Shangri-La Veta? by Scott Smith Mellow mountain town tries to retain its essence in face of change. LA VETA - It's a dramatically disparate bunch. Tenacious ranchers and wealthy retirees. Computer jockeys and range-riding cowboys. Old hippies and new-agers. Transplanted flat-landers and deep-rooted natives. Free spirits and families and artists and construction workers and teachers and writers and ski bums and shopkeepers and musicians and workaday joes and craftsmen and tree-huggers and, well, you get the big, seemingly disjointed picture. Looking for a typical La Vetan? Good luck. No such critter. Yes, the diversity is dazzling in this funky little town of 950 souls tucked away in a gorgeous valley cleaved by the not-so-mighty Cucharas River and snuggled up against the startlingly scenic Spanish Peaks. But for all their differences, quirks and stubborn independence, La Vetans enjoy a common bond: They're all in love. In love with the titanic twin peaks next door. In love with the magic of everyday life. And, most of all, in love with the laid-back paradise they call home. "It's a beautiful place, but what really does it is the people - they're incredible," says Sandy Hackbarth, director of the town's library. "They're so accepting and so tolerant and so diverse. We have a lot of eccentric people, a lot of extremes, but everybody gets along. "Oh, sometimes they don't get along in the way that people in small towns don't get along - there's always somebody mad at someone else - but everyone gets past that and lives together effectively." The sense of community is pervasive in La Veta, kept alive by a melding of new ideas and old ideals. Newcomers have brought in upscale art galleries, renovated run-down buildings, started new businesses (including a fitness center, a bicycle shop, a bakery and a health-food store) and done their best to make the town even more attractive as a tourist destination. But they've tried to do so with a respectful eye toward retaining La Veta's essence; they don't want to turn the place into something it's not. Tony Tedaldi and Penny Leigh, in the throes of big-city burnout, moved from Miami Beach to La Veta about three years ago and opened a shop on Main Street. The store owners dress the mannequin in seasonal clothes; for example, she's wears a La Veta High cheerleading outfit to signal the start of the school year. "We love it here," says Leigh. When Penny Leigh and Tony Tedaldi moved to La Veta from Miami Beach, Fla., three years ago, it was because they were seeking a lifestyle change. Leigh, a commercial actress, and Tedaldi, an auctioneer, were burned-out in their careers and tired of city life. Intrigued by a 1-inch-by-1-column ad in the Wall Street Journal, they decided to check out the land-buying opportunities near some Colorado town named La Veta. "We decided to run away to be cowboys," says Leigh. They visited, instantly fell in love with the place, bought land that turned out to contain a dry hole rather than a working well, sold the land, bought a house and opened a gift shop (Penelope's Western Emporium) on Main Street. The first year they were here, Leigh says she sent Christmas cards to her friends back East that semi-jokingly described La Veta as "like living in Mayberry on acid." Understand that this was - and is - a good thing, in Leigh's estimation. "It's such a great mix: hippies, cowboys, dot-commers and everyone - it's a great blend of people and a laid-back lifestyle," says Leigh. "If you come here because you want a small-town rural lifestyle, people will welcome you with open arms. But if you have a big-city attitude, you won't last here." Leigh and Tedaldi not only have lasted, they've played a role in augmenting the quiet town's entertainment options by helping to resuscitate the previously defunct community-theater group, the Spanish Peaks Players. The local group performs in a renovated church that now not only includes seating and a stage, but "a curtain, for the first time ever," Leigh says proudly. Tedaldi says what he likes best about living in La Veta is the closeness of the community. "When somebody says, 'How are you doing?' it's not a passing thing - they actually want to know, 'Are you OK?' Tedaldi says. "And when somebody waves at you and gives you a smile, they mean it. I grew up in New York and Miami, where people look down at the ground (when you pass by). But here, for the most part, people are smiling and happy." Jacque Van Doorn works on an old window in front of the Second Chance Ranch antique store and gallery. In addition to offering a variety of antiques, shop owner Liz Henson creates works of art from old items. Of course, what is perceived as gradual growth, free-flowing happiness and positive momentum by some is viewed as accursed change by others. As the art galleries and collectible shops proliferate, the valley's old way of life - cattle ranching, mostly - continues to erode. Sprawling ranches are being carved into 35-acre ranchettes for cowpoke wannabes escaping urbanism, and many of the ranching families that have thrived in the shadow of the peaks for decades are now having to choose between economics and tradition. Some have grudgingly chosen simple survival and have sold land, livestock and a lifetime of memories. "The cow market and inflation don't match," says Loren Willcox, a La Veta deputy marshal whose family has been ranching in the area since the 1890s. "It's hard when someone