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The Curse of Bewitched Parts I & II.

Original publish date September 11, 2014.

https://weeklyview.net/2014/09/11/the-curse-of-bewitched

Okay, I’m on a tangent. Over the past two weeks I’ve shared the story of “The Curse of Family Affair” about the strange circumstances and tragedies surrounding the popular 1960s TV show, particularly those involving West Lafayette born actress Anissa Jones, who played Buffy on the show. I thought, what better way to kick off the Halloween season than to explore another classic TV show from the same era also judged to be “cursed”? Here is the story of the curse of Bewitched.

Before I assume that everyone remembers the show, here’s the back story. Bewitched was a sitcom that ran for eight seasons on ABC from 1964 to 1972. It starred actress Elizabeth Montgomery as the witch Samantha, Dick York (1964–1969) & Dick Sargent (1969–1972) as the mortal husband Darrin Stephens and Agnes Moorehead as the disapproving witch of a mother-in-law, Endora. The show is about an ordinary mortal man who marries a witch who then tries to assimilate to the life of a typical suburban housewife. The show finished as the number two show in America during its debut season, and became the longest-running supernatural-themed sitcom of the 1960s–1970s. The show was in the Nielsen top 10 for its first three seasons, top 25 for the next three seasons and fell out of the top 30 during it last two seasons. The show remains popular in syndication and is a top seller on DVD. In 2002, Bewitched was ranked # 50 on “TV Guide’s 50 Greatest TV Shows of All Time”.

Elizabeth Montgomery.

The plot: Samantha pledges to forsake her powers and become a typical suburban housewife but her magical family disapproves of the mixed marriage and frequently interferes in the couple’s lives. Episodes often begin with Darrin becoming the victim of a spell cast by his wife’s mystical family or a miscast spell by Samantha. The effects of these spells wreak havoc with mortals, particularly Darrin’s boss, clients, parents, and neighbors. By show’s end, Darrin and Samantha overcome the devious elements that failed to separate them with episodes most often ending with a kiss and a hug.

Elizabeth Montgomery and her father Robert Montgomery.

Although the plots were often well thought out and history based, what made the show a screaming success was the enchantingly beautiful Elizabeth Montgomery. Elizabeth was the daughter of Hollywood heartthrob leading man Robert Montgomery, who played the on screen love interests of Greta Garbo, Carole Lombard and Norma Shearer during his career and who was nominated for an Academy Award in 1948. She was on her way to becoming a movie star in her own right. After narrowly missing out on the co-starring role alongside Marlon Brando in “On the Waterfront” in 1954, she turned her attention to television.

The Stephens’ house at 1164 Morning Glory Circle.

The main setting for most scenes is the Stephens’ house at 1164 Morning Glory Circle (in either Westport, Connecticut or Patterson, New York depending on who you believe). Many scenes also take place at the Madison Avenue advertising agency “McMann and Tate” where Darrin works.  Samantha’s mother, Endora (Agnes Moorehead), is Darrin’s chief antagonist. Endora loathes mortals and disapproves of Darrin, as do most of Samantha’s relatives. Endora refuses to speak Darrin’s name, alternatively calling him “Durwood”, “What’s-his-name”, “Darwin”, “Dum-Dum”, etc., all much to his annoyance. She refers to him as “Darrin” only eight times during the entire series, an average of once per year. Endora’s ploys to provoke a breakup always fail as Samantha and Darrin’s love overcomes every obstacle.

Agnes Moorehead (center) with her TV Family.
McMann & Tate Advertising Agency Office 1965. Larry Tate (David White) Center.

Darrin works as an executive at the McMann and Tate advertising agency under his profit-obsessed boss Larry Tate (David White). Tate’s opinions turn on a dime to appease any client in an attempt to land a deal. Across the street from Darrin and Samantha lives a retired couple, the nosy and tactless Gladys Kravitz (played by Alice Pearce & Sandra Gould) and her husband Abner (George Tobias). Gladys’ snooping often results in her witnessing witchcraft or its strange side effects. She frequently tries to prove Samantha is a witch, only to fail and be branded delusional by Abner. Samantha’s father, Maurice Evans, is an over-the-top thespian who often embellishes his entrances and exits with strained Shakespearean verse.

Darrin’s Parents Frank (Robert F. Simon) & Phyllis Stephens (Mabel Albertson).

Darrin’s parents, the strait-laced Phyllis (Mabel Albertson) and laid-back Frank Stephens (Robert F. Simon & Roy Roberts), visit occasionally but never learn of Samantha’s supernatural powers. Phyllis makes inopportune surprise visits, and often complains of “a sick headache” after accidentally witnessing a spell in motion. Samantha’s Uncle Arthur (Paul Lynde), Endora’s prank-loving brother, makes several appearances. Undoubtedly, the most beloved supporting cast member was Samantha’s Aunt Clara (Marion Lorne). The bumbling, elderly, absent-minded-but-lovable Aunt Clara’s spells usually backfire, and her entrances and exits become her trademark: plopping down a chimney or colliding with a wall. She has a collection of over a thousand doorknobs (inspired by Lorne’s real-life collection).

Samantha and Aunt Clara (actress Marion Lorne).

In the second season, Samantha gives birth to a daughter, Tabitha and later in the series has a son, Adam. Both eventually prove to have supernatural powers. When illness befalls the family, Samantha seeks assistance from the warlock Dr. Bombay (Bernard Fox), a womanizer most often accompanied by a buxom assistant, and who constantly cracks bad jokes. He could be summoned by the phrase, “Dr. Bombay, calling Dr. Bombay. Emergency, come right away.” When Dr. Bombay proves ineffective, help is occasionally sought from the unnamed witches’ apothecary (Bernie Kopell of Loveboat fame), an amorous old warlock.

Bernard Fox as Dr. Bombay.

Bewitched not only led the league in improbable plot devices, the series itself seemed to defy reasonable logic. From 1969 to 1971, Samantha’s cousin Serena was also played by Elizabeth Montgomery, who in the credit roll is identified as “Pandora Spocks” (a spin on the phrase “Pandora’s box”). The producers made little attempt to disguise Serena. Aside from having coal black hair and a beauty mark on her cheek, Serena is identical to Samantha in everything except demeanor. She wears mini-skirts and openly flirts with Darrin’s boss Larry Tate just for sport.

Elizabeth Montgomery as Samantha’s Cousin Serena.

