Smoldering heap before the water system worked

Progress didn't arrive quite soon enough. 

Or the fires, beat it to town.

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Within an eight-week span, in early 1907, the Northern Colorado town of Ault suffered devastating fires that left three-quarters of the growing community's business district a smoldering heap.  The king-sized fires in the still-small town destroyed at least 13 businesses in three separate, but successive fires.
 "How fire number one started is still a mystery, as matter of fact, so are the second and third fires," wrote historian Dean Krakel in a 1961 paper for the Denver Westerners' Roundup. "All were discovered after midnight. Shots and terrifying shouts for help brought half-dressed, B.V.D. wearing citizens with water pails in hand."
But it wasn't necessarily a surprise.
"After the turn of the century, Ault grew like Topsy. Flimsy buildings flanked by creaking windmills were scattered along 'Main Street,'" asserts Krakel.
"The town had a social problem too, since a group of unshaven outcasts from Missouri took over, finding its law slightly unnerved. Honky-tonks, bootleg whiskey, and poker games were in high style, until the decent element banded together in a charter of incorporation. After the election of May of 1904, things were never quite the same," Krakel wrote.
One of the first items on the town board's agenda was the re-organization of the hose company and laying plans to bolster the water works.
"As months whizzed by, various improvements were made to entice newcomers. Business places even boasted small-watted electric light bulbs — the latest thing in conveniences."
But 1906 came and went, and still no pressure in the water pipes.
"Next year," recorded the board clerk in the town's minutes. "We'll have regular fire hydrants with new water lines to hook up."
Shortly after New Years Day in 1907, taxpayers in town voted to bond the community and expand the water system. But not soon enough.
"None was more concerned with the increasing incendiary hazards than Night Watchman William Fry. He warned merchants that workers on spud sorting crews needed watching because of their careless 'Saturday Night' habits. "Another thing' he pointed out was the constant threat of freight trains posed. 'Sometimes,' he cautioned. 'Engines on sidetracks puff sparks clean across town.'"
And there were other reasons for the work. The Ault Advertiser editorial called attention to the problems as early as September 17, 1904, noting that “First of all, we want a water system for our town. Several methods are now being investigated and discussed. We want water and must have it, as our business houses are suffering for lack of a proper supply.”
September 30, 1904, an article says: “The irrigating ditch crossing Main Street has washed the side of the ditch beyond its plank covering and causing a hole to cave in the surface of the street.” Water was already a significant issue for this plains town.
But progress didn't arrive quite soon enough. Or the fires, beat it to town.
"Pence's Hotel was the initial loss. It went up like a tinder box in the wee hours of January 23. It was small consolation to R. Lincoln Pence that the adjacent structures were saved. However, the next time the alarm was given, things were different," wrote Krakel. "While men worked frantically thaw out pumps, a bitter February wind fanned spreading flames white hot and within an hour, five buildings in the heart of downtown became a blazing inferno. Windows cracked and exploded from the intense heat like it was the Fourth of July, and nearby structures smouldered tottering on the brink of ignition.
In two more hours, Gilchrest Lumber Company was engulfed lock, stock and barrel and more building added to the conflagration.
"Flames skyrocketed hundreds of feet in the air, and in Greeley, twelve miles away, crowds gazed from vantage points thinking Eaton, four mile closer, was for sure in a bad fix," says Krakel.
"Citizens form cordons near the end of streets and at openings between buildings to prevent foolishness. Merchants entering buildings from the rear worked feverishly to salvage what they could, while each home and outbuilding had its own roof-top spark stompper."
When the wind stopped, the firefighters finally made headway, and by morning, the town's people were sorting through the ashes.
Then, the third and last fire broke out.
By this time, the community had as seasoned a crew of fire fighters as existed anywhere in the region.
Only one building and part of another was destroyed. As the town's sage reportedly put it, however. "Hell, there ain't nothin' left to burn."
Tales circulated on the cause of the fires for years.
Like ... the phantom night rider, or the laughing hobo. Yet, Night Watchman Fry is said to have maintained to his dying day, that things might have been different, "if only them fellers in the Town Hall had listened to his plan and acted sooner."
Finally in 1907,  a well was dug, two 17,000 gallon storage tanks put into place and pumping equipment purchased. The brickyard was adjacent to the site chosen for the waterworks, so the source of building material was native brick. The Ault Pump House was then erected to cover the well, tanks and equipment, as well as the Fire Department’s equipment. This included two hose carts with 600 feet of 2½ inch cotton hose each and 600 feet of hose at the pumping station, all new. The church bell or the night watchman firing his revolver served as the fire alarm. When a new municipal building was constructed in 1909, the Fire Department moved into the space set aside for them after occupying the Pump House from 1907 to 1909. The building continued in its use as the municipal water storage and supply facility. The Sanborn Map of 1908 shows that Ault, population 900, established a functional water system, according to the Colorado State Register of Historic Properties application for the Ault Pumphouse.
Listed on the Colorado State Register of Historic Properties since 2007, the historic brick pump house sits atop what was once the town’s first well.  Through this History Colorado State Historical Fund grant from 2014, community members construct plans to transform the historic pump house into the site of the Ault Area History Museum through window, masonry and roof rehabilitation. 


