Ray Heins’ Signs Chronicle Colorado Springs History

My grandfather, Ray Heins, passed away February 20 at age 92. For more than 50 years, his signs had become a fixture throughout Colorado Springs and surrounding areas. My grandma, Ethel, said, “He always said he painted every sign from Calhan to Cripple Creek.”

In addition to fabricating every type of sign from murals to sandblasted letters, he also had the foresight to photograph nearly every sign he’d ever produced. So, although many of his signs were lost to businesses that changed hands, new construction, or a customer updating his business’ image with a new on-premise sign, Ray’s work was forever documented.

I vividly remember visiting him at Heins for Signs, his signshop in Colorado Springs, in 1989. Clad in a cowboy hat and paint-splattered apron, he listened to a recording of Puccini’s “Madame Butterfly” as he handpainted a signface. He took out photos of previous signs he’d painted and told me stories about his time in the sign industry. Over the previous 40 or so years, he’d painted signs and billboards that promoted numerous businesses and events.

I listened to him intently, but I thought his traditional, sign-production methods seemed arduous and time-consuming. At the time, I was taking graphic-design classes in high school, and computer-aided design seemed to be a much more efficient way to design – and the inevitable future.

A lost way of life?
As a new millennium arrived, Ray watched his profession irreversibly change. Design software and automated equipment forever transformed sign fabrication, which reduced traditionalists such as my grandfather to what he called “outcasts” or “leftovers”. He encountered an even greater challenge; after a hip operation in 2003, the procedure left him with severe memory loss.

Feeling out of step with life and society, Ray closed down his shop with one turn of a deadbolt lock. During the last decade of his life, he only went into the shop about a dozen times. He spent most of his last 10 years watching network news, where he witnessed changes that ushered in a world that made little sense to him.

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In June 2012, my journey with my grandfather began to intersect again. I closely monitored reports of the Waldo Canyon Fire in Colorado Springs from my home in San Diego. As I watched news footage of buildings burning down in my hometown, and wondered about how some of its history might be lost, I started to think about how Ray’s work had influenced his area in years past.

A few months later, I visited Colorado Springs. With Ray’s permission, I took sample photos of his work to the Colorado Springs Pioneers Museum. Curator Leah Davis Witherow was quite interested in Ray’s work for many different reasons. She said Ray’s work documented changes in technology, graphic design and how styles of signage evolved through the years. It also served as a catalog to the history of many businesses in Colorado Springs. She noted, if not for these sign photos, these bygone shops would be completely lost to local history. And, most importantly, she also said it showed local history in a fun, unusual way.

Preserved for posterity
When I told Ray that Leah wanted to house his collection of photos, and integrate them into various museum exhibits, he was speechless. He was honored to receive such a tribute; while looking through his old photos, Ray said, “I didn’t know I was any good.”

Although he hadn’t made a sign, or even drawn, for nine years, Ray felt inspired and began sketching in a notebook he kept near his chair. For two wonderful weeks, he energetically drew in the notebook. It was exciting to see him, as best he could, regain his technique and artistic passion.

While Leah was busy working to retrieve valuables from the fire-damaged area, I worked on recording Ray’s oral history about his work. I spent 10 hours listening to him recounting more than 50 years of stories about his signmaking career – I noticed how his work intertwined with the growth of Colorado Springs. Several times, he noted that reading ST helped him keep up with design and production trends. In fact, a few old issues of ST were donated with his collection to the Pioneer Museum.

As I searched Ray’s shop for photos and organized them, one thought persisted. As I drove through Colorado Springs, I wondered: Would any of the signs standing today be worthy of preserving in a photographic collection? The technological advancements that eradicated the sign industry as Ray knew it might have made sign production faster and more cost-effective, but few of the new signs standing were notable. I can only hope that, as people realize the artistry and craftsmanship that’s been lost, interest in signpainting will be rekindled.

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With Ray in hospice, I knew it was a matter of time before he would pass away. After my grandma called me to break the news, I returned to Colorado Springs for the funeral. One of Ray’s daughters, Lynette, told me she was busy selecting music for Ray’s funeral when it happened. She and my mother, Judy McCombe-Gandolf, were with him as he passed. During the final moments of Ray’s life, the music of “Madame Butterfly” filled the room. Hearing of this transported me back to my first visit to my grandfather’s shop, and again filled me with pride.