R and J in the USA

We planned to stop in Rapid City at the “Dances with Wolves Movie Set” that we saw on the map. We had both really enjoyed the movie when it had come out decades ago and it was top on Julie’s movie list to watch while in South Dakota. We had been enjoying the movie magic that had come alive in different spots so far throughout the trip. This would be our second shot of Kevin Costner inspiration along the road after visiting The Field of Dreams in Iowa.

When we arrived, it turned out that some of the buildings that had been part of the town set in the movie had been moved from their filming location to this spot here owned by what we would soon come to know as what we experienced as an absolutely epic character, Herman Jones.

When we arrived at the spot, despite the hours on the door saying open until 7PM, the doors were decidely locked. Alas. We decided to wander around the spot. There was something in the air that felt special and worth roaming around in. There were old machines and knick knacks made of wood and iron strewn about on the aging weathered porch. We were loving walking around and exploring. There were early 1900’s cars on the lot showing their age and neglect by the rust in their sheen and the broken glass in their windows and there was a stunning beauty to it all in the setting sun.

We walked around the back of the main building and there was a beat up old piano. Julie’s eyes widened and she eagerly walked up to it and was delighted by two things. One – it worked. It had been months since Julie had gotten her hands onto a piano. We brought Julie’s keyboard along, but, for better or worse, until we got caught up on the blog, her hope to work on the musical had taken second billing. But even then, there is no set of keys like real piano keys. That leads to the second thing that delighted the heck out of Julie. There would be no ivory tickling here. These piano keys were made of wood. Julie’s heart filled as she tickled the wooden keys in the setting South Dakota sun. Julie found a bench and sat down next to the two most relaxed bunny rabbits she had ever seen, looking out at the gorgeous scenery and, just like the bunny rabbits, basking in the warmth of the sun’s final glow. Never before had she seen bunnies so still. They were so engaged in their sunset rapture that they didn’t seem to mind Julie quietly walking up onto the porch and sitting no more than a mere 10 feet behind them to join in the revelry. Something about the moment felt like a special privilege to get to share the space with them in such a relaxed way. Julie called Ryan over to join her in what had quickly become a trip highlight for her. He quietly came to join and the bunnies didn’t budge. All four of us just relaxed and let the South Dakota setting sun wash over us.

This is supposed to be a People Along the Way post! Well, it is all setting the scene for what would be the star of this already delightful show.

As we walked past the old, weathered buildings from the movie set, we passed one called the Rope Shop. There was a door to the rope shop. We had no reason to think this door would be unlocked. There were no windows to see in, but Julie had a feeling and that door just seemed like it wanted to be opened. So, she pressed on it. We heard the click of the latch and gently pushed and there was Herman, in a room filled with coils of different types of ropes, turning to look at the unannounced intruders with the biggest stinking grin on his face. 

Right out of central casting, Herman was all smiles from ear to ear, and all denim from head to toe, other than his cowboy hat, cowboy boots and a bend in his stature that belied his age and the life he’d lived to the fullest. 

Herman was the kind of guy whose face glowed with life and his words weren’t far behind. He welcomed our intrusion without missing a beat. We didn’t get a word in and barely were any hellos or introductions made before Herman was knee deep into telling stories, showing us pictures and taking us on a tour of the area and its history without moving but three or four feet from where we were standing. Herman had been in the tourist business since 1970, so he was in his wheelhouse welcoming strangers like us from far off lands like NY or wherever they may have come in from and telling us stories.

Herman must have talked for 20 minutes straight, telling us the history of Mount Rushmore and the Crazy Horse monument, to the history of his aunt’s ranch that Kevin Costner had decided to use for filming to how he had gotten all of these movie set buildings moved from there to this location to his life from the tourism industry to Vietnam and back to raising six kids (2 twin boys, followed by 3 girls and then another boy).

He excitedly told us about a story someone had told him about someone that had escaped from jail using rope made from toilet paper. 

“I’d been making rope all my life. I didn’t believe you could make rope out of toilet paper.” 

He then excitedly brought us over to one of the hanging ropes in the building, this one bright white compared to the others. He put it in our hands for us to feel. He had made rope of varying thicknesses, all made out of toilet paper. His eyes were lit up with glee. 

He told us about the dramas of the men in charge of carving Mount Rushmore and their connection to another mountain carving in Georgia. He told us of his lifelong goal to visit all six mountain-carved monuments in the world. 3 were in the USA and 3 were international. He’d been to 5 and was excited to see the last one.

”I’m a dreamer, you see.” Herman proclaimed as he continued to regale us with stories of his dreams come true and the ones he was still working diligently to achieve at the ripe young age of 80. 

He told us of his time visiting Israel and then heading out towards Jordan to see Petra.

“Have you seen Indiana Jones?”

”Of course!” Julie proclaimed. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade was not only on her short list of favorites and movies that, even before this trip, she’d probably seen about a hundred times, but it had also recently been playing on repeat in our ship quarters on our Alaska cruise, so, now she had seen it at least 110 times. 

“Well, my last name is Jones, so, of course, I had to see Petra.”

At this point, the tour was only just getting started. He had been talking without barely a pause or a breath for quite some time now and we were loving it.

