On common ground

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by Pamela White (Editorial@boulderweekly.com)
http://www.boulderweekly.com/coverstory.html

 In the minds of most Boulder residents, Valmont is a street. It cuts from west to east across town, winding toward the prairie past recycling facilities and an odd-looking prominence of dirt and rock, known locally as Valmont Butte.

But to the descendants of the county’s early pioneer families whose ancestor are buried near the butte, Valmont is a separate town, with its own history and its own precious landmarks. And to the American Indians who called Boulder Valley home long before the settlers–the Arapaho, Cheyenne, Ute, Lakota and other Plains nations–Valmont is the axis of local historical hunting grounds, encampments, burial grounds and ceremonial sites. It is a sacred site.

Two perspectives about the Valmont area–one based on contemporary needs and the other on historical and spiritual needs–are colliding as the city of Boulder begins the initial stages of approval for a proposed bio-solids composting site and a firefighter training center on 104 acres of city-owned land next to Valmont Butte. The bio-solids facility would take treated human excrement from the wastewater treatment plant and other biological waste and turn it into a usable agricultural product.

City officials say nothing is set in stone and promise to listen closely to the concerns of all "stakeholders" before approving any development. But Valmont residents and American Indians both say they fear the city is determined to go ahead with the proposed development, which they believe will diminish one of the most unique settings in the county and destroy the spiritual significance of the site.

"There’s nothing like it in the whole area," says Nick Halsey, a Boulder resident and Lakota filmmaker. "If it’s gone, that’s it."

A place of prayer

Human history starts with geology. Some millions of years ago, a fissure broke open in the earth’s crust running east to west, and molten rock rose toward the surface, where it eventually cooled, forming basalt. Through erosion, this hard volcanic wall was exposed to view.

From the air, Valmont Butte looks like the remains of a castle’s ramparts or perhaps a row of plates from a stegosaurus’ back. Although most people think only of the highest rock outcropping as Valmont Butte, there are several small rock protrusions in a row, the remains of the volcanic wall.

Thrusting up from the surrounding plains, the butte offers a view of the entire Boulder valley. To the Native people who called the area home prior to the arrival of European settlers in 1858, the butte must have stood out like a monument. The plains were treeless then, apart from the stands of cottonwoods that grew along creeks, and there were no structures to compete for attention with the butte.

Halsey says the area surrounding Valmont Butte holds spiritual significance for many Indian nations.

"That place has been a sacred area for thousands of years," Halsey says. "It’s like many other sacred sites–it’s been used by many tribes."

To American Indian eyes, the butte offers a special place to pray, not only because it is a high spot on the relatively flat plains, but because it stands above the confluence of two rivers, which is spiritually significant in its own right. In addition, the dike runs east to west, pointing directly toward another Indian sacred site, Sugarloaf.

"That’s the reason we called it sacred," Halsey says. "We went there to pray."

Halsey says the butte was traditionally used for a variety of ceremonial reasons, including vision quests. The site currently hosts a sweat lodge used by American Indians from as far away as South Dakota and Arizona for inipi ceremonies. Halsey lived on the butte for about two years, assisting the previous caretaker of the sweat lodge before taking on that responsibility about a year ago. The city evicted him from the site in November.

Valmont Butte is also significant for its wildlife, Halsey says. Prairie dogs burrow in the soil, sustaining an ecosystem that includes eagles, great horned owls, coyotes, foxes and a host of other species.

"If you notice, that is one of the last strongholds for wildlife," he says. "There’s a real life-growing process going on up there, and people don’t see it unless they’re out at night."

Halsey says portions of the surrounding land were used for Indian burials and for hunting, with the result that the entire area, not just the dike itself, is sacred to many Indian nations.

The challenge lies in proving this to government officials, who might be inclined to protect the area if such claims could be substantiated through solid archaeological evidence. Both sacred sites and Indian burial grounds have some measure of legal protection. Federal law prohibits the destruction or desecration of Indian burials.

"The thing is these burial sites are all around there and have been for thousands of years," Halsey says. "That needs to be surveyed."

Archaeologist Peter Gleichman recently completed a preliminary survey of the site on behalf of the city. His report is still in draft form and not yet a public document. However, Gleichman was able to discuss some of his findings with Boulder Weekly.

"There is archaeological material at the butte, and that’s been known since 1959," he says. "Besides direct archaeological evidence, there are of course historical records of the Arapaho camping in the area."

The last documented hunt occurred at the butte in 1860, when a group of Indian nations communally ran down a herd of about 500 antelope for their winter meat.

"The issue for Native Americans is that despite the historic disturbance that’s gone on there… they see that entire area as interconnected," says Gleichman. "They believe any future [development] is going to be a disturbance to the spirits that are involved there."

The difficulty, say representatives of the Native community, is communicating the urgency of protecting the area to people who do not share their spiritual way of life or values, particularly when it comes to land use.

