There was the time when a fire erupted at a petroleum storage at what is now San Juan and 8th street and there was only a volunteer fire department which had one truck and a hose cart that hooked up to the fire hydrant, that was another time the old Bell summoned for help and the whole town came running.
As I grew and began to blossom into a mischievous teenager eager to taste the spirits that so many seemed to enjoy from the Pagosa Bar or The Cantina on main street. I found some of my older friends celebrating a successful deer hunt, I accepted their invitation to ride along and help with the joyous occasion, being young and immature had its price; as after consuming those wonderful spirits
my stomach began to rebel and I had to relieve myself. While throwing up and wishing the world would stop spinning a car pulled up behind, seeing that it was not a friendly friend but the Highway Patrol, we decided we best make a run for home. Not a good idea, as we pulled into the driveway,,old Marshall Saunders was right there and hauled us downtown to the office next to the fire station. He allowed us to stay there until our heads cleared before taking us home.
The memories of that old building will forever be etched in my mind