But the strangest pill for fans to swallow was the riddle of the “Two Darrin’s”. Right in the middle of the show, Dick York disappeared and was replaced by Dick Sargent. Like his costar Montgomery, York was on his way to movie stardom after his appearance in the 1960 Spencer Tracy film “Inherit the Wind” along with high profile episodes of The Twilight Zone, Gunsmoke, Wagon Train, I Dream of Jeannie, and Adam-12. York was so popular with his fans and peers that he was nominated for an Emmy for his portrayal of Darrin in 1968. Things seemed to be going great for both York and Bewitched.

Elizabeth Montgomery, Erin Murphy, Dick York.
Elizabeth Montgomery, Erin Murphy, Dick Sargent.

But Dick York had a secret he didn’t tell the show’s producers when he accepted the role back in 1964. In 1959 York appeared in a movie called “They Came to Cordura”. The western starred Gary Cooper, Rita Hayworth, Van Heflen, and Tab Hunter and during filming York severely injured his back. This injury caused constant excruciating pain and led to a daily ritual of drugs, pills, and painkillers. That ritual became an addiction. Eventually, everyone noticed and it became routine to have scenes and plots rewritten so Darrin could be filmed seated, lying down, or reclining (usually at his office desk, in bed or on the couch at home) as much as possible. But due to the physical slapstick comedy nature of the sitcom, situations often arose that made filming in such a manner an impossibility.

Elizabeth Montgomery, Maurice Evans, & Dick York.

In one such episode, York was hanging 15 feet in the air, alongside warlock father-in-law (Maurice Evans) on the show. It had been a bad day already for York; he was taking pills to sleep at night and receiving shots of Novocaine and cortisone in his back to keep working. While atop the elevated platform, York felt dizzy and weak in the knees and ask that the lift be lowered to the ground. Once down, the naturally shaky actor collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. The show’s producer, Bill Asher (Elizabeth Montgomery’s husband in real life) visited York in the hospital as he was recuperating. There he learned the details of York’s affliction and asked him point blank if he wanted to quit the show. York said yes. Dick Sargent was immediately hired to replace Dick York as “Darrin number 2.” Bewitched fans tuned in and were aghast at the change. To paraphrase Timothy Leary’s popular slogan of the day, the fans “Tuned in, were turned off and dropped out”. Unlike York before him, Sargent’s Darrin openly challenged his witchy in-laws, much to the disdain of viewers. The show’s dynamic changed and the ratings plummeted. In 1969, Dick York’s final season as Darrin, the show was a ratings hit at #11, but when Sargent took over, ratings dropped and the show sank to #24. Little did they know, the “Two Darrin’s” switch signaled the end of the series and the beginning of the curse of Bewitched.

PART II.

Original publish date September 18, 2014.

https://weeklyview.net/2014/09/18/the-curse-of-bewitched-part-2

Okay, if you read last week’s article on the Curse of Bewitched, you’re up to speed. If not, Google it and you’ll be just fine. The show ran for 8 seasons from 1964 to 1972 on ABC-TV. For decades after the sitcom ceased production, rumors of a curse attached to the show persisted; undoubtedly fueled by the supernatural nature of the show’s theme. Deaths, both during and after production, seemed to plague the show.

While the show was in production, Alice Pearce, who played nosey neighbor Gladys Kravitz died of ovarian cancer on March 3, 1966. Pearce had been diagnosed with terminal cancer before Bewitched began but kept her illness a secret. Her rapid weight loss was quite evident during the second season of the sitcom. She died at age 48 from ovarian cancer towards the end of the second year of Bewitched. Although Pearce absence was noted by fans, she was quickly replaced by Sandra Gould.

Alice Pearce (Gladys Kravitz) with Elizabeth Montgomery.
Sandra Gould (Gladys Kravitz) with TV husband George Tobias.
Aunt Clara and Endora.

The next death on Bewitched hit the fans much harder. On May 9, 1968 Marion Lorne, who played the beloved, bumbling Aunt Clara, died at age 82 of a heart attack in her Manhattan apartment, just prior to the start of production of the show’s fifth season. She had appeared in twenty-seven episodes of Bewitched. She received a posthumous Emmy Award for Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series for her work on the show. The statue was accepted by Bewitched star Elizabeth Montgomery. The producers of Bewitched recognized that Aunt Clara could never be replaced by another actress so actress Alice Ghostley was cast as “Esmeralda”, a different type of befuddled witch whose magic spells often went astray.

Two years after the show ended but while the sitcom was still quite fresh in the hearts and minds of viewers, Agnes Moorehead, who played Samantha’s mother Endora died of uterine cancer on April 30th, 1974 at age 73. Moorehead had appeared in the 1956 movie “The Conqueror”, which was filmed in Utah-downwind from the Yucca Flat, Nevada, nuclear test site. She was one of over 90 (of 220) cast and crew members- including co-stars Susan Hayward, John Wayne, and Pedro Armendariz, as well as director-producer Dick Powell-who developed cancer; at least 46 died from the disease. No bombs were tested during the filming of The Conqueror, but eleven explosions occurred the year prior.  As she lay dying, she reportedly said: “I should never have taken that part.” Moorehead was nominated for an Oscar four times and played Orson Welles’ mother in the legendary Citizen Kane. She is buried at Dayton Memorial Park in Dayton, Ohio.

Roy Roberts as Frank Stephens.

After Moorehead’s death, Bewitched cast members started dropping like flies. Roy Roberts (Frank Stephens) died of a heart attack in May 1975 at age 75. George Tobias (Abner Kravitz): February 1980, age 78, bladder cancer. Paul Lynde (Uncle Arthur): January 1982, age 55, heart attack. Mabel Albertson (Phyllis Stephens): September 1982, age 81, Alzheimer’s disease. Maurice Evans (Maurice): March 1989, age 87, cancer. Robert F. Simon (Frank Stephens): November 1992, age 83, heart attack. Irene Vernon (Louise Tate): April 1998, age 76, unspecified illness. Sandra Gould (Gladys Kravitz): July 1999, age 82, complications following heart surgery. Kasey Rogers (Louise Tate): July 2006, age 80, stroke. Alice Ghostley (Esmeralda): September 2007, age 81, colon cancer and stroke. Looking over that list and at the ages of the deceased, it can be argued that nature was simply taking it’s natural course.

Kasey Rogers as Louise Tate.
Alice Ghostley as Esmerelda.

