Mine was a flop, but friends were fantastic

The eight-millimeter projector whined as the black and white image of a caterpillar tractor moved across the small portable screen.

It was 1945 and I was 13 years old. I sat mesmerized in the small front room of our home at 232 Magyar St. as, above the noise of the projector, Mr. Wiles, who lived around the corner on Prospect, talked about the possibilities of making a fortune. Back and forth across the screen the caterpillar moved pushing rocks, as it worked at the entrance of the Hunkydory lead mine in faraway Colorado.

The energetic man whose enthusiasm and excitement lighted up the room fascinated me. How had this man living in Wellington gotten involved with a lead mine in faraway Colorado? His wife Icy, as a girl in her teens and early twenties, was employed as the housekeeper for a man named Everett Webster, who lived in the very home in which the Wiles now lived. So much did Mr. Webster appreciate and love his housekeeper that when he died he left the house, the furnishings, everything to Carl and Icy.

One day in going through an old trunk Icy came across a deed to a lead mine in the mountains of Colorado. Fascinated and excited about developing the mine, Carl and Icy took the first of what was to be countless trips to explore the possibilities. In those early days Carl returned from each trip more excited than from the last one. There was little question but that the mine contained vast quantities of high quality lead, and even some silver. Carl knew in his heart that there was enough wealth in that mine for not only his family, but for the families of his friends.

So the Snake River Valley Mining Association was formed and my parents, along with others, were invited to invest. There was money to be made, but it would take money to get the ore out of the mine and transport it to the mill where it could be processed.

Summer after summer, once the snow had melted in the high country, the Wileses journeyed to Colorado where day after day Carl worked from dawn till dusk seeking to make the dream come true. Carl poured his heart, soul and life into that mine. A major problem was transporting the ore from the Hunkydory.

You could only reach the mine by fording a river and creeping along in a four-wheel drive vehicle, over a rocky mountain road. It took an hour to travel the several miles to the entrance of the mine. Year after year Carl persisted, never giving up. He wanted more than anything for his friends who had believed in him, and invested in the mine to reap rich dividends from their investments.

Now the year is 1953 and I am a young seminarian living in Denver. That summer and most every summer after that, for as long as Icy was alive and came west with Carl, the Wileses would phone when they got into Denver on their way to the Hunkydory and occasionally we would share a meal together. Most years, by the time Carl got to Denver his nervous energy compelled him to drive right through the city so he could start working at the Hunkydory.

The summers my mom and dad traveled west we would also visit Carl and Icy in their tiny ancient house, located in a virtual ghost town named Montazuma. Sometimes we would all crowd into that place and spend the night.

The Hunkydory was a heartbreaker. For all of Carl's efforts the cost of getting the ore from the mine to the market was prohibitive. It was a rich mountain that housed the Hunkydory but the riches, as we now know, were to be found not inside the mountain, but in the white stuff that fell in the winter on top of it. Today the mountain housing the Hunkydory is a part of Keystone, one of the most well known ski resorts in America. The Village of Keystone has a Hunkydory Lane and a Hunkydory Café.

Now Carl and Icy, along with Mom and Dad are gone, but the memories remain and they are rich. Life almost never comes out as we anticipate, our dreams often not realized. The Hunkydory didn't make the Wileses or the Averys materially rich. But richness and wealth came in other ways. It came in the forging of a deep lasting friendship between Dad and Mom, Ken and Lydia Avery and Carl and Icy Wiles.

It came in Carl introducing me to a part of God's creation that has to be among the most beautiful places in the world. It came in laughter and joy, and at times in the sharing of heartbreak, when, dining at the now no more Wildwood Lodge, the Averys and Wileses would share a meal together.

Adversity can bond people tight and close, in a way that prosperity never can. Was the investment worth it? I say, and I know that if Dad and Mom where here they would concur that every penny they put into the Hunkydory was worth it, for the dividends paid in friendships that no amount of money can buy.