Chapter 2 The Springfield Connection
Where Eagles Fly by D.H. Price
John Springfield sat down in his study in Thousand Oaks, California. He glanced at the corner of his desk at a photograph of Mary and Johnny Trumbo, along with a young boy and an old man. 'Is that me?' Springfield mumbled. He thought he had aged somewhat since the photo was taken near Dead Horse Point in 1961.
He quickly hit the return key deep in the back of that old brain of his to a spring day on the outskirts of Moab, Utah, some six years ago. There had been nonstop thunderstorms for nearly a week, and some serious work on a few of the buildings along the main street of the temporary Western town needed repair.
Springfield had enough of a crew to get the job done before filming resumed. He was short a painter, an entry-level job, and for some reason, no local townspeople were snapping at the bit to be a part of the Western movie Blue.
Perhaps, as Springfield recalled, Patricia Crowley was known to pull the rabbit out of the hat when he needed something or someone.
Springfield had entered the trailer that day and was startled when he saw the old codger A.J. and Jimmy Trumbo standing in front of Patricia's desk. After a giant hug or two, he stood back and eyed the young man he hadn't seen in six years and uttered the words, 'Jimmy Trumbo.'
*****
Springfield picked up the briefcase at the end of his desk, unlatched the locks, opened the case, and took out the legal papers with the names Fried/Trumbo neatly typed on the first page of the documents.
The young Trumbo was a remarkably diligent worker, Springfield remembered, and for the final five weeks of production in 1967, he proved to be a valuable asset. He also wandered around the make-believe town, meeting and gaining friends at every corner. He was a very personable young man; Springfield was impressed.
Springfield was now a widower. His wife had suddenly passed away in 1969. The leading cause was COPD. The last couple of years have been tough, marked by the loss of his spouse and the responsibility of raising his two young daughters, Jill and Mary Anne, who, now six years later, have become two fiery redheads — both co-owners of one of the largest advertising firms in the bustling town of Carlsbad, California.
Springfield was on a mission. He was to fly to Phoenix, take a puddle-jumper to Grand Junction, and hopefully stay in a motel on the outskirts of Moab, Utah, by late tonight.
Jimmy Trumbo knew Springfield was on his way. He had set up a day trip to Dead Horse Point in hopes of all of them capturing some beautiful photos at the very same spot where the very first picture of the foursome was taken — of Jimmy, of his parents, and of Mr. Springfield on that bright spring day back in 1961.
A.J. seemed even more excited about seeing Mr. Springfield than Jimmy did. "Let's get to town, Jimmy. Time's a-wasting!"
Back in 1961, there was always work available for A.J. on the set of The Comancheros. It was a longer drive south of Moab but not far from the LaSal Mountains, Castle Valley, and Fisher Valley, all familiar landmarks for John Wayne and his gang of movie stars.
Sometimes, the powers-to-be would slap some Western gear on A.J., and they'd toss him into a scene, maybe walking down the street of a makeshift town, or prop him up against a building and use him as perhaps the town drunk. What A.J. didn't like was when they stuck a hammer and nails in his hand, secured a tool bag around his midsection, and sent him off for some arduous work.
Springfield was waiting in the lobby of the motel when Jimmy and A.J. pulled in. They piled into Springfield's rental, headed west, and took the turnoff to Dead Horse Point. The rest of the trip was spent enjoying the scenery, especially the Colorado River, as the water seemed to gather steam at times yet slowed suddenly as if the river knew precisely where it was going despite all those twists and turns. The beautiful red rock above silently held guard over the participants below.
'It's as I remember it,' John gleamed as he took in the vastness of it all. Nothing has changed since '67 except for the ever-changing shadows that stay hidden and then emerge from the rock formations.
A.J. popped up. 'I was thinking...'
'Not always a good thing,' said a smiling Jimmy Trumbo.
'Come on, Jimmy. You know I speak the truth and nothing but the truth.'
'Amen, brother!' added Jimmy.
John shook his head, acknowledging the fact that the 'odd couple' sitting before him was not odd at all but rather the recipients of an everlasting friendship.
A.J. continued...
'John, when we get back to the motel, why not check out and stay with us for a few days? We can show you the ropes. We have all the comforts of home out there.'
Jimmy warned John that they had an antenna and some basic TV channels.
'All the comforts of home,' chimed in the art director from Hollywood.
Jimmy said they had every Zane Grey book in existence, along with numerous old Western novels from various authors.
'Well, that sounds like a five-star establishment,' John said. Of course, that alone would have Springfield packing for the ranch. He was a Western movie buff, no doubt about it.
*****
The trio returned from their short journey to Dead Horse Point, an enjoyable hour up and an hour back with a two-hour stay in between...smack dab on the top of it all...the pinnacle of the world right there in southern Utah -- overlooking the Canyonlands below. 'Breathtaking!' said Jimmy, with his eyes fixated on the Colorado River, forever searching for those elusive eagles in flight.
Springfield, on the other hand, took no time at all in fulfilling his side mission on the day, which was to make his daughters happy. 'Dad!' they said in unison. "You be sure to bring plenty of photos back. After all, you are by far the best photographer in the family.'
The girls needed ammunition for their next project and a vital summer sales meeting with some new clients, who were focusing on the ever-changing and exploding face of Utah tourism. Filling their salesroom with photos of Dead Horse Point would only help their cause. 'Don't you worry, girls! I'll see to it.'
As for A.J., he was along for the ride and doing what he does best: enjoying life. Now, he was ready to return to the ranch and get John settled in. And besides, Springfield had said he was in town for a reason, and it involved his partner, now a full-fledged and honest-to-goodness wrangler, Jimmy Trumbo.
Evening would come quickly tonight for the trio as they reached the gate at what was now referred to as the entrance to the Lazy Double J Ranch.
A Hollywood happening during a softball game in 1967 in Moab would result in a long-standing friendship between two men—one young, one old.
No generation gap would ever materialize between A.J. and Jimmy. By the summer of 1970, they had pooled their money from odd jobs around town, mixed in a lot of blood, sweat, and even some tears from time to time to transform the main house, the bunkhouse, and some broken-down adjacent buildings into something to be proud of.
The Double J was now referred to by some as a miniature working ranch. A few horses, a few head of cattle, a dog or two, and maybe some egg launchers, dependable chickens, that is, which would eventually result in Maria turning those eggs into some great Sunday-morning omelets.
Yes, money was always tight. There were times when the cubbards in the main house and in the bunkhouse contained no more than a few cans of beans and maybe a bottle or two of peaches. When drilling jobs became available along the Western Slope of Colorado, the two men would share the work and respond to ads in the Times Independent, take the job, and leave the other partner alone to take care of things at the Double J.
Of course, John Springfield was always kept in the loop as Jimmy, besides becoming a real buckaroo, could also write some. Thanks to Sister Anne for that. Jimmy would always write to John, praising Sister Anne. 'The Sister taught me how to put words together and make up a sentence, which literally made sense.'
As for Jimmy, he has it all going on.
Chapter 3 of Where Eagles Fly to follow...watch for it, and more photos from Amelia.
Photo credits:
Priceless Captures Photography by Amelia is in Parachute, Colorado.
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