But conspiracy theorists point to the deaths of four other main cast members in the early 1990s as the driving force behind the curse of Bewitched. David White who played Darrin’s boss Larry Tate became a recluse in the last years of his life after his son, Jonathan, was killed in the 1988 Lockerbie bombing. By a tragic twist, the actor lost his wife, Mary Welch, as she was giving birth to Jonathan in 1958.  White continued to work in TV regularly after Bewitched in shows such as Columbo and The Rockford Files. Although he remarried after his first wife’s death, he disappeared from public life for a year after his son died. He died in November 1990 from a heart attack.

Jonathan Tate & father Larry Tate.

Dick York, the original Darrin, continued to battle his back pain induced addiction to prescription pain killers or ever came to grips with the loss of his career. After leaving Bewitched, Dick York’s career dried up and he faded into relative obscurity. Word of drug addiction spreads like wildfire in a town like Hollywood where time is money and schedules are tight. York’s career pretty much died on the vine. It didn’t help that Elizabeth Montgomery didn’t get along with him either. He remained on his back for a full year after leaving Bewitched and was nearly destitute soon after. Bad investments had left him broke, and his teeth rotted out (a common problem for drug abusers), so he and his wife were reduced to cleaning houses for a living. He appeared on several prime-time television series including Simon & Simon and Fantasy Island, but York remained a three-pack-a-day smoker. York died of complications at the age of 63 from emphysema in East Grand Rapids, Michigan, on February 20, 1992. He is buried in Plainfield Cemetery in Rockford, Michigan.

The Two Darrins: Dick York & Dick Sargent.

Ironically, Dick Sargent, Darrin # 2 was next. Dick Sargent never really caught on with the show’s loyal viewers. Many blamed the show’s cancellation 3 years later on him. Fans didn’t realize that the similar-looking Sargent had originally been offered the part before York in 1964. Like York, Sargent had a secret. He was gay. Had the producers known this, it is highly unlikely he would have been offered the role in the first place. Hollywood was a very different place in the 1960s. Sargent was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 1989. In 1991, he came out of the closet and bravely became an early gay role model.  Sargent died on July 8, 1994 at age 64. His remains were cremated. Elizabeth Montgomery commented, “He was a great friend, and I will miss his love, his sense of humor and his remarkable courage.” Sadly, less than a year after making those comments, Montgomery was gone.

The premature passing of actress Elizabeth Montgomery appears to have been the catalyst that sparked rumors about a curse. Coming so close upon the heels of the deaths of two of her Bewitched co-stars it prompted whispers that a malevolent force was at work. Other than the children in the show, the trio of Samantha and the two Darrin’s were the youngest characters in Bewitched. Montgomery’s death caused those looking for the workings of dark forces to re-examine the deaths of the two actors who had played Darrin Stephens in the series. The modes of death of cast members (cancer, heart attack, stroke, emphysema, Alzheimer’s) were deemed by conspiratorialists as unnatural and untimely. It may be closer to the truth to say that fans just couldn’t deal with the death of their favorite TV witch, Elizabeth Montgomery.

Wriggling her witch’s nose, Elizabeth Montgomery was America’s sweetheart. Samantha Stephens’ trademark nose-twitch was a natural quirk of Montgomery’s; Elizabeth unconsciously twitched her nose when she was frustrated. Her TV character could get anything she desired with just a magical twitch of her nose accompanied by a xylophone sound effect. But off-screen the blonde beauty struggled to find happiness, running through four tumultuous marriages and bewitching many of Hollywood’s leading men along the way. She cast a spell on stars as Elvis Presley, Dean Martin and Gary Cooper. Despite her privileged upbringing she was very down-to-earth. Perhaps that’s why she bewitched so many of the men in her life. She shunned the Hollywood lifestyle and didn’t like the fakeness of Hollywood and its people. But the daughter of movie legend Robert Montgomery suffered from a “father complex”, often falling in love with older men and hopeless relationships.

A very young Elizabeth Montgomery in an ad for the Desert Inn Casino Las Vegas.

Elizabeth was a teen when her parents divorced which strained her relationship with her father even further. She was forever conflicted, trying to please her father but also rebelling against him. She wanted him to play her father on Bewitched but he refused. Allegedly because he resented the fact that his daughter had become a bigger star than he was. Later when she appeared in the TV movie “The Legend of Lizzie Borden”, about a woman accused of killing her parents with an axe, Robert Montgomery was horrified and scolded his daughter by telling her: “You would!” He took it as a personal affront-as if she secretly wanted to kill her own father. Robert Montgomery was a staunch Republican and Elizabeth became a fervent Democrat, fighting for social causes that antagonized her father.

Elizabeth Montgomery with her father, Robert Montgomery and mother, Elizabeth Bryan Allen.

Her first husband was rich New York socialite Frederick Gallatin Cammann, a decade older than Elizabeth, he wanted her to quit acting and be a stay-at-home wife but Elizabeth took off for California and a career and their marriage went south a year later.

20-year-old Elizabeth Montgomery and her first of four husbands, Frederick Gallatin Cammann, on their wedding day, March 1954.
Elizabeth Montgomery & Gig Young.

Her second husband was Oscar winning movie star Gig Young, 25 years her senior and at 48 almost her father’s age. Elizabeth was 22 and infatuated but Gig Young was an alcoholic and their marriage broke down after seven years. (Young later shot his fith wife to death and killed himself in a murder-suicide in 1978).

Elizabeth’s third husband was Bewitched producer Bill Asher another older man. That marriage ended in divorce in 1973.

Elizabeth Montgomery & John F. Kennedy.

She was a close friend of President John F Kennedy and considering JFK’s unquenchable thirst for beautiful women, it is not hard to suppose that there were encounters between them. But if anything happened Elizabeth never talked about it. Despite enjoying a popularity that bordered on mania, Montgomery never won an Emmy, although she was nominated for eight of them (and four Golden Globe awards). Elizabeth refused to play the Hollywood social game and never took out ads begging for award consideration. She wanted her work to speak for itself.

Elizabeth Montgomery & Dick York.

Bewitched was one of the Sixties’ biggest hit TV comedies but behind the scenes lay a turbulent drama. Elizabeth Montgomery didn’t get along with Dick York. Like every other man who ever encountered her, York was in love with her. York’s attraction made Elizabeth uncomfortable and when York’s addiction to painkillers caused him to repeatedly miss episodes, it became evident to everyone that he had to go. Agnes Moorehead was very fond of Dick York and didn’t want to see him go. She and Sargent had great on set battles , which reduced Sargent to tears on several occasions. Montgomery and Sargent became lifelong friends based largely on these squabbles.

