ON THE HISTORY OF THE CIBOLA RANCH AND SOME OF ITS PEOPLE

Find below a series of fascinating emails between Fabi Romero and Daphne Harwood with one or two other related emails, scanned and organized by Steve Knapp from printed copies sent by Daphne to Lynne Harwood around December, 2008. Edited 07Feb2010 and 02Oct2010 to remove personal exchanges and email addresses. Note that this correspondence took place in 2004 about multiple earlier epochs. This document may be downloaded here. Thanks to Fabi and Daphne for permission to share this material.


From: "Fabi Romero"
To: "Daphne Harwood"
Sent: Monday, February 16, 2004 9:53 PM
Subject: Some History
Here is a rather long, maybe tedious history , but I want to cover the story
of Cibola, EOrr's family and their connection to my family.

Back in the early 1930's, Jenny Wells, a wealthy woman (heiress to the
Smith-Corona money) came to San Cristobal with her psychiatrist husband,
Dan Wells. Don't know why. They were bored? Looking for a third world
experience without having to get a pass port? Who knows? They bought the
property at the top of the valley and opened a boarding school which they
called The San Cristobal School. In 1936, EOrr's brother, John N. Wilson
(called Buddy or Bud) came as a student. He and my brother, Eliu, became
close friends. Buddy's mother visited here several times. This was all
before I was born so I never met her. The school lasted a few years, then
Dan Wells fell in love with one of the teachers. He left Jenny, a baby son
and the valley. However, before he left, he took my brother to the
University ofNM in Albuquerque and told them they had to make concessions
for him because he was a brilliant student. Clearly there was no way my
family could send anyone to college so the university provided my brother
with free tuition and a job for room and board. The San Cristobal School
closed when Dan Wells left but Buddy kept coming out every summer from
Illinois. He used to bring an old green tent to sleep in. My mother fed
him. He became part of our family. As a child I remember that summer
meant this extra brother would show up.

Jenny Wells, besides being an heiress, was a small time folk singer. She
was in and out of the valley all the time. Her son, Larry , was left behind
and was sort of raised by the whole valley. He spoke Spanish before he
spoke English. He has lived in Venezuela most of his adult life.

Sometime in the mid-40's, Jenny Wells came back to the valley with a new
husband--Craig Vincent. Craig was a lawyer from NYC, a mover and shaker in
the left movement, and a wanna-be communist. He and a man named Harold
Johnson (who also ended up living in the valley), were major players in the
organizing of the Maritime Union. Under Craig's influence, Jenny turned
the property into the San Cristobal Valley Ranch, a gathering place for
genuine Communists, wanna bes, fellow travelers and other leftists.

The writer, Vivian Gornick, wrote a book about American Communism in the
40's. She wrote about her parents and other NYC Jews, ordinary people
during the day, holding ordinary jobs, gathering in each other's apartments
in the evenings, to drink dark tea and talk politics. In Gornick's eyes,
those ordinary people became other, extraordinary people, talking about
world events and IDEAS.

The San Cristobal Valley Ranch was like that. As a little girl my best
friends were Vicky Wilder (daughter of Billy Wilder the movie producer),
and Linda Jencks (daughter of Bill Jencks who led the strike at the Silver
City mines and shot it out with the FBI and sheriff deputies when they
tried to break the strike). Have you seen the movie 'Salt of the Earth'?
It's about that time in Silver City. Linda would write us letters about
her father's doings which were mostly being in and out of jail because of
his union activities. Three of us bawled buckets and wrote each other
letters about the executions of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg.

It was an exciting time. The ranch had dances with live musicians for the
community. There were people there who were professional dancers. I fIrst
learned about ballet and modern dance there.

Vicky, Linda and I learned 'This Land is my Land', 'There Once was a Union
Maid' and other such songs from Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie. Paul
Robeson came to the ranch as did Henry Wallace, presidential candidate on
the Socialist Party ticket. Joe Matheuso, who was a declared Communist and
later turned witness for the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC)
was there. Alan Arkin, who was somewhat older than we were but had dark
wavy hair and played the guitar, was there. All three ofus lusted after
Alan or whatever passed for lusting when we were 10-11 year olds. Many
years later when I was working in a real estate office in Greenwich Village
and Alan Arkin was a big time movie star, he and his agent came into our
office. I asked him if he was the same Alan Arkin that had been at the San
Cristobal Valley Ranch. Both he and his agent actually turned pale and
stared at me. Finally, the agent asked who I was and how did I know about
the ranch. They both relaxed when I told them how I knew. But I digress.

