New Mexico Mercury

"I did all this while you were watching TV."

That’s what Ross Ward used to tell people who asked about his lifelong collection of hand-carved wooden figures and other miniatures, evoking a time when imagination outranked mass production and Gaudi’s genius and the Watts Towers attracted the interest of those who love the detailed and the different.

New Mexico has its own Watts Towers. Drive east through the Canyon, turn north on NM #14 and then take the cutoff to Cedar Crest. After about a mile you will come to a sign pointing you toward Tinkertown, a unique and wonderful museum that attracts 28,000 people each season (April through October, 9 a.m. to 6 p.m.) from every corner of the globe.

I’d heard about Tinkertown for years, but like with so many things hadn’t made time for a visit. The release of Tanya Ward Goodman’s memoir Leaving Tinkertown, recently reviewed in the Mercury, reminded me of the destination. I wanted to read the book and visit the site. It didn’t take more than a half hour to get to Tinkertown. My partner and I were astonished and moved by what we found.

Ross Ward grew up in South Dakota where, from earliest childhood, he loved making things. He began by drawing. He made realistic “Wanted” posters and elaborate signs. Soon he was creating miniature scenes out of cardboard boxes, modeling clay, Lincoln Logs and recycled everything.

In 1949 Ross’s father took him to Knott’s Berry Farm in California. He credits that visit with beginning his lifelong passion. This was long before Disneyland. Most homes didn’t yet have television. I too have a vivid memory of the wonders I saw as a child at Knott’s. It must be a generational thing.

As fascinating as such intriguing places have been in so many of our lives, few are inspired to embark on this extensive a project. Few have the talent—or the passion. Ross Ward did. He was inspired by hitchhike travel, a delight in the culture of the Old West, and a love of miniatures. As an adult, he worked as a sign painter, in carnivals, circuses and amusement parks, and designed display windows—often creating “magicscapes” from his exuberant imagination. A knowledge of history and culture imbued everything he did with a particular genius.

Ward came to Albuquerque with his first wife Sandra in 1967. The following year their daughter Tanya—who would write Leaving Tinkertown—was born. Then came Jason. By this time Ward was an expert woodcarver, as well as an insatiable collector. Imagine growing up in the midst of a real life “dollhouse.” Creativity found its way into the next generation: Tanya is a writer and Jason a tattoo artist.

In 1978 Ward decided to make New Mexico his home. Two years later he met and married his second wife, Carla. They began calling their amazing home and its contents Tinkertown. The exhibit was first shown in a sixteen-foot trailer at the New Mexico State Fair in Albuquerque, and at other events around the state. But by this time the family had a house in Cedar Crest. Expansion followed expansion to make room for the growing collection. Around this time they also began picking up a few bottles in the ditches around the area, and a recycling effort was added to the art. First, it was just a bottle fence. Later bottles—bottom or neck out—were incorporated into every part of the museum.

Eventually more than 55,000 bottles (of various sizes and colors), 700 sacks of mortar mix and concrete, 400 yards of elevated wooden boardwalk, 10,000 board feet of weathered wood and shingles, 1,500 square feet of clear and colored glass, all on a two-acre lot, became the museum that today is Tinkertown. There are 1,500 hand carved and painted miniature figures, one miniature western town, one three-ring circus, 2 truckloads of Old West paraphernalia, and many other pieces, all displayed together in a delightful ambience that takes the viewer back to a time before our imaginations were hijacked by advertising and cookie cutter culture. There’s even one ocean-going yacht on display at Tinkertown; Carla’s brother once sailed it around the world.

In February 1998 Ross was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. He was only 57. He died four and a half years later, at 62. Carla says: “The 22 years that Ross and I were married were extravagantly productive, artistically fulfilling and emotionally exhilarating. The thrill of being a partner to a true genius is a gift I treasure.” She has preserved her husband’s gift and given it a home.

Despite the tragedy of Ross’s illness, he continued making things—until he no longer could. Carla and her family continue his legacy by keeping the museum open. It is an inviting and truly remarkable place. Visit if you appreciate unique artistic talent. Visit if you want an unusual getaway. But visit most of all if you long for a glimpse of the sort of genius ever so much more evident before the advent of mass-produced pleasures and stifled imagination.