In commemoration of City Weekly's 40th anniversary, we are digging into our archives to celebrate. Each week, we FLASHBACK to a story or column from our past in honor of four decades of local alt-journalism. Whether the names and issues are familiar or new, we are grateful to have this unique newspaper to contain them all.
Title: The Saints of Taufer Park
Author: David Madison
Date: Jan. 1, 1998
The Virgin of Guadalupe has revealed herself at least twice, say worshipers who rallied to preserve a religious shrine in Taufer Park. On the corner of 700 South and 300 East, devout visitors claim to see an image of the Virgin in the sawed branch of an elm tree. And in 1531, Latino Catholics believe she appeared in the mountains outside Mexico City.
In the mountains outside Salt Lake City, in the spring of 1977, another savior appeared. A 24-year-old woman named Karen Roberson had just finished a morning hike in Mill Creek Canyon when she was accosted by a man with a gun. The assailant told Roberson he planned to rape her.
That's when Justin Taufer happened upon the scene. He was headed up to his family's cabin and stopped to offer help when he saw Roberson struggling with a man next to her pickup. The 67-year-old Taufer got out of his car and tried to intervene, but the assailant opened fire, clipping off at least 14 shots.
Police later arrested a 28-year-old Salt Lake City man, who reportedly had cut his finger while triggering round after round. A trail of blood led some 70 feet along the canyon road to where police believe the assailant jumped into a vehicle and fled.
The blood shed that day can now be traced all the way to the corner of 700 South and 300 East. Taufer died at the scene, high up Mill Creek Canyon, but managed to save a woman from being raped and possibly murdered. Two years later, Taufer Park was named in his honor.
It's ironic that a place named for such a hero would need a savior of its own. The Central City neighborhood has seen its share of crime, and just down the street from the park, a collection of boarded up buildings stares blankly out at 700 South.
In 1993, The Salt Lake Tribune quoted residents of the neighboring Phillips Plaza apartments, who were scared to even venture into Taufer Park. Members of the surrounding community have worked hard to help residents feel safe, and Margery Van Dusen, who's lived just a block away from the park for nine years, said the area has improved.
"It used to be that the police were always here picking up needles when I'd come over and feed the birds," remembered Van Dusen. On the morning before Christmas, the elderly woman swept away a layer of new snow around a bench as sparrows gathered in a nearby bush. "See, they're waiting for me," she smiled. With the sidewalk clear, Van Dusen planned to spread seed, watch the birds and enjoy the quiet of the park.
About 50 yards away, an abandoned Magnavox color TV sat awkwardly near the elm tree bearing the Virgin's image. Worshipers have surrounded the tree with candles and tacked prayers and pictures of loved ones to its bark. Where did the TV come from? Who knows, but it's no secret why the stairs leading up to the Virgin's image remain covered with a generous spreading of rock salt.
Until just a few days before Christmas, Salt Lake City had planned to tear down the steps and platform leading up to the image of the Virgin. After a public outcry caught the attention of the local media, the city backed down, promising to help keep the steps and platform free of ice.
Built earlier this year by the city's parks department, the steps and platform replaced the rickety ladders used by some of the first visitors to the shrine. Later, when the shrine's popularity had swelled and those living near Taufer Park began to notice a drop in neighborhood crime, the city flip-flopped and said it was time for the stairs and platform to come down.
"It was an administrative decision, behind the scenes," said John Renteria. The BYU law grad took part in the recent negotiations that led to the city backing down from its demolition plans. Now, a group of volunteers hopes to maintain the shrine as a place where people can come to brighten their days and the general mood of the neighborhood. As Renteria put it, "[The image of the Virgin's] value to the community should be the spin-off effect from people who just want a little peace."