Whitewashing The Past: The Renaming Of Negro Bill Canyon

Near Moab, Utah, there is a popular hiking canyon currently named Negro Bill Canyon.  The name used to be one that is now extremely offensive (it also start with "N."  I think you can figure it out.), but it was changed to "Negro" back when "negro" was a polite and correct term for a person of African-American heritage.  Clearly, there are several problems with the name "Negro Bill Canyon."  One is that no one uses the term "negro" much now, and it sounds borderline offensive.  Also, the man in question was most certainly never called "Negro Bill" by anyone while he was alive, so it's sort of silly to name the canyon that.
The media is covering both of those reasons when they discuss the possibility of renaming the canyon yet again.
From the Salt Lake Tribune today we have this:

Amid Confederate flag scrutiny, Utah reconsiders controversial canyon name

By LINDSAY WHITEHURST The Associated Press

The renewed national scrutiny of the Confederate flag has officials again considering changing the name of Utah's Negro Bill Canyon, a title that is offensive to some but a point of historical pride for the state's largest NAACP chapter.

Grand County Councilwoman Mary McGann said the name of the picturesque canyon in southern Utah is outdated at best.

"We should evolve," she said Wednesday.

She is planning to ask the council to recommend a name change to the U.S. Board of Geographic Names as soon as Aug. 4.

The Moab canyon is named for William Granstaff, a black cowboy who ran cattle there in the 1870s. Landmarks named for white historical figures are not generally prefaced by race, McGann said, and the canyon should bear his last name instead.

*******

Naturally, there are some opposing views.  Jeanetta Williams of the NAACP of Salt Lake City does not like the idea of losing the part of the name which identifies William Granstaff (or possibly Grandstaff, as some claim the name was spelled that way) as Black.
Granted, this is also a good point in the argument about whether or not to change the name to Granstaff or Grandstaff Canyon.

Now, my point in this post is not whether or not the name should be changed.  My point is that everyone in the media is whitewashing William -- not by shedding a racial identifier, but by ignoring history.

Let me clarify something here: the Shafer family was among the first settlers of Moab, Utah.  And my grandfather, John Lloyd "Sog" Shafer, is quite famous there, having The Shafer Trail, Shafer Canyon, Shafer Basin, and Shafer Trail Overlook named after him.  (The Shafer Trail is one of the most famous Jeep/mountain biking trails in the US, possibly in the world.  People come from all over the place to try the thing.  My mother says they'll never know how scary it can really be, though, as they'll never have the chance to ride down it with my grandfather driving his pick up truck, pointing out cattle grazing grounds along the way and paying zero attention to the hairpin curves.)  My father is his longest-surviving child.  Dad's memory is good and sharp, and he remembers the local Moab history of Bill.
According to Dad, Bill was not, as the Tribune puts it, someone who "ran cattle."  Bill was a cattle rustler and a bootlegger who hid up the canyon to stay away from authorities.  Another man also had his stolen cattle up the canyon as well, but the other guy ran from the authorities first, leaving Bill as the main person living up the canyon.
Bill Gran(d)staff was Moab's own local outlaw, and all the locals knew he lived up that canyon, so eventually it came to be called by the name they had for the owner, "N--- Bill."  At the time, the name was sort of a mildly affectionate tribute to their own outlaw.  (Please note: it's extremely unlikely that Bill called himself by that racial epithet, but it is how he was referred to by locals from Moab at the time.  I'm not condoning that name; I'm merely explaining.)
So, to me, the problem with what's in the news is not that people are trying to whitewash William Gran(d)staff's skin color; the problem is that people are whitewashing the past.  The canyon was named for an outlaw.  That shouldn't be left out when people talk about Bill.  (He was apparently quite successful at what he did, also, but he eventually ran when authorities caught up with him.)  He was what he was: African-American, clever, successful, and an outlaw, a bit like Robert Leroy Parker.  (Parker is better known as Butch Cassidy, and nobody ever whitewashes his history.)
Personally, I think the canyon might be renamed Outlaw Canyon to reflect both men who were there, as well as avoid racial problems.  (However, I do think changing "Negro" to "Black" and thus having "Black Bill Canyon" has a certain piratical ring to it.  :) )
But whatever is done about the name of the canyon, the media needs to be truthful about the past.  Stop pretending Bill was something other than what he was.  It is not racist to admit he was a colorful character for more reasons than his skin tone.

