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[{"type":"text","text":"He meant to do that....."}]

Darwin 10 22 25

Cowboy State Daily is Wyoming’s largest newspaper with Wyoming’s most experienced journalists. 

<title>Daily Darwin: Wednesday, October 22, 2025 | Cowboy State Daily</title>

He meant to do that.....

Daily Darwin: Wednesday, October 22, 2025

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily reporter, Jackie Dorothy.

Jackie Dorothy

Wyoming Life

Around Wyoming

In the early 1960s, the stress of being an advertising executive in New York was taking a toll on Paul Newman’s health. 

Calling himself Paul Newman “The Original” — he’s not the Oscar-winning actor — he was on a fishing holiday in Wyoming when he told his wife Georgina (Gina) that instead of dying on the streets of New York, he was going to buy the old Carpenter Hotel in Atlantic City as their new home.

Gina wasn’t ready to give up her career and friends in the East, according to her former employee Lynn Kinter. 

Twenty years younger than Paul, Gina loved her job as executive editor of Living for Young Homemakers, a popular ladies magazine based in New York City. 

“As she described it, Gina sat in a bar in Lander for three days drinking double vodkas and asking herself, 'New York or Paul? New York or Paul?'" Kinter wrote years later for the Atlantic City Historical Society in its book  

“Atlantic City Wyoming, Voices from a Powerful Place.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Ultimately, Gina chose her husband."}]

Then for more than 30 years, their restaurant Miner’s Delight put Atlantic City on the national map with its gourmet meals, colorful proprietors and guests who came from miles around just for dinner.

It was upscale French cuisine in the middle of nowhere in Wyoming with deep Old West roots.

“One patron said it was the only place where she was willing to wear heels through cow manure to get in,” Marjane Ambler, president of the Atlantic City Historical Society, told Cowboy State Daily. 

The Carpenter Hotel Becomes Miner’s Delight

Paul and Gina had taken a fishing vacation to Wyoming in the spring of 1958, and that was when they met brother and sister Jim and Ellen Carpenter of Atlantic City. 

Paul would go fishing on the Sweetwater River with Jim while a friendship developed between Gina and Ellen. 

During the next several years the Newmans made regular trips to Atlantic City and were grieved when Ellen died in 1961.

When Ellen’s family put the 16-room Carpenter Hotel up for sale, Paul became determined it would be theirs. In 1963, the couple bought the hotel, intending to make it their private residence.

Ambler said that by 1965, they had renovated the hotel and made the pantry into a bar. Ellen had an aversion to alcohol so in deference to her, the Newmans named their new business Miner’s Delight, another name for the nearby ghost town of Hamilton City. 

According to Bob Tipton in the Atlantic Historical Society's book, he met the Newmans as a teenage employee and was impressed by their culinary skills. 

Gina wanted to expand her cooking talents and had talked Paul into taking a six-week cooking course that led to an additional four-week course in France. 

Paul attended Paris’ most famous cooking school, Le Cordon Bleu, where he took a six-week sauce course. 

To further their skills, in 1966 the couple left Atlantic City to work at the Silver King Restaurant in Park City, Utah. They learned to cook steak and lobster and opened the Miner’s Delight for dinner on June 10, 1967. 

Paul and Gina served just two guests on their grand opening night. 

“Their menu was not the normal fare for your typical Wyoming eating establishment as they served meals like crepes stuffed with crabmeat, French onion soup, coq au vin, and a parfait for dessert and coffee,” Tipton wrote.

The serving season for Miner’s Delight started the first weekend in May and was finished by early fall. 

The Newmans served dinner four or five days a week, Wednesday or Thursday through Sunday, depending on their reservations and their own schedules. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Elegance In Atlantic City"}]

Paul and Gina hosted 20 to 40 guests each night they were open and regulars knew better than to request salt and pepper or, worse yet, ketchup. 

Everything was perfectly seasoned and there was no reason to mess with this perfection, according to Gina.  

