Sunday, July 26, 2026

An eye for William Henry Jackson's Cameras

 


Dolores, Mesa Verde, U. S. Geological Survey, Wyoming, Colorado and the World

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

The iconic "Stage to the San Juan" W.H. Jackson photos must have been taken in Dolores in front of the old J..J. Harris building between 1891, and the fall of 1893, when the Silver Panic that year, slowed activity of the second San Juan rush and boosterism of that period. That building would later become Taylor Hardware, where I worked for seven of my formative years in the late 1970s, and early 1980s.

William Henry Jackson roamed the American West (and other places) taking photographs, painting, guiding other artists, documenting progress and promoting the western experience for more than 80 years. In just photographic negatives, an excess of 80,000 images attributed to Jackson, capture the essence of the period and space and time.

"When William Henry Jackson was mustered out of the Army of the Potomac after the battle of Gettysburg, he drifted west, finally settled in Omaha. There he started a flourishing business in tintypes and stereopticon views. When the U. S. Geological Survey decided to chart the badlands of Wyoming, Photographer Jackson was asked to go along to take pictures. The pictures he took, of Wyoming’s geysers and waterfalls, were directly responsible for Congress’ decision to put the small rectangle of Yellowstone National Park on the map of the U. S.," notes TIME magazine on April 14, 1940.

"By the 1870s Jackson had become the best-known and most successful landscape photographer in the U. S. He crisscrossed the Rockies on pack mules and in covered wagons, took the first photographs ever made of the Mountain of the Holy Cross in western Colorado, of the Pueblo ruins of New Mexico and Arizona. In the 18903 he got the job of official photographer for Harper’s Weekly, which sent him abroad, from Australia to Russia, photographing Chinese sampans and Siberian droshkies," says the TIME story.

"Last week the museum on the first floor of Secretary Harold Ickes’ new, white, boxlike Department of the Interior Building in Washington was given over to an exhibition of Pioneer Jackson’s aged photographs. Admired by public and connoisseurs alike were the vivid detail and panoramic scope of the mountain and forest views that Old Master Jackson had snapped with his battered, wooden 6½-by-8½ camera in days when photography was scarcely more than a stunt. Best exhibit of all was spry Oldster Jackson himself, stooped and white-bearded but talkative and effervescent at 97."


 
"William Henry Jackson still takes pictures, but with an up-to-date Leica, does a little sketching on the side, spends his spare time polishing his autobiography, which is due next month. Says he: “A fellow has to keep busy or he gets bored. I’m never bored.” Three years ago, when his cronies of the G. A. R. hobbled bravely down Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue in their Memorial-Day parade, Veteran Jackson failed to march. “Poor old Bill!” sighed his aged brothers-in-arms. Later they discovered that Bill Jackson had been dodging in & out of the crowds all along the route, taking pictures of the parade.



 
In a 1941 interview with Department of the Interior employee Shannon Allen, William Henry Jackson was a day away from his 98th birthday according to research and text by Samantha Ford, Jackson Hole Historical Society and Museum.
"Jackson was asked to reflect on his long life; from an early childhood education in art, service in the Civil War, life on the trail as a bullwhacker, survey work in the West, documentation of the railroads, and international travel spanning three continents. When prompted to compare the scenery of the United States to that of the rest of the world, it was Jackson Hole, the Tetons and Yellowstone that jumped to the front of Jackson’s memory. He described that this corner of the country cannot be paralleled elsewhere. He credited the nine years he spent with Ferdinand V. Hayden in the 1870s as the most interesting period of his life, despite his two-year contract with the World’s Transportation Commission in Australia, China, Russia, and eastern Europe, " writes Samantha Ford.Photo Courtesy of the University of Wyoming American Heritage Center

"When Jackson first started out on the Hayden Expedition in 1870, he traveled with two assistants, several pack mules and 400 pounds of equipment. The animals often could not reach the peaks he was determined to document, so he and his assistants would haul everything up themselves. It was a delicate process, over the steepest and most hazardous terrain of the survey, and they had to be especially careful with their fragile pieces of equipment necessary for the photography technology of the time – the wet collodion process. Jackson described early photographers as chemists, needing several vials of chemicals including nitric acid and silver nitrate. From start to finish, Jackson and his assistants could get the entire process down to about 20 minutes, from preparing the glass plate negative, to the exposure, and development process. The entire team clung to mountainsides in their “dark tent” and stored their glass negatives in cloth and rawhide bags. Sometimes they would be stranded an entire day waiting for a storm to pass. Jackson’s skill, perseverance, and fortitude would create the first photographic images of the future Yellowstone National Park and the Teton mountain range.

