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Mysterious 719 strikes southern Colorado

Published 2-Mar-1988 in the Denver Post
Copyright ©1988 by Ed Quillen. All rights reserved.

The last two hard-rock miners in Colorado shouldered their headache bars. Everything worth salvaging had now been pulled out of the 600 level at the Climax Mine. Rising water lapped at their boots. To escape alive, they would have to find their way up to the Storke level.

They clambered from the haulage tunnel up into a slusher drift. Their helmet lamps played against its wall. A pattern of quartz crystals shimmered in the darkness.

719, the first miner muttered. That's a curiosity. Why would the quartz make the numbers 719 on the rib?

It means there's a mine somewhere in Nevada that's paying $7.19 an hour, the other responded. That's not a lot, but it's more than we'll make in Colorado. It's time to tramp.

On the vast prairies to the south and east, in a little town where the crops grew fitfully, the community church congregation settled down at the weekly potluck. For many members, it was the only decent meal they'd get that week. As ever, times were tough here.

While those who had food shared it, a joyful conviviality filled the small hall. Suddenly the mood was shattered. An ominous stillness prevailed as an unattached hand began to write upon the whitewashed wall.

It's the handwriting on the wall, a man whispered. Our days are numbered.

No, his wife replied. That was 'Mene, mene, tekel upharsin' at Belshazzar's great feast in Babylon. This just says 719.

Falling crop prices, farm foreclosures, failing banks -- and you think are days here aren't numbered? he responded. It means we have 719 hours -- 30 days -- until our credit runs out. Wonder if there's a good shelter for the homeless in a city somewhere.

But at the western flank of the Sangre de Cristos, near the head of the San Luis Valley, there were many explanations circulating among the faithful who had gathered at Cerebro del Baca, a New Age retreat.

For they, too, had seen the enigmatic number while engaged in group meditation, gazing at the sky one afternoon. The swirling clouds had coalesced, forming the pattern 719.

A fondler of harmonic crystals said it represented the projection of actualized manifestations. The transpersonal catalyst pronounced it a symbol of internalized life-change at a geomantic convergence.

Of all those psychic modalities, the numerologist gave the fullest report. Seven is the number of wisdom, one of unity, and nine means three triads, or perfection. So this represents perfect unified wisdom. Now take the seventh letter of the alphabet, then the first and ninth. We get GAI, short for Gaia, the living earth. Let us go bury ourselves now in the earth.

Unfortunately, someone else pointed out that 719 could refer to the 7th and 19th letters, GS. Which means we should buy Girl Scout cookies, for each one is impressed with that cosmic symbol. Thus the New Agers did not bury themselves, but instead bought 719 boxes of cookies.

In another town in southern Colorado, two owners of small businesses were grousing over beer one night.

Have you seen these stupid ads Mountain Bell is running about changing our area code from 303 to 719 on March 5? one asked.

I thought they were kind of clever, the other objected.

Well, maybe, he conceded. But the north half of the state is rich. Our half is poor. So if Mountain Bell was going to change anybody's area code, why not the rich half's? Do you know how much it's going to cost me to reprint letterheads, business cards, statements and purchase orders? Even at that, it will lead to confusion in dealing with out-of-town suppliers and customers.

His friend mulled for a moment. We'll never know how much business we lose when customers from California or Texas call, have trouble getting through, and then decide to call a competitor whose phone number hasn't changed.

The other shrugged. But we'll be buying a lot of printing. That means more of what little money we have will be circulating. Maybe it will help the economy of southern Colorado.

Sure, his friend said as he drained his mug. Good old Mountain Bell. Always looking out for us.


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