Author: Richard Barnes

Macuto Sheraton

Richard Barnes

That name likely means little to most, if not all, readers. But for many who lived or worked in Venezuela in the mid-20th Century that name brings a flood of memories to both children and adults.

In brief, after the Caracas-La Güira Expressway was inaugurated in the early 50s, enabling better access not only to the international airport but also to the spectacular beaches north of Caracas, entrepreneurs saw the potential for a 5-Star hotel/resort. This project was launched and successfully completed in 1957; however, January of the following year brought the coup overthrowing the Pérez Jimenez regime and the ensuing upheavals and political posturing delayed the inauguration, including the determination of just who would administer the property.

Finally, in 1963, after a bidding process, Sheraton Hotels was awarded the property on a royalty-type basis. This was the first Sheraton hotel in Latin America and the Caribbean.

Up to that point, most international travelers would spend the night in one of the Caracas hotels, such as El Conde or the Hotel Tamanaco before leaving early the next morning for the 30-minute drive (before the expressway was built it took about an hour) to catch a flight from Maiquetía.

The Macuto Sheraton was a leisurely 20 minute littoral drive from the airport. It rapidly became the preferred spot not only for Americans (and international flight crews) but for Venezuelans on either an overnight stop during travels, a weekend get-away, or a family vacation. The Spanish Meliá chain had built a major hotel near the Macuto Sheraton in the early 90s. The competition had energized both hotels and both operated successfully during the 90s.

In 1999 the catastrophic Vargas cataclysm hit the area. The Macuto Sheraton was not greatly damaged (nor was the Meliá) and it rapidly converted to a shelter for the thousands left homeless. Although the victims were eventually re-housed away from the hotel, the cost of repairs and refurbishing added to the immensely aggravated political and regulatory environment brought on by the Chávez regime eventuated in Sheraton’s decision to cede the property and its administration to the Venezuelan state. However, the property itself was mostly intact at the time.

Despite promises and assurances of converting the property along with the neighboring Meliá Hotel into a major 6-star resort, such visions remained as ephemeral as the utopian dreams of Socialists everywhere. 

Our family stayed in the Macuto Sheraton during a trip to Venezuela in 1994 when we had four children, the youngest being about a year old, and we can attest that it was still a great family friendly, bustling property. 

If the 1999 Vargas tragedy nevertheless left room for hope of an eventual restoration, the 2026 earthquakes put the kibosh on such. The materialization of the Macuto Sheraton and Meliá under whatever names the Venezuelan regime might favor is now out of the question. At least for my lifetime.

(This area of Venezuela has had two name changes since my childhood. It used to be known as the Central Littoral, a section of Caracas to the north, on the coast, where the major airport and seaport are. In 1998, the area was turned into Vargas state, named after Venezuela’s first civilian president, elected in the early 19th Century. In 2019 the name was changed once again, this time to La Guaira, the country’s largest seaport. So when reading Litoral Central or Vargas (such as when discussing the terrible mountain slides of 1999), or La Guaira (such as when reading reports of the earthquakes last month, they are the same area.)

Last week I was in a tiny Caribbean coastal town where one shoreline reminded me of my childhood on the coast along the Macuto Sheraton, even to a leaning palm tree silhouetted against the gentle sea at dusk. And that sight brought the above thoughts to mind.

And such thoughts in turn brought to my memory a trip I took to Venezuela when I was in my mid-teens. Having departed late from Miami, the flight arrived at Maiquetía (Caracas’s airport) late at night. An elderly, American gentleman and I found ourselves, with our baggage, waiting for a taxi. When one finally arrived, he asked me where I was headed, “Macuto Sheraton,” I replied.

“Well, that’s where I am going so would you like to share the taxi ride? There don’t seem to be many taxis tonight.”

We agreed to board the same taxi and we headed to the hotel.

Having paid the fare we approached the front desk. The American spoke Spanish although with a bit of difficulty and he did not notice that the hotel clerk was assuming that he and I were father and son. 

So I spoke to the clerk directly to advise that he was to check in the gentleman separately and then he was to take care of me. If he would check the hotel reservations he would see that our names were different. I explained this to the gentleman and he was surprised at the confusion since he thought he had clearly told the clerk the same thing!

We eventually got checked in and bid our farewells, never to see each other again.