In the 1970s, Karyn Aarthun Ervin was a repeat guest for four years who would drive up the winding road with her husband and friends to the remote mining town for a night of luxury. 

She said Paul’s gin and tonics were unmatched and he only carried top-shelf liquor. 

“Gina and Paul really introduced us to elegant dining,” Ervin said. “I tasted pate for the first time — delicious — and have been trying for about 50 years to duplicate their Cuban Black Bean Soup.”

Magnus “Max” Helmers of Sweden told Cowboy State Daily that eating at the Miner’s Delight was an experience of a lifetime.

“Sitting in that room in a restaurant in a ghost town in Wyoming and being served these great meals was just unreal,” Helmers said. “Gina had class and she know how to carry herself. You were only allowed to photograph her from one side, just like Clark Gable.”

Cowboy State Daily’s columnist Bill Sniffin was a young journalist when he would take his wife, Nancy, to Miner’s Delight for special occasions. 

He said that a meal would cost an average of $50 or more for a couple, unheard of when a large steak could be purchased for $16. 

“It was pricey, but it was worth it,” Sniffin said. “You'd make that 30-mile drive up the mountain up South Pass and it was a real tradition for everybody all over Wyoming and all over the region.”

Bob Tipton wrote that Gina was often quoted saying, “If it were left up to Wyoming men, they would only eat steak.” 

The Newmans claimed their women customers drove their success as their menus were designed to please women. Once the men got a taste they became hooked.

There were a few exceptions. Atlantic City resident Craig Newman, no relation to the Newmans, recalled taking a date to the Miner’s Delight as a young man. He had made reservations and saved for their special night out. 

Craig was shocked when instead of steak, he was served chicken and cold potato soup. 

“She gave it a fancy name and said it was supposed to be cold,” Craig said. “She was quite fussy.”

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Bob Tipton's brother, Harry Tipton Jr., wrote in the Atlantic City book that he was given a front-row seat to the clientele the Newmans served after being hired for a job in 1975. 

Before the summer ended, Harry had served drinks to Gov. Ed Herschler, U.S. Sen. Cliff Hansen, Congressman Teno Roncalio, State Sen. Robert Peck, State Rep. Harry Tipton (his father) and soon-to-be U.S. Sen. Alan Simpson. 

“They all liked to have big fun,” Harry wrote. “I learned much while bartending at the Miner’s Delight, much of which I am sure my mother would have preferred I did not.”

Harry said that he was shocked when Paul told him that they had repeat customers who would fly down from as far away as Alaska just to eat at the Miner’s Delight. 

Most of these customers would then fly home after dinner. 

Part of the allure was that Paul was well-known in his social circles and knew how to entertain.

“Paul was always dressed up and would make a big show of making drinks,” Sniffin said.  “Paul and Gina were both very elegant and made you feel like a million bucks.”

Everyone was given the red-carpet treatment at Miner’s Delight regardless of their social status. 

Sally Webster, a nurse, and Dave Slovisky who was working for NOLS were married on October 9, 1976. They reserved the Miner’s Delight for their dinner and were treated to a night to remember.

“I didn't know the Newmans’ but Paul was quite effusive,” Webster said. “He greeted us like we were old family members, and he was dressed up with an ascot.” 

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When Paul died in 1986, Gina upheld a pact they had made to be cremated and not embalmed. 

Since the local funeral home would not transport a body to the crematorium in Cheyenne without embalming it, Gina put Paul in the trunk of their car and drove to Cheyenne, sobbing and cursing during the 285-mile drive. 

She was stopped for speeding on the way home but only given a warning when she told the officer her husband was in the urn beside her. 

Paul’s obituary later appeared in The New York Times with a long list of his accomplishments. 

Gina ran Miner’s Delight for a number of years after Paul’s death with the help of her employees. 

Krista Guthridge wrote that Gina would always encourage her not to just talk about what she was going to do, but to do it.

In 1997, Gina fell, broke her hip and covered herself in the barroom’s plush rugs until friends found her three days later, her pooch snuggled at her side. 

