"Lady of Death" visits, but tells no tales

Of the 10 most famous myths and legends of Irish folklore, the fairies reside on the top shelf.
"It is said that they live in “cnocs” (hollow hills, in Irish), which are located in the “sidhe”. The “sidhe” are mounds where megalithic monuments are erected in many places on the island. 
One of the most famous legends about fairies is that referring to the “Lady of Death,” a fairy that appears during the night with hair loose and red eyes. According to the lore, it is said that she arrives at the home of a family to mourn for several days the death that will fall on one of its members, says Ireland Before You Die (IB4UD).

In real life, often too few clues, confusion of possible or conflicting circumstances, resist apprehension

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Unsolved murders make an early appearance in the Pikes Peak area. These matters, as in most such stories, seem to come in threes.
"The ideal detective story is on in which dogged perseverance on the part of detectives, and their ability to ferret out clues, tend to bring the villain to justice," wrote Carl F. Mathews back in the early 1960s.  Mathews spent his 32-year career doing just that, retiring as the superintendent of the Bureau of Identification for Colorado Springs Police Department.
"However, in real life, there is often too few clues or else confusion of possible or conflicting circumstances, which resist the identification or apprehension of suspects."
After his retirement, Mathews often wrote of unsolved cases.
A transcript on file in the Pioneer's Museum of Colorado Springs concerns the case before David Spielman, first coroner of El Paso County. 

It reads, in part:
"An inquisition holden at Colorado City in the County of El Paso, on the 18th day of September, A.D. 1869, before David Spielman, Coroner of said county, on the dead body of William Carrolton, lying there dead, by the jurors whose names are hereunto subscribed, the said jurors upon their oath do say that the aforesaid deceased came to his end on road leading from Pueblo to Colorado City, by five balls, one of which penetrated the neck, one the arm, one the point of the shoulder, and two the body in the region of the heart. The balls appeared to be buckshot, probably fired by one gun, by a person unknown. In the testimony whereof, the said Jurors, have hereto set their hands, the day and year aforesaid. C.E. Myers, Wray Beattie, John Langmeyer, Emile Gerung, Thomas Hunt, Thomas T. Reilly."
Other unsolved murders followed in the region.
A letter to the "Weekly Gazette," published on March 21, 1875,  conveyed the information that two bodies of two persons had been found on the plains east of Fountain, on Saturday, March 13.
"On Monday, Esquire Perkins summoned a jury and proceeded to the spot. On arriving there, the bodies were found to be covered with snow, and on removing the snow, it was found that the flesh was entirely gone from the bones. Examination showed one to be a man, the other to be a woman, both apparently about twenty-five years of age. Both had been wearing ordinary clothing but no boots or shoes were found. Except for a small lead pencil in the vest pocket, nothing was found except the rim of a .44 center fire cartridge near the remains," reported Mathews, years later.
"The corpses were found about 100 yards south of the road leading from Fountain to Perkins' ranch on Squirrel Creek, and about fourteen miles east of Fountain. The bodies had been thrown tall course grass, which prevented them from being seen from the road. The impression was that they were immigrants and had been murdered and thrown there sometime during the previous summer. The remains and clothing were being kept at Ames' store in Fountain in the hope that some identification could be made. Eastern papers were asked to please copy," it was reported.
Years passed, and other unsolved murders were reported, but none so tragic as the August 23, 1923, story of young bride, brutally slain.
"Elsie Jogenson Suttle, 17-year-old bride of barely five weeks, was brutally murdered in her bedroom, within hearing distance of a number of men, none of whom heard anything unusual or saw any trace of the murderer. Workmen on the roof an adjoining house and members of the family in the back yard failed to hear any sound of a struggle. The first person to discover the brutal assault was Mrs. Richard Suttle, mother-in-law of the girl, upon here return about 10 a.m. from a marketing trip," Mathews wrote.
"Mrs. Suttle opened the door of the bedroom, and the tragedy was disclosed; her screams aroused and brought here husband from the pavement, not thirty fee distant, where he had been working. From across the street, brought by Mrs. Suttle's screams, came S.J. Wilson, of 501 Cascade, and T.J. Parks of 111West Moreno, who was working next door. The District Attorney's office authorized the Denver Police Department to hold Mrs. E.C. Lowe, mother of the girl (why, I never found out,)" Mathews said.
"Mrs. Suttle related that she had called Elsie about 8:30 that morning to say, 'Elsie, that same fellow's at the door," and received the reply; 'Oh, to h--l with him.'"
Shortly after, the elder woman went shopping. Between then and 10 a.m., the girl was clubbed to death.
Physicians, including a brain specialist performed an autopsy and the coroner in this case declared the wounds which laid the girl's scalp open and cracked the skull must have been been given by a blunt instrument, presumably a hammer, a pistol butt or hatchet. She was beaten down with one blow, and then hit again and again, was the opinion expressed by those performing the autopsy.
To complicate the mystery, "Under the girl's pillow had been found five threatening letters, simply signed "Jack," and the mark of suspicion was turned upon him. He was said to be between 21 and 25 years of age, medium height, dressed in a hiking suit with polished leather puttees, and said to have been carrying a pack or blanket roll on his back.
Several complicated arrests were made following, including a Cuban-born Denver Cobbler, named Jack Fernandez, the girl's step-father Jorgenson, who in turn accused the Suttle family of the dastardly dead. Another character, Henry Waklin, was also picked up in Flagstaff, Arizona, and was said to match the description of the 'leather-putteed' suspect. He told a number of unreliable stories about his whereabouts at the time of the killing, but eventually proved to have an alibi in Dodge City, Kansas that ruled him out.
The case was eventually marked "closed." None of various suspects were charged with the crime, or ever called to atone for the murder.
As Mathews would note: Another unsolved mystery. Fortunately, "These are few in number compared with the cases which were solved."
The "Lady of Death" arrives and mourns at the victim's family home, but in her fairy way, she is not always clear as to the precise circumstances.

Photo Info:
1. View of the Broadmoor, Colorado Springs, El Paso County, Colorado, shows a nine-story Italianate structure by architects Warren and Wetmore, with hipped terra-cotta roofs, friezes, a cupola with weather vane, and an arcaded entry. The Italian fountain (installed 1923, same year as the Lady of Death visits Elsie Jogenson Suttle,) in the foreground is surrounded by lawn, balustrades, trees, and paved drives.  

2. Old Colorado City.

3. Historic welcome in Fountain, Colorado.                   

Druggist shot — Diamonds displayed too carelessly

Prominent resident since 1892, liquor dealer, and druggist, is victim of foul play

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

The advice that suggests, "if you got it, flaunt it," is perhaps not so sound as it seems. Otto Fehringer found that out the hard way about his flashy diamond jewelry, worn everyday, as he discovered himself on the wrong end of the of .41 caliber Colt revolver — and later died with a slug in his liver.
"About 6 o'clock on the evening of Feb. 19, 1908, Otto Fehringer, a well-known druggist and wholesale liquor dealer was taken by a stranger to Templeton Gap, about three miles north-east of Colorado Springs for the purpose of going to Austin Bluffs to clean up a deal for some wines and liquors wanted by an "uncle" of the man," reported Carl F. Mathews,  whose paper on unsolved crimes appeared in several public presentations in 1962,.
 

