69 years of pure Evel

As a kid in the 70s, I grew up with a unique kind of hero. There were still the astronauts, the firemen and SWAT cops, but above all there were the stuntmen.

It may have been a golden age for these daredevils, with TV specials and movies bringing them out of the background and into the spotlight. I remember growing up watching men rocketing their motorcycles over cars and through flaming rings, and women blowing themselves up in crates packed with dynamite. My toy box included the Evel Knievel stunt cycle, which you'd crank until it shot out across the floor and, appropriately enough, would usually crash spectacularly and send its helmeted rider flying. Somewhere I still have a Hot Wheels version of the Skycycle he rode down to the bottom of Snake River Canyon.

Hard-drinkin', hard-lovin' and just plain hard-livin', these men and women were with me as I jumped my bicycle off curbs and down ditches filled with cattails. But none stood as tall as Knievel.

For me, and for a lot of people (I think it'd be safe to call him the Godfather of Extreme Sports), Knievel was King. And now, after almost 40 broken bones and countless feats of daring, the King is dead at 69, ongoing illness being the one crash-landing he couldn't bounce back from.

Here's to you, Evel Knievel — thanks for showing me that a life without risk isn't worth living, and death is nothing to fear. You might not have had a perfect life, but you sure lived the hell out of it.

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I don't remember where I heard it, but here's a riddle for you.

Q: Why didn't Evel Knievel make it across Snake River Canyon?

A: He was weighed down by his enormous balls.

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Speaking of Snake River, here's some video, too:

Evel Knievel's Caesar's Palace jump (and legendary wipeout)!

Big Mack attack!

Snake River Canyon!

And this is just awesome.

El Paso agents - activate!

It was during a visit with some friends from El Paso that we heard the news: People's Emporium had shut down.

Apparently this happened a while ago, but it was news to me. I think it was also more of a shock to me than to Lopez! because it had been one of my El Paso touchstones, one of those things that was so "El Paso," but at the same time almost out of step with the city just out of its sheer weirdness.

Imagine being a young kid, living in a part of the city that makes trips to the Downtown area seem like a rare treat. For me, this is where the action was: the main library branch, which for me always had the same spiritual vibe as a Gothic church; my aunt's bookstore; the medical building where Mom worked; the bars my dad frequented and where my sister and I would pretend to play shuffleboard and pool. And of course, People's Emporium.

It wasn't until later that I was really aware of A-1 Costumes on the second floor, with its wonderfully creaky wooden stairway and musty, heigh-ceilinged area crammed with spirit gum, latex masks and cheap bald-caps. For me, it was all about the enormous first floor, an odd cramming together of a used bookstore, a novelty shop and an occult back-room.

My parents practically had to drag me out of there every single time.

It didn't hurt that the building itself was unique. Square in the heart of the Five Points neighborhood, People's Emporium occupied a large wedge of brick painted a red that bordered on lurid, at least in my imagination.

Maybe that's what I loved so much about the place; it was somewhere my imagination could run wild, snatching up sci-fi paperbacks with one hand and fingering smoothly polished gemstones with the other, magic crackling in the grip of both. If I could steal a peek at a half-dressed woman preserved forever at the bottom of a glass ashtray, my trip could be considered a complete success.

When I heard that the Emporium had closed down, I have to admit my heart broke a little. It was one of those things a person just assumed, naively, would always be there. I still made periodic trips as an adult, either to prowl the aisles of the bookstore or to pick up some face-paint for that year's Halloween costume. It never occured to me that my last trip there would also be my final trip ever to what I considered a local landmark.

I can't help feeling as if we - me and El Paso - have lost something. Maybe not something particularly important, but certainly something special.

So here's a special request to my pals in El Paso: Does anyone have any information about the closing? Did it make the paper? Is there any chance anybody out there has a photo of the building? And while you're at it, do you have any memories you'd like to share?

For myself, I know I'll be taking a lot of pictures around town the next time I'm in El Paso - just in case.