to break the Denver Symphony’s racist hiring practices, which prohibited him from being able to play because of the color of his skin. “That was a challenge to my dad because you weren’t going to hold George Morrison down,” his son says.

Instead, Morrison Sr. created his own orchestra, the renowned George Morrison Orchestra with players such as Jimmy Lunceford, Andy Kirk and vocalist Hattie McDaniel. McDaniel later went on to become the first African American to win an Oscar for her role as Mammy in the movie Gone With the Wind.

The band’s foot-tapping, dance-demanding jazz helped the group win a recording contract with Columbia Records “” the first to go to a black band. While with the company, Morrison Sr. recommended another jazz band that included Paul Whiteman, a white Denver bandleader, whose career became legend.

Those days spurred many stories. “I remember, during Prohibition, my dad making some home brew in the basement. He was making some when Bill Robinson came by to stay at our house. There was this loud noise, a “˜boom’ and “˜pow,’ and Bill Robinson said, “˜Get down; they’re shooting at us! Somebody’s shooting, get down!’ But it turned out the small bottles of the home brew had exploded in the basement. My dad said, “˜Aww, that’s just the brew downstairs,’ says a giggling Morrison Jr.

Morrison Sr. gave up touring in the mid-1920s and remained in Denver, where he opened the Casino jazz club, worked as a bandleader and taught music at Whittier Elementary, Cole Junior High and Manual High schools. While many musical greats were called to the Mile High City to perform, they weren’t allowed to stay in hotels downtown because of their skin color. Instead, city residents, like Morrison Sr., welcomed them into their homes. Others stayed at the Rossonian hotel and jazz club.

The Unity of Music

Once considered the premier club between St. Louis and San Francisco, the Rossonian provided high-class entertainment during the jazz era. It sits silent now, anchored in the Five Points of today. The wedge of a building is at the intersection of 27th Street, Welton Street, 26th Avenue and Washington Street, which forms the historic points that define and name the neighborhood.

“Man, it had a small stage. If the band had a piano, they had to build a little platform for it,” says Charlie Burrell, 88. A master jazz bassist, Burrell made a sensational career as a classical musician with the Denver Symphony Orchestra, which hired him as its first black performer in 1949. He made $35 dollars a week and supplemented his income “” and repertoire “” with local performances at the Rossonian and other jazz halls. “For a $1 cover and 50-cent drinks, it was some good music. It’s even where the white folks came down to get their fix,” says Burrell.

Quentin Harrington owned the building and watched it become one of the most integrated places in the city. “I had white people standing out on Welton Street to get in the place. I could look around that room some nights and couldn’t see a black face in there,” he wrote in the book Growing Up Black in Denver, published in 1988, the year of his death.

The Rossonian, a National Historic Landmark, welcomed live music, from the scat of Ella Fitzgerald to Charlie Parker’s sax. When the lounge closed, the musicians headed down the block to keep the party going. “It was the after-hours joints like Lil’s and Benny Hooper’s that were really good,” says Burrell. “We’d play from two in the morning till dawn and sometimes later if it really got going.”

According to Burrell, people like Cedar Walton cut his chops with several great groups at Lil’s. “I remember playing with Charlie Parker. This was during the time he was punching Judy [using heroin]. He got up there, sat on the stool and went to sleep. We never stopped playing. It was loud, and he just sat up there asleep,” he says.

So Black and Blue

In the 1920s and ’30s, open segregation and racism ran feverishly throughout America with the Ku Klux Klan at the helm. Blacks in the Points rarely ventured any further than California Street to the north, 22nd Street to the south and High Street on the east. Anywhere else was dangerous, and Five Points became a haven born of necessity as a black bastion against hatred.

The neighborhood had a department store, the Roxy movie theater, restaurants, a fire station, a dentist’s office and even its own post office. It was a city within a city. Look closely, and you can still see it.

Many of the buildings still stand today. The US Bank at 27th Avenue and Welton was once Five Points’ Atlas Drug Store. “We had everything we ever needed right there in the neighborhood,” says Morrison Jr.

If anything, the hatred and necessary fortressing of Five Points strengthened the community. The neighborhood’s black businesses prospered as the African American population grew from 6,000 to more than 7,500 between 1920 and 1940.

“There was the YMCA, and that kept a lot of us off the streets and out of trouble,” says Morrison Jr. The Phyllis Wheatly Colored YWCA became an official national branch in 1920 and operated as a residence hall, employment bureau and youth camp. The Glenarm branch of the YMCA focused on social and cultural life in the community, and it was considered by most the town hall, which hosted multiple meetings on the rise of the Ku Klux Klan.

The Points was often the target of the Klan, which had a foothold in Colorado and was highly active until the 1950s, at one time boasting 50,000 members “” one of the highest memberships in the country. They were everywhere, including the government. During the 1924 elections, the Klan gained control by electing an open Klan member, Clarence Morley, as governor. The KKK became one of the largest organized political forces in the state with help from people such as Benjamin Stapleton, mayor of Denver from 1923 to 1931 and again from 1935 to 1947. After the Klan helped push him into office, he named Klan member William Candlish as police chief.

“I never saw the Klan, but we knew they were around,” Morrison Jr. says, recalling stories of when the family home was being built. “Three different times they burned crosses to stop the construction,” he says. The Morrison family property on Gilpin still stands today.

But a few buildings weren’t so lucky. They’ve been toppled by the wrecking ball, making way for gentrification, which has literally changed the face of the community.

Five Points’ rich history would have been forgotten if not for a long list of local musicians and developers and civic efforts such as the Blair-Caldwell African American Research Library, located in Five Points, which houses a growing collection of research materials related to African Americans in the west.

Determined not to let the Rossonian fade away, the latest modern-day Lazarus, the Denver-based, minority-owned Civil Technologies is at the forefront of Five Points’ revitalization. “Jazz is an American original art form with great cultural history,” says Civil Technologies developer and Denver native Carl Bourgeois. “It’s important that these places are protected and preserved for their past and future. I’m trying to honor that.”

“I had a fantastic childhood in Five Points. I wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world,” says Morrison Jr. “It’s sorta sad to see Five Points decline, and I miss the way it used to look, but it’s coming back. So watch out for the rebirth of the Points.”

Charlie Burrell and George Morrison Jr. jam and recall the Denver jazz scene.

(published Denver Magazine, 2009)