On another occasion, also in my teens, I arrived with limited funds, having determined to surprise my family. I walked up to the hotel desk letting them know that I only had enough money to pay for a taxi to return to the airport the following morning. 

But I offered them my watch and assured them that my father would arrange to have the Bethlehem Steel pay for my night and my father would reimburse the company. The young men behind the desk were a bit taken aback but after checking with their manager, they accepted my watch and gave me a key.

I arrived in El Pao the next afternoon to the great shock and surprise of all. My father arranged for the company to get my watch and pay the hotel on his behalf which he of course reimbursed. 

There was at least one other time where I arrived late, with little money. On that occasion, the taxi driver would not take me to the Sheraton because I had told him how much I had and he and I calculated it was enough to go a certain distance, pay the absolute minimum for an accommodation and pay the fare (discounted!) to the airport the next day. 

So he took me to a very dilapidated, shady looking joint and spoke to the clerk on my behalf. I paid the lodging, went to my room, placed my luggage against the door, and went to sleep. The next morning, as promised, the cab driver came right on time and took me to the airport. 

“I am sorry you had to stay in that place, but it was safer than to have stayed on the street or at the airport,” he said.

“Oh, no problem at all. On the contrary, I thank you for taking care of me,” I replied. He had truly been very kind.

Although, at first glance, it seems to be the case that times were different in those days, that is actually not true. 

It was that the people saw themselves as responsible first to God and second to one another. In other words, it’s not the times that change, it’s whom people see as their gods. If we see ourselves as completely autonomous beings — our own little gods — or as products of blind forces of chaos, we feel no moral obligation to anyone. If, however, we see ourselves as responsible to our Creator, we will be kind to our neighbors, who are made in the image of our Creator to Whom we will one day give account.

The Macuto Sheraton is now gone. As, very likely, are that elderly American gentleman and the cab driver. The clerks may still be around. As am I. We’ve seen and lived among people who remember Whose image we bear. And we’ve seen and lived among people who forget Whose image we bear.

And we agree on this: the former is better.

“Thus saith the Lord, Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for your souls. But they said, We will not walk therein [Jer. 6:16].”

The Macuto Sheraton, circa 1975

View from a room circa 1967

A few short years after Sheraton bowed out and the property was officially expropriated in 2002

The below YouTube video is in Spanish but is a good birds eye view of the Macuto Sheraton’s history.

The rise and fall of the Macuto Sheraton: the hotel that marked the Venezuelan coast.

Fourth and Fifth of July: Declarations of Independence

Richard Barnes

(First posted on July 4, 2020)

Those who grew up in El Pao will remember celebrating both the Fourth and the Fifth of July, reflecting yet another similarity between the two countries. The American and Venezuelan holidays afforded an opportunity for executives to declare and affirm ongoing genuine friendship and a collaborative spirit between both peoples while we children looked forward to a long “recess” as well as having our fathers home for a more extended time than usual, and also learning a bit more to understand and appreciate our liberties. I was fortunate to have had a father and mother who, as best they knew how, taught us appreciation and gratitude for America and also for Venezuela.

Venezuela history was a required subject in school. And a most frustrating one it was for me. For the life of me, I could not understand what the early 19th century fighting was about. My teachers seemed to tell stories assuming we students possessed presupposed knowledge as to why the revolutionaries rose against Madrid. But I had no such knowledge. My father had told me about the North American colonies and how they had a history of self-government and liberties and how England had begun taking those liberties away, even to the point of stationing mercenary troops in private homes where they abused and in some cases even defiled the mothers and daughters. 

Furthermore, the English parliament had decreed the assignment of Church of England bishops to the colonies: a last straw. I could see why folks would resist and seek to stop that, even if it meant overthrowing the rule of the English king. 

Although my mother and father taught me to respect and honor Venezuela, my teachers told no stories about Spain’s abuses against Venezuela. We heard much about abstract concepts of liberty and fraternity and equality. However, all stratospheric disquisitions about intangible concepts did not satisfy me as to why the Criollos rose against Madrid initially, let alone explain the eventual extermination of over one-third of their number. The entire country churned with violence and at the end had been practically depopulated. It was clear to me that the savagery and atrocities occurred not prior to, but during the Revolution. I do remember hearing a teacher quote the words uttered by Simón Bolivar as he approached death in the late 1820’s, “I have plowed in the sea….” And, “…those countries will infallibly fall into chaos and dictatorships….”