Carl Mathews of the Bureau of Identification for Colorado Springs Police Department.

Mathews had served as superintendent of the Bureau of Identification for Colorado Springs Police Department for more than 32 years, retiring in 1952.
"There Fehringer was shot in the right side, and grabbed his assailant's gun which was wrested from him. He was then slugged four times on the head." continued Mathews story of the crime.
"The stranger demanded his valuables and Fehringer delivered a roll of bills, his diamond stud, and a ring, valued at $1,000. The robber ordered him to remain in the ditch, jumped into the buggy and drove toward the city.  Though wounded Fehringer managed to walk to the electric power plant a half-mile wet, where the sheriff's office was notified and he was taken to St. Francis Hospital in the city ambulance.  The wound was not considered fatal by Drs. O.E. Zillman and C. F. Stough. Detective Burno and Patton were assigned the case and the entire department under the direction of Chief Reynolds began the search for the robber. The horse and the phaeton were found by police about 9:30 p.m. in front of Weber Hall, corner of Weber and Kiowa. The outfit had been rented at the Kentucky Stables by an unknown man," it was reported.
Mathews said police were able to put together additional information leading up to the robbery. On the Tuesday previous, Fehringer had gone into the drug store of Albin and Corey, where unknown man had 'spotted' him, on account of his diamonds and asked who he was, what was his business, and so forth, which at the time occasioned no particular thought.
"It was learned that the man had entered the Fehinger drug store, 118 North Tejon Street, asked for Fehringer, went to his desk to talk to him for several minutes; he returned about 4:30 p.m., apparently by appointment, an Fehringer put on his coat and hat, left without telling anyone where he was going., as was his custom."
Fehringer  was connected in the city of Colorado Springs at the time, and intact, the City Council and Mayor Heiser offered a reward for $500 to capture the assailant. Fehringer's brother Adolph also offered $200.
It also turns out, that Fehringer had managed to hide $500 in vest pocket, that had become soaked in his own blood during the robbery. The robber only nabbed $10 in cash and two $100 checks in addition to the diamonds.
Police also learned that the stranger had gone to Klein's Pawn Shop and had traded a .38  caliber Iver-Johnson revolver for .41 caliber Colt six-shooter, giving for boot a gold ring set with three garnets, valued at about $20. Klein filled the gun with six cartridges made in 1896 an sold the man six more.
"A suspect, William Bienapil, was arrested at Powell's Chili Parlor on the 22nd by Detective Burno and Police Clerk Poiner, and was identified by several people; the next day he was taken to the hospital where Fehringer failed to identify him, as was the case on the following day when he was again taken to the hospital.. It was learned that Bienapil had been rooming at Ed Reinhardt's home, 101 South Weber, for some fourteen mounts, in the company with his brother Louis, a printer in the employ of Gowdy-Simmons. According to Reinhardt the man had come from Mankato, Minnesota, and worked for a time for the Interurban Railway as  repairman.
"On the 26th, Fehringer's condition was still serious and an operation was planned; on the 27th Bienapil was charged with shooting Fehringer, on a complaint sworn to by his brother, Adolph. But in a hearing held before Justice Dunning on March 2nd, he was released." reported Mathews.
The story then took an unexpected turn toward murder, when Otto Fehringer died on March 11. Doctors determined from autopsy the death was cause by an obstruction one of the large arteries and an abscess of the liver resulting from the gunshot wound. A bullet was found embedded in his liver.
Fehringer was buried on March 13, and that same day, Sam Barkwell, armed with a revolver, entered the house of deputy Sheriff Scofield, 220 South Cascade Avenue, where he was shot by Scofield when he threatened to kill the later.
"At that time, it was thought he might be the man who shot Fehringer; except as to weight, he closely resembled the description of the assailant. He had a long criminal record, being identified as Barkwell,  alias Sam Allen, alias John McDonald.," Mathews wrote.




Top Photo Info:
Trolley car number 74 stops at the Broadmoor Depot, Colorado Springs, El Paso County, Colorado. Passengers come and go from the Colorado Springs and Interurban Railway line. The hip roof depot has an upper roofed observation deck.
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Locally, we benefited from "Harvey Girls."