Gleichman says he has recommended that the city consult formally with representatives of tribal governments and acknowledged spiritual leaders to find out what they feel should happen at Valmont Butte and whether they see any future development there as desecration. Such a consultation should have occurred earlier in the process, he says.

"I think it was kind of an oversight," he says. "Somebody should have been able to alert the city that [the sacred site] may not be just the butte itself."

Halsey agrees that the city needs to meet with Native leaders to discuss the issue.

"What I would like to do is bring in medicine men," Halsey says. "I would like to help bring in legitimate people to work with the city."

Halsey hopes spiritual leaders from Indian nations that used to live in the area will be able to speak to the issue of sacred sites with authority on behalf of their people.

"We’re always put way at the bottom," Halsey says. "So it’s time that our people stand up now and start claiming our sacred sites."

In his quest to preserve the area from development, Halsey has found what at first glance might seem an unlikely group of allies–the descendants of Valmont’s pioneer’s families whose presence helped push Indian people out.

"I think it’s great," says Halsey, who plans on making a documentary about the collaboration. "I really feel good about working with the Valmont Butte community. They’re openhearted. It feels good to work with them."

Although their ancestors might have been at odds, the two groups have something powerful in common these days–a deep connection to and love of the land and a profound respect for their ancestors.

Their lives, their history

Captain Thomas Aikins, one of the first whites in the area, looked out over Boulder Valley on Oct. 16, 1858, and said he saw "bands of Indian ponies and bands of deer and antelope grazing close up to the high foothills." Aikins felt the mountains in the area looked "right" for gold and soon after rode up to the mouth of what is now Boulder Canyon.

The first tide of whites came to Boulder Valley as part of the gold rush. But right behind them were the merchants, farmers, blacksmiths and saloonkeepers, upon which miners depend for supplies and refreshment. Many of these people and their families settled at the base of Valmont Butte where North and South Boulder creeks meet. They named their town Valmont, a contraction of the words "valley" and "mountain."

Early Boulder residents left accounts of riding out to Valmont Butte on warm spring days and of seeing the butte from Boulder, which lagged behind Valmont for a time in terms of development. Valmont hosted the first flourmill in the area, as well as the first newspaper. And when it came time to choose a county seat, Valmont went head to head with Boulder but lost.

The stage stop Tommy Jones built in Valmont in 1860 to welcome the stagecoach and serve as a boarding house still stands, as does the old stone schoolhouse. The neighborhood of old Valmont is full of little sheds and milk houses built by the original settlers. And those who built the structures lie nearby in Valmont’s pioneer cemetery, not far from reported Indian burials.

"It’s a microcosm of the ‘wild west,’" says Lee Ann McGinty of Valmont Butte and the surrounding area.

Her family moved into the area around 1900, about 40 years after the initial settlers. McGinty’s great-grandfather, Frank Polzin, had a blacksmith shop. Her great-grandmother, Madge Polzin, taught at the nearby schoolhouse and ran a poultry operation.

"They kept the locals in eggs and fried chicken," McGinty says.

McGinty’s mother grew up on the family farm, and McGinty was raised there herself from the age of 6 and lives there still. The large chicken house that fed the neighborhood still stands but has now been converted to other uses.

McGinty’s great-grandparents are buried side by side with her mother in Valmont’s pioneer cemetery.

Cornelia Allen deeded the cemetery to the Valmont school district in 1873 as a "quiet resting place" for the dead. Today, the cemetery is, indeed, that quiet resting place. Aged tombstones sit among the yucca, wild grasses and dried remains of last summer’s wildflowers. Trees grow haphazardly, empty birds’ nests in their bare branches.

"It’s a spiritual and cultural resource for the European pioneer families here," says Carol Affleck.

Affleck’s grandparents settled in Valmont in 1895 as newlyweds. For a time they lived in Tommy Jones’ stage stop. Their first child–Affleck’s aunt–was born on the north side of the butte in 1896. Affleck grew up in Boulder County and now volunteers for Rural Historic Valmont, a historical preservation organization.

To know why an area as tiny as Valmont needs a historical preservation society, one need only take in the view from the cemetery. To the south lie the open-space lands and tall smoke stacks owned by Public Service Company. On the north side is the butte and the remains of earlier development, primarily a flotation mill built in 1936 that processed ores mined in the mountains. Radioactive trailings from the mill long ago settled in the valley east of the cemetery but have long since been covered by clean dirt and grasses. To the west is the city of Boulder’s "recycling row" and Boulder itself.

Cornelia Allen might have envisioned a quiet resting place, but development is clearly encroaching on the cemetery. Still, the cemetery itself feels sheltered, serene. Perhaps that’s because the land immediately to the east is wide open, offering a view that seems to stretch for miles and a glimpse at what the area must have looked like when settlers first arrived.

It is this land on the east side of the cemetery that the city of Boulder purchased in August 2000 with plans to construct a bio-solids composting plant and training facility for firefighters. The idea is appalling to both McGinty and Affleck.

