In the years since the Rim Rock Drive was constructed, many of the original Road Builders have donated photographs and recounted memories of their time spent at Colorado National Monument. These invaluable records are preserved in the NPS archives.

Leroy Lewis served in the CCC at camps NM-1-C and NM-2-C at Colorado National Monument. At this writing (May 2003), Mr. Lewis is alive and quite well at 91 years old.

The First CCC Camps at Colorado National Monument

By 824138
aka: Leroy Lewis

The Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) was founded in 1933 at the height of the Depression. To quote from the actual documents, “On April 8, 1933, the Commanding General, 8th Corps Area, at Fort Sam Houston, Texas announced to a number of Regular Army posts under his jurisdiction that the President had delegated to the War Department, the duty of enrolling, clothing, feeding, quartering, transporting to work camps, furnishing medical records for, paying, keeping the records of, and responsibility for the control and welfare of some 275,000 young Americans. Units for administration were to consist of approximately 200 men, and were to be called companies. These men were not to be under military discipline, as are soldiers, but would be subject to civil law only. The name of the new organization was to be called the Civilian Conservation Corps.”

That was the marching order, and within seven weeks, the nucleus of NM-1-C, the first camp on the monument, was on its way from Ft. Logan, near Denver, to a spot on the map called “Glade Park, Colorado.” After a two-day trip, the six-man cadre was unloading 20-man tents, cooking utensils, and the usual paraphernalia on a wide space near the Coke Ovens. They still wondered how the World War I trucks had made it up the winding Serpents Trail and over three miles of “pioneer road” as you approached from the boundary to the now solved mystery of “where the H--- is Glade Park?”

A few tents were set up, and preparation was made to receive the incoming enrollees, the first group being from Mesa County. These twenty-six local experienced men (LEM’s) and fifty “juniors” were enrolled, thereby forming one of the first Civilian Conservation Corps companies in Colorado. It was designated as Company 824, and all men initially enrolled were given serial numbers prefixed by “824.” June 1, 1933 marked the arrival of the bulk of the men from Montrose, Delta, and Garfield counties, and we were now up to strength of about 220 people. Over 200 men, plus trucks, compressors, and other Park Service equipment sure made a crowded shelf road overlooking the Coke Ovens – no place for sleepwalkers!

Tent floors and frames, and temporary rough wooden buildings were busily constructed from green lumber cut the day before on Pinion Mesa – but after a few days it was decided we had all the “comforts of home” we needed – “got to get on the project,” to quote T.W. Secrest, superintendent and boss of the work project.

Shovels, sledge hammers, and crow bars came out of the Park Service cache, and our first task was to make the road back toward the entrance passable for regular trucks. Because of the nearness of the work area, all the men came into the mess hall for the three meals. The early meals were rather primitive, and some were not sure if it was worth the walk – but they came anyway. Poor food wasn’t the only complaint. Work gloves had not arrived, and there were plenty of blisters. Sore arms were also in order, as all the men were given numerous inoculations with wicked looking syringes that mounted humongous needles. Scratchy small pox vaccinations added to the soreness. Mr. Secrest’s idea of how to work out the soreness was to swing a 12-pound sledgehammer at that never ending supply of rocks!

As summer advanced, sleeping quarters improved, food was more varied and better cooked, and work groups were more organized. More trucks, compressors, jackhammers, and other tools arrived. Lots of holes, some as deep as sixteen feet, were drilled, and the dynamite was tamped into them – and the sound of “FIRE IN THE HOLE” caused everyone to take cover. “Dog holes” were drilled into the sandstone, filled with lots of black powder, which caused a less violent explosion than dynamite. That meant we had lots of rock to move, but it did not disturb the landscape as much. The men were constantly reminded that this was a “National Monument,” and it was to remain in the pristine natural state as far as possible.

Work was hurried on the “pioneer road” along the rim, so the winter camp could be constructed near the Saddle Horn, with the sheer cliff known as the “Half Tunnel” as a major obstacle. As soon as the road was wide enough for a truck, lumber for the winter camp (NM-2-C) was hauled in, and the Army engineers from Fort Logan, plus local civilian carpenters, went to work on the five 40-man barracks. We also had a mess hall, and a bathhouse (with a concrete floor, so no more splinters in our big toes), but it was still quite a trek to the centrally located latrine. Electricity lit the barracks, but we had a total of one small 5 KW Kohler light plant, there were only two 40 watt light bulbs per barracks, and the power went off at 10:00 PM except on Saturday night, when it stayed on for an additional hour!

We moved to this “Taj Mahal” on November 9, 1933, and it was really a treat after the dusty tents overlooking the Coke Ovens. Army steel cots were issued, with real cotton mattresses, to replace the mattress covers stuffed with locally procured straw. (Glade Park straw never won any prizes at the county fair.) One bad feature of this move was the forbidding of privately owned cars at the new site. CCCers with vehicles had to store them at a private area at the bottom of the Fruita Ladders, which of course some enterprising civilian provided – but it cost $3.00 per month – 10% of total pay, and 60% of what was received at the pay table! Of course not many of the enrollees had cars, and for those of us who did, we car-pooled and worked others schemes to keep our jalopies available – after that trek down the Fruita Ladders.

Shortly after our move to NM-2-C, there was a terrible accident at the Half Tunnel, and several men were killed, none of whom were from the CCC camp. The doctor had pulled the enrollees out of that section two days before due to rock drilling dust. The tech service was supposed to provide masks, but they had not yet arrived. The CCCers had been replaced by local hires on one of the other government work projects. Some of the poor guys who died were on their first day of the job. Most were young married men; some had young children. It was a terrible accident. The road to the camp was blocked by the huge chunks of sandstone that had broken on the natural fracture. This was cleared in a couple of days, but the families of those who were crushed by the rock, or thrown to their deaths over the three hundred foot cliff, took much, much longer to heal.

After the accident, work continued on the road. Officials from Washington, D.C., arrived at the monument to observe our progress. We were a CCC showcase, one of the most successful of the many “alphabet” projects.

Some locals have raised the question that the Civilian Conservation Corps have been given too much credit for the “Road Around the Rimrock.” My opinion is that there was enough rock moved, holes drilled, dynamite and black powder expended in the years the road was under construction that all can take credit for it. The building of the Rim Rock Drive was the combined effort of many workers, all of whom can take satisfaction in their accomplishment.