The record describes a Harvey House in Cascade in the 1890s

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

In most cases, I am just like many other western historians, with my blinders on, pretty much ignoring the idea that women had much to do with the history of the west. Not because I think they didn't.  I am positive they had a key role in the taming of the country that was severely under-reported and assigned less import than what actually occurred. It is just not documented.
A longtime resource, from my hometown in southwestern Colorado identifies the problem precisely, though he was talking about all folk, and legacy in general terms.
"They were working people and left much less documentation and monuments to their existence. Their business deals were done with a handshake and their accomplishments are more likely to be made of hard work and sweat, instead of bricks, stone and newspaper articles. History is much richer when we know the story of the people who built the fancy house on the hill along with the people who lived in it," notes my friend, Ellis Miller.
America's tales about taming the Wild West rarely include women. But in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, more than 100,000 pioneering young women left home to work as waitresses in restaurants located on train platforms along the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railway.
Locally we benefited from that.
By sketchy accounts, the record describes a Harvey House in Cascade in the 1890s.
"Which I had never heard of, and doesn’t show up in any company documents. With the help of Peter Hansen, editor of Railroad History, and Colorado Midland trainiac Tom VanWormer, we’ve discovered either three or four 'new' Harvey locations in Colorado —which the company ran from 1890-1895, the years the then-troubled Santa Fe owned the Colorado Midland," says Stephen Fried, One Nation Under Fred, a blog about all things Harvey.
"So we can now report there were Harvey Houses and Harvey Girls in: Cascade, Idyllwild and Leadville, and the Cascade house at some point in the early 1890s moved to the Woodland Park depot. This brings the number of Harvey locations in Colorado to 10. Fred had one of his pre-Santa Fe eating houses in Hugo and then beginning in 1879, was in La Junta, Pueblo, Trinidad, Palmer Lake (briefly, a lunchroom from 1899-1902) and then in Colorado Springs. The last Colorado Harvey House, El Otero Hotel in La Junta, closed in 1948," Fried says.
The Harvey House restaurant chain began in Leavenworth, Kansas, after entrepreneur Fred Harvey, left his native England at the age of 15 and found work in New York’s growing restaurant industry. "As the Civil War was brewing, he began working with the railroads, achieving more senior positions as he moved west. Despite his seniority, Harvey never forgot his restaurant roots and, recognizing the poor quality of food for rail travelers, decided to do something about it," says the film documentary, "The Harvey Girls: Opportunity Bound," by 2013 - Assertion Films, Los Angeles, Calif.
"In 1870, Harvey started a company designed to serve travelers throughout the Southwestern U.S. good food at reasonable prices in clean, elegant restaurants. The women who worked for these restaurants — the Harvey Girls — later became icons, themselves, playing an important role in World War II and helping to transform society's view of women's work," the film describes.
"The Harvey House company left its mark by not only providing work opportunities for women, but by promoting cultural diversity in the workplace. Harvey hired Hispanic and Native American women to be waitresses alongside their Anglo peers," according to the film.
In 1946, MGM turned the Harvey Girls into legend when they released the motion picture musical "The Harvey Girls" starring Judy Garland. This fictional Hollywood movie was the only film, until recently, to touch on their place in history.
"Judy Garland got one of her biggest song hits by accepting a film she didn't really want to do and had started out as another star's project in the first place. "The Harvey Girls (1946)" came about through the kind of happy accidents that only could happen in Hollywood," says Leonard Maltin's Classic Movie Guide, in 2005.
"The story started as a novel by Samuel Hopkins Adams based on the real-life restaurant chain that had helped civilize the West. With waitresses of certified good character, the Harvey houses provided a reliable source of family dining for travelers in the Southwest during the latter part of the 19th century."
Maltin says MGM originally bought rights to the novel in hopes that it would inspire a dramatic film for rising star Lana Turner. Then associate producer Roger Edens saw a tryout performance of Oklahoma! in New Haven. He knew a hit when he saw it and realized that the trailblazing musical probably wouldn't be available to the screen for years (it wasn't filmed until 1955). So he came up with the idea of turning The Harvey Girls into a western musical at MGM, with Judy Garland as a high-spirited waitress. Only Garland wasn't interested," reported Maltin.
"She had wanted to work with Fred Astaire for years and thought a project Arthur Freed was developing for him, "Yolanda and the Thief (1945)", would finally give her the chance. In addition, her husband, Vincente Minnelli was directing it, and the two were trying to work together whenever possible. Edens convinced her that the female lead in Yolanda and the Thief wouldn't be a big enough role for her, and promised that "The Harvey Girls" would be built around her talents.
"It took eight writers to turn The Harvey Girls into a movie, with Samson Raphaelson, who had written some of Ernst Lubitsch's best films, tying them all together. The result was a showcase for Garland's comic, dramatic and musical skills, while also offering juicy supporting roles to deadpan comedienne Virginia O'Brien, sultry Angela Lansbury and a young dancer named Cyd Charisse, who had her first speaking part in the picture."
Best of all was the score by Harry Warren and Johnny Mercer, which included a tribute to the railroad that helped win the West, "On the Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe." The number was inspired by Garland's hit from "Meet Me in St. Louis (1944)", "The Trolley Song," and like it was almost an instant hit. Garland recorded it on her own, but the top-selling version featured lyricist Johnny Mercer and the Pied Pipers. It held the number one spot on the hit parade for eight weeks. As was the custom then, MGM released the song to recording companies before the film was even finished. In fact, Bing Crosby's version of it was playing on the radio as director George Sidney drove to MGM to film the number. "On the Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe" picked up the Oscar for Best Song, the first of four awards Mercer would receive in that category.
The classic movie depiction probably has little basis in reality, but at least it helped us remembered that the Harvey Girls existed. Their accomplishments though undocumented, I am sure,  were made of hard work and sweat — instead of bricks, stone and newspaper articles.

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Incline to close for construction

Beginning Monday, August 18, the Incline will be closed for about four months as repair workers begin on a $1,586,486 improvement project. Construction is expected to be completed in December.

The project, according to city officials has four major goals: improved safety, enhanced user experience, long-term sustainability of the trail and increased accessibility.  

Work on the Incline will include repair and replacement of damaged retaining walls, cleanup of rebar and loose debris, construction of additional drainage structures, stabilization of existing ties and stabilization of surrounding slopes.  The new drainage structures will significantly reduce the velocity of water, a critical factor in reducing erosion and ensuring the Incline’s long-term sustainability. 

Funding for the project comes from the following sources:

• FEMA -$556,486

• Great Outdoors Colorado Grant - $350,000

• Colorado Springs Utilities - $250,000

• State Trails Grant - $200,000

• Colorado Springs CTF Program - $80,000

• Incline Friends - $60,000

• Colorado Springs TOPS Program -$50,000

• Manitou springs Barr Parking Lot Fund - $40,000

Area officials note that  during construction, Barr Trail, Ute Indian Trail, Interman Trail, Red Mountain Trail, and the COG Railway will remain open in their entirety.

"These facilities are within walking distance of the Incline and utilize the community shuttle stop as the incline. Manitou springs will continue to operate its free community shuttle with a drop off location at the Iron Springs Chateau," says a joint release from Manitou springs and Colorado Springs.

Hiking the Incline during construction will be prohibited for safety reasons. 

"The Incline will be closed while the the trail is under construction. While the construction is underway, equipment will be in use and the hiking surface will be impacted. Staging of materials will be located at the base of the Incline. Please give construction crews a break and resit the urge to to sneak up the Incline while no one is looking," releases from the city say.

"Citations will be issued for anyone trespassing on the Incline during construction. The citation will be $100. Please adhere to the closure or you will be ticketed," city officials said.

 History of the Mt. Manitou Incline

 

Under the ownership of Dr. Newton Brumback, the Manitou Incline was originally constructed as a one-mile cable tram for the purpose of providing access to water tanks at the top of the mountain that would provide gravity-fed water pressure to the cities of Manitou Springs and Colorado Springs. Shortly after its completion in 1907, the tram was opened as a tourist attraction. The Incline boasted a 16-minute ride to “scenic splendors” and ten miles of hiking trails in Mt. Manitou Park, and claimed to be the “longest and highest incline on the globe.”

The Incline’s 2,741 steps make up one of the most challenging and popular recreation sites in the nation. The trail is a one-mile ascent with an elevation gain of 2,000 feet, and the average grade is 43%, reaching 68% at the steepest point.  Nearly 20 years of unmanaged trespass and use of the Incline have resulted in significant erosion on the mountainside and dangerous trail conditions.

In 2010, the three property owners - Colorado Springs Utilities, the COG Railway, and the US Forest Service – together with the cities of Colorado Springs and Manitou Springs, agreed that serious safety and liability concerns, including the trail’s condition and impact on nearby neighborhoods, called for development of a Site Development and Management Plan to address these issues, allow the Incline to open for legal use and to capitalize on the Incline’s benefits. The Incline is now officially open and legal for recreational use.

                                                          

Building flood protection on lessons learned in our past

Hope is that mitigating, and other measures, are built on what we have learned from our past.