Elizabeth Montgomery & Dick Sargent.

The caustic atmosphere of a divisive set caused Elizabeth to quit the show after the fifth season but ABC offered her so much money she couldn’t refuse. By the show’s final season Elizabeth began to appear in episodes bra-less as a nod to the women’s liberation, and if you watch the later shows, you can tell. Although the fans often blame Sargent for the show’s demise in 1972, the truth is that when her contract was up ABC offered her another fortune to stay but she turned it down. The show had been the highest rated series ever for the network and had been renewed for a ninth season to run from 1972 to 1973. But after eight seasons she’d had enough. She wanted to get as far away from Samantha Stephens as she could. She sought out challenging roles, playing a sexual assault victim in “A Case Of Rape” (1974). an axe killer in “The Legend Of Lizzie Borden” (1975) and a pioneer woman facing hardship in 1820s Ohio in the mini-series “The Awakening Land” (1978). She became known as the “Queen of the TV Movie.”

Elizabeth Montgomery in the Legend of Lizzie Borden 1975.

Montgomery lined a wall of her home with photos from all her movies – but none from Bewitched. Though she wearied of Bewitched Montgomery had the last laugh: she owned 20 percent of the show and made millions from residuals. During Bewitched’s run, she was a vocal critic of the Vietnam War. In the late 1980s and early 1990s she narrated a series of political documentaries, including “Coverup: Behind the Iran Contra Affair” (1988) and the Academy Award winning “The Panama Deception” (1992). She was one of the earliest stars to support Aids victims by actively campaigning for gay rights. In June 1992, Montgomery and Dick Sargent were Grand Marshals at the Los Angeles Gay Pride Parade. Montgomery was an outspoken champion of abortion, women’s rights and gay rights throughout her life.

Elizabeth Montgomery & Dick Sargent Grand Marshals of 1992 L.A. Gay Pride Festival.

Among her most tormented lovers was former ballet star Alexander Godunov turned actor (Witness and Die Hard). However, he was a hopeless alcoholic who was rumored to be abusive and self-destructive. In 1973, Elizabeth began her longest personal relationship when she met former Falcon Crest star Robert Foxworth, nine years her junior. They were a couple for 20 years before they finally wed in 1993-soon after she ended her affair with Alexander Godunov who descended into an alcohol fueled nose dive at the news.

Alexander Godunov.

In the spring of 1995, Montgomery was diagnosed with colorectal cancer only 18 months after the couple was wed. She experienced (and ignored) flu-like symptoms during the filming of the “Deadline for Murder” TV series, which wrapped in late March 1995. By the time the cancer was diagnosed, it was too late for medical intervention. With no hope of recovery and unwilling to die in a hospital, she chose to return to the home that she shared with Foxworth. Her death came quickly, only eight weeks after the diagnosis. She joked that she wanted pina colada in her IV drip and when the end came in her 26-room Beverly Hills mansion she sent her family away from her deathbed, wishing to die alone. Early on the morning of May 18, 1995, Montgomery died peacefully in her bed. Ironically Godunov died that same day. Elizabeth Montgomery was 62 and she was still gorgeous.

Elizabeth Montgomery & Robert Foxworth.

On June 18, 1995, a memorial service was held at the Canon Theatre in Beverly Hills. Herbie Hancock provided the music, and Dominick Dunne spoke about their early days as friends in New York City. Other speakers included her husband, Robert Foxworth, who read out sympathy cards from fans, friends and family. Her remains were cremated at Westwood Village Memorial Park Cemetery and scattered. Elizabeth Montgomery had a summer home in Patterson, New York. Following her death, the 800-acre estate became Wonder Lake State Park.

Wonder Lake State Park in New York.

On April 19, 1998, an auction and sale of Montgomery’s clothing was held by her family to benefit the AIDS Healthcare Foundation of Los Angeles. Erin Murphy, who played Tabitha on the series, modeled the clothing that was auctioned. In June 2005, a bronze statue of Montgomery as Samantha Stephens was erected in Salem, Massachusetts. Ironically, Elizabeth and Lizzie Borden were sixth cousins once removed, both descending from 17th-century Massachusetts resident John Luther. It is hard to escape the irony that America’s TV sweetheart, Elizabeth Montgomery, is associated with two of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts most popular, yet spooky, destinations: Salem and Fall River. Next week, I’ll take you on a tour of both.

Rhonda Hunter with the Elizabeth Montgomery Bewitched statue Salem Massachusetts 9/12/2014.
Elizabeth Montgomery autographed photo.
Pop Culture, Travel

From Hell Gate to the Golden Gate in a Maxwell 30. The unlikely story of Alice Ramsey.

Alice Huyler Ramsey (1886-1983)

Publish date July 9, 2026.

https://weeklyview.net/2026/07/09/from-hell-gate-to-the-golden-gate-in-a-maxwell-30

It’s summertime in Indiana; the kids are out of school, the days are getting longer, the weather is heating up and Hoosier thoughts turn to . . . ROAD TRIP! Let me introduce you to the woman for whom the term road trip just may have been invented for. Alice Huyler Ramsey (November 11, 1886 – September 10, 1983) was the first woman to drive across the United States from coast-to-coast. On June 9, 1909, the 22-year-old housewife and mother from New Jersey began a 3,800-mile journey from Hell’s Gate in Manhattan to San Francisco in a green Maxwell 30 automobile. On her 59-day trek she was accompanied by her two older sisters-in-law and another female friend, none of whom could drive a car, meaning that Alice was the sole driver for the entire journey. Ramsey’s route roughly paralleled the route that, four years later, Indy 500 co-founder Carl Fisher would turn into the Lincoln Highway or modern day Route 30.

Carl Fisher

A century ago, it was thought that driving a car, like voting, required manly virtues, including “sound judgment” and “thoughtful decision-making.” More than a decade before women got the right to vote, Alice Ramsey proved to the world that a woman possessed the necessary virtues.


Alice Ramsey’s first love was horseback riding, and after showing a keen interest in the “new” automobiles she witnessed traversing the streets of Hackensack, her husband presented her with a shiny new 1908 Maxwell. After taking driving lessons at the local Maxwell dealership, Alice hit the roads of New Jersey, driving thousands of miles within the Garden State that summer. When the dealership heard about Ramsey’s driving, she was asked to enter an automotive endurance test in September 1908, a grueling 200-mile drive on unpaved roads. She handled the vehicle masterfully, received a perfect score, and drew great media attention as one of only two women drivers in the event.

