When the town was particularly prosperous a Fourth of July celebration would be held. It began with the band parading to the speaker’s stand, the singing of the National Anthem, a prayer, and a flowery, stirring oration. Then came some events for the young fry—climbing a greased pole or catching a greased pig, foot races and a burro race. The Ladies Aid and the Catholic Women helped feed the crowd at noon. Restaurants served special menus and many ate picnic lunches under the trees. In the afternoon there was a baseball game on the regular ball grounds by the “Gopher” where there was a grand stand for spectators. The drilling contest would take place nearby on the rocks east of the Gopher dump. Fireworks preceded the dances in the evening, rounding out a grand and glorious day. Often bets were taken on the hour and minute that rain would fall. Summer rains generally started on the Fourth. The procedure was patterned after the wagers made in Alaska as to the time the ice would go out. The one giving the nearest time won the jackpot. The burro race was unique. Each youngster entered his own burro but rode one belonging to someone else. The slowest burro won, so every rider forced his mount to the greatest speed possible. After World War I many discharged men settled here, partly for reasons of health and partly because they liked the place. Harry Hickel, Bob Riddle and Jim Bonnelly were among them. They loved the out-of-doors and shared in community affairs so they were interesting families to have as neighbors. The young people among the new arrivals had to be initiated. If the young man was a tenderfoot he was taken “snipe hunting” but girls were treated in a more original fashion. They would be invited for a horseback ride to see the mines. The hostesses would rent horses from the miners who habitually stopped at the saloons on the way home from work. As the returning party approached town it was seen to that the horses were on their usual trails. In front of the saloons the horses would come to a dead stop. No amount of coaxing, whipping, nor under-the-breath cursing would make them move for ten minutes, just long enough for the owners to have their usual drinks. Then the horses lifted their heads and trotted to the home corrals. This may not seem funny now, but it was hilarious when a “nice girl” would not even glance at a bar room door. There were no hard feelings—it was just part of the wild and woolly west.