After this, Gina moved to the Showboat Assisted Living facility in Lander and died the following year at the age of 78. 

The Miner’s Delight has since been closed, but the legacy of Paul and Gina Newman live on in Atlantic City and in the hearts of all who experienced their gourmet food in remote Wyoming. 

Miners Delight 8 Miners Delight 5 30 26

<title>For Upscale French Cuisine, ‘Miner’s Delight’ in Atlantic City, Wyoming, Was Tops | Cowboy State Daily</title>

For 30 years, the Miner's Delight restaurant in remote Atlantic City, Wyoming, was the place to go in the Cowboy State. Started by an advertising executive from New York, the upscale French cuisine attracted diners from hundreds of miles away.

For Upscale French Cuisine, ‘Miner’s Delight’ in Atlantic City, Wyoming, Was Tops

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily's business and tourism reporter, Renée Jean

Renée Jean

EVANSTON — One of the first times Jim Davis walked into the city’s historic Roundhouse and Railyards decades ago, it was like a scene from a movie. 

There was the crumbling railroad roundhouse, with its broken windows and pigeon feathers floating on the air, spinning as his footsteps stirred little puffs of dirt.

The rusted tracks disappeared into darkness. The roof was leaking, and the smell of that decay was everywhere. 

But there were rays of sunlight shining down into that darkness, and he had the sudden sense that all was not lost here. 

This was something special, something worth saving. 

Saving Evanston’s roundhouse has taken $28 million in private money and grants, as well as decades of volunteer time and effort, Davis said. 

But that’s given Evanston something few communities in America have — a completely functioning, fully intact roundhouse that he believes could be a tourism powerhouse, if Evanston ever decides to lean into promoting it. 

Everyone he has ever taken to see the building, without fail, has the same reaction, Davis told Cowboy State Daily. 

“Every single time I open the doors and walk into the roundhouse …. the first words out of their mouth are, ‘Oh my God,’” Davis said. “Their reaction was it was so phenomenal to see that space the way we were able to fix it up.”

 is a 63,000-square-foot, 96-foot-deep curved brick-and-mortar behemoth built around a post-and-beam interior.

The walls are lined with huge banks of wood-framed windows to provide natural light. It has a two-level terraced roof, and the face of the terrace is covered with windows to provide additional natural light. 

Davis likes to go up to the mezzanine level, where there’s a small kitchen area and space for parties.

“It’s just a beautiful space,” he said. “And I really enjoy taking people up there. It’s really well-thought of and the architects were so good to work with.”

Keeping it a roundhouse, Davis believes, is key to its intrigue. 

To think that inside that cavernous, multistory space lit by sunlight still that huge train cars were driven inside on tracks and then rotated by the gigantic round wheel inside to one of 28 stalls is awe-inspiring. 

All the historical photos, meanwhile, help tell a timeless legend of how America was built.

A Roundhouse Corridor That Built Southern Wyoming

Once upon a time, there were dozens of roundhouses like Evanston’s in towns across Wyoming and the West, Davis said. 

They were positioned all along the tracks, about every 100 miles. That’s about how long trains could go in the beginning without having to stop to refuel and repair. 

Over time, they became more and more efficient and roundhouses began to close. Evanston’s was slated for closure in 1926, putting at least 100 people out of work.

“We were the first roundhouse in the state to close,” Davis said. “Engines had become more efficient and they could run from Green River to Ogden without stopping in Evanston.”

It seemed unfortunate at the time, but it set off a series of events that would ultimately help save the facility.

“The city leaders thought we need those jobs now,” Davis said. “So they got on a train to Omaha, which is the headquarters, and begged them to keep the buildings open.”

Union Pacific ultimately did listen, and reopened the roundhouse and rail yard the following year as a reclamation plant, which added 200 jobs to the former 100, making for a total of 300.

“That saved those buildings,” Davis said. “They fixed all kinds of equipment for Union Pacific.”