Alice Ramsey wedding photo photo, c. 1906 (Courtesy ofArchives and Special Collections, Vassar College)

After this, Maxwell sales manager Cadwallader Washburn Kelsey asked Mrs. Ramsey to undertake what became the biggest publicity stunt of the year, a cross-country drive from New York City to San Francisco, in a new Maxwell. Kelsey called the 21-year-old Vassar graduate (class of 1907) “the greatest natural woman driver I’ve ever seen.” He asked Ramsey if she would like to drive the company’s new 30-horsepower, four-cylinder Maxwell cross-country to prove that the car could make it and that a female motorist could do it. This open-air touring car seated four with a top speed of 40 mph.

In a time before interstate freeways, when many of the busiest back-country roads were not yet paved or even graveled, transcontinental drives were rare and respected accomplishments. The transcontinental speed record had recently been reduced from 63 days to a mere 15 days, but no female driver had yet accomplished the feat. The Maxwell company paid all expenses, and informed its dealerships of her itinerary, instructing them to have parts and mechanics on call in case of mechanical breakdowns. She was accompanied by a Maxwell press team in a separate car trailing behind.

Alice Huyler Ramsey kicks off her Maxwell tour.

In the late spring of 1909, Alice left her new baby with a nursemaid and set out on a rainy day in June from New York City, north to Poughkeepsie, and then made her way west through Buffalo, Cleveland, Gary and Chicago. Alice and her passengers/navigators used maps from AAA to chart their journey — no small feat considering that only 152 of the 3,600 miles the group traveled were paved. Over the course of the drive, Ramsey changed 11 tires, routinely cleaned the spark plugs, repaired a broken brake pedal and once had to sleep in the car after it got stuck in mud.

In 1909, only 155,000 of 80 million Americans owned cars. Most of the vehicles were in the East and Midwest; the land of good roads, comfortable lodgings, conveniently located service stations and plentiful eating places. Consequently, the expedition’s first half was relatively easy, with the only impediments to the journey’s progress being the incessant promotional meet-and-greets staged by Maxwell that seemingly stopped in every little town and burg to give locals the chance to gawk at and talk to the pioneering women. Her drive was more of a spectacle than a speed competition. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Alice was easy on the eyes.

Alice Ramsey changing her tire for the cameras.

The adventurous Ramsey seemed disinterested in this part of the excursion and mostly fidgeted her way through the circus-like stopovers and interviews as she itched to get back out on the open road. On Day 2, for instance, she noted, “We drove north past the handsome estates at Hyde Park and of John Jacob Astor near Rhinebeck, N.Y. . . . and continued with little in the way of diversion.” In fact, she bypassed the press corps waiting for her at the historic 1766 Rhinebeck Hotel, a place where George Washington actually did sleep.

All was peaches and cream over the flat lands and reasonably passable roads of Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois until the group crossed over the Mighty Mississippi. Things changed dramatically once the group arrived in Iowa. Heavy rains and floods washed out roads and bridges in Iowa as Ramsey resisted suggestions to ship her Maxwell to Omaha by train. Alice recalled, “We were doing quite well until we entered Mechanicsville. . . . A sudden torrent descended upon us. We made quickly for the first shelter we could find . . . a livery stable. There were several buggies standing around, horses still hitched to them. To say the animals were astonished to be joined by a horseless carriage from which came the noise of a pulsating engine is putting it mildly!”

Alice Ramsey and her touring party.

After two stagnant hours, the soggy party decided to brave the storm and ran to a nearby restaurant where Ramsey sat down at a vintage piano to entertain some “country lads” as she “tossed off a couple light numbers.” (This, by the way, in one of the few buildings Ramsey visited that is still standing: It’s now Bubba’s Sports Bar & Grill, 211 1st St. in Mechanicsville, in eastern Iowa.) That wet spring of 1909 turned Iowa and Nebraska into a muddy morass, and the usually hard packed dirt cart paths turned to sticky, rutted muck. Tires went flat and the Maxwell became mired so often that the engine regularly overheated. It didn’t faze  the indomitable Alice Ramsey though — she loved it. “This was the route which later became the Lincoln Highway — I almost feel as if I was the ‘Mother’ of it!” she wrote. “And believe me, the labor pangs prior to its birth were terrific!”

Wyoming, Utah and Nevada were more forgiving; the roads were rough to nonexistent, but the weather was better and the land was mostly flat. Fording rivers was an imposing challenge that led to broken axles in the 4-foot-deep gullies and creek beds. Calling upon her skills as a mechanic as well as a driver (she was founder and president of the Women’s Motoring Club of New Jersey at age 21), Ramsey coaxed her battered vehicle across desert and over mountains. Still, the crew had time to enjoy the scenery. Seeing the Devil’s Slide natural rock monument southeast of Ogden, Utah, Ramsey turned tourist: “Quite a sight! So all-by-itself, and so stupendous.”

On August 10, 1909 Alice and her weary group of intrepid travelers arrived in San Francisco, nearly two months after they started. The quartet arrived in the City by the Bay to much fanfare and hoopla, but most importantly, they were all safe and sound. Most notably for her sponsors, sales of Maxwell autos more than doubled overnight. In case you’re wondering, the Maxwell company let Ramsey keep the car.

Alice was named the “Woman Motorist of the Century” by AAA in 1960. In later years, she lived quietly in Covina, California, where in 1961 she wrote and published the story of her journey, Veil, Duster, and Tire Iron. (In 2005, the story was updated and retitled as Alice’s Drive, which can be ordered through Amazon.) Between 1909 and 1975, Ramsey drove across the country more than 30 times. She was married to New Jersey Congressman John Rathbone Ramsey, Sr. and the couple had two children. Her husband never shared his wife’s passion for automobiles. He never learned how to drive and was uncomfortable riding in cars throughout his lifetime. Alice Ramsey continued driving until a year before her death in 1983. On October 17, 2000, she became the first woman inducted into the Automotive Hall of Fame in Dearborn, Michigan.

Alice’s closest moment to perfection came not in San Francisco where she was hailed as a hero and showered with roses, but as she entered California south of Lake Tahoe, heading down the Sierra slopes to Placerville. “Majestic sugar pines, Douglas firs and redwoods lined our road on both sides. What a land! What mountains! What blue skies and clear, sparkling water! Our hearts leapt within us. None of us had ever seen the like — and we loved it.” With that introduction to the state and her lifelong passion for the road, it feels appropriate that she settled in that region in the 1950s just as California was becoming the car culture capital of the world. Perhaps Alice Huyler Ramsey voiced her own epitaph during an interview 17 years before her death when asked about her life: “I’m probably happiest,” she said, “when I’m holding a wheel.”

