A new city planning effort is underway to assess our small world north of Interstate 70 and south of the Suncor oil refinery.
Our special features don’t compare with the wonders of our entire planet, but Denver’s smallest and poorest neighborhood has created a list of Las Siete Maravillas del Elyria(The Seven Wonders of Elyria), and they tend to trade places on the top seven.
For instance, we consider it amazing the elevated structure of I-70 still stands despite the chunks of concrete and rusted rebar constantly plummeting down.
Similarly, we can’t seem to find a single crack in the Purina Dog Food factory. It appears to be headed for a tussle with the tomb of Cheops for structural longevity.
Purina isn’t technically in Elyria, although its influence, or should we say effluence, is strongly felt.
Neither is the Marble Horse at Riverside Cemetery, although the nearest resident of Adams County is six times more distant than the nearest Elyrian. So Marble Horse tends to make the list by adverse possession.
The National Western Stock Show is here and, while boasting truly unremarkable architecture (unless you view the old rodeo arena from the inside), the horse trailers valued at more than three times the price of a neighborhood home do occasionally elicit gawks.
An array of junk autos separating the Stockyards Station Post Office from Elyria Park is another marvel. The American flag has been flying over the same ruined potable water cart parked at the front gate since J&B Used Auto Parts purchased the International Harvester site at the turn of the century.
From there, you can look west and see one of the last two water towers in the city, the Armour Meat Packing Plant tower near the Platte River, sporting an estimated 4,000 iron rivets.
Armour, Cudahy, Swift, and Wilson’s all became parking lots for the Western Stock Show Association when the business of slitting throats for a living moved downtown.
Arlene Welsch is a wonder. Despite her having moved away to Swansea 50 years ago, we still claim her as an Elyrian, and the neighborhood’s worst argument for the unsurvivability of the environmental hazards. If Arlene would only stay away from the meetings, we might be able to win one of these health and pollution arguments. But no, 29 or 79 years of coal trains and truck stops haven’t daunted her outlook or her looks.
You might not catch a 30-pound king salmon in our western boundary, the Platte, but you can spot carp that size in the Farmer’s Ditch below the Franklin Bridge, causing us to wonder if the rejuvenating baths of Metro Wastewater have a stimulating effect on growth.
We’ve always wondered why the Burlington engineers have to blow the train whistle a dozen times when they cross the Riverside Cemetery driveway at 2 a.m. The cemetery closes its gate at dusk. The daisy chain of 30,000-gallon fuel tankers Suncor has started storing here in the neighborhood is fast moving into consideration as a wonder. We’re all starting to wonder when one of them is going to ignite and start a chain reaction all the way to the Denver Coliseum or beyond.
And speaking of the Coliseum, if it were only north of I-70 and we wanted to claim it (neither of which applies) we’d definitely install it on the list.
If I haven’t hit seven wonders yet, I’m definitely moving the Johnson Center Chargers into position. Despite the recent findings that living in proximity to a major highway causes permanent lung damage to children, the Chargers won the PAL Little League Championship last summer. And we’re all rooting for them again this year.
Tom Anthony is president of the Elyria Neighborhood Association.
