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More Grandpa Davey Speaks
A Path with a Heart
Answers
A Stop at Willoughby
Can't Captue It
Choices
Corrections
Crossing Texas
Ewe To?
Girls
Golden Biscuits
Invest in Yourself
Killing Me Softly
Leave it to Beaver
Locke Machine
Lost in the Grand Canyon
Mind Over Temperature
Mother of all Storms
Mr. Wizard
Mysterious Money
No Sense at All
Not Shadow People
Poverty Point
Queer Creatures
Reckless Abandon
Shadow People
Squirt Gets Run Over
Sub Prime
Surrogates
TEOTWAWKI
The Cheapest Medicine
The Golden Calf
Ticket to Freedom
Two Types of Girls
Vaya Con Dios
Wake Up!
Where's the Beef?
Worst Case Scenario
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A Stop at Willoughby
Willoughby?
Maybe it’s wishful thinking nestled in a hidden part of a man’s
mind, or maybe it’s the last stop in the vast design of things, or
perhaps, for a man like Gart Williams, who climbed on a world that
went by too fast, it’s a place around the bend where he could jump
off. Willoughby? Whatever it is, it comes with sunlight and serenity, and is a
part of the Twilight Zone. -Rod Serling
 In this episode, Mr. Williams wakes to find the train stopped. The
sun is bright outside, and as he looks out the window, he discovers
that the train is in Willoughby, and that it’s July of 1888! He
learns that this is a “peaceful, restful place, where a man can slow
down to a walk and live his life full measure.”
On New Years Day 1892, the first train pulled into Kalispell. Over
the next twenty-five years, here grew a real life Willoughby.
On our daily walks, I have discovered a century old neighborhood
that shares its history with all those who stroll the broad, tree
lined avenues. As we start our walk, we first notice the
extraordinarily wide sidewalks. Walking must have been important to
the early settlers. We tread on the original concrete, poured mostly
in 1909, 1910, and 1915. At each intersection, street names are cast
into the walks.
Next, we notice the streets are covered by the foliage of the
stately trees that line the boulevards. On a treeless prairie, the
whole city was planted, mostly with Norway Maples. Some cottonwoods
co-exist, but back then, non-native species were preferred.
Trees did naturally exist in town at the infamous “mosquito infested
swamp and hobo camp.” After draining the swamp and repeatedly running
off the hobos, Woodland Park finally became a place fit for children
to play.
Continuing on our walk, we begin to notice the multitude of historic
home placards. In this neighborhood of mansions to bungalows, we
read the stories of the people that built the town. We also learn of
the diverse architectural styles found here. We read of the
occupations and careers of these bold people who came to the middle
of nowhere, built fine homes and started new lives in a new place.
One hundred years ago, these
folks built their own Willoughby. The trees are larger, but it
remains much the same today. Pedestrians have the right of way and the
signals on Main Street still flash at night. Mr. Williams, you
didn’t have to kill yourself. You should have taken the train to
Montana.
©06/25/09
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