DONNA MAURITA (PIERCE) BUCKLEY
Marriages
ROBERT E BUCKLEY, SR
Died in 1980.
BEN GREGORY
Burial Details
Obituaries
page 12 - September 17, 2004
Grand Junction Daily Sentinel page 9B - September 17, 2004
Vail Daily - September 16, 2004
Donna Maurita Buckley, whose son and daughter-in-law were longtime Vail residents and who married into one of Colorado's pioneer families, died Sunday in Glenwood Springs. She was 88.
Buckley was born May 8, 1916 in Corwin, Kansas to Benjamin and Nora Pierce. She married Robert E. Buckley Sr., a son of one of Colorado's earliest pioneer mountain families. His mother, Alice Buckley, was the first registered birth in the territory of Colorado.
Donna and Robert Buckley lived in Silver Plume for many years before moving to Denver. After Robert's death in 1980, Donna lived in Mesa, Ariz., for several years before moving to Grand Junction and marrying Ben Gregory, who remained a close and loving friend until her death.
Donna had a lifelong love of music and her passions were singing with her sisters Benora, Mildred, Irma and Ruth, and collecting antiques, restoring historic homes in Central City and traveling, friends and family members said.
Donna is survived by her children, Robert Gary Buckley and wife Julie, Donald E. Buckley and wife Kathie, Robert E. Buckley Jr. and wife Donna C., and Sheila Mincer and husband Larry; 10 grandchildren; and eight great grandchildren.
Robert E. Buckley Jr. and Donna C. Buckley were residents of Vail for 30 years, raising children Brian, John and Amanda.
A Catholic Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated at 11 a.m., Saturday, at Our Lady of Lourdes in Georgetown. Interment will follow at the Silver Plume Cemetery with a reception afterwards in the Silver Plume Town Hall.
Vail, Colorado
Vail Daily - September 30, 2004
DIGGING UP THE PAST, by John Buckley.
Editor's note: A few weeks ago, the Vail Trail learned of the death of Donna Buckley, an early pioneer in this part of Colorado. When we looked into the story behind the obituary, we learned that Donna and her family have deep roots in Colorado (and an interesting family history). We asked Donna's grandson and lifelong Vail local John Buckley to tell us about his storied family – and what it was like to take part in one of their oldest traditions.Deep in the woods, on a hill above the historic train tracks in Silver Plume, sits a cemetery. On a quiet hillside within this cemetery, closed in by cement walls and up a flight of cement stairs, sits the Buckley family plot. It is beautiful, remote and simply impossible to access with heavy digging equipment. For generations the Buckleys have been put to rest in this spot next to their kin the Haskins' and the Collins'. And for generations, surviving family members from both sides of the lineage have been digging the graves.And so it came to pass on a warm autumn day in September, I joined my father Bob, brother Brian and father's cousins Ed and Jerry Haskins in digging a grave for my departed grandmother, Donna Buckley, right next to my grandfather Robert Buckley Sr.There are certain unwritten rules involved in digging a grave, the first being that 'what's said while digging the grave, remains in that grave.' I'm breaking it right now, I suppose, but only with the blessing of the family.Despite what people may think, digging a grave is not a solemn occasion. There's plenty of time for tears during the funeral. Mainly digging a grave is about old men getting a job done, telling jokes and spinning tales from memories past. The one-liners were of old Irish wit and born out of generations of making the best out of difficult situations.Standing 5'9" and waist-deep in the hole, for example, my brother Brian asked how we'll know when we're six feet deep, to which cousin Ed replied dryly, "When you can't see anymore, stop digging."There are also certain things one learns about himself, his family and his history while digging the grave of a loved one that frankly don't come to pass under ordinary circumstances. Back in the 60s and 70s dad and Jerry were on Vail's ski patrol, and on this day I was treated to an earful of stories about men in their 20s, living in Vail in its early hayday. Stories, for example, like the one involving some trouble nearly caused when strippers were brought in to entertain a delighted group of ski patrolman at my father's bachelor party. And of my dad recalling the play-by-play given over the radio, as Jerry was swept away in one of the largest avalanches ever witnessed by the patrol on Vail mountain down present-day Genghis Khan. It was a busy couple of days for Jerry, who had been in a bar fight the night before the avalanche.The talk didn't stop at the early history of Vail and old triumphs and travails of the ski patrol. I also heard about the history of my family when mining, not skiing, was the big industry in the Rockies. All of us digging the grave that day are linked into the same family history through my grandfather's grandmother, Grandma Hickey. She had three husbands, all who died young – and gave birth to two daughters (my great-grandmother Alice Buckley and Mary Collins, Jerry and Ed's grandmother).I have long been aware that my family has been in Colorado for a quite some time. My great-grandmother Alice, or Ma Buckley, was the first registered white child born in the Colorado Territory. But it wasn't until my grandmother passed away and the stories started flowing that I really began to get a sense of who my relatives really were.Born in Belfast, Ireland, Grandma Hickey came out to Colorado on a wagon train just about the time that Civil War was breaking out in the East. Newly married, Ellen Short had just "hitched her wagon" to Daniel Griffin. They traveled through the new territories and eventually after many hard days arrived in a new bustling town on the side of the Platte River, called Denver. Along the way, it is rumored that a Ute Indian chief became mesmerized by her red hair and beauty, and offered to trade 16 ponies for her. The trade never took place, but the story has it that the Ute band escorted her wagon train all the way to Denver for protection. Ed couldn't resist commenting: "I wish somebody would offer me that deal for my Alice!" When Ellen and Daniel arrived in Denver the echo coming out of the foothills and lower mountain valleys was the resounding call for gold. The rush was on, and everything seemed to be happening around the areas of Nevadaville, Central City and Black Hawk. Dan and Ellen soon found themselves caught up in the excitement, living in Nevadaville and proud parents of a daughter named Alice. One day while Alice was a small child, Dan heard that one of his good friends was being harassed and assaulted by a provost marshal conscripting for the Union Army. Daniel, in coming to the aid of his friend, somehow became embroiled in the scuffling and pushing. A shot rang out and the young family man lay mortally wounded. Daniel was buried next to the Catholic Church in Central City. This church later burned down and was rebuilt next door. History now shows that Daniel Griffin is still buried underneath that Catholic Church. Ellen went on to marry two more times and lived out the rest of her life in Colorado. She eventually died in Silver Plume while living with her second daughter Mary, and across the street from her first daughter, Alice.Ellen was quite a character, noted for her corncob pipe, occasional taste for hard liquor and the many adventures of her plains crossing. Her daughter Alice had met and married Jeremiah Buckley and was busy bringing up her own family that would eventually total 13 children, my grandfather being number seven. She was widowed at a very young age as well, leaving her to raise 11 (surviving) children on her own. Facing the future with courage, she formed a family corporation and employed her children in a variety of occupations including trucking, fuel, garage and repair, grocery and butchering. The Buckley Bros. sign still stands on the side of I-70 in Silver Plume in between Vail and Denver.Though it was with sadness that we buried my grandmother, I was honored to have the opportunity to join in a family tradition of carving her final resting place with the rest of the Buckleys', Haskins', Collins' and with Grandma Hickey. The day was tough, dirty and exhausting, but as Jerry aptly put it, "I wouldn't have it any other way". Neither would I. VT– By John Buckley