Things I Learned About Driving In Ireland

So, yeah, I FINALLY got my rear in gear and, after five long years, left the US again.  I picked Ireland for this jaunt.  Why?  Well, I hadn't been anywhere but the US or the UK since 2001 (China).  Originally, I'd planned on Iceland instead of Ireland, but I realized I wasn't in good enough physical condition for the hiking in Iceland, and I also learned that Iceland requires an international driving license while Ireland does not.
Apparently, the Irish have no problem with putting a sleep-deprived foreigner just off the plane from a country that drives on the right side of the road immediately onto their freeways and sneaky toll roads where everything is backwards.  Sure, sounds safe to me. *rolls eyes*
Fortunately, I prefer to drive standard transmission cars at home anyway, and fortunately I'd already had some experience driving in Orkney in 2008.  But I mistakenly believed that driving the rural areas of southern Ireland (the Ring of Beara, the Ring of Kerry, and the Dingle Peninsula) would be like driving in Orkney: wide, open spaces with narrow roads and a clear view, where the main road hazards are sheep and guessing who's going to pull aside for the oncoming person.
That is not what I got.
The main thing I learned about the Irish through driving there is that the Republic of Ireland is a country which was never united until the English did it for them and 90% of their history is about battles and uprisings against the English, all of which failed due to lack of organization and communication.  Their roads and their driving habits reflect this.
For example, this is what I saw for miles and miles and miles of Irish countryside:

Hedges.  Those *&^% hedges.
Notice that the road is wide enough for two compact cars to pass each other?  Now try to imagine what happens when the other vehicle is a full-sized tour bus.  Also try to imagine what happens when you're looking for a turn-off to a smaller road that leads someplace you want to see.  Notice how you can barely see the yield sign on this road?  Well, the direction signs are smaller, brown, and not placed above the hedges.  They're placed right at the turn, which you can't see unless you 1)already know it's there or 2) just drove past it.  Also imagine what happens when you realize you need to turn around and go back to said missed turn off.
I am pleased to tell you, however, that the rental car company did not charge me for any of the hedge scratches found on my returned Nissan.  Bless them.  :)
The hedges also mean that you don't get to see much while you're driving, and, since pull outs and parking spaces are about as prevalent as Buddhists in Ireland, a person driving doesn't see much besides those &^^%$% hedges and whatever can be viewed from on foot in whatever town where a parking space is finally won.
Also keep in mind that the speed limit on this road is 100 km per hour, which is roughly 62 MPH.  Then remember that this photo shows a rare straight bit of road; most of the country roads swerve and curve all over the place.  Driving 62 on such roads is unsafe and stupid.  I spent half of my trip in 3rd gear, going about 35MPH.  But the Irish drive these roads alternating between roaring up way past the speed limit, passing anyone in front of them, then slamming on their brakes at every bad curve.  They also are the reigning monarchs of tailgating.  They excel at this art -- at top speed.
This part of driving in Ireland made me tense.  Not being able to see, having to fight to turn around, having to hunt up to 20 minutes to find a parking spot in every single town, dealing with the fact that the Irish drive like idiots and park willy-nilly on either side of the road -- it all drove me nuts.
The other thing I learned about driving in Ireland was much funnier: perspective.
For days as I interacted with locals and tourists along the Ring of Beara and the Ring of Kerry, I was told, "Make sure you drive the Conor Pass."  It was called "beautiful," "breath-taking," and "scary."  How could I pass that up?
So, when I was ready to leave the lovely little town of Dingle (awesome place, even if there's no parking -- and past it, the Slea Head was the most stunning thing I saw on the whole trip), I made sure to find the road to the Conor Pass.
When I got to the summit, I laughed.
I'd forgotten with whom I was speaking and their perspectives on "mountains."  You see, it wasn't the Swiss who'd told me about the Conor Pass.

It is pretty from the summit.  There are a couple of cute little lakes and some very interesting ruins on their shores, which, unfortunately, I didn't know how to reach.  But the rest of it was just green, grassy, rolling hills.
I kept thinking, "Mountain?  This ain't no mountain.  I could show you a real mountain!"
I looked it up this morning.  The Conor Pass reaches 1167 feet.   For perspective, that's only 104 feet higher than the Eiffel Tower.  Snowbird ski resort, just a half-hour drive up a canyon near Salt Lake City, has an elevation of 11,000 feet, not 1100 feet.  You wanna talk striking view?  Take the tram up to the top of that and have a look around.

Ah!  But the Conor Pass has those stinkin' narrow roads where only one car at a time can pass on sections with a steep overhang!
Seriously, the people who call this "scary" would never survive the Shafer Trail.

(Yup.  Grandpa made that.)

Or the Furka Pass in Switzerland (ok, it's only 7000 feet or so, but it's gorgeous.  We drove it clear back in '84.)

So, the Conor Pass?  Well, it's green and pretty -- and the shot of the lakes from the summit is definitely a Kodak moment.  And I suppose it's scary and striking if you're from Kansas.

Yes, more about Ireland will follow.  But for now let it suffice for me to tell you that I liked the Irish people one whole heck of a lot better than I liked their roads.