The more "magic" places in a city, the better. The city of Mandan has one in the Missouri River Natural Area, that delightful woods hideaway in which you can dip into the world of Lewis and Clark right next door to Interstate 94. (Go on a windy day, when the roar of the cottonwoods will drown the traffic noise.)

It has another in Crying Hill, which now has been preserved for all time, courtesy of Bismarck's Patrick Atkinson.

You know Crying Hill. It's the prominence on the east side of Mandan that sports the town's name in concrete slabs on one side and in live trees on the other. Its real claim to fame, though, is its association with a Mandan Indian village now overlaid by the modern city. (Some of it was excavated in connection with the rebuilding of First Street a few years ago.) This was in the Mandan tribe's "golden age," when the Mandans occupied a half-dozen towns near the confluence of the Missouri and Heart rivers.

The tradition of the Mandans is that women resorted to the hill to watch for their men who had gone off on war raids. Burials also took place up there. There probably were a lot of those when an early smallpox epidemic ravaged the tribe about 1782. That was the end of the Heart River period, with what was left of the Mandans moving north to join their Hidatsa friends at Knife River. Leaving Crying Hill, Double Ditch, On-A-Slant, Chief Looking's and other wonderful old sites behind.

Lewis and Clark saw all of these in their abandoned state.

Fate has been kind to Crying Hill, preserving most of it, at least partly because of its steepness. Another deterrent to construction has been the probability of running into artifacts and human remains. It's far from pristine, however. The north and east sides have been gnawed at by road construction, and I-94 roars at its base in place of the old Missouri River.

Still, it was for sale again, and who knows? That's the thought that bothered Atkinson, whose Indian son also convinced him that the old spirits are still around. So, Atkinson bought it. He and some friends set up the Crying Hill Foundation to protect it into perpetuity and to do such development as fits, such as trails and perhaps an interpretive center.

Atkinson has done Mandan and the larger community - including descendents of those old Mandans - a good turn, preserving one of the magic places that add depth to our everyday lives.

We residents should all do what we urge our tourist visitors to do - climb a hill (like Crying Hill) or take a walk in the woods (like the Missouri River Natural Area) to catch a glimpse of the yesterworld we live in the middle of. It's magic.