But why cast off Spanish rule for intangible concepts only to install tangibly cruel “chaos and dictatorships”? 

To read the July 4, 1776 and the July 5, 1811 declarations of independence back to back is an instructive exercise which might help explain why.

The Venezuelan is over 800 words longer and reflects allusions to French revolutionary thinking that is absent from the American. Consistent with the American, it also alludes to the Christian religion which sounds discordant if one has a basic understanding of Rousseau and the Declaration of the Rights of Man.

The Venezuelan opens by alluding to a former declaration (April 19, 1810) which was adopted as a result of Spain’s occupation by France. It goes on to complain about three centuries of suppressed rights and that recent political events in Europe had served to offer an opportunity to restore those rights. They then, following the 1776 Declaration, proceed to justify their actions.

The United States [American] declaration does not complain about 150 years of colonial rule. Rather it expresses concern that, when abuses make it necessary to dissolve long-standing political bands, that such action must be taken carefully and with strong justification. It expresses the need and the willingness to “suffer, while evils are sufferable” before abolishing government and relations to “which they are accustomed.”

I know this is simplistic, and historians will disagree, but to the layman, the 1811 comes across as willful, the 1776, as reluctant.

The longest body in each is the justification. The Venezuelan uses 1,156 words, beginning with another allusion to 300 years of Spanish rule and affirming that a people has a right to govern themselves. Then the author expresses a willingness to overlook those 300 years by “placing a veil” over them (“corriendo un velo sobre los trescientos años“) and proceeds to recent European events which had dissolved the Spanish nation. It goes at length criticizing the Spanish monarchy for its abandonment of her throne in favor of the French and how this state of affairs had left Venezuela without legal recourse (“dejándola sin el amparo y garantía de las leyes“). 

It asserts, furthermore, that the vast territories of the Americas with far more population than Spain itself cannot be governed from afar, etc. Here, the author presumes to speak for all the Spanish Americas. The layman is justified in wondering if this misdirection is inserted to remove attention from special pleading in the document that does not wholly stand up.

This section is not easy to follow today without some knowledge of the events current in 1811.

This was not a unanimous declaration; three provinces did not join, presaging the terrible bloodletting which was to follow.

For its justification, the American declaration uses 824 words (332 less than the Venezuelan), to list the abuses and their attempts to humbly address these legally only to have their attempts rebuffed. They make no allusions to 150 years of oppression or of unhappiness with their colonial status. They address only relatively recent abuses, including violence against life and property, mercenaries on their way to fight against them, war waged against them, threats to their religious liberty (the Quebec allusion), and much more. These are listed almost in bullet point format, but without the bullets, and are easy to understand, even 244 years later. It reads as if the document were a declaration of the right to self defense.

This was a unanimous declaration signed by representatives of each of the thirteen colonies.

In their conclusion, the Venezuelans, yet again, allude to centuries of oppression and their natural right to govern themselves. They assert they have a right to establish a government according to the general will (“voluntad general“) of her people.

It is hard to miss the influence of French revolutionary thinking in the Venezuelan document, despite allusions to a Supreme Being (“Ser Supremo”) and to Jesus Christ (“Jesucristo”). Its reference to the “General Will” is Rousseauean and is also found in the atheistic French Declaration of the Rights of Man. 

They also state they will defend their religion. 

The layman can’t help but be impressed by the schizophrenic nature of this document which contained appeals to atheistic revolutionary thinking then in vogue, while recognizing that the “regular folk” were still very religious and needed to hear allusions to religious fidelity.

The American conclusion appealed to the Supreme Judge of the world and in the name and authority of the people in the colonies they declared independence.

I know that professors delight in pointing out that Thomas Jefferson was the “author” of the American declaration and that he was not a Christian, etc.

However, one does not read the Virginia Fairfax Resolves (1774), or the Virginia Declaration of Rights (May, 1776), both of whose  primary author was George Mason, a Christian, nor does one read clergyman, John Wise, who in 1710 wrote, “Every man must be acknowledged equal to every man,” and “The end of all good government is to cultivate humanity and promote the happiness of all and the good of every man in all his rights, his life, liberty, estate, honor, and so forth…” and “Democracy is Christ’s government in church and state.” Jefferson drew from a rich, deep Christian well. According to President Calvin Coolidge, Jefferson himself “acknowledged that his ‘best ideas of democracy’ had been secured at church meetings.”

