Tag Archives: gillette

Growth on Our Terms: How Communities Can Take Control of the Digital Boom

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Silicon Prairie: Episode 1

Alan O’Hashi, here. I’m a Wyoming native, having grown up in Cheyenne. I have a new American Outlands podcast called “Silicon Prairie” about the data center land rush in the Rocky Mountain West, although these monstrosities are popping up anywhere there’s vacant rural land.

My family moved to Laramie while I was a sophomore at Hastings College in Nebraska. Upon graduation, I had no job skills and sat out the post-Vietnam War recession in grad school at the University of Wyoming. I ended up taking a job with the city administration of Gillette, in northeast Wyoming.

There, I had my first experience with an economic boom cycle.

Economic booms and busts are as much a part of the Rocky Mountain West as dust storms, pickup trucks, and someone insisting this year’s growth “will be different.” The newest growth explosion thundering across the region and the nation isn’t gold or fossil fuel extraction. It’s what I call digital foundries that crunch cryptocurrency transactions, stream high-speed video content, and feed the ever-growing brain of Artificial Intelligence, otherwise known as AI.

In this five-part series, I’ll draw on my experience watching rural communities grapple with energy-driven growth spurts.

I’ll look at what happens when gigantic Digital Foundries arrive in places built for cattle, coal mines, or low-stress living, and suddenly require enormous amounts of electricity, water, land, and infrastructure.

Along with the promises of jobs and tax revenue come less glamorous realities: the constant hum of cooling fans, industrial-scale backup generators, and massive warehouse-like buildings rising from open prairie or ranchland. What looks like “the future” in a corporate brochure can feel very different when it’s humming outside your back fence at 2 a.m.

Beneath the big promises from digital economy backers, boom-and-bust questions arise: Who gets the water? Who pays for the power? And who’s left holding the bag when the boom cycle ends?

I took my first job in the Powder River Basin at the onset of the coal boom. I remember driving from Laramie to Gillette, sight unseen, after surviving the Big Thompson Flood, and dropping out of grad school to take my first job with the city government in 1977.

When I drove into town, my first stop was 611 Kendrick Street, where I crammed into the light green, one-bathroom house I shared with four other guys. The water from the tap smelled like rotten eggs, with crud floating in it.

That was just the beginning.

Welcome to what sociologists call the “Gillette Syndrome.” Too many people swarmed into a small town. The locals quit their jobs as EMTs, store clerks, and school teachers to become dump truck drivers and coal shovel operators. The rapidly expanding population outstripped the community’s ability to keep pace.

The place was nutty back then: lots of guys with a lot of money and nowhere to spend it. Then-mayor Mike Enzi dubbed Gillette the “Energy Capitol of the Nation.” Mike went on to represent Wyoming in the U.S. Senate.

I was part of a team of carpetbagging young professionals who moved to town to increase the town’s capacity to handle growth. As much as we wanted to make things better, we all became part of the juggernaut.

Governor Ed Herschler famously coined the phrase “Growth on Our Terms.” Easygoing Gov. Ed had no problem wrestling with the fossil fuels industry. In 1975, he signed the Industrial Siting Act into law and established the Industrial Siting Council (ISC). At the time, the ISC was primarily concerned with permitting energy projects and their effects on communities.

Although many viewed Gillette and Campbell County as politically conservative strongholds for a long time, these two entities took the lead in the state by developing a comprehensive regional plan early on. Gillette had approved one of the state’s strongest zoning codes.

Gillette officials worked hand in glove with the ISC as coal mines moved through the permitting process. Companies were required to construct employee housing, pay for public street improvements, and expand parkland.

Campbell County and Wyoming have reaped the benefits of the fossil fuel boom over the past 50 years and are now seeking the next commodity. As with every other bust cycle, some folks pack up, and others will stay. This time around, what are the positive benefits and negative consequences of the digital Foundry migration coming of age in Wyoming?

