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In the summer of 1970, my family took the trip of my childhood. I am not sure if all families ran as ours did, but our parents never talked to us about what was happening until the moment it was upon us.
Finding out we would be taking a trip started with a trip to Duane’s Outfitters in Babbitt. All six of us were piled in our car -- a 1966 gold Buick Special my parents bought brand new from John Koshak at Central Garage in Ely (now Piragis Outlet Store) on West Sheridan Street.
At Duane’s, my parents rented a pull behind pop-up trailer that opened with full-size bunks on each side of the camper. It was a bit cramped as I can still remember. Even though none of us had any extra weight on our bones, the three of us girls slept in one bunk and my parents in the other bunk with my 2 ½ year old brother.
We headed out west and hit the South Dakota hotspots – Deadwood, Mount Rushmore National Monument, the Badlands; then onto Glacier National Park in Montana and Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming.
Mount Rushmore mesmerized me. There were large viewing binoculars on posts everywhere in the park to view the faces in detail and from different angles. While in the park, I remember reading everything I could about the history of these presidents: why their likenesses were chosen to be forever memorialized in granite, and who was behind this amazing park and the monument.
The gift stores in the park were my favorite of the entire trip. I planned my purchases carefully so I made sure I could take some of the magic I discovered and bring it back to Ely with me. I bought a photo book, a few agates, and a rock, which was a small piece of granite salvaged from the base of the monument after carving was complete.
After South Dakota, we traveled to Montana to visit Glacier National Park, onto Yellowstone and came back through South Dakota, but a different route than we were on the first part of the trip. I remember being extremely disappointed we would not be driving back through Mount Rushmore.
When we were back to Ely, we drove past the Rock Crusher on Highway 169. For some reason after the trip out west, I started calling it Mount Crushmore. My parents would correct me, but I just could not get it right and I still call it that today.
If you grew up in Ely, going out to the Rock Crusher was a usual occurrence. There were so many reasons to go out there. There was the obvious one of climbing to the top of the greenstone mountain. You were guaranteed to fill your “tenners” (sneakers/tennis shoes) with the fine green “sand” and go home with green stains on your clothing. Mom never had to guess where we were when she did our laundry.
My dad used to take Mom out there to practice archery and pistol shooting before they were married and newlyweds. My dad would bring his own arrows he made, set up a target on the “mountain” and shoot away. He said it was not as much fun once mom started to hit the bullseye more often than he did. Dad did comment she was a damn good shot.
There is a lake/pond/swimming hole on the backside of the green mountain. This swimming hole was where rain, winter runoff and springs filled the quarry that once was mined for the greenstone. Rumors always surfaced that this hole was hundreds of feet deep when it was reported to only be about 30 feet deep.
My mom, her sister Catherine Chimzar, Katherine Spreitzer and others would be regulars there in the summertime during the late 1930s and early 1940s. Hundreds of local kids attended parties there as you could drive around the backside by the water and be hidden from law enforcement.
I am not sure when it came about, but someone installed a zip-line over the water from one of the side cliffs. Many kids would spend hours out there riding the zip-line and dropping into the chilly green water on many scorching summer afternoons.
I learned how to shoot a pistol at the Rock Crusher. My dad had a .22 that was quite heavy, and I struggled with it because I was left-handed. I remember Dad grew frustrated trying to teach me. I was determined to knock down whatever bottle or can he put up on the greenstone mountain. Once I knocked them all down in a row. Dad took the gun from me figuring his job was done. I did not shoot a gun again until 37 years later when I was qualifying for a conceal and carry permit.
I usually try to include some Ely history in the columns I write so I paid a visit to the Ely-Winton Historical Society (EWHS) and enjoyed learning the history about this landmark. Special thanks to Kelsey Cooke, the new executive director for her aid during my visit and information hunt.
If you are not familiar with this Ely landmark, it is found just west of Ely on 169 and Highway 88. “The Rock Crusher” is what this landmark came to be called, but not for the rock, but rather the operation that was on the site. The Greenstone rock when crushed, was used for mineral surfacing or a dressing for tarpaper used in roofing. The Ely Greenstone is like Pillow Rock (one of the oldest exposed rock formations on earth) and was identified as one of the hardest rock types in the world.