The American declaration was followed by seven more years of war whose official end was the Treaty of Paris in 1783 and a constitution, still in effect, whose final ratification was in 1790. The Venezuelan declaration was followed by nineteen years of wars (plural) characterized by unspeakable cruelties and tortures, including a proclamation of “war to the death” by Simón Bolivar. By their end in 1830, one third of Venezuela’s population had perished. These wars were followed by more wars and rebellions which continued to the end of the century. She’s had at least 27 constitutions.

In sum, the American hearkened to her Christian heritage and history; the Venezuelan, to French revolutionary atheism, most starkly demonstrated by yet another revolution, the Russian, in 1917. Both the American and the Venezuelan shed blood. But the latter, like the French, shed it more abundantly.

I love the United States of America and its history. I love her Christian heritage and her pioneers. She is a wonderfully great country with a people who will always pull at my heart. I also love Venezuela and the warmth and genuine friendship of her people. I am grateful the Good Lord has exposed me to both and shown me that, in Christ, our best days are yet ahead.

Declaration of Independence – Text of the Declaration of Independence | Britannica

Text of the July 4, 1776 Declaration of Independence

Acta de la Declaración de Independencia de Venezuela – Wikipedia, la enciclopedia libre

Towards the bottom of article linked above, the reader will find the text of the July 5, 1811 Venezuela Declaration of Independence. It is in Spanish.

Speech on the 150th Anniversary of the Declaration – Teaching American History

Highly recommended to all, not just Americans

Venezuela Earthquakes — June, 24, 2026

Richard Barnes

Two powerful earthquakes shook northern Venezuela this past Wednesday, causing severe damage and loss of life especially in La Guaira, Caracas, and the surrounding areas. Relatives and friends tell me the tremors were felt as far away as Ciudad Guayana, though no damage was reported there.

Many people are still refusing to return to their homes out of fear.

Churches are in prayer and ready to provide aid. We are grateful for the relief efforts being organized in the United States, El Salvador, and other countries across the Americas, as well as in Qatar. More on these efforts further below.

A terrible earthquake struck Caracas in 1967; it had a magnitude of 6.8 and caused severe damage, resulting in around 300 deaths. This week’s quakes were of far greater magnitude, and the damage, exponential given that Venezuela’s infrastructure has not been modernized in many decades.

We have been able to get confirmation from friends and family in the Ciudad Guayana, El Pao, and Caracas environs that they are well or have been rescued. I am sorry to say that others do not have such encouraging news.

It is difficult to watch, hear, or read about people buried beneath tons of rubble whose voices can still be heard but who, despite many willing hands, cannot be rescued for lack of proper machinery and technology. Not to mention the many cases of children and babies rescued but whose parents and relatives are unknown or lost.

Perhaps more difficult is to once again be reminded of the absolute pitilessness of atheistic Communism / Socialism.

The last two or three generations of American schoolchildren have no idea of the evil, wicked nature of atheistic systems of government, especially those spawned in modern times since the French Revolution. For example, see Bands of Robbers II for a quick summary of the deleterious impact of forsaking and even denouncing our rich Christian heritage, which is what our betters, meaning our educators and lecturers, have been busy doing for over a century now.

How does this solipsistic philosophy — for it is concerned not for the well-being of others, but rather for oneself and power and control over others, even to the point of death — manifest itself in a calamity such as has befallen Venezuela this week?

We are seeing and hearing reports from reputable sources that the Venezuelan dictatorship has been closing donation centers and demanding that such have “official authorization” from the Communist government. Without such authorization from the Communists, the people of Venezuela can neither donate nor receive donations. 

This is what is to be expected from a hellish ideology that demands total submission to the atheistic state.

Furthermore, we are hearing complaints from various parts of the country indicating that government officials are blocking the entry of trucks and moving equipment that desperate Venezuelan citizens — in great self-sacrifice — are procuring and convoying to the affected zones where are thousands of people, including children, desperate for help and rescue. 