Now he wanted to take us through some of the other buildings. He showed us this huge machine that cut shingle wood for houses. That very machine had been used in Dances with Wolves. He told us of how it had originally used compressed air to run. He wanted to get it back up and running. He thought, if it can run on compressed air, then surely it can run on steam. He went to the local steam outfitter in the area (because that’s what one does) and found out that, not only would it cost him $12,00 to convert it to being steam operated, but also that he would have to find a certified steam operator to run it.

”I can’t even find a certified bus driver to run my tour busses, how am I gonna find a certified steam operator?!” 

We hear you, Herman. We’ve all been there before! A good certified steam operator is hard to find these days.

Well, as proud as can be, Herman, flipped a switch and a huge belt wrapped in a figure eight between this massive engine and the rotating blade at the other end began to spin. Herman’s eyes lit up even more, if that was possible.

”So, we made it electric!” He proclaimed beaming with pride.

”Sometimes a little yankee ingenuity is all you need.”

Following Herman through his little maze of wonders was intoxicating as he scurried to the next building to show us more marvels.

He pushed open the wooden barn door of the Blacksmith shop where, inside there was a young man actually working away blacksmithing on some machine. Herman excitedly got to showing us more machines and switches. This tour was as close to a real-life tour of Willy Wonka’s magic chocolate factory as anyone could likely get on this side of reality. Herman grabbed a knotty wooden walking stick and used it to push various levers and switches showing different machines and lathes and blades as each started moving and pumping. 

He showed us the stick more closely and all of the flattened pennies nailed to it from different places, including the one that he let us know whose value had, tragically, gone up tremendously. It had a picture of the twin towers on it. 

He pulled out a fresh penny and turned on the penny flattener and joyfully flattened two in a row and handed them to us.

”Memories for your 50 states tour.” He said.

Throughout the last 30 minutes, he had taken a minute or two to get some information from us about what we were doing and he was delighted to hear about it.

But the best lines about Herman were not yet out. This is the stop where he really got into the nooks and crannies of his life.

He told us how, when he got back from Vietnam, he wanted nothing to do with the automotive industry, although, in the long thread of information coming out, though we were hanging as much as we could on each word, we missed the exact reason why. It had something to do with his history in racing cars.

Herman was showing us pictures from his youth that hung upon the wall.

He pointed to some of the cars he used to race.

“Back then,” he said, “If it couldn’t go 200mph, I didn’t drive it, if it wasn’t in a short skirt, I didn’t chase it and if it wasn’t in a brown bottle, I didn’t drink it.”

We were grinning ear to ear, just lapping up every word out of Herman’s mouth.

He went on with vigor. 

“I was 10 foot tall and bulletproof.” He said with the wry smile that insinuated, he might be in on the secret.

At this point though, we were ready to believe the same about Herman.

Now, he turned his full interest towards us and our trip. He asked us where we’d been in North Dakota and Montana. We had just been to Little Bighorn. His face turned a touch sober (but still glowing) and he began to think about the history of Little Bighorn. He told us a bit more of the history of Custer before he got deeply reflective. You could tell from his words he was thinking of the tragedy of Little Bighorn, not just the death suffered by Custer and his men, but by both sides and by the reason for the conflict itself. His tone got a bit more subdued.

”I get disappointed that people are forgetting history these days.”

We’d heard similar words on this trip before from more than a few people, especially ones who’d put many decades of time in on this planet.

”It’s just, history has an awful way of repeating itself if people don’t take the time.”

We recalled our friend Danny from the first state in our trip back in June, in the hills of Virginia, sitting inside his golf cart, sharing the same sentiments and with a similar pained look on another weathered and lived-in face that had seen enough of the kind of history that wasn’t worth repeating.

”We couldn’t agree more, Herman.” We said.

Herman was very glad we were taking the time in our lives to take this trip, to see the country and to learn history. 

He asked us a few more questions, including if we had kids. When we said we didn’t, he said, with a glint in his eye, “Oh, it’s not a big thing to do.” Having had six himself, he’d put in the time.

His face got subdued again, “I get disappointed when I see people not putting in the work and the time to raise their kids.”

We were curious what he’d seen in his life that was behind this particular disappointment. 

“Kids are great, but you’ve gotta put in the time and the effort to raise them. I get disappointed when people don’t.” He continued.

Before long, after showing us the things that hurt his heart, Herman wasn’t long for getting back to the enthusiasm that filled it. He was back to talking about what he was doing and the dreams he was still pursuing. His big dream was to have a functional village so people could see what it was like here 100 years ago, and he was putting everything he had into it. 

“If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life.” he declared with the biggest smile on his face. “If you don’t, well, you better find something you love and make time to do it.”

Good advice, Herman. And boy was he living proof of it.

After a warm cowboy farewell, Herman wished us well on our travels and disappeared back into the rope shop to carry on living the dream that fueled him.

Well, at the end of the day, Herman may not have been 10 foot tall nor bulletproof, but he was most certainly larger than life and did seem immune to a different kind of bullet. No matter what hardship life may present, Herman showed, with a little yankee ingenuity, a love of what you are doing, an appreciation and respect for history and a little good old fashioned elbow grease, there would be nothing that could penetrate the joy and enthusiasm for life that Herman was carrying around strong.

He enthusiastically encouraged us to post anything about this place and we wholeheartedly encourage anyone to make a stop in Rapid City at the Dances with Wolves Movie set if you get the chance. Whether its the remnants of the magic of movie making or Herman himself, if you are looking for something larger than life to inspire and delight you, you will find it there.