"In 1889, the Kodak Company introduced rolled film and the box camera. Jackson adopted this revolutionary piece of technology, glad to leave his heavy entourage behind. Following the end of the Hayden Survey in 1878, Jackson settled in Denver, CO until the economic panic of 1893 forced him to close his studio. In a lucky break, the Detroit Publishing Company purchased his collection of 20,000 images and hired him on as a colorist. Eventually becoming the manager, Jackson was one of the early pioneers of the postcard industry. After his retirement in 1924, Jackson remained busy as an artist, creating narrative depictions of Old West history. He wrote two autobiographies and toured the West for public appearances at historical societies, history conventions, festivals and other events. When Jackson embarked on his trips west in his 80s and 90s, he brought with him his 35mm Leica handheld camera. He died at the age of 99, commemorated as one of the last survivors of the Civil War, as a Western pioneer, and as one of the country’s most influential early photographers," says Ford.

Scotts Bluff National Monument calls attention to thef act that photographers of his time didn't have it easy.

Of his large-format camera in 1875, Jackson noted "Packing... so large a camera (not the compact, folding ones of today) with the necessary plates and chemicals over hazardous mountain trails, but also the difficulties in manipulation of wet plates magnified many times—it is a wonder to me even now that I had the temerity to undertake it.” While the results were spectacular, the camera proved too unwieldy to use after the 1875 season. To more efficiently cover the long distances from the San Juan Mountains to the Hopi pueblos, Jackson used a smaller camera and more portable "dark box" rather than his usual dark tent.

William Henry Jackson used heavy large-format view cameras, most notably custom 18x22-inch "mammoth plate" and 8x10-inch glass-plate cameras, requiring pack mules and a mobile darkroom tent to capture the American West.

Camera and Equipment Details

Mammoth Plate Camera: Used large glass negatives measuring up to 20x24 inches (commonly 18x22 inches), yielding extraordinary landscape detail.
8x10-inch Camera: Used for standard field work during the Hayden Geological Surveys.

Wet-Plate Collodion Process: Required coating, exposing, and developing glass plates inside a darkroom tent while the chemicals were still wet.
Pack Mule Transport: Heavy tripods, darkroom chemical kits, glass plates, and camera bodies were transported across rugged mountain terrain via mules.



William Henry Jackson's original Eastman View no. 2 Improved Model Century View and Empire State no. 2 (Eastman Kodak Co.) camera, circa 1915. From the William Henry Jackson Collection, WH1677, Western History and Genealogy Department, Denver Public Library.


William Henry Jackson’s cameras were essential tools in documenting early chapters in Colorado’s history. Jackson created a visual record of Colorado’s people, natural landscape, and built environment with his photographs. While Jackson took many images of Colorado for the Hayden Survey, his work continued when he opened a commercial photography studio in Denver in 1879. This artifact, an Eastman View no. 2 Improved Model Century View and Empire State no. 2 (Eastman Kodak Co.) camera, is representative of Jackson’s involvement in commercial photography and publishing—work that brought images of Colorado’s people and landscapes to audiences around the world.

"William Henry Jackson’s photographs introduced a vision of the American West to an international audience. In 1868, Jackson opened a studio in Omaha and began photographing Pawnee and Omaha Indians and the landscapes along the Union Pacific and Central Pacific railroads. During the 1870s, Jackson achieved notoriety while working for the Geological and Geographical Survey of the Territories and photographing Utah, Wyoming, Montana, and Colorado. Jackson’s photographs were essential in prompting the United States government to establish Yellowstone National Park in 1872. Jackson returned to commercial photography for several years before joining the Detroit Photographic Company, a publishing firm, in 1897. Thousands of Jackson’s photographs were reproduced and distributed widely by the firm, according to info from Denver Public Library, 10 W. Fourteenth, Ave. Pkwy. Denver, CO 80204.

Friday, July 17, 2026

Two remaining engines may have been in tough shape by end

Working with what you have

 By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

At its peak the company amassed sixty miles of railroad. The New Mexico Lumber Company had five logging locomotives, one geared and four rod. The rod locomotives were mostly obsolete, obtained second-hand from the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad with one from Rio Grande and Southwestern Railroad at El Vado. 