Alice Huyler Tamsey’s grave marker at the Hackensack Cemetery and Mausoleum
Hackensack, Bergen County, New Jersey.
Rare photo of Alice Ramsey Weir (far left) and friends discovered in an attic in 2025 by her great-niece.

Natural Disasters, Pop Culture, Travel

Immigration, Baseball, PTSD, and the Titanic.

Original Publish Date October 2, 2025.

https://weeklyview.net/2025/10/02/immigration-baseball-ptsd-and-the-titanic/

It’s playoff time in Major League Baseball. Right now, there are 12 teams marching toward the World Series. One of those teams, the Detroit Tigers, is heading to the playoffs for the second year in a row following a decade-long drought. The Tigers are one of the most storied franchises in MLB history. Since they became a major league franchise in 1901, the Tigers have won four World Series championships, 11 AL pennants, and four AL Central division championships. From 1912 to 1937, the Tigers played their home games at Navin Field in the Corktown neighborhood of Detroit. Corktown is a traditionally Irish settlement named so because nearly half of its settlers traced their lineage to County Cork, Ireland. Corktown is the oldest neighborhood in Detroit.

In 1911, the new Tigers owner Frank Navin ordered a new steel-and-concrete baseball park to be built that could seat 23,000 fans. Navin Field opened on April 20, 1912, the same day as the Red Soxs’ Fenway Park in Boston and just 5 days after the RMS Titanic sank. Another ominous portent is the fact that Cleveland Naps player “Shoeless” Joe Jackson scored the first run at Navin Field. Jackson was later banned from baseball as a member of the Chicago “Black Sox” team, accused of throwing the 1919 World Series. The $300,000 price tag for Navin Field translates to about $50 million today. The ballpark featured a 125-foot flagpole in center field that, to this day, is the tallest obstacle ever built in fair territory in a major league park. 26,000 fans crammed into the park for Navin Field’s opening day, postponed two days from its planned inaugural date because of rain. Despite that Motor City milestone, most of the attention was knocked from newspaper headlines the next morning by the sinking of the Titanic.

Navin Field Detroit ,MIchigan.

The week before that milestone grand opening day, some 3,700 miles away, a nine-year-old British boy named Frank John William Goldsmith was preparing for the trip of a lifetime. Frankie was born in Strood, Kent, England, the eldest child of Frank and Emily Goldsmith. Between 1908 to 1911, most of the extended Goldsmith family emigrated to the US, settling in Detroit. In the spring of 1912, Frankie’s parents decided to join them. The Goldsmith family boarded the New York City-bound RMS Titanic in Southampton as third-class passengers. During the first three uneventful days aboard ship, Frankie spent his time playing and exploring the ship with other similarly aged English-speaking third-class children. The boys ran the decks, climbed the baggage cranes, and wandered down to the boiler rooms to watch the stokers and firemen at work. Of these boys, only Frankie and one other survived the sinking.

RMS Titanic.

Unsurprisingly, Goldsmith (1902-1982) remembered the exact moment his personal Titanic trauma began for the rest of his life. In a speech to the Rotary Club in 1977, he recalled that he was lacing up his shoes in his third-class passenger cabin when a Titanic officer knocked on, and then opened, the cabin door at about 1:30 a.m. The officer pointed to the ceiling and informed them to put on one of the lifejackets located there. Earlier, Frankie’s father woke his family and informed them to get dressed and prepare to make their way up to the prow of the ship. Ironically, Frankie’s family likely made their way up from their cramped F-deck third-class quarters via the opulent Grand Staircase of the ship. Upon learning that the “Unsinkable Titanic” had struck an iceberg, the family made their way to the forward end of the boat deck, where the “Collapsible C” lifeboat was being loaded. Frankie remembered the lifeboat being surrounded by a ring of crewmen who were only letting women and children on. Collapsible C was the second to last ship to leave, carrying 41 passengers and departing at 1:47 a.m.

Frank Goldsmith as a young child (l) and a collapsible lifeboat from Titanic, possibly carrying him.

Goldsmith wrote of the experience: “Mother and I then were permitted through the gateway. My dad reached down and patted me on the shoulder and said, ‘So long, Frankie, I’ll see you later.’ He didn’t, and he may have known he wouldn’t.” Goldsmith Sr. died in the sinking; his body was never recovered. Goldsmith wrote a book about his Titanic experience, published posthumously by the Titanic Historical Society in 1991. That book, Echoes in the Night: Memories of a Titanic Survivor, remains the only full account recorded by a third-class passenger.

Frank John Goldsmith with his parents & younger brother, Bertie, around 1907

As their lifeboat floundered in the Atlantic Ocean, to keep her son’s young mind off the unfolding tragedy, Frankie’s mother instructed him to turn his back to the sinking ship and care for an invalid survivor. For forty agonizing minutes, the screams of the doomed passengers echoed across the water. By 2:20 a.m, the RMS Titanic was totally submerged, but helpless survivors lasted another 10 minutes before surrendering to the icy waters. The ship sank two hours and 40 minutes after impact with the iceberg. Collapsible C was picked up by the RMS Carpathia around 6:30 a.m. During those four anguished hours asea, Mrs. Goldsmith busied herself sewing clothes from blankets for women and children who had left the ship in only nightclothes. After being rescued, young Frankie was initiated by RMS Carpathia’s boiler-stokers as an honorary seaman by having him drink a mixture of water, vinegar, and a whole raw egg. Frankie swallowed it in one gulp, and from then on, he proudly considered himself a member of the ship’s crew. Nine-year-old Goldsmith remembered the crewmen telling him, “Don’t cry, Frankie, your dad will probably be in New York before you are.”

Frank John Goldsmith Jr. Passport Photo.

Growing up, Goldsmith clung to the hope of his father’s survival. It took him months to understand that his dad was really dead, and for years afterward, he dreamed that “another ship must have picked him up and one day he will come walking right through that door and say, ‘Hello, Frankie.’” Alas, he never saw his father again. Throughout Goldsmith’s life the Titanic became both a dream and a nightmare. At times, he would suddenly start talking uncontrollably about that midnight, how he grabbed some candy when leaving their cabin; how, as his descending lifeboat passed a porthole, he saw teen-age crew members playing hide and seek; how the Titanic shot off rockets as if it were the King’s birthday. An adolescent memory of his lifeboat rowing hard after the receding lights of a foreign fishing boat, fleeing the disaster lest its illegal presence become known. The endless, anxious nail-biting sick-feeling of survivor’s guilt that never goes away.