Other roundhouses in Wyoming shut down: Laramie, Rock Springs, Rawlins, and even Cheyenne.

But Evanston’s, as a reclamation facility, kept going until 1971, after which Union Tank leased the facility from Union Pacific, and then Union Pacific quit-claimed the 21-acre property — depot, roundhouse, machine shop, yard, and related buildings — to Evanston in 1973.

For decades after that, almost nothing was done to maintain it. 

Windows broke and stayed that way. Boards were put up to block most of the rain, but roofs leaked and kept on leaking. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"First Came The Depot"}]

Saving the roundhouse from decades of neglect wasn’t a straightforward process.

What came first was actually saving an entirely different structure, the depot.

Davis had been hired as executive director of Evanston’s Urban Renewal Agency in 1987, charged with revitalizing the town’s central business district. That included not just Evanston’s great historic downtown, but Depot Square as well.

The space, he found, was structurally sound, even if plaster was falling off the walls and years of neglect were etched upon all of its dust-covered surfaces.

What to do about it, how to preserve it, weren’t part of his expertise.

“I had a business degree in general business administration from Arizona State,” Davis said with a chuckle. “I worked in the corporate world until 1984 when I came back to Evanston.”

A chance encounter helped him with that problem. Soon after joining a national economic development board, he found himself standing in the lunch line beside an architect whose family was from Evanston.

The friendship was instant. Better still, Davis’ new friend knew exactly how to proceed with preserving the depot: assuming Davis could overcome his two biggest hurdles — community buy-in and money.

“There were a lot of naysayers,” Davis said.

Not too far in, though, Evanston was gripped by an oil and gas boom that brought big corporate players to town like Amoco and Chevron.

A planner was hired to help the city, who put together a plan for downtown.

“It wasn’t real specific,” Davis said. “But there was one paragraph, about three sentences long, about how the roundhouse could be a key element in diversifying and revitalizing our downtown.”

There was a vision, Davis realized, that could win people over, starting with the Depot.

Fixing the Depot took years, Davis said, but when it was finished, he’d built a core group of people who believed in historic preservation in Evanston. 

“That gave us the springboard to do the roundhouse,” Davis said. “When we finished the depot, we said, ‘Let’s look at the historic value of all those buildings.' And a citizen’s group was formed that wanted to save them because they saw the historic value, the uniqueness of them. 

"There aren’t many roundhouses left in the country, and, in Wyoming, Evanston had the only one still standing. Cheyenne has one section of a roundhouse, but Evanston has the full semicircle, still standing the way it was built in 1912.”

Megan Stanfill, executive director of the Alliance for Historic Wyoming, confirmed the rarity. 

Of roughly 3,000 roundhouses built in America, only 200 survive. Of those, perhaps a dozen are fully intact like the one in Evanston. 

That makes Evanston’s roundhouse a significant piece of history on a national scale.

“It’s one of the most intact roundhouses along the Union Pacific railroad,” she told Cowboy State Daily. “This one still has the working mechanisms in it as well, so it’s a very intact, contextual example of a roundhouse in Wyoming.”

Davis and the citizen’s group decided to start by defining the complex not just as a cluster of old buildings, but as the physical heart of a much larger American story. 

Davis secured a Brownfields Grant from the Environmental Protection Agency to test for contaminants and ensure the project wasn’t a hopeless Superfund site. 

That found asbestos and lead, tough and expensive to remediate, but not impossible.

Around the same time, they landed a grant to re-roof the machine shop.

“That was the first major maintenance that had been done there for years,” Davis said. “That was probably in 1998.”

One year later, Union Tank decided to leave the dilapidated roundhouse to build a new, better site. 

Now the question wasn’t just if Evanston’s Roundhouse and Railyards could be saved, it was how anyone could possibly afford to do it.

Fortunately, Davis was about to meet another person who would become instrumental to the story of saving the roundhouse.

“I had heard of this organization called the National Trust for Historic Preservation in Denver,” Davis said. “And so Bonnie and I went to Denver every six months to market our retail gift store.”