Thank the Lord, aid shipments have finally arrived from other countries such as El Salvador, Mexico, Ecuador, Colombia, and the United States. The positive aspect of this—beyond the assistance itself—is that it will be more difficult for the communist government to obstruct or block this aid, given that the “eyes of the world” are upon them and they do not wish to face further embarrassment.

We must understand that the very countries the communists in power in Venezuela praised most—such as China and Cuba—have not lifted a finger nor offered any assistance. Conversely, the countries that such Venezuelan communism attacked the most—such as the United States, El Salvador, and Colombia—are the ones stepping up with their voices, labor, and equipment.

Finally, we must emphasize that when the “Vargas tragedy” struck in December 1999, the Hugo Chávez communist government refused all aid offered by the United States. Days of rain triggered massive landslides that destroyed or completely buried—or swept out to sea—countless people and entire towns. U.S. aid was rejected because Hugo Chávez—in line with his good friend Fidel Castro—considered maintaining a revolutionary stance more important than saving lives. Many children were handed over to the authorities by desperate parents. What became of them? The question remains unanswered twenty-seven years later.

Furthermore, the housing structures the Chávez/Maduro communist government “built” to replace a mere fraction of what was lost were thrown together haphazardly. And, unsurprisingly, most of them did not withstand this week’s earthquakes.

I hope we have learned enough from the Vargas tragedy to at least focus on truly rescuing the children lost in this week’s earthquakes and not simply trust government agents to take care of them.

Communism is atheism, atheism is a lie, and a lie cannot endure. Nor can it do lasting good to anyone. On the contrary, ever since the Lie in the Garden of Eden, we can rest assured that lies result in death.

Pray for Venezuela.

Image of one of countless structure collapsed during and after this week’s earthquakes in Venezuela.
One of many damaged buildings in La Guaira, Venezuela
Patients evacuated from a heavily damaged hospital in La Guaira (AP)
Mother weeps for two daughters killed in her collapsed apartment in La Guaira (AP)
Aftermath of the “Vargas Tragedy” of December, 1999. The inset is a video grab of a father buried up to his neck who asked the rescuers to leave him there. He held his two daughters’ hands beneath the mud and would not let go. He was finally persuaded to allow himself to be rescued.

Boris Ivanowsky

Richard Barnes

In my final post on Creede I noted that the “temperament and character of many of the men and women in Creede were similar to that of those who came with the Bethlehem Steel and US Steel to Venezuela about a half century later.”

Providentially, a week or so after that post a childhood friend sent me a link to a very brief blurb that someone had posted about Boris Ivanowsky. I replied to my friend that I remembered Mr. Ivanowsky from my childhood in El Pao but did not know much about him. I then promptly forgot about it.

However, a little over a week later, my friend sent me an email with several links he had found related to Mr. Ivanowsky and, perhaps counterintuitively, they immediately brought to my mind the research I had done for my posts on Creede. That was because the little we know about Mr. Ivanowsky’s life is still sufficient to allow us to see the similarities to the lives of the adventurous, risk-taking, and determined men who made Creede their home for long or brief periods of their lifetimes.

I thank my friend for having taken the time to look for more information about this enigmatic Russian, Mr. Ivanovsky. With the exception of my very brief — and poor — childhood recollections, all the information below was taken from the various public links my friend sent me. I also want to thank Mr. Nikolay Danilkin for the painstaking research he did in digging out much of the limited available data on Boris Ivanowski’s life. 

Mr. Ivanowsky, according to my childhood memory — and childhood memories are notoriously imprecise if not outright false! — did not say much. I never had a conversation with him, but I was just a child and he had been born in Imperial Russia in January, 1893. I do recall when my father told me that Mr. Ivanowsky had been killed in a car accident on the road to San Félix (Palua). That was in 1967, when he was 74 years old, and I was 13.

From a child’s point of view, he was tall and burly and something of a mystery.

Which makes me regret that I did not have the foresight to seek to know more about him. I know that is a bit ridiculous: a child seeking to get to know a much older, foreign man of mystery. Nevertheless, I wish I had. But it seems no one had.