By the end of the 40's, Craig and the San Cristobal Valley Ranch were in
trouble. Joe McCarthy had Craig before HUAC about 7 times. They closed
the ranch and all the exciting people were gone.

My brother and Buddy tried a summer camp which they set up on my brother's
property above what is now my property but below the San Cristobal Ranch.
They had gotten some tents and an old jeep from army surplus. They had
both come back from WWII with grand ideas of integrating upper middle class
kids to this part of the world. It was supposed to create understanding or
something like that. It wasn't much fun since there were only boys. The
only girl that ever came there was Molly Moore, sister of Lisa Moore. The
Moores and the Wilsons were close and Buddy brought Molly out one summer .
That lasted about 3 summers but both my brother and Buddy had gotten
married and they were preoccupied with post graduate schedules. Buddy went
to medical school. Eliu went to law school.

Shortly after Buddy and Eliu gave up their boys' summer camp, the Vincents
put up their ranch for sale. Buddy told EOrr and Sandy about it. Eliu
handled the sale and Cibola was born.

The brother you met was Francis, otherwise known as Frannie or Fran. He
was the youngest. Buddy is the oldest. EOrr is in the middle. Fran was a
test pilot in some military branch. He lived dangerously, drank a lot and
died some years ago.

Buddy is a heart surgeon and has always practiced in this area--Denver,
then Albuquerque and finally Taos. He did spend three years in India
sometime in the mid-60's where he taught medicine. He told my father that
he had earned $300,000 in one year and felt that was too much money for one
person so he went to India and worked without pay.

Buddy's life has been tragic. He married a really nice woman, Barbara
Means, from, I believe Boston or near there. I heard somewhere that her
father was a famous doctor in Boston--Dr. Means. Barb was an artist. She
and Buddy had Christopher, Benjamin, Eleanor and Nathanial. Eleanor
(Lennie) committed suicide about 10 years ago. She went to Buddy's
favorite place in the whole world, a cabin up in Lama, tied a plastic bag
around her head, stuck a gas tank nozzle inside the bag, and turned it on.
About five or so years ago, Barb was thrown from a horse, hit her head and
has been totally paralyzed since.

When I was about 10 years old, my mother had promised that if l finished my
chores she would take me to the Saturday night dance at the ranch. I
rushed through the chores. My mother backed out because she was exhausted.
I fully understand now why she would have been exhausted. At that time I
felt betrayed, outraged and hurt, so I did the only sensible thing--sat
down on the front porch and cried. Buddy had been putting in fences all
day. He showed up for dinner, covered with dirt and also very tired. He
ate and then drove me in his old army jeep to the dance. During the whole
evening he slept leaning against one of the windows--remember the large
windows in the large upstairs hall?--while I danced. When it was over, he
woke up, drove me home and staggered off into his tent to sleep. It was an
incredible act of kindness by a young man towards a girl when he was so
tired and didn't even like to dance. Still doesn't. He lives in Arroyo
Seco and has a full time care taker for Barb.

Unlike Fran and EOrr, Buddy doesn't drink, doesn't socialize. He still
practices medicine. That and working his land seem to be his only passions.

Interesting family, those Wilsons. Do you remember Tex Wilson? I believe
he was their cousin.

After the Orrs bought the ranch, Craig and Jenny moved to the lower end of
the valley. They had an incredible library which I was free to use. Craig
became my mentor. Once I asked Craig what living in NYC was like. "Why
don't you go there and find out?" he asked. Something like those cartoon
light bulbs went on inside my head. For the first time I accepted that it
was possible for me to do just that.

The seeds for much of what shaped my life were sown at that ranch. I moved
away from the implications of what that meant for a while in NYC while I
scrambled to make a living. One day I saw on tv that unforgettable scene
of the little Vietnamese girl running down a road with her back in flames
and it all came back. I joined the anti-Vietnam War protests, got gassed,
got arrested, etc. From there the logical move was into the feminist
movement.

EOrr told me one time that the Vincents had expected them to carry on the
leftist tradition at the ranch but that wasn't what she and Sandy intended.
Eventually, the Orrs couldn't pay the mortage and the Vincents got the
ranch back. It passed through several incarnations--a girl scout ranch,
gathering place for the Brown Berets, an orphanage. Now it's back to what
it first started out being--a school.

