Glen Robson was born January 23, 1913 in Oak Creek. He was the son of James Robson and Martha Elnore Shelley Robson. Glen grew up in the Williams Fork and Pagoda areas, living within a 14-mile radius of Mt. Harris all of his life. Glen married Betty Carson on October 20, 1938 in Steamboat Springs. He worked as a farmer, rancher and coal miner in addition to his career in law enforcement which began with the Steamboat Springs Police Department, rising to the rank of Chief of Police. He was elected Sheriff in 1957 and took office in January 1958 serving for 12 years. Glen was thought of "as the kind of law enforcement officer who earned the respect of the people he worked with through even handed application of the law". A lighter moment in Glen's long career in law enforcement was the night a car with four young men pulled into the yard and began to siphon gas from the fuel tank. Glen rose from his bed to hold a gun on the quartet and advise them of their mistake. Betty took a turn holding the gun while Glen changed out of his pajamas. The four incredibly unlucky men turned out to be soldiers who were AWOL. Glen was a member of the Odd Fellows and was also a member of the United Mine Workers of America for more than 50 years. Glen Robson died on October 17, 1993 at the age of 80 and was buried in the Hayden Cemetery.

Resource:
Steamboat Pilot, October 28, 1993
History of Hayden and West Routt County, 1876-1989

THE SHERIFF'S JOB

Now, this Sheriff's job is a curious one;
Like the housewife's work, it's never done.
Calls come by night and come by day.
They may be near, or miles away.

Do hurry up, says the voice of the caller;
You're badly needed in Possum Holler.
Paw's on the rampage; he's got a gun;
Been looking for Maw since half past one.
So we jump in our fliver and hit the trail;
And drive like a streamliner carrying the mail
Our only hope and all we can figure,
Is to be on hand before Paw pulls the trigger.
We finally arrive and amid confusion
We learn the affair was a simple delusion.
Paw with his gun was just hunting squirrels;
Maw had gone to school with the two oldest girls.

Next day we're hunting a mottled faced cow;
That night we referee a nice family row.
Now, that's just a sample of what we do;
An endless variety of the old and the new.
It may be a prowler, a burglar, a drunk;
He may steal your billfold, your watch or your trunk.
We set out to catch him, we do our best;
We watch our percentage and lose the rest.
We can't catch them all, for some leave no clue-
They don't leave their cards, like the candidates do.
Sometimes they plead guilty, and the judge will scold.
Then half the country will want them paroled.
They blame the depression, the New Deal, the tariff,
But most of the folks put the blame on the Sheriff.
So it's quite a game if you stay right in-
You'll get a pat on the back and a sock on the chin.
But, I like it, and I'm shedding no tears-
And I'd like to be your sheriff for another four years.

Vote For
GLEN ROBSON
for Sheriff
Democratic
November 8th

Hayden Valley Press October 27, 1966

© 2004 Joyce Cusick nacpinc@hotmail.com