Side Streets ~ Neighborhood people and issues

Archive for the 'tragedy' Tag

R.I.P. DESSIE AND C. ROB ON YOUR TAYLOR’S ACRE IN THE SKY

December 25th, 2011, 11:30 am by

The sayings on the side of the Taylor's Acre barn just off of Fillmore Street near Templeton Gap have been catching eyes since 1972 when they first one was painted. That tradition continues on even though Dessie Taylor, 82, here with one her donkeys Applejuice, finds it harder and harder to get around. "I love this place. I'll be here until they haul me away," said Taylor. She and her husband C. Bob bought their home in 1960 and lived there together until he died in 1996.

For decades, Taylor’s Acre was a special corner of Colorado Springs near Fillmore Street and Templeton Gap Road.

It was a tiny farm surrounded by the city. A place roosters crowed, drowned out by the roar of traffic to nearby fast-food joints, pawn shops and medical office buildings. A place where passers-by were greeted by donkeys Twinkle Star and Applejuice and words of inspiration painted on a barn.

Applesauce enjoyed treats from neighbors who regularly visited the pasture at Fillmore Street and Templeton Gap Road.

It was, to be precise, C. Bob and Dessie Taylor’s acre. It’s where they bought an old stone ranch house in 1960 and made it their home, raised their four boys and two daughters and where the kids raised hell with dance and pool parties.

It was a place of refuge, too, when cancer struck Dessie in 1971, when tragedy claimed daughter Dessie Bob in 1980 and then cancer took her beloved C. Bob in 1996 after 56 years of marriage.

I met Dessie in August 2002, sitting  under her cottonless cottonwood tree. The matriarch of the Taylor clan was 82 then and melancholy.

This was the view of Taylor's Acre looking east from the front sidewalk. In 2002, I found Dessie sitting under a tree. The family painted murals on the barn, visible behind the trees. Plans call for a medical building to be built where the barn sits. The house will make way for a parking lot.

I was curious about the big sign on the barn which declared: “What we do in life echoes in eternity.” Quickly I discovered the barn was just one of many signs that punctuated Dessie’s life.

As I walked to the gate, I was greeted by a small “Taylor’s Acre” sign.

Then “No Trespassing.”

And “Absolutely no city inspectors.”

Finally: “No Bibles.”

They were no-nonsense directives. Kind of like Dessie.

I asked about the barn and learned it was painted each summer with a new musing, proverb or exhortation.

The first went up in 1972 after Dessie survived a brain tumor even though doctors had given her just weeks to live. The clan threw a party and painted the barn: “We are proud to be Americans.”

The tradition was born.

Each year, the barn’s message changed, kind of the way the spider saved Wilbur the pig in “Charlotte’s Web.”

But we all know how the classic childrens’ book ended . . . Charlotte died.

Now, Taylor’s Acre is dying, as well.

These are blueprints for a medical building to replace Taylor's Acre.

Twinkle Star died years ago. In 2009, Dessie died too. She’d spent years of loneliness rattling around on her acre, longing for C. Bob and her children, now scattered.

Applejuice went to live on a farm in Fountain and the farmhouse was cleaned out of all her figurines with the words of love she gave C. Bob. Gone, too, are her ceramic turtles, C. Bob’s treasured rock collection and all the family photos.

There’s little to remind anyone of all the life that occurred on Taylor’s Acre.

Soon, nothing will be left. The property is for sale and plans call for a medical office building. (Here’s a link to the application filed with the city’s Land Use Review office.)

The little acre Dessie and C. Bob created and fought to preserve when city annexation came in 1980 soon will disappear. Like them.

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It makes the barn’s final painting so appropriate.

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It’s painted in a sunset  and inscribed: “Vaya con Dios.”

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Go with God, indeed.

The final mural on the Taylor's Acre barn reads "Vaya con Dios"

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LYDIA’S HOUSE IS HAUNTED AND SHE’S OK WITH IT

September 11th, 2011, 12:08 pm by

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The first thing you see as you approach Lydia Klingensmith‘s little Craftsman bungalow at East Fontanero and North Weber streets is the large wheels lining the fence. 

Then, as you look closer, you see hundreds of concrete cylinders — core samples from construction projects — throughout the yard. 

 Lydia buried 900 to create her driveway and carve pathways in her backyard. Hundreds more create flower beds. 

Lydia Klingensmith is an artist, a vintage clothes dealer and believer her house is haunted by its previous owner, Emma Walker.

Emma Walker in a photo from her 1970 driver's license. She was 78 at the time.

Look closer, and you start noticing all the art work — sculpture created from old farm machinery

But there’s more to Lydia’s story than just her fascinating landscaping. 

What you don’t see — Lydia’s ghost — is really intriguing. 

Lydia says her house, which she bought in 1985, is haunted by the spirit of Emma Walker, the 93-year-old woman who owned it before her. 

Could the little house on Fontanero and Weber streets be haunted? It seems to be and Lydia is OK with that.In fact, Lydia is convinced  Emma Walker has been hanging around since her death in 1985, perhaps unable to rest in peace after a life filled with tragedies — her only child died young, she was three times a widow and she was raped by an intruder at age 90.

“She’s my ghost,” Lydia declared. “She hung around, definitely. The house was haunted for a while.”

How else to explain the mysterious things that went on, like an electric outlet that always had power?

“The rest of my house and the entire neighborhood would be dark, but I’d have lights in my basement,” Lydia said.

That’s not all.

“The washer would run by itself,” she said.

Then came the bombshell.

“Emma started coming to me in my dreams,” Lydia said, describing how Emma gave her details of her life.

Lydia said she confirmed it by researching Emma’s life, from her childhood in the gold fields of Cripple Creek, her marriages, her daughter’s death and her life in Colorado Springs where she showered her love on neighborhood children and was robbed and raped.

She is not troubled by Emma’s ethereal presence. She feels such a deep connection to the old woman.

“This was the house I wanted when I was a little girl,” she said, describing how she used to walk by and admire the place.

When Emma died, Lydia bought it, though it was overgrown and run down.

Strange things occurred from the start, Lydia said.

She thought it was odd when keys from her childhood collection opened locks in Emma’s house.

She learned Emma shared her love of parrots and had other things in common.

One of the sculptures Lydia created from old farm machinery.

The spooky stuff started as Lydia began transforming the house and yard.

The landscaping certainly is different. In 1999, Lydia was robbed by an intruder who stole her car, wrecked it, her garage and fence.

When she started to repair the yard, she recalled seeing concrete cylinders — core samples from construction projects — used in Arizona for retaining walls.

She started collecting them and used them, by the hundreds, to fashion a driveway and to sculpt walking paths in her yard.

Then came the wheels and old farm machinery as art.

Lydia designed this gate and then knew she wanted more sunburst designs and wheels for her yard.

Lydia gave the interior of the house a makeover, too.

“I think Emma left once I’d painted everything,” she said, noting Emma’s never far away.

“I carry her driver’s license,” Lydia said. “She protects me.”

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Old gears and rusted iron create a sculpture that greets visitors to Lydia's front yard.

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An old rake becomes art in Lydia's yard.

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