All together, the Wilsons, the Vincents and the Orrs had a great impact on
our lives.

This started out as information on how Cibola came to be. It shifted into
my life story. Sorry. I hope I haven't tired you out, or bored you, and
that this makes sense.

Fabi



From: Daphne
To: Fabi
Sent: February 19, 2004
Subject: Re: Some History

Dear Fabi, I had some questions as I reread your spectular letter 
again today. Do you know what became of Liza Moore? I'd love to have 
contact with her, if it's possible. My current beau was a test pilot-- 
this is really his question! I was amused, so amused at your hots for 
Alan Arkin. I would see ANY movie he made. He was one of my two real movie 
stars-- along with Dustin Hoffman and John Hurt. I thought it might be 
fun to tell you my story of how I came to go to Cibola. Another web! 
soon to become Jane Ickes. Jane was a frequent visitor at my mother's 
house in West Newton, Mass, and my mother befriended her too. In 1954 Jane 
alerted my mother to Eleanor's trip to Boston to recruit campers from the 
Boston area. That trip yielded Betsy Dane, Tony Bryan, Peter Toop, Michael 
as counselor and me.	the debutante track! ! ! !	and the other New 
Dealers played at. And shot pool at "their" table too.	were there etc 
etc. I also credit the Orrs with much. And it is amazing to me how much 
impact the camp had-- on so many--over a good span of years. That's it 
for now. Much love, Daphne



From: "Fabi Romero"
To: "Daphne Harwood"
Sent: Friday, February 20, 2004 5:29 AM
Subject: Re: Another history

I don't know what became of Lisa Moore but I'll ask Buddy. I'm sure he knows.

When Adlai Stevenson was running for prez, he came to Taos. My brother was 
the Taos County Democratic Chair so he got to escort him around. Stevenson 
made a speech in the Plaza. The whole Taos High School came out to hear 
him. Someone acted as intepreter. I remember Stevenson cracking ajoke
that he felt like he was in a foreign country. My brother brought him to 
our house. We fed him chili and beans. Fabi	



From: "Fabi Romero"
To: "Daphne Harwood"
Sent: Monday, February 23, 2004 7:28 PM
Subject: The photos

Ye gods, were we ever that young? Thank you for your glowing description 
of me. I do see and accept that I was attractive. Funny. I've spent all 
my life believing I was ugly. I could have been a dittzy girl if I thought 
myself attractive. Maybe it worked out for the best that I didn't.

I talked with Buddy on Sunday. He had just gotten back from the hospital 
where he had a triple by-pass so he wasn't in any condition to talk much. 
He did say that the last he heard of Liza was that she lived somewhere in 
Oklahoma. He said when he feels better he'll look up some correspondence 
regarding her.

Buddy remined me that they also have a sister named Margo who lives
somewhere in Georgia. He couldn't remember where exactly.
Their brother Fran was a test pilot in the Marine Air Corp in El Centro,
CA. He died several years ago but, again, Buddy couldn't remember when. 
I'll give him some time to recoup his energy then I'll call him again. He 
said he was quite sore.

Was thinking about more recent owners of the ranch. The Vincents, of 
course, kept getting it back. The last solid owner/occupant was the San 
Felipe Orphanage which was there through the mid 80's. The CEO was a very 
charasmatic man, Bob Conte. Five years ago he was murdered on a street in 
Seattle.

After the orphanage an heir of the Wurlitzer Piano family owned it. He was 
a pathological liar, extremely racist and lost ownership through 
foreclosure also.

Then came Peter Alexander, a bit actor from Los Angeles. He was in Stephen 
King's The Stand. He was also suspected of starting the fire that burned 
in Topanga Canyon to collect insurance on his house. He also lost the 
ranch through foreclosure.

The current owner, Anthony Geraci, was a protege of Lou Pai, one of the 
Enron thieves. Pai bought the ranch and turned it over to Geraci in 
gratitude for the help Geraci provided Pai's son who was a mess. Geraci 
was a teacher. Now he owns the ranch but doesn't run it. He and his wife 
fled back to Houston. They hated not being in a city.