He was born Boris Ippolitovich Ivanowsky in Imperial Russia. His father was Hippolyte Ivanovsky, a Russian nobleman, born in 1857, who became a senior official in the Ministry of Railways. He led (or took part in) the Trans-Caspian “railway construction in the 1880s and later became head of that railroad”. This railway is still in use today — undergoing major developments to increase capacity — part of which runs along the historic Silk road and connects Southeast Asia and China to Europe via Kazakhstan, the Caspian Sea, Azerbaijan, Georgia, and Turkey. For long stretches it skirts the country of Iran.

Hippolyte’s imperial duties necessitated frequent moves for him and his household. Boris was his eldest son, born in Ashgabat, Transcaspian Oblast of the Russian Empire. Two other sons were born in other locations and after his youngest’s birth in 1900, Boris’s mother died. Boris was 7.

Boris began his schooling in 1905 and the frequent moves meant numerous schools, including Siberia, where he became so ill with pneumonia, “which could easily be fatal at the time”, that his father sent him to a small town near St. Petersburg, where the climate was milder. Boris lived and studied there, midst the “royal residences and houses of aristocracy” for about a year before moving to the south with his family. Eventually the moves culminated in Moscow where Boris graduated from “one of the finest and most prestigious educational institutions in imperial Russia.” 

He succeeded in entering the recently-opened Saint-Petersburg Polytechnic Institute where he focused on electromechanics — in one of his very few interviews he said he chose that career because of his childhood spent “among trains and other machines”.

The First World War exploded upon the scene at the end of Boris’s third year; he volunteered for a military vehicle company the day after the war began in July, 1914. He was in the front lines for 12 months during which neither his family nor the university could find him. He reappeared a year later, entering the Nikolaevsky Engineering Academy in St. Petersburg, to get a military degree which he achieved, graduating in March, 1916.

Not much is known beyond this other than that his self-identification as a “former imperial guard” is very likely not self-aggrandizement but quite true.

Regardless, to the pitiless Leninists of the 1917 Revolution, Boris’s achievements and faithfulness to Russia were not only irrelevant but very dangerous. He was forced to leave his country due to persecution by the Bolsheviks. Like many before and after him, he escaped through Finland and settled in France in 1919. He started “as a car washer in a Parisian car repair shop. Later, he became a mechanic, and then took the position of technical director of the garage”. 

This period marks the beginning of his era of fame, which is recognized to this day by car racing professionals and enthusiasts, but remains unknown to most of the rest of the world.

In June, 1924, Boris finished second behind famed French racing driver, Robert Sénéchal at the Saint Germain race track. Sources note that, before this achievement, Boris “participated in motorcycle racing”; however, any details of this period are lost to history.

In 1928 Boris “won at least three major competitions: famous Spa 24h, Coupe Georges Boillot, and Circuit des Routes Ravées in Lille, and a year later he won the first Irish International Grand Prix, held in Phoenix Park, driving an Alfa Romeo.

Perhaps his greatest achievement was his silver medal in the 24 Hours Le Mans endurance race with teammate, French driver, Henri Stoffel.

“The 1930 Automobile Club de France (ACF) directory lists Ivanovsky’s residence as Château Sans-Souci in the Parisian suburb of Meudon. This place is notable because it was owned at the time by Grand Duke Boris Vladimirovich and his wife, Zinaida Sergeevna Rashevskaya, who also left the Russian Empire after the Revolution of 1917. The chateau building has not survived to this day, but it has been captured in photographs.”

“Early in his racing career, Ivanowsky frequently raced Ratier cars. There is reason to believe that Boris Ippolitovich was very close to the company’s management, particularly its founder, Paulin Ratier. The company museum in Figeac still holds a letter of condolence Ivanowsky sent to Mr. Ratier’s son after his father’s death in January 1940. Ratier has long since moved away from automobile manufacturing and racing, focusing on its original object—aircraft manufacturing. Today, this once small family-owned company is part of the large American corporation Collins Aerospace. According to Ivanovsky, after ending his collaboration with Ratier, he moved to Alfa Romeo.

“Clearly, cars were more than just a job or a hobby for Ivanowsky: in 1927, in France, together with his compatriot, Said Tukayev, he patented an invention: a special spare tire for automobiles.”

When the Second World War burst upon the scene, Boris once again enlisted in the French army and his military career eventually sent him to Asia, where his last official post was Army Captain in General Leclerc’s headquarters in Calcutta. His last known address was in Singalong, Manila, Philippines.