In 1999, after Union Tank had left the roundhouse, Davis made an appointment to talk to someone there about options for saving the roundhouse. 

“I met this lady by the name of Mary Humstone,” Davis said. “And so I told her what we were trying to do. They didn’t have money to do it, but they knew how to do historic preservation.”

Humstone recognized how unique the story in southwestern Wyoming was to American history.

“Our populations in southern Wyoming all came to be due to the railroad,” Davis said. “Because the railroad came through in 1868, and lo and behold, every 100 miles, they needed a roundhouse.”

Wyoming towns grew up around these roundhouses, creating a line of cities that still exist today, from Evanston in the West, to Cheyenne in the East, with Green River, Rock Springs, Rawlins, and Laramie in between.

In all of those communities, the same magic happened. Engines would pull in, turn on great circular turntables for maintenance, then head back out onto the High Plains.

Working with Humstone and others, Davis held forums in Evanston for all of the communities along southern Wyoming’s railroad corridor, bringing representatives from all the roundhouse communities together. 

Out of that meeting, a new organization was formed called Tracks Across Wyoming, devoted to highlighting the state’s shared heritage of railroads, migration routes, and early highways across the state. 

That made the roundhouse more than just a local project. It was the flagship in a statewide vision.

In the midst of that, Davis was tapped by then Gov. Dave Freudenthal to join the Wyoming Business Council (WBC). At the same time, Evanston’s roundhouse made the list for a $3 million grant to tackle restoring Section One of the roundhouse — a portion that today hosts citywide meetings, conventions, and celebrations. 

The WBC grant joined a growing list of support that was pouring in to saving the roundhouse: federal grants, state money, and countless local donations, all braided together by relentless advocacy and careful planning.

More important than just money, though, was getting community buy-in, Davis realized, a point that was driven home by a Halloween spook house put on to raise a little money for the project.

Hundreds of people flocked to the event, eager to see the inside of a space everyone was familiar with, but few had seen in years. 

They paid $1 each for the thrill, Davis recalled. And the curiosity that unlocked would prove instrumental in building community support for saving it.

The spook fest helped show Davis the power of the community’s enthusiasm, but he quickly realized that $1 tickets weren’t going to do much in the grand scheme of saving a building that needed millions of dollars of work.

So the community came up with a concept they called the Renewal Ball, an annual June fundraiser that became a legend of its own. 

In its prime, it drew 300 people to an event that cleared upward of $100,000 in a single night. That funding became crucial local match money for grants. 

“Governors would come to it, and senators and representatives,” Davis said. “And that’s how we built consensus to put money into that project.”

Keeping The Beating Heart Of A Railroad Town Alive

Progress has come in phases, Davis said. First, a common roof to stop water damage, and then windows to finish weatherproofing.

Then the machine shop, roughly 20,000 square feet of space, that was turned into something Evanston didn’t have yet — a convention center, complete with radiant floor heating and towering windows. 

With sun pouring through the glass and warmth radiating from beneath the floor, it feelslike an atrium and an oasis from winter, Davis said.

Conferences, weddings, funerals, statewide gatherings (like for the Lincoln Highway Association) began filling up its calendar. 

Every meeting brought more supporters and more ammunition to use in persuading skeptics that the building was worth saving.

Today the roundhouse hosts dozens of events every year, ranging from weddings to statewide meetings and conferences.

By the time Davis retired from city service in 2014, investments into the roundhouse restoration was around $28 million by his estimate, with roughly 40% from grants and private fundraising. 

Davis, who was this year’s winner of the Mary Humstone Lifetime Achievement Award from the Alliance for Historic Wyoming, continues to bring people to the roundhouse for the very first time. 

He said it never gets old watching their shock and awe when they first enter this building, which once housed the Goliath engines of America’s railroad era.

Today, the semicircle of stalls still curve around the turntable. The machine shop is still warm like a sunroom in winter. And events now spill out into big, open spaces between restored doors and brick walls decorated with photos that tell the history of the space. 