offers you a big chunk of change for land when you're barely keeping your head above water, anyway. You're sort of danged if you do (sell), danged if you don't. That's why a lot of people have sold out, and I can't say that I blame em." Gene Vories, a longtime Huerfano County resident and author, is one of those who mourns La Veta's continuing evolution from agriculture and ranching to tourism and the arts. "I'll give you some opinions, but they're not politically correct," says Vories, 80. "The bad part of the town is that too damn many people have found it. We have all kinds of people moving in who are strictly from a different culture, a different background, more big-city. In recent years, the town has turned into an artist-colony community and I don't care for that atmosphere. "Now, some of the newcomers are real fine people. Individually, I like them. But collectively, they're ruining it." Vories pauses. . . "But it's a nice community - and I'm happy living here," he says. "If something happens, people still have that spirit to get together and help each other. That attitude is still here." The Spanish Peaks provide a scenic backdrop for golfers playing on the Grandote Peaks public course in La Veta. The residents of La Veta, old and new, know that continued growth is inevitable, though - and they'd rather the town not become a retirement bastion for the rich and famous. The quandary: How to retain the town's dusty-boots roots without selling out and becoming the next Aspen, Breckenridge, Santa Fe or Taos? "The people here, all of us, are afraid of uncontrolled growth," says Julie Fairman, editor and publisher of The Signature, La Veta's weekly newspaper. "I think there's a small portion of this community that wishes another person would never move in. But I would say the majority of us want to see some kind of growth and prosperity, but in a controlled fashion. Keep your thumb on it; don't let it run rampant." Fairman and others say the county's water and land-use guidelines are among the most progressive in the state, at least in terms of controlling growth. And there's a definite sentiment among residents to keep things the way they are in some respects; that includes unpaved streets, no traffic lights and being able to keep horses in town. "We're going to have change," says Sandy Paker, who moved to La Veta from Chicago nine years ago and opened SSSSP Antiques. "We are being discovered. But I think we're going to have intelligent, controlled growth here. I don't think we're ever going to get gridlocked in this valley." Some of La Veta's future will depend on what happens in Cuchara, a resort community a few miles up the road. Cuchara has had an on-again, off-again ski area for years, and when the snow business is booming, there are more jobs, more people and more money up and down the valley. But when the ski area is dormant, as it has been for the past couple of years, things are tough all over. "(La Veta) is really struggling right now," says Peter Mumford, a local sculptor who also does carpentry work. "It's just hard to make a living here. You have to be committed to the area and also be creative as far as economic and employment opportunities go. You do what you have to do if you want to live here. "(The future) is a double-edged sword: You want growth. But what kind of growth do you want?" Main Street in La Veta is a mellow place to be, even during tourist season. Charlie's Cash & Carry grocery is a town landmark, founded by the late Charles Masinton. Many La Vetans would prefer the kind of growth that builds on the area's strengths, be they natural, artistic or agrarian. Truth is, most of the folks who settle in La Veta are lovers of the outdoors. There's a dizzying array of recreational options in the valley - everything from hiking, climbing and mountain-biking to fishing, horseback-riding and snowshoeing - and the Spanish Peaks and surrounding forest land remain relatively pristine. Says Mumford, "That's one of the nicest things about La Veta - the easy access to wilderness. I just did a 22-mile bike ride yesterday and picked mushrooms along the way. It was an awesome day." It's midday and Main Street is quiet. No surprise there. Even in the heart of tourist season, La Veta feels like the snooziest of small towns. Unless there's a special event going on (bike rides, square dancing exhibitions, Oktoberfests, etc.), the mood is mellow. Most days, a few folks sit on benches in front of storefronts along the main drag and watch the world go by. . . There goes a van filled with tourists, rolling slowly through town. Perhaps on their way to Grandote Peaks Golf Club (designed by Tom Weiskopf and prettier than any links you've seen this side of Pebble Beach) or to a Cuchara condo or maybe to Trinidad via the Scenic Highway of Legends. There's a family wandering over for a tour of Francisco Fort Museum - the town's pre-eminent Old West tourist attraction and a place where it's not uncommon to see black bears napping in the large cottonwood tree out front. There are a couple of kids enjoying their last days of summer freedom, busting out of the front door of Charlie's grocery store, sunshine on their smiling faces and ice cream cones in hand. Visitors wanting to use pedal power to tour the area are invited to use the "townie" bikes available for free at the La Veta Public Library. There's a middle-aged fellow returning one of the "townie" bikes - free rentals