 By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

It is no solace, but floodwaters have raged here before.
When the Coalition for the Upper South Platte (CUSP) and El Paso County removed 260 dump truck loads of gravel, sand, muck and other material a few years ago, they were working on top of flood structures originally built in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps.
The Works Progress Administration also contributed to work on flood control projects in the area nearly 80 years ago.
Where there is steep, narrow canyons, there can be, and eventually probably will be, severe and dangerous flooding. And for at least 100 years, we have been cleaning up after one flood or another, and trying to mitigate the next ones.
In looking through records of the National Weather Weather Service in Pueblo, floods in August of 1904 washed away a train near there, killing 89 passengers in a local watershed. Again in 1921, more  deadly flooding.
"Thunderstorms and heavy rainfall causes flooding in Cripple Creek and Cripple Creek Canyon. Damage estimated at $30,000 in Cripple Creek alone," the National Oceanic Atmospheric Association reported a July 15, 1923 storm.
Then again, on Memorial Day in 1935, 18 people are killed on bridges and structures in downtown Colorado Springs when Monument Creek washes through.
In May, 1949, heavy afternoon thunderstorms caused a landslide in the Ute Pass sending nearly 400 tons of rock and mud into Highway 24.
Wait a few years, June 15, the first of 15 days of rain and flooding on both Monument and Fountain Creeks, washing out bridges all the way to the Kansas border, and destroying much of the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo.
And I guess, floods are not the only thing we should worry about. The day before Independence Day in July 1966, A tornado rips through the Victor business district damaging the Baptist Church and the Masonic Hall, among other places.
Another tornado in June of 1979, can opener-like, tears the roof off a gas station and rips up trees by the roots in Manitou Springs. Nearly a million dollars in damages was reported.
Then, there is always the possibility of a microburst like the one north of Woodland Park that leveled 35 acres of trees in the summer of 1981.
Still, we haven't even really talked about the snow, as in the storm on May 18, in 1995 that dropped 18 inches in few hour on Woodland Park and rain in the Springs, not only flooding low-lying areas there, but closing the Highway 24 corridor in the Pass with a landslide then. Another storm in June of 1997 closed U.S. Highway 24 again and flooding much of Manitou Springs. Just two years later, in July, 1999, a group of teens were stranded while hiking Waldo Canyon and in another weather event that Nov. 21, 17 inches of snow buried Green Mountain Falls.
We can and will get weather around here. And not to make light of it, but as Dr. Suess says, “The storm starts, when the drops start dropping. When the drops stop dropping, then the storm starts stopping.” 
And our hope is, of course, that all of our mitigating, and other measures, are built on what we have learned from our past.

Back to the future and blinded by science

“Brethren, we have a message from another world."

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com
Like any self-respecting city of its size, Colorado Springs has its own nutty professor story, and it is a good one.
Born in Croatia and educated as an engineer at Polytechnic School south of Vienna, Nikola Tesla could speak nine languages and had become quite popular in investment circles by the beginning of the 1890s. Having worked for Edison Machine Works, but unable to interest founder Thomas Edison on his ideas about alternating current (AC), Tesla formed his own company, Tesla Electric Light and Manufacturing. George Westinghouse, seeing the promise in that work, bought Tesla’s patents and set him to work as a designer.
His efforts made him a celebrity in the United States and Europe and allowed him to participate in projects such as powering the 1893 Worlds Fair in Chicago, and by demonstrate wireless transmission of power by lighting bulbs with no wires attached. He believed wireless communication would be the wave the future, imagining first, such ideas as the basis for fax machines, cellular transmissions, garage door openers, radio and TV and cable. Unfortunately, though correct with his science, he was about 90 or 100 years premature with some of his ideas.
Here in Colorado however, his technology was successfully deployed with his AC transmission systems powering the mining camps of Cripple Creek and Telluride, as well as a hydroelectric plant at Niagara Falls that established his AC current as the dominant transmission mode.
“A friend and patent lawyer, Leonard E. Curtis, on being advised of Tesla's work, offered to find land and provide power for the research from the El Paso Power Company of Colorado Springs. The next supporter to come forward was Colonel John Jacob Astor. With $30,000 from Astor, the inventor prepared at once to move to Colorado and begin building a new experimental station near Pikes Peak. Joining Tesla were several assistants who were not fully informed of the inventor's plans,” according Tesla, Life and Legacy at PBS.org.
“The laboratory that rose from the prairie floor was both wired and weird, a contraption with a roof that rolled back to prevent it from catching fire, and a wooden tower that soared up eighty feet. Above it was a 142-foot metal mast supporting a large copper ball. Inside the strange wooden structure, technicians began to assemble an enormous Tesla coil, specially designed to send powerful electrical impulses into the earth.”
The experiments had their drawbacks however, including burning up the dynamo at El Paso Power Company and knocking out all power in Colorado Springs. Working for about nine months in his Colorado Springs lab, his popularity waned, as his findings were difficult to grasp for investors and others that followed his exploits. Increasingly, he was considered eccentric and perhaps a bit of a ‘nut job.’
Popular reports in the papers didn’t help at all to defuse that idea, as noted in the following account in the Rocky Mountain News in January of 1901 headlined “Tesla will talk with Mars from Pikes Peak.”
“… I have observed electrical actions which have appeared inexplicable, faint and uncertain though they were, and they have given me a deep conviction and foreknowledge that before long all human beings on this globe, as one will turn their eyes on the firmament above, with feelings of love and reverence, thrilled by the glad news:
“Brethren, we have a message from another world, unknown and remote. It reads:
One. One, two, three.” (signed) Nikola Tesla.

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Photo Information: Tesla's Colorado Springs Lab

Long dry spell starts early in Colorado

Colorado passed prohibition three years before most of the rest of the nation

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

“When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draught go free, Fishes, that tipple in the deep,
Know no such liberty.”
__ Richard Lovelace, 1649

Prohibition or “the long dry spell’ came early to all of Colorado, in January of 1916, and in some communities here, booze was illegal even before that.
“Along with six other states, Colorado passed prohibition three years before most of the rest of the nation, led largely by a crusade of religious leaders and women voters,” wrote Michael Madigan in “Heroes, Villains, Dames & Disasters: 150 Years of Front-Page Stories from the Rocky Mountain News."
“It was estimated that 1,615 saloons and dramshops and 12 breweries were immediately put out of business.”
Personally, I don’t think I could ever forgive such nonsense, and perhaps, like thousands of others, would have sought “alternatives.”
But other “dry” cities struggled with the question long before that. Colorado Springs for example outlawed liquor from day one.
“City founder Gen. William Jackson Palmer had forbidden liquor from being made or sold anywhere in the city,” noted a Dave Phillips of the Colorado Springs Gazette in an article in November of last year.
“Palmer wanted to create an attractive, orderly city that would appeal to new settlers, as opposed to some of the wilder communities in the West with there saloons,” the Gazette article quoted Matt Mayberry of the Colorado Spring Pioneers Museum. “But people still want their alcohol and will come up with inventive ways to get around the law.”
Enter the practice of using booze as medicine.
With a prescription from a doctor, a ‘patient’ was allowed to buy a quart of whiskey.
According to most reports, many a resident in the town suffered from ‘snake bite’ and required a dose from the pharmacy.
“More people are bitten by snakes than in any town of this size I know of,” noted a writer for the Pueblo Chieftain in the 1880s of its Northern neighbor. “It is a little remarkable with what facility a man can get a prescription for snakebite in such a temperance town.”
By the turn of the century, many of the local pharmacies in Colorado Springs had dispensed with the formality of a doctor’s prescription and were quietly pouring drinks at fountain counters. Perhaps you would be required to order a ‘nectar’ or ‘wild strawberry’ by code word but the concoction was generally familiar and refreshing when it arrived from the ‘jerk.’
The profits involved allowed pharmacy owners to pay any steep fines, or legal fees to keep the business rolling and the liquor flowing in most cases.
But by the first of January, 1916, the entire state was once again legally prohibited from selling spirits.
“Pueblo, Colorado Springs, Boulder, Cripple Creek and all the mountain and other towns went dry at midnight without ceremony,” according to the front page of the Rocky Mountain News. “Most saloons closed their doors before the final hour.”
And in Denver proper. “Toward midnight an immense throng gathered on Curtis Street and other streets in the downtown business section, tooted horns and in other ways welcomed in the New Year.”
The same article observed however that some folks were prone to skirt such laws.
“Meanwhile, the citizens who were loath to break ancient habits with the stroke of the clock were well provided. For days gurgling packages have accompanied the homeowner to the legal security of his cellar.”
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Please see related stories:
• Medicinal whiskey and 'the loophole.'
• Raise a glass: celebrate 'Repeal Day.'
• Colorado Whiskey River don't run dry.