"The Montezuma Lumber Company, which took over in 1936, decreased the trackage substantially and reduced the locomotives to two. Most of the 45 flat cars came from nearby declining operations. Second hand track was imported from Salida and Pagosa Springs. 
 

In the 1930s, the Montezuma Lumber Company purchased an 1880 duckbill coach (#311) from the Denver and Rio Grande Western Railroad to transport employees and their families to Dolores behind the regular lumber train. On Saturday nights the train transported the townspeople to Dolores for dances, movies and drinking in the gas-illuminated car with faded red plush seats.," 
says historian Lisa Mausolf, in her field notes at the Library of Congress, August, in 1981.  

"The end of narrow gauge logging in southwest Colorado came in 1932 when the expense of hauling lumber by rail gave way to hauling by trucks. The five miles of track between McPhee and Dolores remained, however, and continued to service McPhee residents. The scrapping of the last of this segment occurred in 1948, after an intense struggle and a brief period of receivership in the 1940's the Denver and Rio Grande Southern Railroad abandoned operations in the area," she wrote.

The two remaining engines were said to have been in somewhat rough shape by then, and might have been dangerous to operate.

Engine 271 was sold to the Montezuma Lumber Company in Dec. 1941. 271 was scrapped sometime in 1947 after the Montezuma Lumber Company burned its crown sheet.

346 went to Montezuma Lumber Company on May 19, 1947.

The story goes Montezuma Lumber Company was a bit careless about their locomotives and 271 was not the first locomotive of theirs to get ruined by a burned crown sheet. Montezuma Lumber Company tried to rent or lease an engine from the D&RGW or the RGS, but both declined, knowing how well Montezuma Lumber Company treated their past locomotives. Finally the D&RGW sold them the 346.

In steam engines and boilers, "burning the crown sheet" refers to a dangerous condition where the water level drops too low, exposing the top of the firebox (the crown sheet) to extreme, un-cooled heat. Without water to absorb the heat, the metal weakens, softens, and can cause a massive boiler explosion.

Locomotive boiler explosions were catastrophic events that plagued early rail networks, caused primarily by an overheated crown sheet when water levels dropped too low. Colorado's rugged mountain railways saw several notable blasts, with one of the most famous occurring in 1952 when Denver & Rio Grande Western Railroad (D&RGW) locomotive 3703 exploded in Louviers, south of Denver, killing four people. 

Colorado’s extensive rail history saw several of these destructive failures, notably:  

Louviers (1952): On October 19, 1952, the boiler of Denver and Rio Grande Western Railroad locomotive No. 3703 exploded. The blast, caused by a low water condition that led to an overheated crown sheet, killed all four men aboard. The explosion tore the boiler apart, throwing it 260 feet from the tracks. 

Denver & Interurban Line (1925): On January 27, 1925, a Colorado and Southern freight locomotive’s boiler violently exploded while hauling cars from the Boulder County coal fields to Denver. The blast killed the engineer and fireman, and threw the wrecked boiler across the parallel Denver and Interurban tracks. 


Denver & Rio Grande Western (1941):
In 1941, locomotive No. 1804 suffered a severe boiler explosion while moving through the Burnham Yards in Denver. The boiler was completely ripped from the frame and thrown over a secondary engine. 

The boiler exploded on D&RGW Class M-68 4-8-4 steam locomotive #1804 just north of the Burnham Shops in Denver, CO, on Feb. 4 ,1941
 
Additionally, there were several rather spectacular boiler explosions in the preceding century in Colorado., on its pioneering roads: 

 
   
 

These deadly events led to strict federal oversight, including rigorous inspections mandated by the Interstate Commerce Commission (ICC), to ensure water levels and safety valves were meticulously maintained.

 



Thursday, July 16, 2026

Turn up the music

Blinded by the lightRevved up like a deuce, another runner in the night
Madman, drummers, bummersIndians in the summer with a teenage diplomatIn the dumps with the mumps as the adolescent pumps his way into his hatWith a boulder on my shoulder, feelin' kinda olderI tripped the merry-go-roundWith this very unpleasin', sneezin' and wheezin'The calliope crashed to the ground
 
___ Bruce Springsteen

 


 
Horse-drawn calliope, Myers Avenue, Cripple Creek, Colorado; possibly sponsored by the Elks fraternal order; features two teams of horses pulling wagon with calliope and male musician aboard; several men are standing on boardwalk behind wagon and one man has a sheriff badge (star) on suit coat; two-story brick flat roof commercial building in the background. 

