The Prince of Preservation: Tremonton Man Assembles Collection of Nearly 350 Horse-Drawn Wagons

TREMONTON, Utah — Meet the prince of preservation.  For the past 50 years, Eli Anderson has spent life with one foot firmly entrenched in the past.

“I was in second grade,” he said, thinking back on a class trip he took, with his mother helping wrangle he and his classmates. “We went on a field trip to Pioneer Village, which was in Salt Lake. All these things that she’d grown up with were things that I’d never heard of or seen before. I came home trying to find those things, and found out most of them had been discarded over the riverbank.”

That started him on a lifetime journey, rolling through time — and it’s why you’ll often find him perched on a stool, rubbing a piece of sandpaper over the wooden wheels of a wagon.

“I’ve probably had it for close to 35 years,” Anderson said, paying close attention to the frame of a stagecoach that was once used to carry tourists around Yellowstone National Park. “We saved its life. We’re preserving this for future generations.”

Rejuvenating battered husks is Anderson’s specialty. Watching him dote over a single carriage, you likely wouldn’t guess at the sheer weight of what he’s come to own.

Scattered around his property are a number of buildings. From the outside, they look as though they’d likely contain farm equipment, or just the standard assortment of junk one typically gathers through a lifetime of rural living — but when Anderson pulls open a door, the past nearly comes spilling out.

“We don’t know for sure, but we think we’re getting close to 350,” he said. “I don’t know any place you can go in the country and see a bigger variety of different types of horse-drawn vehicles.”

Calling this a “collection” is like calling the wheel a “decent invention.” In Anderson’s largest building, you have to scale a ladder to witness the true scope of what he’s accomplished.

Here, wagons are stacked on shelves, towering dozens of feet towards the roof. All were rescued from oblivion; even Anderson shakes his head in disbelief.

“I look at it, and I go, how did I do this?” he asked. “How did this happen? But it’s just a little bit at a time, over lots and lots of years.”

The variety is staggering. Back in the days before vans — before the internal combustion engine — vehicles were far more specialized.

“A different wagon for every purpose,” Anderson said.

You’ll find medicine wagons advertising “extracts,” laundry wagons with slogans delicately painted in blue lettering, even butcher wagons hawking “Home Killed Meats.” You’re just as likely to find a wagon announcing music lessons as you are to find a bright red one carrying Coca-Cola.

“The original umbrella we got off eBay, but we had to restore it,” Anderson said, pointing proudly above the stacks of empty Coke bottles.

Every item he owns has a story, which he’s happy to provide. Nearly all were given a reprieve from the judge’s sentence of obsolescence.

“Cars came along,” Anderson said. “By 1915 or so, 1920s, pretty much everyone was using the automobile. It changed the world.”

Wagons became consigned to history — many left to rot in the rain.

“Horrible shape,” Anderson said. “Just like the Yellowstone stagecoach.  That had been left out. That’s such a special piece that it needed to be restored and saved, because they only made so many of those. It wasn’t a common vehicle.”

In many of these buggies, little remains of their original structures. Anderson’s devoted himself to exacting research, doing his best to ensure that they’ve been recreated just as they once were.

“We like to put it together exactly like it had been at the factory,” he said. “Rivet for rivet, screw for screw, of what had been there originally.”

He’s scoured the Internet — not just on a quest for wagons, but for historically appropriate items to fill them with. Some, like his horse-drawn hearse, still contain the original curtains. Others, like his 1893 beer wagon, took 30 years to accumulate enough kegs to fill.

The decades rolled by, Anderson spending endless hours reconstructing these artifacts. He’s crisscrossed the country, chasing chariots — rescuing relics from sea to shining sea.

“The Atlantic to the Pacific, all spaces in between,” he said.

Storage hasn’t been simple. They’ve spilled through sheds and taken over trailers, like the Sicilian donkey cart he tracked down in Colorado, which now rests in its own container.

“If I’d started collecting teaspoons or thimbles, it would’ve been a lot easier,” Anderson said.

He says it’s just a hobby, but there’s a reason he’s resurrecting these remnants of yesteryear.

“Where people can come and learn about transportation of the past,” he said. “This stuff’s being lost.”

Anderson wants to buy some land. He’s drawn up plans for his own museum, allowing others to ride his wagons into another time. He calls it “Wagonland Adventure,” and the detail he puts into restoring his wagons has carried through into his planning.

“Have them in their appropriate, natural settings and have them make sense,” he said. “Not just a static museum — to have a mega display of horse-drawn vehicles.”

He’s looking for donations to help build a home for his parade of wagons. In the meantime, his website features a “virtual museum,” full of photos and comprehensive captions of his collection.

“It seems like anymore, if it doesn’t fit in the palm of the hand, there’s not a lot of interest in it,” Anderson said. “I think it’s important for this young generation coming up to be able to know and appreciate their past.”

While he may try to characterize his passion as a mere pastime, the regent of renovation is hoping to create a new castle — and open his kingdom to the world.

“Where they were focused and showcased and really tell the story,” Anderson said. “Because that story needs to be told.”