Building railroads and keeping secrets

Teamsters shouted, rail-toters groaned, sledges rang on spikeheads.

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Love, pain and money cannot be kept a secret. They soon betray themselves.
But building a railroad? Maybe it is possible — at least long enough to get the job done.
In June of 1887, J.J. Hagerman, president of the Colorado Midland, announced that regular passenger trains would soon be running between Colorado Springs and Buena Vista.
He had one fairly large problem, however.
“He had bought a site for the Midland station near the Santa Fe tracks, but he had no means of getting his trains directly from the Midland’s eastern end of the track, near the D. & R.G’s (Denver & Rio Grande’s Railroads) line, to his depot’s location,” notes John J. Lipsey in a historic paper published by the Denver Westerners in January of 1962.
“On Aug. 15, 1887, Hagerman wrote to one of the Midland’s directors (Busk) in New York: ‘I tried to make arrangements with Evans for use of the street (Moreno Avenue) occupied by the D. T. & G. (Denver, Texas and Gulf Railroad) across this town and made him a liberal offer, but in vain. Therefore we had to ‘jump’ him.”’
“Jumping,” in railroad terms of the times, was the practice of — when negotiation and law suits were determined to take too long, or not likely to succeed — laying track in the middle of the night. Tracks were installed before a court could grant an injunction prohibiting the action. Once the track was down, it seemed to settle the matter and was rarely ripped up.
Hageman had tried to get Dr. John Evans, M.D., president of the Denver, Texas, and Gulf Railroad (one of the predecessors of the Colorado and Southern), to allow the Midland to use the D .T. & G. tracks or to lay a Midland Track on Moreno Avenue. At that time, the area was then used as a yard by C. & S.
At the crux of the matter was regionalism. The Colorado Midland was a Colorado Springs railroad. The D.T. &G. was a Denver outfit that diverted mountain traffic to Denver and away from Colorado Springs. Evans, former Governor of Colorado and founder of the Colorado Seminary (now the University of Denver), interests were aligned with that effort.
So it is not surprising that the Colorado Springs City Council at the time was willing to help counter.
“Hagerman persuaded them to call a secret meeting of the council on Saturday night, when no court was sitting which would issue an injunction. At this meeting and ordinance was quickly passed granting the Colorado Midland a right-of-way across the city on Moreno Avenue,” wrote Lipsey.
“Hagerman was ready. With no publicity he had assembled men, mules, horses, ties, rails, engines, cars, spikes, plates, switches, tools, food, coffee and lights. Plenty of lights — torches, flares, lanterns, and fuel for bright bonfires. The six blocks of Moreno must have looked like a World’s Fair Midway.”
The moment that the ordinance passed, horse-drawn scrapers began working on the elevations and smoothing a roadbed. Ties were place at measured intervals, rails followed and were bolted together and spiked down. Ballast was added and tamped to secure positioning. Engines pushed forward a supply of ties and rails. Teamsters shouted, rail-toters groaned, sledges rang on spikeheads.
“Before John Evans, a faithful Methodist, was ready for church on the Sunday morning that followed, he must have been notified by his agents that the Midland track was laid on Moreno, and that Midland trains were able to load passengers at the Midland depot and depart for Buena Vista. It was no doubt an unhappy Sabbath for Dr. Evans. No court would sit on Sunday. Neither then, nor later, was he able to undo what Hagerman and the Midland had done that Saturday night. And very probably he regretted his refusal to take money for the right-of-way the Midland got for nothing,” wrote Lipsey.
Building a railroad across town could be kept secret, at least long enough to get the job done.
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Illustration is "Building the Union Pacific, Nebraska, Woodcut by Alfred R. Waud, 1867"

Vanished, without a trace

Little Nellie Ferguson was never again seen after completing her helpful chores at Lowell School

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

In late September of 1917, Colorado Springs was, for the most part a growing, peaceful, tourist destination bolstered by years of economic vitality related to gold mining in the Cripple Creek mining district and ore processing in Old Colorado City. While some folks were concerned about increasing incidents of influenza, the war in Europe, and other such worldly worries – they became really frightened when a 10-year-old girl vanished, without a trace on September 18, 1917.
“Nellie Ferguson, 10-year-old child, has been reported missing by her parents. She was last seen at the Lowell school yesterday about 3:45 p.m., when she stayed after school and assisted one of the teachers,” according to the Gazette on Sept. 19.
More than 150 men and boys searched all day for the girl in nearly every part of the city, and police officers, opening a full-scale investigation, still, they could not locate Nellie Ferguson, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Fred Ferguson of 15 West Rio Grande Street.
By September 21, the city was nearly in a panic. A systematic search performed by volunteers from Colorado College, the high School and Lowell School, under the direction of D.G. Johnson, the Commissioner of Public Safety, scoured the surrounding area within, and 5 miles beyond, city limits. Still, no sign of Nellie.
Rewards from most every group and numerous individuals sprang forth: $25 from the Gazette, Teachers, the PTA and the principal at Lowell School contributed. Students from Lowell School raised $17, which was a substantial sum for school children of that time. Later, the city (by decree of the city council) threw in $100 to reward fund. Postcards by the hundreds, with little Nellie Ferguson’s photo, were mailed all over the state.
“A Mr. and Mrs. William Hamman came under suspicion; they were said to be members of the Pillar of Fire religious sect and had roomed at the Ferguson’s for a while. After moving to another house, the Hammans were said to have become very friendly with Nellie.” according to a 1962 paper by Carl Mathews for the Denver Westerners’ Roundup. Mathews served as superintendent of the Bureau of Identification in the Colorado Springs Police Department for 32 years and retired in 1952.
The Pillar of Fire religious sect, founded by Alma Birdwell White, was later connected with Ku Klux Klan of the 1920s in Colorado, though they have since renounced that connection, calling it a mistake.
“On Sept. 20th, they were located in Fountain. That evening, Acting Chief Hugh Harper with officers of the Police Department, and Sheriff Weir, accompanied by a representative of the Gazette, went there and, after two hours of cross examination, the Hammans were permitted to remain in Fountain. However, they were under police surveillance, which was continued after they went to Pueblo. On the 28th, at the instigation of Fred Ferguson, the father of the girl, a warrant was issued and they were arrested and returned. On October 2nd they were to be arraigned on a charge of ‘Contributing to Juvenile Delinquency,’ but I was unable to find any further mention of that angle,” wrote Mathews in 1962.
By late October, a Grand Jury conducting an investigation questioned many witnesses including Mrs. Ferguson and neighbors living near the Ferguson home, but came up with zip, nothing, zilch, nada.
By mid November, the girl’s father had shifted his own focus to Denver thinking that perhaps the girl had been taken by Gypsies, and the Denver Police Department was reportedly working on several clues. Unfortunately, those efforts turned up nothing. Mr. and Mrs. Fred Ferguson went to their grave without any real idea what happened to their young daughter. Little Nellie Ferguson was never again seen after completing her helpful chores at Lowell School on the afternoon of September 18, 1917.
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Simple times weren't so simple