Creator: Yelton, Edgar A. Date: 1895.  
 

 We need to be able to hear it for miles

 
By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com
 
Anyone that knows me, can tell you I like my music and stories loud. It is not always popular, but it is a way of getting attention.

A calliope (not to be confused with mechanical organs) is an American musical instrument that produces sound by sending a gas, originally steam or, more recently, compressed air, through large whistles—originally locomotive whistles.

A calliope is typically very loud. Even some small calliopes are audible for miles. There is no way to vary tone or volume. Musically, the only expression possible is the pitch, rhythm, and duration of the notes.

The steam calliope is also known as a steam organ (orgue à vapeur in Quebec) or steam piano (piano à vapeur in Quebec). The air-driven calliope is sometimes called a calliaphone, the name given to it by Norman Baker, but the "Calliaphone" name is registered by the Miner Company for instruments produced under the Tangley name.

In the age of steam, the steam calliope was particularly used on riverboats and in circuses. In both cases, a steam supply was readily available for other purposes. Riverboats supplied steam from their propulsion boilers. Circus calliopes were sometimes installed in steam-driven carousels,]or supplied with steam from a traction engine. The traction engine could also supply electric power for lighting, and tow the calliope in the circus parade, where it traditionally came last. Other circus calliopes were self-contained, mounted on a carved, painted and gilded wagon pulled by horses, but the presence of other steam boilers in the circus meant that fuel and expertise to run the boiler were readily available. Steam instruments often had keyboards made from brass. This was in part to resist the heat and moisture of the steam, but also for the golden shine of the highly polished keys.

Calliopes can be played by a player at a keyboard or mechanically. Many models of calliopes use roll operation. Some instruments have both a keyboard and a mechanism for automated operation, others only one or the other. Some calliopes can also be played via a MIDI interface.

The whistles of a calliope are tuned to a chromatic scale, although this process is difficult and must be repeated often to maintain quality sound. Since the pitch of each note is largely affected by the temperature of the steam, accurate tuning is nearly impossible; however, the off-pitch notes (particularly in the upper register) have become something of a trademark of the steam calliope. A calliope may have anywhere from 25 to 67 whistles, but 32 is traditional for a steam calliope.

The steam calliope, a 32-note steam pipe organ, is a uniquely American instrument. It has been identified with, and inseparable from, the steamboat since November of 1856. This marks when the Steamboat Amazon first pulled into New Orleans playing her calliope.
The dulcet tones of this “steam piano” graced the waterfront of the “Big Easy,” starting a tradition that would last for years.

According to information from the Steamboat Natchez, "the only authentic steamboat that remains on the Mississippi River System today," carries on the tradition of calling people to the River with her calliope. When the Natchez was christened in 1975, she was built with a calliope that replicates the original steam calliopes built over a century ago by Thomas J. Nichol of Cincinnati, OH.

"A steam calliope’s music comes across as “pure” Americana, upbeat, circus-excitement; it is a visual music! A plume of steam shoots upward from each whistle played. The Natches calliope has synchronized colored lights that illuminate each time any given note (whistle) is struck. The instrument actually puts on an audiovisual show. It is a testament to the musical skill required to play this extraordinary instrument. The steam calliope is not merely a gimmick to attract attention, although it certainly does that, but it is the continuation of a unique American tradition," says info from the Natchez.
 

Thursday, July 9, 2026

Ludlow massacre exposed corruption of wealth and power


Armed strikers at the Ludlow tent colony during the Colorado Coalfield War.


Creator: Mace, Stuart, Date: 1913-1914
Colorado National Guard troops, called in to suppress a coal strike, pose on railroad tracks with weapons and supplies in front of a Colorado & Southern boxcar, Ludlow, Las Animas County, Colorado.
 

Tragedy sparked national outrage 

 By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Striking miners and their families lived in a tent colony to protest low pay and dangerous conditions at the John D. Rockefeller's Colorado Fuel & Iron Company. The Colorado National Guard attacked the camp with machine guns and set it on fire, killing 21 people, including 11 children, who suffocated in an underground pit.

