W. L. Rusho - The Mystery of Everett Ruess

Our father Waldo was four and a half when his brother Everett was born. They had an older sister, Christella, who had died in infancy. Much like Everett, Waldo had a strong sense of adventure, leaving his New Jersey home alone at the young age of thirteen to do summer work on a ranch in Montana and crossing the Atlantic several times at eighteen as a steward on the SS Leviathan . Everett was only thirteen when Waldo sailed.

The two brothers loved each other, despite their age difference and frequent absences. When Everett left for Arizona and Utah in 1934, it was Waldo who drove him. Waldo was the last family member to see Everett alive. Waldo himself promptly left on his own adventure on December 17, 1934, heading for China. He was the last family member to learn of Everetts disappearance and unable to assist in the subsequent searches.

Between 1935 and 1958, Waldo traveled the world, visiting over one hundred countries and living in ten, including China, Japan, Algiers, Russia, Iceland, El Salvador, Mexico, and finally Spain, where in 1957 he met and married his Andalucian wife and began his family. He returned home to Los Angeles, later moving to Santa Barbara, and raised the four of us siblings, Everetts nieces and nephews.

Everett was a constant presence in our family. His art hung on the walls. His blocks were always present and a source of marvel. His native relics were collected in frames and on the patio. A piece of sandstone read, in Everetts words, What time is it? Time to live.

Our father never forgot Everett. He regaled us with stories of Everetts adventures and loves. He told us of his passion for nature and his quest for beauty, about the places he traveled and the people he met. Copies of On Desert Trails with Everett Ruess were all around the house, demanding to be enjoyed.

The family never gave up hope of finding Everett. It was not until 1963 that Stella, Waldo and Everetts mother, finally resigned herself to filing Everetts death certificate, almost thirty years after his disappearance. In 1964, Waldo went on a final pilgrimage to Utah to make one last search for Everett before Lake Powellour father called it Lake Foulwas created by the flooding of Glen Canyon. And so Waldo went to Utah, but to no avail. Stella passed away while he was in the desert searching, never learning the outcome.

Our father continued to teach us to seek a life of adventure and beauty in whatever we did, whether it were science, writing, photography, or parenthood. He never focused on the sadness of Everetts disappearance but preached that Everett had lived life to its fullest, doing what he loved most, and that we should do the same. Being a romantic at heart, Waldo always hoped Everett had married a Navajo princess and lived happily ever after, although he could not reconcile it with his conviction that Everett would never have abandoned his family.

In the early 1980s, the original version of this book was published, and a new generation was introduced to Everett. Suddenly, Everett was no longer merely our uncle but became something of a folk hero, the Patron Saint of the Wilderness, by one account. People from all over came to be interested in and inspired by Everett. More books, a docudrama, TV shows, a play, songs, coffee cups, T-shirts. Throughout it all, our father remained unchanged; he believed in Everett, his little brother, and not the hype.

Our father died at the age of ninety-eight. Some of us believe he held on in part because he still hoped Everett would be found. Just a few months after his passing, the Comb Ridge skeleton was foundperhaps Waldos spirit had helped find him! A range of emotions went through our family: It is Everett! Closure at last. Too bad our father did not live long enough to know Everetts fate. I cannot believe you do not believe it is Everett. Perhaps we should double check. It is not Everett. His remains will not join his brother, sister, mother, father, and numerous other family members in the Pacific. The mystery endures. Perhaps Everett does not want to be found.

It is interesting to note that Everett was fundamentally different from many who go off into the wild and do not return. While Everett sought the lonely trail, he was also a passionate and dedicated correspondent. He wrote long and beautiful letters to his family members and friends, often including his poetry. He shared his life, emotions, questions, and beliefs. He painted watercolors, sketched, and made blockprints, most of which he sent or brought home to his family. He did not hike alone in the wilderness simply to explore or escape; he did it to reflect on his place in the world and to share his discoveries with others. This book is possible not only because of Everetts gifts of reflection and expression, but because of his natural desire to share his profound revelations with those willing to receive those gifts.

For us, Everett will always be the missing uncle, much more than just a young artist, poet, and wanderer. But for all of you, may he and our father serve as guides; whatever trail you follow, follow it with beauty, passion, conviction, and a willingness to share. It is time to live!

Happy Journeys,

Brian Knight Ruess

Michle D. Ruess

Kevin C. Ruess

Christella Ruess Campbell