Additional information about the Ault Pump House:

"Ault lies in the path of the once traveled Trappers Trail being located north of Forts St. Vrain, Lupton and Vasquez and south of Fort Laramie. During this era horses and wagons, traders and trappers, explorers, travelers and miners used the Trail. The grasslands brought cattlemen and the rich soil attracted farmers. The Water Supply and Storage Company was incorporated to supply water via a ditch system for these newly arrived farmers raising potatoes and sugar beets.The Union Pacific Railroad arrived in Colorado in 1869, and on November 11, 1869, the tracks reached the present location of Ault," says grant applications for nearly $137,000 of work provide by History Colorado.
During the 1880s, ranchers had to drive their cattle to Eaton for shipment. Difficulties arose with fences and farmers; the solution brought a railroad spur to Ault. During the Panic of 1893, Alexander M. Ault, a grain buyer, installed platform scales and agreed to buy and ship wheat and cattle. The community was first called McCallister and then Burgdorf, but the citizens voted to name the town Ault. Mail reached the town by train in 1898, though the first depot wasn’t built until 1903. The community grew out of the existence of the Union Pacific Railroad, making it a crossroads for rural farms and ranches. Ault became a hub to market agricultural products at the turn of the twentieth century.
"The exact pathways of distribution to the bustling businesses and residences defines the existence of a healthy, economically sound community. On September 27, 1909, 5,000 people attended the Third Annual Ault Harvest Carnival, Potato Roast and Free Barbecue. There were barrels of water with cups attached," according to the Grant application to History Colorado.
Over the years, the Pump House site is remembered as a place where Boy Scouts camped and the town allowed travelers to use the rest stop and camp. Groups of gypsies were also welcome. Children used the Pump House as a place to “hang out” and parents used the “give you to the gypsies” threat as child behavior control. The initial water system sufficed for several decades but the supply could not meet the ever-increasing demands. In 1937-38, the well could not be made deeper because of shale. Two new wells were dug and water tunneled to the original well at the Pump House. The town again upgraded the water system in 1952 with new water mains and sewer lines.
Residents wanted softer, better quality water, so in February 1965, Ault started buying water from the North Weld Water District. A 500,000 gallon storage tank was ordered and erected in 1976 at the rear of the Pump House property. At the same time, a concrete block equipment building was added at the northeastern portion of the Pump House.
During recent years, progress in transportation and communication has caused much of the business to shift to urban areas and Ault has become a bedroom community. "In agreement with the town trustees, the Ault Area Historical Museum has been organized to create a museum and preserve this building as a place of local pride. The goal is to eventually light the well and provide a transparent cover so it can be viewed as an attraction. This is the appropriate building for a community museum and a permanent marker of the area’s early development."

 Photo Information:
1. Ault, in August of 1906, prior to the fires.
2. Ault, after the second fire of 1907.

Crying fire in a crowded mining camp

Nothing scared the residents more than the dreaded cry of fire.