However, before the war, available records indicate he married Irene (Iraide) Focht Romanoff in 1930, which marriage had one daughter, Marina Ivanowsky. I was unable to look further into this other than to see that Marina had several marriages and remained in France.

Also, my recollection was that Boris’s wife in El Pao was named Gabrielle (“Gabby”), not Irene. So either this was a nickname or there must have been a divorce and remarriage. But I cannot confirm anything other than that Boris was awarded the Croix de Guerre with a silver star in the war and that he stayed in Asia from where he traveled several times to the United States from whence he booked passage on SS Santa Rosa cruise ship (Grace Line) from New York to La Guira, Venezuela in 1949. 

The last known documentation was found by Nikolay Danilkin — an excellent Russian sleuth! — it indicated that Boris was found guilty of espionage in 1950 and was sentenced in absentia “to confiscation of all present and future property” in France. However, no other information is available, not even on whose behalf he was supposed to be spying!

All available records go dark after this; even his death is an unknown to many, other than a few sources who say he “may” have died in Venezuela in 1967.

However, we who lived in El Pao remember him. 

A family friend tells me he worked in the mines either in vehicles maintenance and repairs or with the locomotives. Or both. This memory is very much in line with his background where he himself had said he chose his career after growing up among large machinery and trains! 

Our friend also recalls that Boris and his wife were very educated and refined. He would purchase cases of fine wine from Châteauneuf-du-Pape, a small village in southeastern France known for its fine wines. Her recollection was that Boris was the primary customer of the particular vineyard from which his wines were shipped. His wife gave piano and ballet classes and also directed the choir at Christmastimes. Personally, I do very much recall the year she directed the school Christmas play, which was principally a ballet. 

The last time I saw Mrs. Ivanowsky was during my visit to Venezuela in 1978. While in Puerto Ordaz, I dropped in to the Joyería Braun to give my regards to the husband and wife owners and providentially, Mrs. Ivanowsky was also there. It was good to have seen and greeted her.

As a thirteen-year-old, I had no idea of the life behind the man who was killed on that road in 1967. However, I now see that, although a very full life indeed, much of it is still a mystery to us. 

But not to God.

Hippolyte Ivanowsky (1857 – ?) in 1916 in St. Petersburg. It is presumed he was “liquidated” by the Bolsheviks in the 1917 Russian Revolution. 

Boris Ivanovsky (1893-1967) behind the wheel of his Alfa Romeo in 1928

W.T. Cosgrave, famed Irish politician, greets Boris after his victory in the Irish Grand Prix in 1929. 

Winning the famed 1928 Spa 24h endurance race

Châteauneuf-du-Pape, France. 

Creede: Part IV

Richard Barnes

I am grateful to men and women who have been gifted with the time and budgets, not to mention the friendships and contacts, to enable them to research and investigate the history of the Creede mining camp area. Their work has been a rewarding one, at least to me, not only because my family and I are so attracted to that area but also because their work reminds me of El Pao and the ore mining industry in Venezuela.

The temperaments and characters of many of the men and women in Creede were similar to those who came with the Bethlehem Steel and US Steel to Venezuela about a half century later. 

Would that someone could do similar research and investigations of El Pao and Cerro Bolivar! It would be rewarding reading to many, I am sure.

In this concluding post I will mostly use others’ words relating events or recollections in an evocative or thought provoking manner. The sources are primarily A Silver Camp Called Creede by Richard C. Huston; Bachelor Colorado: A History Of A San Juan Mining Ghost Town by Charles A. Harbert; and Creede: Images of America by Charles A. Harbert and George Ameel. 

One of several memorable anecdotes concerns the Last Chance Mine:

Ralph Granger and Eric Von Buddenbock were partners in a butcher shop in Del Norte…. One morning early in 1890 two men entered the shop to buy some salt side. They were going into the hills above Wagon Wheel Gap, they said, on a prospecting trip. They dallied, talking mining and luck and suddenly … Ralph Granger exclaimed: ‘I’ll give you all the grub you can use for a month if you’ll let me and Buddenbock in on what you find’. The prospectors, Theodore Renniger and Julius Haase, agreed and set out….

