Gloria Sandell

Gloria had a heart as big as Kendall Mountain, the very peak she greeted each morning from her picture window in her Little Red House with the picket fence on Green Street here in Silverton. Gloria was destined to call Silverton home. During her first visit here on a family holiday at the age of nine, she heard the siren call of the San Juan Mountains, and her soul never forgot.

Gloria came from humble beginnings, and though times were not always easy, she always approached life with a smile and an open heart.

Born in 1936 on a small family farm in Baytown, Texas, she spent her early life tending the farm animals and laboring in her father’s laundry shop amidst the hot and humid steam of the freshly laundered clothes. She told me once how much she hated that laundromat.

Gloria, her parents, and her siblings, RM and Sammy, lived through the Great Depression. Her industrious parents struggled to provide food and clothing for the family, teaching Gloria the necessity and value of hard work; something she practiced throughout her almost 87 years.

After high school, Gloria attended college at North Texas State, graduating with a degree in music, after which she was accepted to Western State College in Gunnison, CO where she received her Master’s degree, also in music.

Gloria shared her talent and love for music with others as a gifted teacher. It was while teaching that she met and married her first husband Ted Couillard, the father of her three beloved children, John, Beth, and Caroline.

Ultimately, Gloria would fulfill her childhood dream of living in the heart of the San Juan Mountains by moving here in the early 1970s with her three children as a single mother. Gloria’s hard-working spirit brought her to work at the local library and to teach music in Silverton’s public school. She ultimately purchased her dream home, the Little Red House on Green Street, where she would raise her family and live out the remainder of her life.

When Gloria learned that Standard Metals was finally hiring women, she rustled the mine boss Dale Thompson, who hired her full-time as an electrician. Her new work day involved the two mile journey by mantrip into the Sunnyside Mine, followed by a 1,000 foot climb into the belly of the mountain.

Just outside the portal to that mine is where I first met my beloved friend “Glo”, having just started working there myself mere days before. I distinctly remember helping Gloria don her yellow diggers, adjusting her hardhat, and connecting her battery powered light for navigating the dark drifts.

I remember how excited we both were to begin such an unusual new adventure. As many of you will know, all miners end up with a nickname, and Gloria and I were no different. For obvious reasons, given the notable differences in our stature, Gloria was called “Half-Step” and I was “Step and a Half”. Gloria wore this name with pride, and often recounted this charming story to friends and new acquaintances.

We were always laughing in the mine, somehow laughter soothed the nerves brought on by the lurking danger in those dark tunnels. One night, Gloria and another electrician, Don Powers, lost track of time while absorbed in their work. In a highly unusual safety error, the mantrip left the mine without the two of them. They soon came to notice the mine was unusually quiet without the sounds of drilling and blasting. Realizing they would be spending the night underground, Gloria, always quick to look on the bright side of every situation, opened her pie-can, and they shared a meal and a laugh, huddling for warmth near the underground heaters.

It was in the mine that Gloria would meet her second husband Jerry Sandell, a lawyer and a miner. Their senses of humor would bond them despite being opposites in many regards. Gloria was the ever-patient, sweet-natured, kind and loving Southern woman whom Jerry called “Peanut”. Jerry was the gruff-natured jokester and self proclaimed grouch who took great pride in his front door mat which read “GO AWAY!” But he had a great laugh, and he and Gloria shared a great love of Silverton, the mountains, horses, and their friends.

Gloria and Jerry owned horses for many years, taking them on camping trips and leading horseback riding tours for tourists. Gloria loved to dance, sing, and perform in musical theatre. She was an accomplished quilter, creating imaginative works of art presented and sold at quilting shows. She was also an avid skier, telling me once that gliding down the slopes gave her a sense of peace and clarity of spirit like none other.

Gloria was a person of faith all her life, attending the First Congregational Church of Silverton as long as she was physically able, and her belief in God gave her strength until the very end.

When I became a nervous new mother, Gloria shared her immense maternal wisdom with me. We walked every hill and road of this town together, and with my daughter Bryn in a pack on my back, I would ask Gloria to check on her repeatedly to make sure she was still breathing. Gloria in all her patience and compassion would say “Zan, she’s just sleeping, the fresh mountain air is good for her!” Bryn grew up, as did Gloria’s own children and beloved grandchildren, in the Little Red House, considering it a cornerstone of her best childhood memories. In particular, she recounts one night lying on blankets in Gloria’s backyard watching the 4th of July fireworks surrounded by Gloria’s wonderful family, listening to the thunderous echo of the explosions ricocheting through the canyons.

Gloria’s life and legacy blessed everyone who knew her. She left us on January 18th, 2023, but I know she departed for a heaven I can only assume is something like this place she loved with all her heart. As we say farewell to our dear friend, we remember her in the rustle of the wind through the aspen leaves, in the bubbling flow of the roiling Animas river, in the glint of gold vein through a piece of quartz from Sunnyside, in the sweet smells of wild mountain roses, in the gentle caress of snowflakes on our cheeks, in the sparkling jewels of the Milky Way above us. Gloria, thank you my dear friend for brightening all our lives. We love you, and we will miss you always.