What can communities learn from the coal boom? Microsoft, Meta, and Google want to expand across the vast, open prairies. The digital data boom won’t require as much labor as the fossil fuels industry, but an integrated approach can address other issues, such as electricity and water consumption, and excessive noise.

With Digital Foundries as core resources rather than standalone entities, and a little foresight, Digital Foundries can anchor successful mixed-use environments.

The commercial offices and research and development facilities surrounding the Digital Foundry are a natural fit for businesses that rely on its high-speed connectivity and computational power. This creates an innovation hub where technology companies, startups, and research institutions can collocate, fostering collaboration.

What will digital foundry communities look like? The residential component of a Digital Foundry would appeal to residents who work in the tech hub, value an efficient lifestyle, and enjoy unique amenities, including year-round fresh produce from on-site greenhouses. The development would have a distinct identity, driven by its technological and ecological integration.

A Digital Foundry is a building and a foundational anchor that can generate energy and heat and provide high-speed internet connectivity. By designing with a city planning mindset, potential problems such as the need for a steady source of power, heat, cooling, and mitigating sound pollution are reimagined as opportunities that create resilient and economically vibrant communities.

I visited a data center east of Cheyenne. Inside, I saw the behemoth brains of the futuristic cloud flashing and sending information into cyberspace. The sprawling industrial machine consumed staggering amounts of electricity and water just to keep the digital world spinning.

Digital Foundries across the West are arriving faster than the infrastructure needed to support them. In Silicon Prairie Episode Two, I’ll explore what happens when the digital economy competes with towns, farms, and families for electricity.

In episode 2, I’ll explore what happens when digital-foundry carpetbaggers roll into town promising jobs and economic development, and the community isn’t prepared to handle the sudden growth.

When UFOs Were for Crazy People

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Now the government calls them UAPs and holds press conferences.

Belief in Unidentified Flying Objects (UFOs) for decades occupied the exclusive domain of conspiracy theorists, late-night AM radio callers, and guys who stored canned beans in underground bunkers.

Back then, if you talked about flying saucers in public, people looked at you the same way they’d look at someone claiming Bigfoot stole their lawnmower.

Today they call them Unidentified Aerial Phenomena (UAP), which sounds a lot more respectable and government-funded. Somewhere along the line, UFOs got a promotion.

I’ll admit it. My fascination started when I read Erich von Däniken and his wildly popular book “Chariots of the Gods?” Von Däniken argued that extraterrestrials have been visiting Earth since ancient times and that many of the “angels” described in holy writings like the Bible and Torah may have been visitors from somewhere beyond our galaxy.

Was it far-fetched? Absolutely.

Did teenage me eat it up like Buford gas station beef jerky on a Wyoming road trip? Also absolutely.

I tend to trust my own observations more than theories. That brings me to one unforgettable weekend in 1980.

I was reading the front page of the “Casper Star-Tribune” when I came across a story about strange UFO sightings at the Morton Pass area along Wyoming Highway 34 between Wheatland and Laramie. The property belonged to Pat McGuire and his family.

The sketch by Marina Wormus illustrated the story by Greg Bean.

Now this wasn’t your standard “my cousin saw lights after six Coors Banquets” kind of story.

McGuire claimed he’d been abducted multiple times. According to reports, hypnotic regression sessions conducted by Professor Leo Sprinkle at the University of Wyoming revealed encounters with alien beings who supposedly instructed him to drill a water well on otherwise useless land.

The result? A gusher that provided enough to irrigate alfalfa fields.

No UFO story is complete without at least one detail that makes everybody tilt their head sideways. McGuire flew an Israeli flag over the well because he said the Star of David adorned the aliens’ belt buckles.

You can’t make this stuff up.

Naturally, I talked a few friends from Gillette to load into a van and headed south in search of extraterrestrials.