The Emeralite Rocks Products Company, headquartered in North Carolina, built a plant on the property and the green mountain was formed from the waste material for which no use was ever found. The business went strong for several years until a fire destroyed the main building. The plant was rebuilt courtesy of a loan from the famed Reconstruction Finance Corporation, which was one of President Herbert Hoover’s creations.
The business was operational from 1921 to 1932. Three men were the principals of the operation – A.C. Hall – the resident manager and treasurer of the company, B.F. Nelson, and J.B. Preston. When they first started the mining and crushing operation, they would fill two railroad cars daily and at their peak, it rose to 10 rail cars a day.
At its peak, 45 men were employed including two supervisors and one manager. The workers were paid $0.35 per hour and worked 10-hour days. The work was dangerous and safety equipment, regulations and laws were close to nonexistent at that time.
Sources have gone back and forth as to when the plant completely closed – some say 1932 and others list 1937 as the closing date. Rumors flew whether the plant closed because the material produced was inferior for roofing or the operation was too expensive to continue in business. Health issues surfaced for the workers who suffered from a silicosis type of illness from the dust particles they breathed into their lungs.
After the business took a downturn, the government foreclosed on the mortgage and that ended the business. The plant was torn down, and the lumber was sold, but the 100-foot green mountain has stayed long after the rock crushing operation closed.
I obtained permission from the current owner of the property to visit because it is posted with no trespassing signs. It looks very much the same with the exception that the mountain has shrunk, and the forest has grown up around it. Both of those reasons are why you can hardly see it when driving by on Highways 88 and 169.
We walked around the property and made our way to the top of the green mountain to look around and take photos. Memories came flooding back and I felt like a kid again standing on top of the Ely world around me.
I got back home and dug out my old laptop where I found several photos from my parent’s collection that I am sharing with this column. The railroad tracks ran right in front of the green mountain, and you can see my parents standing by them when shooting the bows. When the plant was in operation, it was convenient to have the rails so close.
When we were children, the amount of broken beer bottles around the location was staggering. Some of the glass was from bottles left behind after parties, but I think more came from the amount used during target practice. I cannot imagine the amount of lead that has been shot into the green sand.
After one afternoon spent at the rock crusher when I was nine years old, I recorded in my diary that I cut my foot on a piece of glass that went through my P.F. Flyers. Those were the cool shoes back in the day. After the glass penetrated the bottom, I did not like them anymore because my feet would get wet when it rained. Of course, I was one of those kids that had to walk through every mud-puddle within a 50-mile radius of where I was headed.
In my research at the EWHS, I found out that there was a one-person cave somewhere on the rock crusher property. I never knew that and when we went out there, I was not keen on trying to find it or subject myself to coming face to face with a wild animal that now has made it their residence.
All that remains today is the shrinking mountain of green and the water-filled quarry that brought joy to so many over the 100 years from when the property was running at full speed.
The property that the rock crusher remains are found is now on the market. There are 60.03 acres offered for sale so someone can own this unique piece of land – mountain and all. As we walked the property, I kept thinking what a suitable place it would be to have it set up as a recreational park. I realized the liability is there, but visitors would enter at their own risk. Bike trails, a zip-line, hiking, camping, etc., would allow more people to visit and enjoy this unusual, but interesting historical landmark.
As so much of Ely’s history, gone is this place we visited often and got so much joy from. It would be something if only the rock walls could talk, repeat the laughter, and screams of the thousands of Ely kids that jumped in the water, biked on the property, attended keg parties, or scaled the manufactured mountain.
Thank you to Holly Mathers, who is the current owner of this property, for giving me permission to go on your property and allowing me to take a walk down memory lane. It was a most entertaining and beautiful fall afternoon that fed my curiosity as I was hoping it would have done.
Going back there was wonderful and jarred loose many memories that were for years stuck in cobwebs in the back recesses of my brain. Best part is I did not even know they were hiding in there. The rock crusher is a place that was free to visit and produced treasured simple moments. Whoever said the best things in life are free, surely knew what they were talking about.