Six bodies in two adjacent homes in Colorado Springs, and one of the most brutal crimes ever to take place in this town

 By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Albert Einstein probably had it right. “Technological progress is like an axe in the hands of a pathological criminal,” he said.
Every generation tends to think society today is worse than it ever was. We are all headed to hell in a hand-basket, and “if only I were born 100 years earlier.” Life was simpler then, peaceful, calm, tranquil. Men and women went about their business, worked with their hands and simple tools, kept to themselves and didn’t have to worry much.
Well, maybe not.
One of those simple tools was found near the door of a house on Dale Street Monday afternoon, Sept. 20, 1911. Six bodies in two adjacent homes in Colorado Springs, and one of the most brutal crimes ever to take place in this town were discovered behind the doors of those two homes.
“The axe with which the deed was done was found yesterday by Mrs. J.R. Evans who lives next door to the Waynes, at 742 Hanson Place, and from whom it was borrowed last week. It was standing outside the Wayne door, covered in blood,” according to a New York Times story the next day. “Mrs. Evans thought the family had been killing chickens, and thought nothing of the incident until the discovery of the bodies today.”
Killed were Mrs. Alice May Burnham, 25, her six-year-old daughter (also Alice), her three-year-old son John. In another house nearby, Henry F. Wayne, 30, his wife Blanche, 25, and their year-old baby daughter (also Blanche).
“Mrs. June Ruth of 931 South Sierra Madre Street, sister of the murdered Mrs. Burnham, went to the latter’s house at 321 West Dale Street, in the rear of the Wayne home, to do some sewing, accompanied by Mrs. Anna Merritt of 730 Pine Street. The front door was locked, and the two women gained entrance by the rear door. On entering the front room they found the body of Mrs. Burnham lying covered in bed. Beside her, one on each side, were the bodies of here two children with their heads similarly cut open with an axe. The covers had evidently been carefully replaced by the one who did the deed. Not an article in the little home had been disturbed,” according to the story in New York Times.
“Rushing to the street, the women gave the alarm, and neighbors flocked to the scene of the tragedy. Instinctively a dozen persons ran to the Wayne home, where no sign of life had been seen since Sunday afternoon. The rear door was found unfastened, and in the bed in the front room the scene witnessed in the Burnham home was almost exactly duplicated.”
According to a 1962 paper by Carl F. Mathews, and the Times article, Arthur J. Burnham, husband and father of the Burnham victims and a yardman at the Modern Woodman sanitarium, was detained and questioned extensively by police but was quickly cleared and released with an air-tight alibi.
Another man, Italian laborer, Tony Donatel, was also arrested but eventually cleared as well. Even Mrs. Evans, the woman who discovered the murder weapon (and her son-in-law and daughter) came under heavy scrutiny, particularly because they were owners of the axe.
“Similar ax murders were taking place over the country this year, whether by the same hand or by some weak-brained individual who read of them is a question never answered,” wrote Mathews, who served for 32 years as superintendent of the Bureau of Identification in the Colorado Springs Police Department.
In April of 2007, Erin Emery of the Denver Post reported that Colorado Springs Police Investigator Dwight Haverkorn was once again trying to connect the dots on this case by trying to prove that the person who killed the Burnham and Wayne families in the city was a serial killer, responsible during a two-month period for 25 murders in five towns: Portland, Ore.; Rainier, Wash.; Monmouth, Ill.; Ellsworth, Kan.; and Colorado Springs. Haverkorn was sifting through Pinkerton Detective Agency records. The agency was called in to work on the case in the absence of a regular police chief and considering the high profile of the case.
"I'm hoping that somewhere in some of those Pinkerton records there might be actual copies of fingerprints that were taken by some of these detectives," Haverkorn told the Post. "And if we had them for two or three scenes, we could come up with a common fingerprint between any two or three and boost my theory that it was a serial killer that traveled the country."
In the end, perhaps it will come back to one of those simple tools.
“The killer almost always entered homes through an unlocked window. He usually lit a candle in the home but obscured it so it would not be too bright and wake his soon-to-be victims. In Colorado Springs, while climbing through a window, he knocked over a bottle of ink, leaving a handprint on the handle of the ax he found and used. There are no records of those fingerprints on file with the Colorado Springs Police Department,” according to Emery’s story in the Denver Post.
But someday it may be possible to link a serial killer, who perhaps rode the rails around the country and killed with a simple tool, in times that were far more complex than they appear at first blush.
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100 years no big deal when old as a mountain

