Across the Spectrum:The Interdisciplinary Life and Letters of John G. Neihardt (‘Flaming Rainbow’)

I am just back from a long trip through South Dakota and some engagements in Lincoln. The experience has been a most happy one. It seemed that something had arranged all the details of our odyssey. Among other things, we spent a day with Korczak Ziolkowski, the sculptor of Crazy Horse Mountain. It was a most happy meeting. Korczak had been a fan for my works for many years, and he was delighted that we got together at last. You know he is carving the entire mountain into a statue of Crazy Horse. He strikes me as a typical Renaissance man. This description is strikingly true. He is a man of many gifts, and his lust for living is tremendous. He went into the mountains ten years ago with $140.00, and has developed an art center in the wilderness. He is a great sculptor as well as an engineer and a loveable man. Mona would have loved his work.

We met a number of friends all over South Dakota, who have been friends of mine for years, although I did not know them. We went up to the Forks of the Grand River, and spent some time with our lonely little monument, which we erected 44 years ago. The Forks are 65 feet under water now, as the Grand River has been dammed —— yes, and I would say pretty well damned! Our little monument, however, with its restored plate is 25 ft. above high water mark.

I think I neglected to state that the Youngs and I made this trip together. J. D. Young has been my best man-friend since Dr. House. I believe you met him (of course you did!).

I had hoped to see a letter from you when I arrived home day before yesterday. By now, you are teaching again and are very busy as always. I do hope you have found some time for the MS. Will you be sending us some MS to check one of these times?

I hope this letter sounds intelligent. I am really weary yet from the long journey and the many late nights.

Incidentally, there was a big national gem show at Lincoln, and I was asked to exhibit some of my lapidary work. I entered my jade set —— necklace, earrings and hololith ring, along with a crystal ring with a fire-opal setting. These were the only hololith rings in the whole show, and they attracted quite a good deal of intelligent attention.

I almost forgot to tell you about one of the happiest experiences of the trip. You will remember, I think, that I spent the summer of 1907 in Spearfish Canyon of the Black Hills. I lived in a cabin at the top of Little Spearfish Falls that fell 60 ft. in my front yard. Within 10 feet of our front door. t The railroad from Deadwood to Spearfish passed once a day. Soon after I left there, a shepherd dog left his master and came to me, determined to be my dog. I tried to get him back to his master, but he wouldn't go. He and I became fast friends, and walked all over the northern hills together. Now and then, during the summer, I took the dinky little train to Deadwood, and my dog came to hate the train. He would attack it every time it stopped at our little station. When I left for good, at the end of the summer, he saw me of course going to the train, and shortly after I arrived home in Nebraska, I heard from friends up there that he had attacked the engine's cow-catcher, and had been killed. A friend of mine up there built a monument to him, and put up a headboard, telling of his virtues. Now here is the point of the story. —— My cabin is still there, as good as ever; only it has been given a coat of green paint. As soon as I went to the cabin, a big shepherd dog came leaping to gree tgreet me. He kissed me all over the face, and showed in every way that he was over-joyed to see me. His master, who runs a little restaurant there, said he never saw anything like it. Doesn't this stir one's imagination? Could there be something in this that we do not understand? You may show this story to j Jingle, and kiss her on the side of her nose for me.

I love to think of that shepherd dog.