Letters, Jan. 8, 2014
Date posted: January 8, 2014
Keep our streets clean
Re: snow removal
Our City Council has declared that all sidewalks in Sheridan must be maintained by having all snow and ice removed at all times.
What’s up, then, with our streets? I fell into a hole in the end of an alley because of poor maintenance by our city snow removal crews. Snow routes in Sheridan are not cleared by even blading. Leftover snow and ice keeps building up in the “low-rent districts” but keep looking good on the hills and everywhere else. Why? Because our illustrious City Council and whoever is in charge to keep our city clean for traffic are not doing their jobs.
We should be ashamed to claim we live in Sheridan the way it looks. Try driving down Gould, Brundage or any other ice-packed street and see what I mean. I’m sure we have enough money to do the streets, but obviously it’s going somewhere else.
The city owes me new shocks.
‘49 blizzard recalled;
road crew stranded
During the big blizzard of 1949, the highway crew with a ‘V’ plow hit the drift at the south end of the highway cut just north of the old Rice ranch on old Highway 87, now the Decker highway.
They “busted” that drift until they came to the next one that filled the cut completely up. In minutes the wind had sealed the truck into place for the duration as it blew shut behind them. They were trapped!
Two wet and half-frozen road crew guys banged on our door where we lived. It was about 1,000 yards north of the trap.
They asked to use the phone that miraculously still worked. WYDOT headquarters told them to stay put, and boy, were they glad. My mom was a fabulous cook.
I think it was probably two days before a rotary plow was able to rescue the now totally buried truck. I think the crew borrowed some corral poles from us to probe for their lost plow so the rotary machine wouldn’t make a possibly devastating contact.
To keep our stock water thawed, we used a flat metal box about 1.5 inches thick and a couple of feet square with a kerosene lamp body threaded into the fill port. Filled with fuel, we could light the wick and slide it under our stock tank via a short dugout “tunnel.”
Needless to say, the late June run-off from the Bighorns had both Big and Little Goose creeks running brim full and then some.
I accompanied my grandfather to Story in his 1937 International pickup and on our way back, just south of the present tank farm, we were caught in a terrific cloudburst. We had to stop and wait for the rain to quit since we couldn’t see where we were going.
When it let up, we continued toward Sheridan but had to stop part way down the last hill toward the present Big Horn “Y”. All we could see was a lake. Grandpa pointed out a roof sticking out of the water and told me that he thought it was the Maverick Supper Club.
I’m sure there are hundreds, if not thousands of stories related to the big storm of 1949.
I’ll search my archives for a photo of another such storm. It shows sheep stuck in some treetops. If I can find it, and the Press will run it, I’ll explain how they got there.