The fight for continued investment and thoughtful use of this unique space will never be over, Davis said. Future challenges remain — including questions about long-term funding and community support. 

But for now, Evanston is home to one of roughly a dozen fully intact roundhouses left in the nation. 

That means it’s not just the beating heart of a railroad town’s story. It’s among the last intact reminders of how the great American West was built.

Evanston Roundhouse Visit Evanston 5 31 26

<title>Evanston Has Spent Decades, And $28M, Restoring Its Historic Railroad Roundhouse | Cowboy State Daily</title>

A century after Union Pacific stopped using it, decades of work has saved and restored Evanston’s historic Roundhouse and Railyards. The $28 million spent so far has made it one of the rare roundhouses in the U.S. that’s still completely operational. 

Evanston Has Spent Decades, And $28M, Restoring Its Historic Railroad Roundhouse

Zakary Sonntag

Rusty Rawson was good at asking for trouble. He wasn’t good at asking for help. That started to change one night in a desert wash on the outskirts of Las Vegas.

He was out of work, hooked on meth, and surviving by the reflexes of a gang life he thought he’d left behind.

He slept in a makeshift fort of rods and tarp. He boiled water for hygiene over an open flame and washed his clothes in a splash pad at the public park. 

To sustain his addiction, he beat up pedestrians and robbed them for cash.

Through it all, he wasn’t alone. His 11-year-old son, Sterling, was there with him.

Rusty knew if they were caught by police the state would take his son. It was the outcome he feared most, and it began to feel inevitable. Then one night a thought dropped into his head.

in our little hut we built in the desert, and out of nowhere I heard something tell me, 'Ask your son what to do. He’s got the answer,'” Rusty said.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"‘Go Back To Casper'"}]

It wasn’t in his nature to take direction, but the thought wouldn’t go away. 

Finally, he turned to his son and said, “What do I need to do for you?” 

Sterling said the question caught him off guard, but the answer came to him instantly.

"I turned to him with as calm a voice as I had, and said, ‘Dad, everything will be OK if we go back to Casper,’" Sterling said. 

Three days later, they were on a bus to Wyoming, where Sterling was raised. 

Now, nearly two years after their return, father and son find themselves within sight of a future that once felt out of reach.

Their turnaround, rooted in the Wyoming Rescue Mission, stands out not just for how far they’ve come, but for the role each played in helping the other get there.

At a time when homelessness has reached record levels nationwide, and growing numbers of children experience housing instability, their story offers a rare perspective about what happens when a child becomes the steadying force in a parent's life.

“The only thing that kept me sane at that time was my son,” said Rusty. “He kept me calm. He was my peace.”

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Rusty Rawson has a barrel chest and a bald head. 

He grows a mustache to hide his missing teeth, half of which he lost in a blow from a baseball bat. The rest fell out from decay because of meth use, a habit he picked up at the age of 12.

He fidgets with tissue to mitigate his ADHD and bounces his leg when anxious; it bounces a lot when he talks of his past.

He grew up in a trailer home in North Las Vegas. He ran with rough crowds, but he also showed promise as an athlete. 

As a freshman at Western High School, he placed second in state as a wrestler. He placed second again his sophomore year, and then took fifth place in high school wrestling nationals.

All the while his support system at home weakened due to his parents’ failing health.

His father, a Teamsters Union truck driver, was sidelined by a severe bowel condition and repeated surgeries. His mother’s life was upended by a sexual assault and later a brain tumor that led to surgically induced epilepsy.

“I had to fend for myself,” Rusty said. “I started selling drugs, and school was the best place to do that.”

He was caught with marijuana at high school his sophomore year, and administrators responded by barring him from extra-curricular activities, like wrestling. 

Living homeless in a Las Vegas wash, hooked on meth, and surviving by the reflexes of his past gang life, Rusty Rawson turned to his adolescent son for guidance. The answer brought them back to Casper and toward a life that seemed out of reach.

Daily Darwin: Wednesday, October 22, 2025

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