The tragedy sparked national outrage and a subsequent Congressional investigation, which led to landmark progressive reforms, including the enforcement of the eight-hour workday and improved child labor laws. Today, the site is a National Historic Landmark managed by the United Mine Workers of America.

On 20 April 1914, after months of sporadic violence and the withdrawal of a larger contingent of troops a few days before, Colorado National Guardsmen and local militia fired on strikers participating in the United Mine Workers of America strike against the Rockefeller-owned Colorado Fuel and Iron company. Roughly 20 occupants of the colony, including at least 12 women and children, were killed mostly by smoke inhalation in the ensuing conflagration. Also among the dead was Greek labor-organizer Louis Tikas.

A single Guardsman is known to have been killed by gunfire from the strikers. The violence at Ludlow sparked the most intense period of violence of the Colorado Coalfield War, which lasted until President Woodrow Wilson ordered troops into Colorado to end the fighting on 29 April. 

Militiamen near the Colorado & Southern railway station in Ludlow, Colorado in 1913 during the early stages of the Colorado Coalfield War. 

Ludlow Massacre Words and Music by Woody Guthrie

It was early springtime when the strike was on, They drove us miners out of doors, Out from the houses that the Company owned, We moved into tents up at old Ludlow.

I was worried bad about my children, Soldiers guarding the railroad bridge, Every once in a while a bullet would fly, Kick up gravel under my feet.

We were so afraid you would kill our children, We dug us a cave that was seven foot deep, Carried our young ones and pregnant women Down inside the cave to sleep.

That very night your soldiers waited, Until all us miners were asleep, You snuck around our little tent town, Soaked our tents with your kerosene.

You struck a match and in the blaze that started, You pulled the triggers of your gatling guns, I made a run for the children but the fire wall stopped me. Thirteen children died from your guns.

I carried my blanket to a wire fence corner, Watched the fire till the blaze died down, I helped some people drag their belongings, While your bullets killed us all around.

I never will forget the look on the faces Of the men and women that awful day, When we stood around to preach their funerals, And lay the corpses of the dead away.

We told the Colorado Governor to call the President, Tell him to call off his National Guard, But the National Guard belonged to the Governor, So he didn't try so very hard.

Our women from Trinidad they hauled some potatoes, Up to Walsenburg in a little cart, They sold their potatoes and brought some guns back, And they put a gun in every hand.

The state soldiers jumped us in a wire fence corners, They did not know we had these guns, And the Red-neck Miners mowed down these troopers, You should have seen those poor boys run.

We took some cement and walled that cave up, Where you killed these thirteen children inside, I said, "God bless the Mine Workers' Union," And then I hung my head and cried. 

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDrUduIU-Z8 


Creator: Mace, Stuart, Date: 1913-1914
Colorado National Guard troops, called in to suppress a coal strike, pose on railroad tracks with weapons and supplies in front of a Colorado & Southern boxcar, Ludlow, Las Animas County, Colorado.

PUBLISHED:

Howard Zinn was a young shipyard worker in Brooklyn when he heard a Woody Guthrie song about the Ludlow Massacre.

The lyrics haunted him.

“That led me to look in the library about this event which nobody had ever mentioned in any of my history courses (and) no textbook had ever mentioned,” the iconic historian once said.

Zinn wasn’t the first to write about southern Colorado’s 1913-14 coal strike as an historical event.

John Reed, the journalist and communist who was the subject of the movie “Reds,” sent gritty dispatches from the area where the Rockefeller-owned Colorado Fuel and Iron and other companies sank shafts deep into the hillsides.

Upton Sinclair wrote about immigrants there on their knees hacking at coal seams.

And George McGovern published a history of the strike while running for president.

Still, Zinn’s many writings about Ludlow brought broader awareness. In several essays since the 1970s, he made it known how deep the corruption of wealth and power ran.

“The mining camps were feudal kingdoms run by the coal corporations, which made the laws; curfews were imposed, suspicious strangers were not allowed to visit the homes, the company store must be patronized, the company doctor used. The laws were enforced by company-appointed marshals. The teachers and preachers were picked by the company. By 1914, Colorado Fuel and Iron owned twenty-seven mining camps, and all the land, the houses, the saloons, the schools, the churches, the stores,” he wrote.