on the honor system - to the rack in front of the library. Hustling-and-bustling, it ain't. "It's kind of 'Manana Land,'" says local historian Nancy Christofferson. "If you're in a hurry and you want to drive too fast and get everything done like this (snapping her fingers), you don't want to live in La Veta. "A lot of people come here because it looks so cute and idyllic and it's such a pretty spot and we have such a nice climate. But then they get here and discover that we have no entertainment to speak of. . . . Some people just can't take the quiet life. It's boring to them." Life in La Veta is low-key, to be sure. But the town also has a hidden pulse that pounds pretty hard for a place with a three-digit population. For starters, there's the La Veta Library, a social hub that is much more than just a repository for reading material. The library hosts assorted classes and programs, shows movies on the second Friday of every month (the next attraction: "Bowling for Columbine") and offers the local populace free Internet access on its 15 computers, which feature super-fast wireless connections (made possible by an agreement with the local high school). On autumn afternoons, the town fills the bleachers to watch the La Veta High School Redskins play Class A eight-man football, and the interest in athletics carries over into basketball and baseball seasons. The La Veta School of the Arts offers varied classes - everything from making felt hats out of alpaca fiber to studying sacred geometry to learning how to draw and paint. There's a brand-new skateboard park, a town park (which gets used for tai chi classes, art shows, picnics, etc.), a half-dozen fine-art galleries and even a couple of venues where local bands such as Planet O share their eclectic tunes. But ask a La Vetan where the main gathering place is and chances are good you'll hear a two-word response: The bakery. That would be the Ryus Avenue Bakery, a scrumptious-smelling breakfast and lunch place owned by Adrienne Berkun and Mary Backiel. The bakery is only open three days a week - Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday - despite a public clamor for expanded hours. Among the house specialties: 15 varieties of homemade bread, as well as muffins, cinnamon rolls and cappuccino brownies. The Ryus Avenue Bakery serves much more than coffee, pastry and sandwiches. It also serves as a community gathering place for various segments of the La Veta populace. "The bakery is it," says Joan Hanley, a talented artist and owner of the newest gallery in town. "The food is great and there are communal tables. You can't ever go there to have a personal conversation or a business deal, though, because everybody talks to everybody. "It's wonderful. People come in from out of town and you just have to find out who they are." Hanley is one of the newcomers who has brought added energy - and top-drawer art - to town. Her business, the Joan Hanley Fine Art Gallery, offers a mix of works by artists with local, national and international reputations. Beyond art, Hanley and her partner, retired professor and composer Charles Eakin, also have added even more life to the valley. About once a month, they host live concerts in the living room of their big house overlooking town; they have a stage, seating for about 80 and Hanley bakes cookies and provides wine. The concerts, which have featured jazz, classical and Celtic artists (including one group from England), are free (they pass the hat to defray costs) - and they have been lauded as a place where everyone is welcome. Sculptor and painter Joan Hanley owns an upscale art gallery in La Veta. Hanley says she likes the town because Œpeople accept people for who they are rather than what they have.‚ Hanley says that the spirit of inclusion is part of what makes La Veta special. "The thing that makes La Veta unique is you kind of forget the whole idea of a class system here," she says. "People accept people for who they are rather than what they have. Everybody seems to really care for everyone here." At its best, residents say, La Veta is an honest, hard-working town with a realistic eye on the future. It's quiet, safe (a murder last year, believed to be domestic-related, was thought to be the first in 100 years inside the city limits), has to-die-for views and is a good place to raise a family. But they have complaints, too: The wind blows all the time. The winters can be boring. It's a long drive to "real shopping" in Pueblo or Alamosa, the nearest cities with big-box stores. There's no place to get a decent pizza. There aren't many jobs, especially for youngsters who might want to stay around the area. And, of course, there's the uncertainty of what growth will bring. For most of the people who live in La Veta, the pros greatly outweigh the cons, though. And above everything, they say, it just feels right. Says librarian Hackbarth, who brought her family to La Veta from Carbondale about six years ago, "The first time I drove into town, I knew this was the place I was supposed to be. And from talking to other people here, that's really common." "There is magic in this valley," says Paker, the antique seller. Ella Kemp, a 28-year-old single mom who works for a local real-estate company, has returned to live in La Veta for a third time. "Something here keeps pulling me back," Kemp says. "I'm not leaving this time." Published: Sunday, September 7, 2003, Pueblo Chieftain