We camped out on the property and, sure enough, saw strange lights moving in the distance over the prairie sky. Were they spacecraft? Military exercises? Reflections? Atmospheric weirdness?

I’ll tell you this. When you’re standing in the middle of the Wyoming night with nothing around but wind, sagebrush, and stars the size of dinner plates, your imagination becomes very open-minded.

I’d call it a close encounter of the “pretty darn interesting” kind.

Over the years, I’ve become less interested in little green men and more interested in the spiritual side of the phenomenon.

Oddly enough, evangelist Billy Graham wrote in his book “Angels: God’s Secret Agents,” speculated that extraterrestrials could be part of God’s creation.

I’ve wondered if what ancient people described as angels might overlap with what modern people describe as UFO encounters.

It’s harder to laugh the subject off now that the Department of Defense has released footage and reports from military pilots describing UAP. When fighter pilots start saying, “Yeah, we saw something weird moving at impossible speeds,” suddenly the old UFO crowd doesn’t seem quite so crazy.

Well, slightly less crazy.

I still don’t know what I saw over Morton Pass all those years ago, but it made for one heck of a Wyoming weekend.

Unlike the aliens, the memories have never disappeared.

VWs are life, Gregg Allman RIP

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I traded my ’93 Eurovan for a new Golf Sportwagen. It’s named after Gregg Allman.

 
I saw country tock bluesman Gregg Allman died. My car is named after him.

My VW life has gone full circle. In 1979 I drove a new white VW Scirocco. It was a replacement for a sky blue Ford Pinto station wagon that was in a rear end collision with an oil field mud truck. 

Luckily, it didn’t explode. The differential bolt did get jammed against the gas tank. Had I been at a complete stop, it may have been a different story. I was slowing down to take the turn towards The 3003 Club – that’s another good story for another day – under the Burlington Northern tressel by where the Fireside used to be.

My lawyer and fellow 3003 Club member, Thomas Padget, worked over the insurance company and I finally was paid. The Pinto was surplussed to Rick Thamer when he was on his way to Lubbock. I bought the Scirocco in Laramie.

Anyway, I can’t remember who went, but a bunch of us drove from Gillette to Denver in early August to see the Allman Brothers at the Red Rocks. Maybe John and Dara Corkery remember who else went. I know Mike the News Record photog was in the car.

When we rolled into Denver, the VW threw a timing belt and was towed to Mountain States VW on South Colorado Blvd. After the show, I was dropped off at a motel nearby – across from the Celebrity Sports Center. We had multiple rides.

My car was fixed the next day. While waiting, I walked down to a matinee at the Century Theater and saw ‘Alien’ in 70mm. There were a few people sitting in this huge round theater. The newborn space monster scene was alarming on that gigantic screen!

I must have returned to Gillette in one piece.  when I moved to Lander a year or two later. I didn’t drive it much for a couple years since I lived in an apartment above the Ace Hardware store on Main Street – mixed use urban living before it was hip. What happened to the Scirocco? I sold it to Bill Sniffin

Meanwhile, 47 years later, I decided it was time to bag the old hobby VWs in favor of something more practical. Over the years, I’ve tinkered with air cooled engines – a ’63 Bug, ’65 Karmann Ghia, ’72 Super Beetle convertible. I decided to get more modern with a ’95 Eurovan Winnebago and ’93 Weekender. 

The ’93 was a bit of a lemon on it’s last legs and rather than hassle with selling it myself, I chanced upon Emich VW – formerly Mountain States – which deals Eurovans. I got a good offer – even though I got worked over pretty well by the mechanic like I was selling on ‘Pawn Stars’. 

I ended up with a 2015 Golf Sportwagen – a chopped down Eurovan. It’s the first new car I’ve owned since the Scirocco and the first with airbags.

That Colorado Blvd neighborhood has totally changed and the VW dealership is an island now surrounded by big box retail, but pulling into that parking lot brought back some good memories. I named the car ‘Gregg”.