From the Telluride Times-Journal, Apr. 4-10, 1996

The Day Dr. Judy Came To Town

“In America, we’re in sexual kindergarten.”

This, amazingly enough, was not a big shock to a roomful of Americans who were packed into the Elks Club trying to get a handle — no pun intended — on themselves, sexually.

The night was Friday, and a smattering of ages were fitfully sitting on metal chairs trying to seem cool while Dr. Judy Kuriansky rapid-fired questions at the audience about sex, sexuality, relationships and anything else under the orgasmic sun. There were no topics too taboo, no fears or excitements left unturned as Dr. Judy, sex therapist and clinical psychologist, brought her national-touring self to Telluride for a one-night-only exploration of man/woman activities beneath, on top of, in the same vicinity of and nowhere near the sheets. [Would it be inappropriate to call it a one-night stand?]

Her evening of entertainment – Dr. Judy does not give a “seminar,” it’s more a show, replete with a band, videos, and a hefty dose of question and answer — was very well received, very informative, but somehow just a bit unnerving. Talking about sex and related sorts of topics is not something that we here in the great U.S. do very well.

And she was right. Most of the folks’ responses that were very applicable came from the people who had a look on their fact that said, “Please, please, oh please God, don’t let her call on me.” They looked like they had reverted back to the second grade as Sister Georgiana would scrape a mathematical word problem on the board and then turn to glare at the class.

All in all, as the night progressed, the group opened up more than one would have ever expected. The show was wonderful.

[Note: Trivia question: Name the couple that attended Dr. Judy’s evening with paper bags over their heads.]


A special installment from the Telluride Journal, Dec. 3, 1937, by L. G. Denison Continuation of how “The Old Hermit,” Lon Remine lived

In Telluride Theatre’s recent film “High History,” our own Suzanne Cheavens re-enacted the part of Lon Remine. Here is more on that ol’ geezer, as recalled by Denison.

If we needed meat, he would take his old muzzle-loading rifle, go out to Deep Creek, and in a little while come back with the hind quarters of a mountain sheep. A horse could hardly keep up with him climbing the steep-mountain sides. Down at what we call “Society Turn,” he started us to digging for coal. (You can see our dump there today.) We worked a few days and got nothing but shale. We couldn’t see what we wanted of coal, as there was no one to burn it, so we decided we wanted a gold mine, and instead of squatting down near the big Smuggler Union vein or Tomboy, and locating some little streak of mineral, where they would have to buy us out to get rid of us; we were too ignorant of mining to see this, so we went up Mill Creek and went to “Queen.” We did considerable work on a claim – the “Ruby Queen” that year. I remember one day when I was living in a tent, and a cold rain and sleet was falling, (we had not provided any dry wood) and in the morning could not cook a thing for the wet wood would not burn. We were not under cover at our mine, and would soon be drenched to the hide, so we laid all day under out blankets to keep warm. Some neighbor boys, camping as we were, Dave Overstreet and a man named Willis, brought us a fine decoction of groundhog to eat. Our teeth were not sharp enough to cut it, and we would take a chunk and the longer we chewed, the larger it got. (I have never had a desire to try woodchuck again.) In 1881, Lon got a few hundred dollars out of the sale of his claims in Prospect basin. He went back East, and arriving in New York City, all he could tell of what he saw was riding on the elevated railroad. There were too many people on the streets for him. In expectation of finding a wife to bring back with him (in which he was disappointed) he bought a set of silver, knives, forks and spoons which he brought back. He said all the girls he saw couldn’t leave their Ma’s. [sic]. He gave his silverware to H.M. Hogg, a prominent attorney here, and of course, to reciprocate and show their appreciation, they invited him up to dinner. The steak or roast, whichever it was, turned out to be rather tough, and Lon was having a time cutting his, so Hogg said, “Lon, this meat is pretty tough.” “Yes,” Lon replied, “but these knives are no good until they’re ground.” Lon, later on, moved up to San Miguel, in what was left of an old reduction works, built by Jess and Walter Bean (these men, afterwards interested in Japan-Flora Mines in Savage Basin, sold out for many thousand dollars).

To be continued …

Bobbie can be contacted at bobbies@telluridecolorado.net. Comments are welcome.