Titanic disaster announced in New York City.

Upon arrival in New York City, Frankie and his mother were cared for by the Salvation Army, which provided train fare to reach their relatives in Detroit. They moved to a home near the newly opened Navin Field, home of the Detroit Tigers. However, unlike most 9-year-old boys, Frankie was never a big fan of baseball. Within easy earshot of the new ballyard, every time Frankie heard the crowd erupt in cheers during a game, he cringed. The sound reminded him of the screams of the dying passengers and crew in the water just after the ship sank; as a result, he never attended Tigers baseball games. Although the acronym PTSD is a more recent generational term, it is nonetheless real. Post-traumatic stress disorder exists as a mental health condition caused by an extremely stressful or terrifying event. PTSD can be caused by either being a part of it or by witnessing it. PTSD may include flashbacks, nightmares, severe anxiety, and uncontrollable thoughts about the event. Nearly everyone knows someone who has suffered from, or continues to battle against, the mysterious (often undiagnosed) condition. It can be a combat war veteran friend who avoids July 4th celebrations or a family member who avoids hospitals due to the loss of a loved one to cancer or another devastating disease. The point is, as I’ve always preached, history matters, and many of the daily hardships we face today have been outlined by our ancestors.

Frank John William Goldsmith 1943.

Frankie married Victoria Agnes Lawrence (Goldsmith) in 1926, and they had three sons: James, Charles, and Frank II. During World War II, Frankie served as a civilian photographer for the U.S. Army Air Corps. After the war, he brought his family to Ashland, Ohio, and later opened a photography supply store in nearby Mansfield. Goldsmith died at his home in 1982, at age 79. His ashes were scattered over the North Atlantic, above the site where the Titanic rests.

Frank John William Goldsmith 1902-1982.

Frank John William Goldsmith Jr. was just another immigrant child when he survived the tragic sinking of the Titanic. For the remainder of his life, the fatherless boy could never enjoy the cheers of a crowd, regardless of the occasion. Every loud exuberant roar transported him back to that dark April night in 1912. To Frankie, the sound echoed the screams and cries of passengers fighting for their lives in the icy Atlantic. Goldsmith carried the weight of that association with him for the rest of his life. So my friends, when you encounter a neighbor, a friend, a relative, or an immigrant, remember you take them as you find them. Their story might run a little deeper than you think.

National Park Service, Presidents, Travel

The Devils Tower.

Original publish date: September 23, 2021. https://weeklyview.net/2021/09/23/the-devils-tower/

https://www.digitalindy.org/digital/collection/twv/id/4308/rec/153

Over the last couple of weeks, I detailed a long-lost Indiana landmark known as the Hoosier Slide in Michigan City. This giant mound of sand became a tourist attraction when visitors discovered that they could slide down its slopes on slices of cardboard or fragments of cloth like a sled on a snow mound. The Hoosier Slide disappeared from the northern Indiana landscape around World War I after it was purchased by the Ball Brothers Corporation in Muncie to furnish the distinctive blue tint for their popular Ball Brand fruit jars.

Blue Ball Jar.

Continuing that theme, it was 115 years ago this week (Sept. 24, 1906) that President Theodore Roosevelt proclaimed Devils Tower in Wyoming as the nation’s first National Monument, under new authority granted to him by Congress in the Antiquities Act. The Antiquities Act resulted from concerns about protecting mostly prehistoric Native American ruins and artifacts (aka “antiquities”) located on federal lands. The United States Congress designated the area a U.S. forest reserve in 1892. However, in the ensuing years, the threat of commercial development and the removal of artifacts from these unprotected lands by private collectors, whom Teddy famously referred to as “pot hunters,” had become a serious problem. Making this a high-priority goal for Teddy’s second term.

President Theodore Roosevelt giving a speech in Wyoming.

Although Devils Tower (apostrophe purposely omitted) might not ring any bells in your house, it was so important to Roosevelt that he designated it for protection before he established the Grand Canyon Game Preserve by proclamation on November 28, 1906, and the Grand Canyon National Monument on January 11, 1908. Devils Tower, also called Bear Lodge Butte, is part of the Black Hills mountain range located above the Belle Fourche River near Hulett and Sundance in Crook County, northeastern Wyoming. The tower, technically called a “monolith”, was formed from cooled magma exposed through erosion. It stands 1,267 feet tall; 867 feet from summit to base (5,112 feet above sea level) and encloses an area of 1,347 acres.

Teddy Roosevelt.

The oldest rocks visible in Devils Tower National Monument were once part of a shallow sea during the Triassic period 250 million years ago, which saw the rise of reptiles and the first dinosaurs. Devils Tower hails from the Jurassic period, about 200 million years ago, which ushered in birds and mammals. The Tower was here 150 million years before the Rocky Mountains and the Black Hills were formed. It is easy to imagine that the thought of dinosaurs roaming around Devils Tower may well have sparked Teddy Roosevelt’s vivid imagination, thus leading him to designate it as the country’s first National Landmark.

1888 Cabinet Photos of Devils Tower or Bear Lodge as seen from the east side.

Fur trappers may have visited Devils Tower, but they left no written evidence of having done so. The first documented Caucasian visitors were members of Captain William F. Raynolds’s 1859 expedition to Yellowstone. Sixteen years later, Colonel Richard I. Dodge escorted a US Government Office of Indian Affairs scientific survey party to the massive rock formation and coined the name Devils Tower. The misnomer was created when his interpreter reportedly misinterpreted a native name to mean “Bad God’s Tower”. The Indigenous Native American people had many names for the outcropping including Bear’s House, Grizzly Bear Lodge, Bear’s Tipi, Home of the Bear, Bear’s Lair, Tree Rock, Great Gray Horn, and Brown Buffalo Horn.

Devils Tower in 1890, 16 years before President Theodore Roosevelt declared it a national monument. The photo is by Black Hills area photographer John Grabill. 

According to the lore of the Lakota tribe, the traditional name for the tower came after a group of girls went out to play and were spotted by several giant bears, who began to chase them. In an effort to escape the bears, the girls climbed atop a rock, fell to their knees, and prayed to the Great Spirit to save them. Hearing their prayers, the Great Spirit made the rock rise from the ground towards the heavens so that the bears could not reach the girls. The bears, in an effort to climb the rock, left deep claw marks in the sides, which had become too steep to climb. Those are the marks that appear today on the sides of Devils Tower. When the girls reached the sky, they were turned into the star formation known as the “Seven Sisters.”

