I know you have all been waiting, and it is finally here. As of today, I am officially taking over duties at Lost Fort Collins. I am quite humbled by this prospect, and very excited about it as well. Cat and I have been following each others blogs for a couple of years, but until today, we have never officially met. I am quite honored that Cat chose me to carry on her hard work, and her baby as she is fond of calling it.

Some of you know me already, but for those of you who don’t, I am Terence Hoaglund, a licensed Landscape Architect (among other things I do to put food on the table). I have been a resident of Fort Collins since 1985, save for a 3 year stint in the Denver Metro Area. Before that, I was born and raised in Grand Junction on the western slope of Colorado. My family has been in this state since before 1900, though I don’t officially know when we settled in the state. What I do know, is that my grandfather (on my dad’s side) was born on the family ranch, in what is know the ski resort of Snowmass. The family homestead is now known as the Anderson Cultural Arts center (long story). My grandmother (also my dad’s side) was born in Brush Creek, outside of Aspen. My mom’s side is from the St. Louis area, but they have been here since my mom was in grade school, and settled in Georgetown, and later in Denver.

My connection to Lost Fort Collins is that I have another blog, My Built Environment, where I write about The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly of the built environment, not just in Fort Collins, but wherever I happen to be. Of course, it isn’t always limited to that, sometimes I rant about other things. Anyway, that is were Cat and I first started following each others blogs.

I also throughly enjoy local history, always took history classes in school, and pretty much the only books I read have some connection to history, either through direct history, biographies, or something related. I am also on the Fort Collins Landmark Preservation Commission, and was just elected to chair in January of this year.

So what am I going to do with Lost Fort Collins? Not much. I offered to take it over, because I like what Cat had done with it, the stories it told, and more. I will keep it separate from my other blog(s), but there will be some cross-posting. I also want to keep the focus of this blog pretty much as it has been. What I do want to do though, is have the occasional guest author.  It will take a short bit for me to get some of the administrative portions, emails, and links etc. on this site to point to me rather than Cat, but once that is done, we are off to the races!

I only hope that I can do as good of a job as Cat has done.

You know, Fort Collins didn’t just plop a cannon in the middle of the playground at City Park. It was the other way around. The playground was west of there, and migrated to the cannon.

In a way, it didn’t matter because kids in the 1950s climbed all over the cannon and considered it an extension of the playground, Norm says.

In another way, it mattered very much because over the years many residents thought it inappropriate to keep the artillery where the children play.

The story of how the cannon came to City Park, and how hawks and doves resolved their differences, is interesting. But it’s too long for me to tell now.

But that’s not the most interesting thing about the cannon to me anyway. I think the most interesting thing is the kids’ initials carved in the hard rubber wheels. Norm says he remembers kids carving those glyphs going back to when he was a kid in the 1940s.

When the National Trust announced earlier this week that Fort Collins had landed on its list of Distinctive Destinations, I had some regrets.

That’s because I always  meant to write a series of posts about the group of women who made this town worthy of the National Trust. Women who I have always wished I could be more like. Women with vision, courage, and persistence.

This was no ladies social club for dressing up and having Victorian tea parties. They didn’t play status games based on whose pioneer ancestry made them most authentic. These were women who fought like hell and struck fear in the heart of any politician that got in the way. At least that’s how I always imagined them.

Each Heroine deserves her own post, including a photo and a list of accomplishments. But that would take more research than I have time for now. So here’s the short list:

§ Carol Tunner. She worked for the city’s preservation department for ages, fought the good fight, and sometimes won.

§ Rheba Massey. She was the library’s local history archivist and her expertise served every historic organization in town.  She helped me write my first local history (the history of my house) and showed me how to get involved in preservation in a way that could make a difference.

§ Mary Humstone. I always associate Mary with Historic Fort Collins Development Corporation, a group that helped preserve Preston Farm, Linden Hotel, Hoffman House, Northern Hotel.  She also worked for the National Trust and now teaches preservation in Wyoming.

§ Rose Brinks. She preserved the Bingham Hill Cemetery and opened it to the public. She’s been generous with many of her historic resources. Stories about Rose are legend.  Ask around.

Karen McWilliams probably belongs on this list too, but I never got to meet her. And an earlier group of women, like Charlene Tresner and June Bennett, might belong here too.

If only I had a little more time….

Nonetheless, without these awe-inspiring women living in our town, I think the National Trust would have looked right past Fort Collins. Without them, our town would be so much less than it is today.

Hoffman house, from history.fc.gov