There seems to be a pretty good bunch running the ranch for Geraci now. 
They take the messed up children of well-to-do parents and try to fix them. 
We have met a few. They are really nice boys but, oh man, they seem so 
desperate and so lost. We rescued one, Jonah, the son of a very
prestigious gallery owner in NYC. He was running away to kill himself. 
David, my significant other, took the boy fishing a couple of times and 
talked with him a lot as did my daughter-in-law, Suzanne, who worked up 
there for almost a year. Jonah had been on serious tranquilizers most of 
his life. When he went off the drugs, his mother came unglued. She seemed
to have some stake in keeping him drugged. Jonah seems to be doing ok now, 
having made it through that terrible age when parents are perceived, 
whether it's reality or not, to be more of a liability than an asset.

Once Suzanne left there, we haven't had much contact with the ranch but 
they seem to be doing well. Hopefully, the 'curse' is broken.

The ranch does seem to attract an inordinate number of wealthy people and 
people who are either famous/infamous or about to become famous/infamous.

We were so sure that Pai, being the last infamous owner, would lose the 
ranch. It appears that he didn't even lose his wealth. The bad guys seem 
to have gotten away with ripping off all those pension plans without any 
consequences.

When you said you live in Vancouver, I assumed Vancouver, WA. I have 
wanted to go to BC since I read '1 Heard the Owl Call my Name'. Maybe 
someday......

Fabi



From: "hugh tyson"
To:
Cc: "Daphne Harwood"
Sent: Wednesday, February 25, 2004 3:20 PM
Subject: Life and Cibola

Fabi, what a great pleasure to hear the story of your connection with "the ranch" and all the powerful 
relationships and ideas that it engendered in your life. I remember you well and was somewhat intimidated by 
you in my Ist year at Cibola. I believe this was the 2nd year of the camp led by Sandy and Eor and the last of the 
really memorable years of its short existence. I came for shorter times in 2 subsequent years, but it was clear that 
the camp was in decline, had lost its edge and was heading for obliteration. I remember you as a "no bullshit" gal 
who had an eye that could see through me and, since I knew that my inner workings were quite shaky, it 
unnerved me to have that penetrating a gaze from someone I didn't understand and couldn't bamboozle. I don't
remember you coming to the camp in my last 2 partime summers. Whether you had withdrawn from the action or 
were elsewhere while I was there is unkown to me. In any case, the Cibola experience contributed to my return to 
New Mexico for about 14 years from 1974 to 1988. These years forged my life. I met my wife, Ingrid, at Santa Fe 
Indian Hospital in 1982, and she has been a wonderful life companion since then. My first child, Nicco, was born 
at the same hospital in 1986. My daughter, Anya, was conceived in Santa Fe, but was born in Tucson after we 
moved there in 1988. So Northern New Mexico blessed me with a family that I never thought I would be 
encompassed in. These intimate relationships have enriched my life and forced my cautious, often uncourageous 
and wounded being to grow in ways that I could not have imagined.

How did I get to Cibola? My father remarried 5 years after the death of my mother when I was 4 3/4 years of 
age. The year was 1945. My sister and I had been living with our maternal aunt in Princeton, NJ since 1940. It 
was a very rigid environment with constantly changing caretakers since my aunt and uncle were not gifted 
parents. They delegated most of the childcare to young women who would leave as soon as they could find a 
better job in the defense industry. My father was told by some of these caretakers that if he didn't spring us soon 
from that Princeton environment that we would be ruined. That figured in his marriage to my stepmother, 
Josephine Jenks, an artist and a NYC village dweller who know alot of the dynamic people in that era in 
Greenwich Village. Jo had gotten to know a Japanese family,Takashi and Virginia Ohta in an artist colony in 
Woodstock, NY. Their daughter, Toshi, later met and married Pete Seeger, and I went for one glorious summer 
to a camp that Pete had helped to found in the Catskills when I was about 7 or 8. I learned to call square dances 
and absolutely loved it. When I wanted to go back later, I was told that the House Unamerican Activities 
Committee had shut it down through pressure on the directors A similar fate to the Vincent Ranch at about the 
same time. My stepmother and father divorced in 1950, and my sister and I went to live with an Aunt in 
Greenwich Village in a tiny apartment at Patchin Place on 6th Ave and 10th street next to the clock tower. A 
location that you propably are familiar with Fabi from your time in the city. We were always sent to boarding 
school and summer camp shortly after arriving since the apartment was to small for 2 active and discombulated 
kids who weren't sure what next catalysmic event might occur in their lives. In high school, when my Aunt and 
Father were searching for the next summer option, they heard from Tony Bryan's mother that he had been going 
to Cibola and that it was some kind of archeological camp in the desert of New Mexico. Maybe they just said this 
to jive me, but that was their story. They had know the Bryan's from their village circle of counter culture seekers 
of the 40's. They may also have had leads on Cibola through Pete Seeger and other leftist friends who knew of 
northern New Mexico through the Vicent ranch. Anyway that's how I got there.