Another version tells that two Kiowa Sioux boys wandered far from their village when Mato the bear, a huge creature that had claws the size of teepee poles, spotted them and wanted to eat them for breakfast. He was almost upon them when the boys prayed to Wakan Tanka the Creator to help them. They rose up on a huge rock, while Mato tried to get up from every side, leaving huge scratch marks as he did. Finally, he sauntered off, disappointed, discouraged, and hungry. The bear came to rest east of the Black Hills at what is now Bear Butte. Wanblee, the eagle, helped the boys off the rock and back to their village. A painting depicting this legend by artist Herbert A. Collins hangs over the fireplace in the visitor’s center at Devils Tower.

In a Cheyenne version of the story, the giant bear pursues the girls and kills most of them. Two sisters escape back to their home with the bear still tracking them. They tell two boys that the bear can only be killed with an arrow shot through the underside of its foot. The boys have the sisters lead the bear to Devils Tower and trick it into thinking they have climbed the rock. The boys attempt to shoot the bear through the foot while it repeatedly attempts to climb up and slides back down leaving more claw marks each time. The bear was finally scared off when an arrow came very close to its left foot. This last arrow continued to go up and never came down.

Wooden Leg warrior of the Northern Cheyenne who fought in the Battle of Little Bighorn in 1876.

Wooden Leg, a Northern Cheyenne, related still another legend told to him by an old man as they were traveling together past the Devils Tower around 1866. A Native American man decided to sleep at the base of Bear Lodge. In the morning he found that he had been transported to the top of the rock by the Great Medicine with no way down. He spent another day and night on the rock with no food or water. After he had prayed all day and then gone to sleep, he awoke to find that the Great Medicine had brought him back down to the ground. Devils Tower is still considered to be sacred ground which has caused distress among the Native American tribes who described the Devils Tower designation as offensive. However, the name was never changed.

1893 Devils Tower Stake Ladder Expedition-Left: Willard Ripley, Right: William Rogers, area rancher. The base of the 1893 Stake Ladder in center. Photo Courtesy Rockpile Museum.

In recent years, climbing Devils Tower is on many a bucket list. The first known ascent of Devils Tower occurred on July 4, 1893. It is credited to a pair of local ranchers, William Rogers and Willard Ripley. They completed this first ascent after constructing a ladder of wooden pegs driven into cracks in the rock face. About 1,000 people came from up to 12 miles away to witness this first formal ascent of the tower. Rogers’ wife Linnie ascended the ladder two years later, becoming the first woman to reach the summit of the tower. An estimated 215 people later ascended the tower using Rogers’ ladder. It was last used in 1927 by stunt climber Babe (”the Human Fly”) White, a roaring twenties daredevil who climbed skyscrapers all over the country for publicity.

Rogers and Ripley’s climb jump-started a sport climbing industry at the tower that continues to the present day. Over thirty years, the ladder, located on the southeast side of Devils Tower, fell into disrepair. Today, what remains of the ladder begins about 100 feet above the ground and ascends from there to the summit. Sources vary on the original length of the ladder, some accounts say it was 350 feet while others say 270 feet. In the 1930s, the decision was made to remove the lower 100 feet of the ladder for safety reasons. The ladder can still be seen from the trails around the monument.

Daredevil George Hopkins parachuted onto Devils Tower in 1941.

In 1941, Devils Tower became front-page news. Daredevil George Hopkins parachuted onto Devils Tower to settle a bet. His intention was to repel down the slope via a 1,000-foot rope dropped to him after a successful landing on the butte. To Hopkins’ horror, the package containing the rope, a sledgehammer, and a car axle to be driven into the rock as an anchor piton for the rope. As the weather deteriorated, a second attempt was made to drop equipment, but the rope froze in the rain and wind and could not be used. Hopkins was stranded for six days, exposed to frigid temperatures, freezing rain, and 50 mph winds before a mountain rescue team reached him and brought him down.

Climbers on Devils Tower.

Today, hundreds of climbers scale the sheer rock walls of Devils Tower via climbing routes covering every side of the prehistoric landmark. All of them must check in with a park ranger before and after attempting a climb. No overnight camping at the summit is allowed; climbers return to base on the same day they ascend. Because the Tower is sacred to several Plains tribes, including the Lakota, Cheyenne, and Kiowa, many Native American leaders objected to climbers ascending the monument, considering this to be a desecration. Because of this, a compromise was reached with a voluntary climbing ban during the month of June when the tribes are conducting ceremonies around the monument.

Top of Devils Tower.

The tower has a flat top covering 1.5 acres and its fluted sides give it an otherworldly appearance. Its color is mainly light gray and buff. Lichens cover parts of the tower, and sage, moss, and grass grow on its top. Chipmunks and birds live on the summit, and a pine forest covers the surrounding countrysides below. Additionally, Devils Tower National Monument protects many species of wildlife, such as white-tailed deer, bald eagles, and prairie dogs, the latter of which maintain a sizeable population at the base of the monument.

Richard Dreyfuss re-creating Devils Tower in his living room.

All of this is well and good and obviously, had the Hoosier slide been likewise protected, we may still be sliding down the massive sand dune in northern Indiana today. But movie buffs everywhere recognize Devils Tower for another reason. The 1977 movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind used the formation as the bellwether of its climactic scene. It soon became the film’s trademark logo. Its release caused a large increase in visitors and climbers to the monument. Today, the otherworldly pull and Hollywood fame of Devils Tower has made it a cultural waymark.

Devils Tower Campground Cafe & Gift Store.

With the funds from the film’s creation, the owners of the surrounding land were able to open a campground and restaurant to host climbers, sightseeing fans of the landscape, and movie buffs. Campers are welcome to hike and climb the tower twenty-four hours a day, and at night they’re treated to a showing of Close Encounters on a screen at the base of the landmark. According to the brochure, “Visitors leave with a new appreciation for the unique rock formation and a deepened curiosity about our place in space.”

President Barack Obamas at Yosemite.

And, for an added “new appreciation”, although Teddy Roosevelt is considered to be the “father” of the National Park System, you might be interested to learn that during his two terms, President Obama established more monuments than any President before him with 26, breaking the previous record held by President Theodore Roosevelt who had 18. In short, on both accounts, it was a bi-partisan land grab for the good.