We will celebrate again, if we have time

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

In the Centennial state, celebrating a 100-year anniversary is always a big deal. That was especially true in this area more than a century ago, when locals planned to mark such an occasion for the first recorded sighting of “America’s Mountain.” The Peak, of course, had been there for a while.
“In 1906, the City of Colorado Springs celebrated the Pike’s Peak Centennial. The event attracted from around Colorado and all over the nation. Special excursion trains were run from Pueblo and Denver, and many leading hotels in town were filled to capacity. Always eager to cash in on tourism, The D & RG (Denver and Rio Grand Railroad) advertising departments distributed brochures describing the festivities,” writes Allen C. Lewis in his 2006 photo book “Railroads of the Pikes Peak Region, 1900-1930.”
But the D & RG was not the only railroad that promoted the event.
“The 1906 Pikes Peak Centennial was a major event for Colorado Springs, and a large celebration was planned. Many railroads were quick to capitalize on the celebration, including the Rock Island. The advertising departments of several railroads shared resources in an effort to attract additional passengers,” wrote Lewis. The Rock Island collaborated with Frisco Railroads on their advertising efforts.
So the hotels were full, the trains to this area were packed, and great fanfare planned and expected for the weeklong schedule of events from September 23 to September, 29 in 1906.
An effort to build a monument to Zeb Pike apparently fell flat when the coins minted to finance the effort did not sell but other elements of the celebrations were carried off without a hitch. Instead of the statue, a huge boulder from the mountains was moved into the Springs to mark the event. Also, the weather did not cooperate fully as cold and snow marred at least one presentation at the top of the mountain that week.
In addition to changing weather here in the shadow of the peak, it was a changing nation and world in 1906.
In mid April, a devastating earthquake had ravaged the Bay Area of San Francisco killing more than 3,000 people and injuring 225,000. Property damage expense ran to $400,000,000 in 1906 dollars according to the University of California at Berkeley.
In Russia, Czar Nicholas had announced the implementation of the “Fundamental Laws,” and then dissolved the Duma and began purging of the dissidents. Also, U.S troops occupied Cuba at Cuban leader Tomas Estrada Palama’s, request for intervention.
But when all was said and done, the mountain, awe-inspiring and steady, looked like it would stand and deliver for at least another 100 years.
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Jimmy Stewart serves as icon of Air Force

Jimmy Stewart's enduring legacy

When the Air Force celebrated its 60th anniversary (Sept. 17, 2007), it was tempting to search for an icon.

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

The United States Air Force has a tremendous presence in the Pikes Peak Region with the Academy, Peterson Air Force Base, Schriever Air Force Base, and more than a few retired Air Force personnel.
The Air Force Academy, by itself, has nearly 6,500 active duty personnel and an economic impact of $700,693,967, according to its 2006 economic impact statement.
Being civilian, it is impossible to miss an impact like that, but still we try to put a face on it. Yes, the Air Force to us is the beautiful Academy campus, or the retired Colonels living next door, or the flyovers during football games.
But still, for convenience, some of us need something emblematic to tie to 60 years and the image of the Air Force.
I choose James Stewart.
Maybe that is right, wrong or irrelevant – you are the judge – but here is my reasoning.
Jimmy Stewart, the eldest son of hardware store owner from Indiana, Pennsylvania, saw WWII coming and joined the Army Air Corps as a private in 1940.
Stewart had already won and Oscar for “Philadelphia Story,” according to the official website of the United States Air Force but put service before himself.
“Despite attempts to use him for publicity, he fought to become a pilot and fought to get into the war,” the site says.
“Stewart went on to fly B-24 Liberator bombers over Europe, commanding at the squadron and wing level. Ironically, his first film back after the war was “It’s a Wonderful Life,” in which he played 4-F George Bailey. After the war, Stewart also played a major role in the formation of the Air Force, serving as a spokesman for the Air Force Association’s effort to advocate the need for a separate Air Force – ultimately succeeding when President Truman signed legislation in September 1947.”
Stewart continued to serve in the reserves and eventually reached the rank of Brigadier General in 1959. Among his military awards are: Distinguished Service Medal, Distinguished Flying Cross with Oak Leaf Cluster, Air Medal, French Croix de Guerre and the Presidential Medal of Freedom.
Stewart did not try to call attention to his service, preferring instead to avoid mixing his celebrity status and military accomplishments, if possible.
He died at the age of 89, on July 2, 1997.
“When interviewed about his techniques, the self-effacing actor replied characteristically,” according to his obituary that appeared in the New York Times.
''I don't act, I react,'' and described himself as an ''inarticulate man who tries,'' without having ''all the answers, but for some reason, somehow, I make it.'' He offered his criterion for success: ''If you can do a part and not have the acting show.''

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Wind storm of the century

Damage reported in every section of city

 By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com
 Almost anyone who has lived in Colorado for more than a year probably has a “worst storm” story. But as noted with many less-than-promised weather conditions, ‘blizzard’ is a relative term. No one is disputing a severe storm that appeared on November, 21, 1900 claim and in fact, it has been considered “The worst storm in Colorado Springs history,” by some for more than 100 years now.
“Any resident of Colorado Springs November 21, 1900 will never forget that day,” according to an article written by Edwin and Nancy Bathke for the Pikes Peak Westerners Posse. “A day and night of terror. No words can ever describe it; no pen can picture what the people of this city have known for the last 24 hours. At the present writing the wind has been blowing a gale that disorganized the city for more than 10 hours. We are shut off from communication with every other place, and people are huddled in their homes, praying that the calamity will not overtake them.”
The Bathkes pulled such a description out of one of the few newspapers that were able to print the following day. The Evening Telegraph was unable to get out an issue at all but Gazette produced limited copies under most unfavorable circumstances.
Damage was reported in every section of the city. Telegraph, telephone, light and power poles were blown down all over the city. At least eight separate fires broke out around the city destroying El Paso Ice and Coal Co.’s building, Electric Light Company’s powerhouse, Smith Green House and Shields-Morely Grocery, among other buildings.
“On Tejon Street there was an indescribable scene. The businessmen were scurrying everywhere, trying to stay the damage. The iron roofing curled and tore off, landing in great heaps and littering the streets,” wrote the Bathkes.
“The six largest churches in the city suffered only nominal damage. The First Presbyterian, the stone coping on the west gable roof was torn away. Precautionary measures taken limited the losses. At the First Baptist Church the $1,000 stained glass window in the west was saved with great difficulty by stays erected in the interior. At St Mary’s Catholic Church, Father Bender hired carpenters to place stays across the west transept windows, thus saving the $1,200 memorial window.”
Other buildings were not so lucky. The Board of Brokers Building lost its roof on Tejon Street. The Exchange National Bank building was severely damaged by the flying debris. El Paso Bank block’s entire roof was gone and the skylights at the Mining Exchange building caved in. It blew all the windows out on the Giddings block.
Street cars were blown off the tracks in the Broadmoor area. At the roasting plant for the Standard Smelting Co., the sides of the building were torn away and the great smoke stack there was torn off its foundation. The Antler’s Livery barn caught fire five different times during the wind storm. Many trees were toppled throughout the city.
At Colorado College, the weather bureau registered wind at 82 miles per hour until the weather vane spun around so much that it became overheated and melted away.
Wind speed has rarely been recorded at over 65 miles and hour in the same area since.
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On truth and good stories

