Available at abebooks for a whopping $3.72 + $0.00 shipping. An outright steal. You should buy it.
I am having so much fun reading through this book, I intend to put up a few more posts. Arnold is quite the character, his irrepressible personality jumps out from every page and veritably throttles you. He considers himself historian and educator, the best sort, unaffiliated with university, unbeholden to their dogma, their politics, their unhelpful indoctrinations, their tendency toward mind-control, their woeful costs.
We learn as we go, Sam Arnold went to academy at Andover and disappointed his father,
"I didn't send you to Yale to become an innkeeper."
But boy, what an innkeeper he became, an educator besides, and a real one at that one who educates by living and doing and showing and sharing. I am certain had his father lived he could only be proud. Host to presidents. Host to G-8 summit. Host to educational events throughout the year, and they're fun besides, playing music with makeshift instruments, eating strange early indian and trapper and trader and cowboy food, shooting off canons across the valley, having a great time.
If you visit Denver your visit will not complete without stopping for dinner at the Fort. Nestled against a red rock outcropping 90 feet high. Holly, Arnold's daughter delivers a touching forward describing playing on the rocks as a child, playing house and tea parties with a bear that lived for years in the compound along with their best friend, an Alsatian, German shepherd dog. Now you will notice rattle snake warning there on the rock and I am fairly certain that is to discourage climbing around. Presently there is a Hopi-style art installed near the peak of the red sandstone outcropping. Holly describes finding arrow heads there. I'm jealous already.
In the spring of 1961, two years before opening The Fort, my family and I found ourselves stopped during a road trip to Mexico in Durango (Durango, Mexico) some 600 miles south of the border [...] We were told that the best place to eat was the drugstore. [...] We watched a stream of young children coming in from the fields to fill family lunch buckets with a special soup. It smelled so good that we tried it.
[...] Caldo tlalpeño was its proper name, we learned, and when The Fort opened it went on the menu. Nobody could pronounce it (or knew what it meant) so it didn't sell until one day Leona Wood, the septuagenarian who ran our gift shop trade room on weekends exclaimed, "I remember my grandmother serving us this dish!" Miss Wood happened to be the last granddaughter of frontiersman Kit Carson. And so "The Bowl of the Wife of Kit Carson" was christened. For thirty-four years it has been a signature dish of The Fort.