[Towards the end of their time and supplies; they took “one last chance” at prospecting] the two men were in the Creede area and camped [near] a pleasant grassy spot on Bachelor Mountain, where their burros wandered off for some serious grazing. Renniger (or Hasse) noticed that the burros were missing. He caught up with the errant animals berating them in three languages, kicking and pelting them with rocks to move them along. As burros will do, they did not budge.

Renniger sat down to wait the burros out. He began to casually chip at an outcrop of rock and struck a vein showing rich silver ore. He offered up thanks to the burros and named the discovery the Last Chance. The very rich Last Chance Mine was discovered because of three obstinate burros!

The butcher shop partners and the prospectors became wealthy men. Years later Haase was in Del Norte and asked a shop owner if he knew of a nice girl who would like to marry him. The owner said that he did; and introduced him to his daughter. They had a happy marriage.

John Jackson tells the story of a young man who lost the mining bug almost upon arrival in Creede:

A young fellow from Oklahoma had been hired by our shifter, Glen Archer, and placed on 700 level of the Amethyst Mine…. He was assigned to pull ore from a filled slope with a single car and dump it in a pocket for hoisting to tunnel level. He had removed several tons of loose ore creating a pocket above the chute that was called a hangup.

He wasn’t familiar with explosives and was debating about getting someone to help him when it gave way with a rush of air and splintered a timbered wing closing off the only route he knew to safety. He worked his way south from the slope and happened upon a ladder that reached 600 level where I was working. 

He saw my light and ran to me blurting out, “Gawdamighty! I’m glad to see you!” We weren’t acquainted but he recognized me as one of the crew who rode in the same pickup from Creede. “Listen feller,” he went on, “if you’ll show me way to get out of here, I’ll never come back in a mine again.” I led him up the manway to 500 level then on to where he could see daylight. He thanked me and I never saw him again.

That young man understood the dangers and was not willing to continue. Mining ores was still ongoing in 1951 when Bill Swinehart lost his life when a hangup collapsed prematurely and crushed him to death.

Caroline Bancroft tells about her visit and research on Bachelor:

In 1960 there were only three cabins left standing on what was formerly Bachelor’s residential street and a few remnants of the boardwalk on its main street. Among the trees on the east side of the meadow where Bachelor once lay was a narrow picket-fenced grave, shaded by trees. Three bodies are buried there, one on top of the other, because of the difficulty of digging in frozen ground the day after the tragedy that claimed all three.

Charles Harbert tells about the last folks to leave Bachelor:

The last family to leave Bachelor was apparently the Allen family in 1915. For some time past they were the only family living in Bachelor and finally moved to South Creede to occupy the Spangler residence. This is the same Mr. Allen who shot his partner, Andy Wellington, in self-defense in 1905 and was acquitted of murder. After their parents died, the daughters, Mabel and Olive, lived for several years in Creede and supported themselves with a milk cow and a few sheep they obtained from herds moving to and from summer pastures.

The last person to live in Bachelor was reported to be Annie Marshall. She was the wife of Garrett E. Marshall, a prospector. They had a son, Garrett (Gary) Marshall, who was born in 1912. Gary tried to get his mother to leave Bachelor without success, so one day in 1945 or 1946 he borrowed a pickup truck to bring Mrs. Marshall and her belongings down to Creede against her will.

I will close this post with an incident which amply demonstrates a mother’s love:

The Wagon Wheel Gap Fluorspar Mine was developed by two tunnels and several small shafts and open cuts. In 1917 a surface tram track was constructed to the railroad where the ore could be dumped directly into the rail cars. The grade was such that a mule could pull a number of cars and thus a large tonnage could be loaded on the railroad cars.

In July 1927 as one of the “horse trains” approached the railroad depot, a young girl caught her foot in a rail switch and could not remove it. Her mother came to her aid and was unable to free her little daughter’s foot. The mother, seeing she could not free her daughter, then embraced and held her daughter as the cars sped towards them. 

Both the child and her mother lost their lives in the accident and were buried in the Creede Cemetery.

Above photos were all taken at Wolf Creek Pass on the Continental Divide, not too far from Creede. They give an idea of the geography in the general area.

Photos by Andrew Barnes. If you’d like to see more photos, his Instagram address is https://www.instagram.com/andrew3arnes.