Fabi, I will look forward to talking with you in whatever fashion in the future. I believe I tried once or twice to 
find you in my years in N.M. but it didn't happen. We always go back there every 3 to 5 years and next time I will 
hope for a meeting. I went back to the SW in 1970 as a doctor in the Public Health Sevice(PHS). I had been 
active in the antiwar movement since 1963 and knew that I would never be able to tolerate the military with my 
feelings at the time. I found the PHS offered an honorable alternative and would offer me a 2nd year residency in 
pedicatrics at the Phoenix Indian Medical Center. In 2 years of the Indian Health Service, I would complete my
military requirement. I met a young women from Santa Fe in 1970 at the Phoenix Indian Hospital. We ended up 
being together for 3 years, and she took me back to see her home. I loved the reconnection with Northern New 
Mexico. After we left the IHS, I went to New Mexico and worked for 4 years in Las Vegas NM in a pediatric 
practice with 2 partners. These were difficult years after breaking up with Joanne. I moved to Santa Fe in 1980 
and when I called the Indian Hospital for a friend in that year an old medical school classmate got on the phone 
and told me that their pediatrician had just been killed in an avalanche and urged me to come aboard. I would 
stay often with Tony Bryant at the Taos ski valley in the late 70's. He was raising his 2 sons as a single parent. 
Their mother has some severe mental illness that incapcitated her and put her out of the parenting picture. I 
admired how well he did with his boys who were both great skiers having grown up in that environment. He 
moved to Vail in the early 1980's and I have lost track of him. I was at Santa Fe Indian Hospital from 1980 to 
1988 and would sometimes go to Taos Pueblo to man their clinic for a day or two. I saw the Orr's once in the 
1980's when they were in Santa Fe. It was a good visit, but they were in their perpetual rushed state--more an 
internal state of mind than an actual necessity in my opinion, but still it was a pleasure to see them.

Fabi, we left the IHS in 1992 and joined the Coast Guard. It is staffed by PHS physicians. We went for the 
calmer lifestyle that is not possible given the clinical hours in IHS. We also went because we were assigned to 
Governors Island in New York Harbor and that place looked fabulous in our visit. We had the right intuition. 
Ingrid took care of pointing me in the right direction because her father had been a Coronel in the Army. I came 
over to the CG as a Captain from all my years in PHS. I had to figure out the protocols and salutes that were 
nonexistent in the Indian Health Service but once I got over that angst, we had most miraculous time on this 
island and with the city. I city I hated as a child because of the circumstances of having to go their i.e. divorce. 
But now we had a beautiful island and house supplied by the Coast Guard and a great population of about 4000 
people to take care of. Many, many adventures and Ingrid was amazing in exploring New York and leading us to 
all of the most amazing places. Will stop now, Fabi thanks again for sharing about San Cristobal and the ranch. 
Daphne, we will be in touch soon about our trip north. Hugo



From: "Fabi Romero"
To: Hugh Tyson
Cc: "Daphne Harwood"
Sent: Wednesday, February 25, 2004 7:42 PM
Subject: Amazing connections

Hugh, I became more and more amazed as I read your letter. That I intimidated 
you was funny. I remember you as a tall, light and serious boy who pretty 
much stayed out of trouble--much more mature than the rest of us. But what 
is really amazing is the criss-crossing of our paths. I think of the hoops 
used in the Indian Hoop Dance, the circles never aligned but always meeting 
at some point, moving on and meeting again. The Pete Seeger connection is 
wonderful. As is the Patchin Place connection. I knew the place well from 
working in real estate in the village. Also, James Beard lived right 
around the corner from Patchin Place. He was a close friend of my boss, 
William Alfred White, and I think Beard took some kind of amused pleasure 
in working at making me sophisticated. He would take me to lunch at 
Manero's and other expensive places. A couple of times Beard and White 
took me to lunch at the Sal Magundi Club where all those waspy men looked 
displeased at my being there. Not only a woman, but a brown one at that! 
White came from one of those old families whose names were in the blue book 
and he was a handsome, dignified old gentleman. I knew he and Beard were 
merely shaking up the old establishment but I wasn't offended that they 
used me to do that. And I did get some great meals, plus some free 
cooking lessons from Beard. I have great memories of Greenwich Village. I 
get back to NYC at least once a year. It has changed tremendously but I 
still feel the same excitement that I have always felt there. NYC has so 
many possibilities, so many promises. I know what you mean about the 
amazing places Ingrid found. One of my favorite places is the Cloisters 
Museum. I practically raised my son there.