"We don’t see how we can have the quiet resting place with the proposed development," Affleck says.

Although the prairie dogs that have burrowed in with her ancestors don’t bother McGinty, she cannot tolerate the notion that the cemetery could soon overlook additional development. Nor can she stomach the idea that development might lead to the unearthing of Indian burials.

"To develop this place and perhaps dig into human remains would be unthinkable," she says.

McGinty, Affleck and other Valmont residents would prefer to see the land remain undeveloped so that Indian burials, pioneer burials and wildlife can exist together undisturbed. They would also like to see the flotation mill, one of very few flotation mills still in existence in the country, become listed on the national registry and protected. While the mill represents development of the worst possible kind and clearly disturbed the area, at this point the mill, too, is part of the area’s history.

They are supportive of the idea, fronted by some in the Native community, of opening some kind of cultural facility somewhere nearby so that visitors can learn about the diverse history of the place. They also support the use of the land by American Indians for prayer and ceremony and have met with Indian representatives to talk over the situation they face together.

If the city goes ahead with the projects, McGinty and other pioneer families could face tough choices. McGinty’s 81-year-old father has expressed his desire to exhume her mother, who passed on five years ago, and relocate her to another cemetery should the city develop the land. The idea is devastating to McGinty, who lives within walking distance of her family’s cemetery plot.

"[This land] isn’t their life," she says of city officials. "It isn’t their history."’

Competing values

When Boulder residents flush their toilets, their waste ends up in the wastewater treatment plant on 75th Street. After being treated, the water is removed and the waste product is loaded into trucks and shipped out of the county.

City planners would like to improve on that and are working toward a goal of keeping Boulder’s waste in the county and turning it into a product that can benefit local agriculture. The plan currently on the table calls for a $15-million facility that would combine human waste with leaves and tree trimmings to produce a clean product that people can put in their gardens. A recent increase in utility rates is going to pay for the facility and other improvements.

Among those who would like to see Boulder move forward in the area of waste recycling is Boulder Mayor Will Toor. But Toor says no final decision has yet been made about what kind of facility the city is going to build or where that facility will be built. The city still needs to complete it’s evaluation process, which will eventually include a vote of the current city council and will provide opportunities for those who object to the city’s proposal to share their concerns.

The city would also like to build a new training facility for firefighters to replace the 25-year-old facility off Lee Hill Road, currently the only fire-training facility in the county. The fire department has been calling for a new facility since 1996, and in 1997 voters passed a public safety tax to fund the new facility, which is expected to cost about $4 million and will include a practice driving course.

Although Valmont residents see the value of both projects, they think the land east of the cemetery is inappropriate for both.

"I’ve heard a variety of objections, and I would take them all very seriously," Toor says. "I think the concerns about the Native American artifacts and wildlife are particularly compelling to me."

Part of the challenge in deciding where to locate the composting plant and the fire-training center is the lack of available land.

"Boulder has fairly limited options because we have made the decision to be a compact community surrounded by open space," Toor says.

Though Toor could not recall specifics of the 2000 decision that led to the purchase of the land, development along the 63rd Street corridor, including the power plant, "recycling row" and Western Disposal’s operations, might have made land near Valmont Butte seem appropriate for the composting plant because it would lump several related uses into one part of the city.

But that’s another reason Valmont residents don’t want the city to go forward with their plans. They feel they’ve had to endure enough industrial development and that future projects should be placed elsewhere.

Toor says city officials will have to take a good look at the entire proposal from the ground up and determine if the Valmont site is appropriate or whether there are other more suitable alternatives.

City Manager Frank Bruno concurs with Toor.

"I want to see us do the work to determine if it makes sense to put those kinds of applications in that location," Bruno says. "From my perspective I’m not there."

Bruno says he has made it clear to city staff that the issue is going to be thoroughly examined and given a fair public process–not a veneer of process.

"I can tell you that as city manager I’m not going to be very excited about anything that I feel is ‘cooked,’" he says. "And I think it is a legitimate concern that can be leveled at municipalities in general. I think that there are times we’re perceived as falling in love with an idea and then we do whatever it takes to support that. That’s not my intent."

But a source close to the planning process told Boulder Weekly there are some on the city staff who believe this is a done deal and who are going through a process the outcome of which they believe is predetermined.

However, Peter Polluck, planning director for the city, says the city has slowed the usual process down to allow for re-examination of past decisions, more research and greater discussion of people’s concerns about the proposed projects.

"I think the main thing is to understand what their interests and concerns are and to make sure that we are providing information that addresses that to the extent we can," he says.

In the end, it will be up to City Council to decide whether the projects move forward at Valmont Butte. But for residents of Valmont and many in the American Indian community who pray on the land, only one decision is likely to please.

Says Affleck: "This is a piece of our past that is intact at this point, and if they develop it, it will be forever gone."

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