My name is Jeanne Boylan, one of six children born to Tom and Jean Boylan of Montrose. My parents eloped from New York City in 1947 order to marry and raise a family in what was then a small and hidden western town. With great pride, they purchased their first home together in the late 40s. Over a span of 13 years, all six children were bundled up in cotton and driven home from Montrose Memorial Hospital, just two blocks away, and carried up the concrete steps of the house we'd all live in through high school graduation. It remains our family home to this day.
Over the years, my father became a Montrose volunteer fireman who loved driving the mascot fire truck in the Main Street parades. He was part of the summer softball teams behind the high school, a beaming father as his kids played sports, or swam competitively, and rode in the county rodeos on the arthritic horse he bought for us all. We could outrun that horse, but he'd chosen it specifically for us so that we would be sure to be safe.
"Tom" as he was affectionately called about town, wanted a to make a life for my mother and us that he'd never had growing up on the rough streets of the Bronx and Manhattan as they existed back then. His love of Colorado grew so deep and enduring that from age19 to 82, he never went east again. The only NY trace left in him was a glimpse now and then in his 'tough guy' humor or mannerisms.