Jim Beckwourth crossed all cultural barriers during his 68 years

 By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

James P. Beckwourth had a reputation for being able to tell a good yarn.
And that was exactly what he did in dictating his autobiography to Thomas Bonner. Bonner, a Justice of the Peace in the California Gold fields. Of course, he was obliged to add or ‘improve’ certain details about himself in “The Life and Adventures of James P. Beckwourth, Mountaineer, Scout, and Pioneer, and Chief of the Crow Nation of Indians.”
Amazingly, most of it contained elements of truth.
“… While Beckwourth certainly had a tendency to exaggerate numbers or to occasionally make himself the hero of events that happened to other people, later historians have discovered that much of what Beckwourth related in his autobiography actually occurred,” according to beckwourth.org.
Born April 6, 1798, in Fredricksburg, Virginia, (his father an Irish American plantation owner and his mother, a Negro slave) Jim Beckwourth was educated by his father and could read, write and spoke Spanish, French and multiple Indian dialects. For eight to nine years, Beckwourth lived with a Crow band. He rose in their society from warrior to chief (a respected man) and leader of the "Dog Clan". According to his book, he eventually ascended to the highest-ranking war chief of the Crow Nation.
 “An often-told story has it that when the book appeared, a group of miners who were well-acquainted with Beckwourth, commissioned one of its members to pick up a copy while on a trip to San Francisco. But the man, being careless, got a copy of the Bible instead. In the evening, he was requested to read aloud from the long-awaited book, and opening it at random, he hit upon and read the story of Sampson and the foxes,” according to beckwourth.org.
“That’ll do!” one of the men cried. “I’d know that story for one of Jim’s lies anywhere!”
One local story, told by Beckwourth himself, involved the legend of Jimmy Camp. Beckwourth related a tale of Jimmy Boyer (other historians have said his last name was Hayes or Daugherty) “a little dwarf Irishman” who had established a cabin and fort about 10 miles east of what is now the center of Colorado Springs. Jimmy would trade items brought from ‘civilization’ to trade with the Indians for furs.
“His wagon train would follow a segment of the Cherokee Trail (before it was the Cherokee Trail) north from the Pueblo area, and his route was called Jimmy Camp Trail, which gave the name to Jimmy Camp Creek,” writes Perry Eberhart in “Ghosts of the Colorado Plains.”
Jimmy would then light a bonfire on the top of a hill to signal that he had returned and it was time to trade. By all accounts, the Indians liked and trusted Jimmy.
Sometime from 1833 to 1835, however, Jimmy was murdered by Mexican bandits, it is believed.
According to Beckwourth, he and Indian friends of Jimmy, tracked down the murders, slit their throats and hung them by their toes in a nearby tree.
Today, the James P. Beckwourth Mountian Club of Denver pays tribute to the noted storyteller.
“Jim crossed all cultural barriers during his 68 years, and the Club incorporates his life in its activities by storytelling, historical re-enactment and written materials,” says the club’s literature.
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Boss of the plains

Insulating pocket of air, ability to carry water if needed, extra protection for western weather

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

“Local legend makers would like us to believe that the original cowboy hat was created while John B. Stetson was camped along Monument Creek near the present day location of the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association building. That cannot be substantiated,” writes Loren R. Whittemore in “An Illustrated History of Ranching in the Pikes Peak Region.
The story is that John Stetson and companions, seeking benefits of a drier climate hunted in the area in the early 1860s. According to the legend, he tried to impress his hunting buddies by showing them how he could make cloth out of fur without weaving. He created an unusually large-brimmed hat with a high crown that he wore the rest of the trip and grew quite fond of. The hats benefits included an insulating pocket of air, the ability to carry water if needed, and extra protection for western weather.
Later, when he returned to Philadelphia, he began making and selling the hats and the rest, I guess, is history.
“In 1865, with $100, John B. Stetson rented a small room, bought tools he needed, bought $10 worth of fur and the John B. Stetson Hat Company was born. A year later the “Hat of the West” or the now famous “Boss of the Plains” hat was born and the name Stetson was on its way to becoming the mark of quality, durability, innovation and beauty,” according to the company’s web site.
An alternate version of the story holds that hat of that style was already being produced at Christy’s Hats from Frampton Cotrerell in Bristol, England.
“The main business was trading with the West Indies, making large brimmed felt hats for slaves harvesting sugar cane in the rainy season,” according to Wikipedia.
Christy’s, which owned the patent and Stetson, took the battle to the courts. Christy’s won that battle but apparently lost the war. By 1886 Stetson’s hat company was the largest in the world.
The authentic Stetson hat still enjoys widespread popularity in a great number of local and international venues and traditions. A flat-brimmed Stetson is included in the official uniform of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Red Serge. The hat replaced pith helmets that were worn until that time.
Locally, the receipt of a “Senior Stetson” at Colorado School of Mines has marked the beginning of the last year for engineers since 1905. The tradition originated for freshly graduated engineers to avoid having a clean hat that marked them as “greenhorns” in the mining industry.
Stetson Hat Company continues to make hats in their factory in Garland, Texas and the hats are among the most well known in the world.
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No respect for Ramona

County officials waged war against the vice in Ramona

 By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com
Named after Helen Hunt Jackson’s famous book, the Colorado town of Ramona is barely remembered -- though it never was able to command much respect.
“When General Palmer created Colorado Springs he stipulated there would be no boozing and sinning in his beautiful new city,” wrote Perry Eberhart in Ghosts of the Colorado Plains.
As result, most of the sinning and boozing occurred in Colorado City or Manitou Springs. But every so often, those cities would make efforts to “clean up” as well.
“In 1906, when the ‘decent folk’ swept Colorado City clean of all bordellos and other sin centers, the ‘gang’ moved just north of Colorado City. It was a scattered, shanty-type operation for a while, nothing substantial to shoot at by local officials,” said Eberhart.
By 1913, however, incorporation papers had been filed for the town of Ramona.
“There is no secret that the purpose of starting the new town is to have that town given over wholly to the perpetuation of the liquor traffic, and all of its attendant evils …” preached the Colorado City Iris at the time.
“Ramona, the new booze annex to Colorado City opened Monday Night in a blaze of glory, and according to the papers, ‘carriages met the cars at Fourth Street to carry patrons.’ But were the carriages on hand to haul them home – after the festivities ended,” noted the Colorado City Independent.
The town boundaries as they relate to present-day features were generally: on the south by St. Vrain Avenue, on the north by Cash La Poudre Street, the west a half block west of 26th Street and on the east by 23rd Street.
As an interesting side note, multiple sources including Ring Magazine lists boxing legend Jack Dempsey’s first official professional fight as taking place in Ramona on August 17, 1914, though many other sources credit him with additional forays as “Kid Blackie” in the mining camps of Colorado, Utah and Nevada. Dempsey fought Herman Young to a draw on that hot August day in Ramona.
Though county officials waged war against the vice in Ramona with frequent raids, arrests, fines and even an attempt to cut off its water source, it survived until January 6, 1916. Eventually, annexation and prohibition marked the end of the town of Ramona.
The Colorado City Independent wrote the obituary.
“No more will the musicians sit before the piano at Ramona and tickle the ivories, while men line up before the bar and keep time with the clink of glasses. No more will Colorado City officials be required to spend most of their time at the corner of Fourth and Colorado Avenue to act as a steering committee to pass the booze soaked hides, on down the line to Colorado Springs. The oasis has vanished from the desert and the thirsty souls must go to greener pastures or be satisfied with H2O,” lamented the Independent.

Ramona, during its wilder days in 1914.
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