On April 20 of that year, the industry-controlled Colorado National Guard engaged striking miners in a gun battle and set their tents on fire.

“It was on the following day, April 21, that a telephone linesman going through the ruins, lifted a twisted iron cot that covered one of the pits dug beneath the tents for shelter. There he found the mangled, charred bodies of two women and eleven children, heaped together in what had been a desperate struggle to escape,” Zinn wrote, unforgettably.

At least 75 people died, including strikers, strike breakers, guardsmen and bystanders.

Thomas Andrews grew up in Boulder. He breezed past high school and college without having heard about the slaughter. It wasn’t until grad school that he learned the nation’s bloodiest strike went down in his state.

“It was taboo even to talk about. It was a suppressed memory,” says Andrews, now a historian at CU and author of “Killing For Coal: America’s Deadliest Labor War.”

“Zinn felt that doing wart- and-all histories made us stronger,” adds Dean Saitta, a DU anthropologist who excavated the site and says local families still have hard feelings about what happened.

Zinn put Ludlow on the map. Not just as a place, in all its gruesome details, but as a concept. He popularized the struggle so that the name of the railroad town has become synonymous with corruption — “the firm connection between entrenched wealth and political power, manifested in the decisions of government, and in the machinery of law and justice.”

Ludlow’s uncomfortable history now is taught widely in college courses and K-12 classes. Textbooks cover it. Students take field trips to the shadowed ground that’s finally a national historic landmark.

Zinn died last week at age 87.

He’d hoped to be remembered “for getting more people to realize that the power which rests so far in the hands of people with wealth and guns . . . ultimately rests in people themselves.”

And, he added, “that they can use it.”

Ludlow strike Federal troops unloading at Ludlow, Colorado.

Members of the 11th U.S. Cavalry, that include Homer Lockett, stand near the railroad depot in Ludlow, Las Animas County, Colorado. The 11th Cavalry was called in at the request of Colorado Governor Ammons, to restore order in the coal fields after the Ludlow Massacre at the time of the United Mine Worker's strike against Colorado Fuel & Iron.

PUBLISHED:
It took an act of vandalism, followed by a six-year crusade, to have the Ludlow Massacre site designated a National Historic Landmark.

Gov. Bill Ritter, local dignitaries, miners, union representatives and others will gather today at Ludlow to dedicate the site.

Now a ghost town 13 miles north of Trinidad, Ludlow was the site of 14 months of strikes in 1913-14 by some 1,200 coal miners who were fed up with low wages, unsafe conditions and company towns that kept the miners deeply in debt. More than 100 people died in the strikes.

One particularly tragic confrontation occurred on April 20, 1914, when 20 people, including 11 children and two mothers, died when the Colorado National Guard stormed a tent encampment.

The United Mine Workers Association bought that site in 1917, then installed a granite monument to the strikers and the massacre victims.

The site remained contentious between unionists and others, some of whom either doubted the stories of the massacre or believed the miners got what they deserved.

On May 7, 2003, vandals broke off and stole the heads of the male and female statues, as well as the female’s left arm. The mine workers’ association was incensed, as were other national labor organizations. An intensive investigation by Las Animas County Sheriff James Casias, as well as the Colorado Bureau of Investigation, led nowhere.

The broken statues were removed from the monument and shipped to California. There, a specialist used similar granite from Vermont to repair the statues.

On May 5, 2005, they were replaced at a cost of more than $80,000. The money came mostly in small donations from individuals and union locals. Black Hawk, which has a strong mining tradition, donated $10,000, said the association’s Region 4 director, Bob Butero.

As word of the vandalism spread nationally, a group of labor historians — including James Green of Yale University; Julie Greene, formerly of CU-Boulder and now at the University of Maryland; and Betsy Jameson of the University of Calgary — took up the cause of honoring labor strife as part of our national heritage.

Greene wrote in The Denver Post that Ludlow was an important site because it represents “a crusade that cost many workers their lives, and reminds us of the central role immigrants played in building industrial America and of the shocking violence that accompanied that process.”

On Jan. 16, just before President George W. Bush left office, the Department of the Interior rushed through the designation of Ludlow as a National Historic Landmark. 


Wives of the Ludlow coal strikers prepare food for their striking husbands, as the men stand behind them in a kitchen in Ludlow, Colorado in Las Animas County. Loaves of bread, milk, and jam are on the edge of the table. 1913-1914