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Colorado is not alone in fearing fire. But with the ramshackle, haphazard, tent-city way many of the mining districts sprang into being, coupled with high altitude, windy, dry weather in the state — entire cities could disappear in a puff of smoke.
“Nothing scared the residents more than the dreaded cry of fire.” according to Duane A. Smith in his recent book, San Juan Legacy: Life in the Mining Camps. “Camps and towns all heard it eventually. It was hoped that the fire laddies were up to the challenge.”
The fire could come from anywhere.
“A forest fire which was started from a camp fire last evening had been burning all day north of the mining camp of Gold Hill, a town of 500 inhabitants, fifteen miles from here. The timber was dry as powder, and a fierce wind carried it over five miles of dense timber in a short time,” read the Nov. 16, 1894, dispatch of the New York Times from Boulder.
“Fifty people came into Boulder this afternoon in wagons from Gold Hill. They report that the business men and miners were carrying what goods and property the could into the mining tunnels, and had abandoned hope of saving their stores and their dwellings.”
Early property loss estimates for the first day of that fire was over $1.5 million.
“The residents of Gold Hill, who have not come to Boulder, have assembled at the top of Horsefel Mountain, and are watching the progress of the flames as they consume their former homes. The wind is blowing furiously, and drives the fire before it in larges sheets of flame,” said the Times.
With the threat of fire came the development of various innovative warning systems.
Cripple Creek, for example, after suffering through two devastating fires early in its existence, was particularly jumpy.
“The town itself was visible from almost all of the railroads and mines …” wrote turn-of-the-century-era resident Raymond Colwell in 1962. “Occasionally, we would be awakened by a chorus of short, sharp toots from trains and mines in the dead of night, and we’d roll out to see where the fire was. A fire, even though just starting and very small, almost sure to be seen by some train crew or mine engineer who would start his whistle going, with the chorus taken up by others as they heard the alarm,” according to Colwell.
“Another commonly used fire alarm was five or six pistol shots as fast as the gun could be discharged. The townspeople were naturally fire conscious. Some of them remembered the big fires of 1896, and everyone realized that like all mining camps, another such conflagration could occur at any time.”
But, in addition to whistles and pistol shots, other ‘modern’ alarm methods were beginning to be used as well.
“I have a card listing the locations of the 26 fire alarm boxes in Cripple Creek, about 1903 or 1904,” Colwell said. “It would probably be difficult now to even locate some of the street intersections themselves, and I’m sure most of the buildings near them have been town down. The boxes were numbered from 5 to 45, and when a box was pulled, the number rang in all the stations, and also on a big bell on the Central station which could be heard all over town. Box Number 12, for instance would be one stroke, a pause, two strokes then a longer interval, and repeat. That was great for us kids, because if we were not otherwise engaged we knew just exactly where to head to see the excitement.”
Getting to the fire was also dangerous in the mining camps at times.
“Driving a spirited, excited team to a fire wagon could become quite a trick on some of the streets in Cripple Creek, especially when there was snow on the ground. Going uphill, the men used to hop off and push when the going got rough, but the hardest thing was to hold the outfit back when going downhill. I well remember one bad crackup when No. 2, The Old Town Company, came down Fourth Street and tried to turn on Eaton. The horses, a beautiful team, slid around and into the fire plug there and turned over. I believe the driver was fatally hurt and two other firemen put in the hospital. The wagon was completely wrecked, and I think one of the horses had to be shot,” recalled Colwell.
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Burning butts and ring of fire in the hole

“Fire is the most tolerable third party,” wrote Henry David Thoreau in 1853. But apparently several contrary aspects weren’t considered out there in the woods near Walden Pond.
Case in point: The following story points out a negative ramification of careless administration. Pardon my junior high sense of humor.
Under the heading of “Burning butt starts fire in outdoor toilet,” ran the recent Associated Press story about a fire near Jackson Hole ski area in Wyoming.
“Plastic fixtures melted in the mid-mountain mens room at Jackson Hole Mountain Resort, but the fire did not spread beyond the toilet pit,” according to The Associated Press.
Apparently someone pitched a cigarette in the facility that can only be reached by snow machine or on skis.
“The fire smoldered overnight before ski patrollers tried to put it out by dumping snow down the toilet. Firefighters arrived around 10 a.m. and began dumping 5-gallon jugs of water down.”
The fire took several hours to put out and the toilet uses a compost system. Signs in the facility clearly warn people not to throw cigarettes down it.
“It was too hot to be sitting on the toilet, that’s for sure,” AP quoted Teton Village Fire Chief Watt Hyer.
In a somewhat related matter, the family of country music legend Johnny Cash have successfully blocked an attempt to use his hit song “Ring of Fire” to promote hemorrhoid relief products.
According to the Nashville Tennessean, the idea had been backed by Merle Kilgore, who co-wrote the song with Cash’s wife, June Carter Cash.
The BBC News World Edition said he had not intended to upset the family and Kilgore at first thought it was funny because Johnny Cash had often joked about hemorrhoids when introducing the song on stage.
Cash’s daughter Rosanne said the family “would never allow the song to be demeaned like that.”
Both Johnny and June Carter Cash died in 2003.
There is always a question of sensibilities. Different people have different ideas about what is acceptable and what is not. Careful decision s on controversial matters —good and bad — tend to put the decision makers on the hot seat. I think I agree with George Bernard Shaw who wrote in 1903, “The more things a man is ashamed of, the more respectable he is.”
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