I got back to San Cristobal in July 1979 after 22 years in NYC. I came 
back because I felt my son should know where we came from, who his family
is. Ironically, my son hates it here. It didn't help that a year after we 
moved back his father and I got divorced. It also didn't help that he used 
to go to a really small private school--Manhattan Country School--in 
Manhattan. Moving to Taos schools was a traumatic event. The racial thing 
here turned his world upside down. He dropped out in the l0th grade, never 
graduated, bummed around for 6 years. One day he called and asked if I 
would help him financially if he could get into college. I agreed. He 
went to UNM as a non-degree student, scored well enough that he was 
accepted as a degree student. He graduated, went to law school in Madison, 
Wisconsin for one year, transferred back to UNM. Now he lives in Virginia 
where his wife is a professor and he is a stay-at-home dad. I visit there 
often. During my visit there last month my son expressed amazement that I 
would have named him Kim if I intended to bring him back to NM. "What were 
you thinking?", he wanted to know. I had named him Kim after the pacifist 
Korean poet who got out of prison for the upteenth time on the day my son 
was born. It did not occur to me at that time that the name would be a 
burden in Northern NM. I had forgotten much. Kim and Suzanne are trying 
to get back to Albuquerque so he's looking for a job. I'm meeting them in 
Savannah, GA this coming Saturday for a week's vacation. They have two 
amazing little girls: Camille just turned 3 last week and Erika will 
turn 2 in May. Grandchildren are magical.

Hugh, you left Santa Fe the year I moved there--1988. My partner and I had 
started a moving business in Taos in 1983. In 1985 we opened a branch in 
Santa Fe. The agency limped along with a manager we had there. In 1988 I 
knew it would never get anywhere if we didn't pay attention to it so I
fired the manager and took it over myself. I lived there from 1988 through 
1992. Didn't much like Santa Fe but I came home every weekend. In 1992 I 
sold the agency to a man from Upstate NY and I moved back to San Cristobal 
to manage the Taos agency. In 1995 we sold the moving part of the business 
to three of our employees but kept the buildings. I manage the properties.
My partner and his wife want out of the business so David, my significant 
other, will be buying them out in the next few days. David and I will use 
the warehouse to start an affordable housing construction business.
David's an architect who has been thinking of affordable housing since 
1975. I think we're going to have a great time with this venture.

Now, as to Governor's Island--1 actually worked there sometime when I fIrst 
went to NYC. It was an Army base then. I took a civil service exam, 
passed and was offered a job working for the Adjutant General on Governor's 
Island. I loved the ferry ride to the island every morning and the ride
out after work. I met my husband there, the father of my son. I also met 
my oldest, and longest lasting friend there. She is black and we were both 
dreadfully poor. She worked her way up into a great position with the UN. 
Because she spoke French (being originally from St. Croix) she got to spend 
a lot of time in the Ivory Coast. Twice I almost visited her there but I 
never made it. I did make it to St. Croix two years ago for the wedding of 
her youngest daughter. She came out here for my son's wedding four years ago.

Do you recall how close Tony Bryant and Harold Ickes were? Do you know if 
they kept up the connection? I spoke with Harold about 4 years ago. He 
was deep in the Clinton circle. From what I read about him, I think he has 
changed a lot from Cibola days. But maybe not. The media can twist a lot 
around.

I'm sorry we didn't meet up in Santa Fe. Given how we have crossed over 
each other's paths, I'm surprised the IHS never hired my agency to move 
you. We moved a lot of GSA employees including some IHS doctors. Where do 
you live now?

Thank you Daphne, for dropping by and making the connections again. Fabi



From: Daphne
To: Fabi
Sent: April 16, 2004

Fabi, In all this flurry of communication since my visit to Taos I 
have talked with Liz, written to Amanda Meyer, found Peter Toop, hosted 
Hugh Tyson at my house.
 ... 
I think you were going to try to find out about her Cibola is having a reunion 
next Oct in DC. Google Hawthorne School and you will see what's happening. I'm not 
going, as the focus is very clearly on people AFTER our time. I hope you are well. 
I am thinking that the next time I get back to Taos I will FIND YOU!!! 
SEE you! much love, Daphne



From: "Fabi Romero"
To: "Daphne Harwood"
Sent: Monday, April 19, 20047:00 AM
Subject: Re: Liza Moore

Good Morning, Daphne,

Up date. My sister in law, Vera, tells me that Liza's sister Molly Romero 
lives in Omaha. They last talked about a year ago. Molly is a retired 
lawyer who travels a lot. According to Vera, Molly has talked about one 
sister who lives in France and one who stayed in IL and has cancer. Vera 
didn't know the names of either of the sisters. Molly's phone # is 
402-xxx-xxxx. Vera suggested that we call and if she isn't there, leave 
e-mail address for her to get in touch with either of us. So, I'll call 
tonight when things calm down here. If you want to also call her, one of 
us might hook up with her.
Fabi



From: Daphne
To: Fabi
Sent: April 20, 2004

Did I send you the correspondence I had with Amanda? I will, if not.
...
Take care, Fabi, it's spring here, I hope there too.

Love, Daphne



From: "Fabi Romero"
To: "Daphne Harwood"
Sent: Wednesday, April 21, 2004 6:29 PM
Subject: Re: Liza Moore

Good Evening Daphne, 

No, you didn't send me Amanda's correspondence. I would love to read it.

I've called and left a message on Molly Moore Romero's answering machine. 
She hasn't answered. Vera did warn me that Molly travels a lot so she 
might take a while to answer . 
...
Unfortunately, the crock from all those men, oozing testosterone, running 
around feeling important and powerful, are making a horrible mess of the 
world. Some more than others, of course, but in the end, all the cocks of 
the walk, small and big ones, good or bad intentioned, they all add their 
bit to shape the world we live in. And, it ain't a good world. The news 
gets more and more dismal every day.
...

Harold was friends of some people who lived in our co-op building in the 
Upper West Side in NYC--Paul and Rachel Cowan. Paul was an heir to the 
Spiegel money. His sister was Liza Cowan, lover of a somewhat famous 
lesbian singer, Alix Dobkin. I knew them through the woman's movement and
our bookstore. It was Paul Cowan who told Harold about our bookstore and 
why he went to visit. Paul died some years ago. His wife, Rachel, comes 
to a retreat in Vallecitos, NM, which is owned by friends here. It really 
is a small world. Or maybe it's only that we travel in the same political 
circles so we keep running into each other. Another woman in our NYC co-op 
had been at the Buffalo Commune in Arroyo Rondo in the mid-60's. Her eyes 
used to glaze over when she talked about getting up before dawn to gather 
wood to make breakfast. Apparently it was one of those profound moments 
for her. I refrained from telling her that my whole childhood and youth
were about getting up before dawn to gather wood for breakfast. It's all 
in one's perspective, no?

Well, I ramble.

Love, Fabi



From: "Amanda Stinchecum"
To: "Daphne Harwood"
Sent: Thursday, March 04, 2004 6:13 PM
Subject: Re: I think that's the lot

Dear Daphne, 
Too much to digest in one evening! Actually, although my father was an active socialist/Socialist and pacifist, since my 
parents were divorced when I was 3 I was not particularly aware of that aspect of his life until much later. Political 
connections had nothing to do with my going to Cibola (as far as I know). The fact is, I'm afraid, I have no idea how I got 
there. That is, I remember Eleanor appearing at our front door, coming upstairs into the living room, and overwhelming us 
with her enthusiasm for Cibola; I was sold on the idea immediately. Clearly she had come through an introduction by some 
friend of my mother's, but I have no idea who.

I remember Hugh very well, but knew nothing about his childhood. We saw each other in Greenwich Village when I was 
on my way to Europe, but lost touch. And Eddie Trickett--unforgettable as the Snake. Do you remember?

I'm curious about Liz, but can't say I was ever particularly close to her, although we were cabin mates my second summer at 
Cibola. I expect to be in Okinawa in October, so I won't have to think about whether or not I would go to the Hawthorne 
reunion (1 think the answer is no, in any case).

Have you been in touch with Betsy over the years? And what prompted you to start digging? It's enough to make me want 
to give up working and just travel around and see you all.
Amanda