Difficulties at the saloon locally

'I'm hanging John Barley Corn'

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Ernest Hemingway often said he drank to make other people more interesting. A little more than 100 years ago, it became increasing difficult to get a drink here in Colorado.  And here in Monument ...
Well, off and on, between the Whiskey men and temperance — it was interesting.

“In 1912, an amendment to prevent the manufacture and sale of liquor was submitted to the electorate,” wrote Carl Ubbelohde, Maxine Benson and Duane A. Smith in A Colorado History.

“The voters defeated the proposal. But that defeat stirred the various groups to common action. Submerging their differences, they sponsored another amendment two years later. This time the voters answered the question of ratification affirmatively, approving an experiment in social engineering, despite a two-to-one rejection of the amendment in Denver. The ‘wet’ forces in the capital city threatened to use the new ‘home rule’ prerogatives of the city to escape the effect of the law, but on Jan 1, 1916, prohibition became the rules in Denver and all of Colorado.”

Colorado was joined by six other states, (Iowa, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Arkansas, and South Carolina) at that stroke of midnight as 1500 saloons across the state, 500 hotels, restaurant and drugstores stopped selling, and 12 beer breweries closed.

Locally, here in Monument, liquor and bad characters seemed to go hand in hand.

Lucillle Lavelett documented it this way in "Through the Years at Monument" and "Monument's Faded Neighbor Communities and Its Folk Lore."

"Monument always had its saloons and whiskey men. Two murders were committed in Limbach saloon. A feud between Daniel Davidson and Francis Brown developed over a cattle transaction, each accused the other of stealing cattle, On Oct. 21, 1876, they met in the saloon and exchanged words. Davidson drew his pistol and shot Brown twice. Brown died almost instantly.

"He is buried in the Monument Cemetery, and his stone reads: 'He was killed.' A trial was held in February, 1877. The jury found Davidson guilty. His lawyers obtained a writ of supersedeos and he was released on bond of $5,000. Almost three years of litigation followed. The second trial began on Feb. 13, 1880 and on Feb, 21, Davidson was found not guilty. He was elected to the Town Board in 1881 and Davidson was the promoter of the ordinance passed prohibiting the shooting of firearms in town, and increasing liquor licenses $300 per year," Lavelett wrote.

"The second murder committed in a saloon was a feud between Rube Pribble and a Mr. Neff.  Mr. Pribble accused Neff of stealing a plow from him. Mr. Pribble shot and killed Neff. On Sunday morning when he was shown Neff's body, his only words were, "I have killed my best friend."

Pribble was found guilty and sentenced to life in the penitentiary. On the second trial it was brought out Neff had not stolen the plow but a third party had, and hid it in the barn. Pribble, this time was sentenced to 25 years, but died of pneumonia in a short time," reported Lavelett.

With prohibition, many saloons became lunch counters and soft drink fountains and for the first time, women (other than those working the saloons) were welcomed.

In Monument, however, Limbach's Saloon became a pool hall operated by Bob Burell for a few years, starting in 1916, on the east side of Front Street. Saloons already had periodically faced challenges here in town.

"The license fee to sell liquor in 1897 was $500. The town had a very active Women's Christian Temperance Union (W.C. T.U.) There was always battles going on between Temperance folks and Whiskey men," Lavelett wrote.

"The Whiskey men usually won every town election, except in April 1896. That year Ordinance No. 33 was passed prohibiting selling liquor in town. The W.C.T.U. folks sent a thank you resolution to Board Members to be written in the minutes. Evidently the Whiskey men gave the Temperance a bad time for it. One by one, Temperance resigned, until Whiskey got power again and Ordinance No. 36 repealed Ordinance No. 33, and the saloons were open again. One W.C.T.U. lady would gather up the whiskey bottles and hang them by the neck on her fence and put up a sign saying 'I am hanging John Barley Corn.'"

It had been an ongoing battle, according to Lavelett.

As early as  1881, the Monument Saloon was fined for keeping the window shades down on Sunday.

"Monument did not have a "peeping Tom" but there was a woman that lived in town who was very much opposed to saloons, and she was named 'peeping Sal.' She wanted to know who the men were who spent their evenings at the saloon, so she could give their wives a bad time. Most every night, she would go peek in the windows of the saloon, and several times the men had seen her."

Peeping Sal was known for disappearing down a narrow, one-way passage between the saloon and another nearby building, when spotted and she then remained in hiding. Reportedly, she was cured of the habit by saloon patrons pretending to be oblivious, urinating out of second story window into the hiding place.

"That was the cure for the peeping and the end of the sarcastic remarks to the ladies who husbands went to the saloon," Lavelett reported.

Photo Information:
1. Bob Burrel's Pool Hall, about 1917, man with the hat unknown, man with cap John Pribble.

2. Limbach Saloon, circa 1885.

Potato key from Inca Empire, to Ireland, to Divide country

Photo1:

Special trains would bring visitors from near and far to the Monument Potato Bake in 1892.


Photo 2:

Beef, pork, lamb,  and much were a huge draw for the 1892 Monument Potato Bake.


Photo 3:

As many as 60 wagon loads a day could be seen in Monument during harvest.



Photo 4:

One potato might weigh as much as 3.25 pounds in the heyday of harvest.

For Decades, early October was Potato Bake time in Monument

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Potato Bake Day in Monument was celebrated every year for decades in the early history of Monument, just about this time of year, in the first few weeks in October usually. The event helped put Monument and the Divide Country on the map nationally, and established the area's reputation as a top producer in Colorado and surrounding states.
"Yesterday was big day for Monument for the annual Potato Bake," wrote the Oct. 11, 1890 Colorado Springs Herald. "Fully 1500 people came from all parts near and far to enjoy the hospitality. The Mt. Herman band furnished the music for the occasion. The menu was two roast beefs, four roast sheep, two roast hogs, and fifty bushels of potatoes, plenty of home-made bread, butter, cakes, pies, and coffee."
Local historian Lucille Lavelett noted that all this was free as farmers and merchants donated everything, and a committee of men dug the pits, baked the potatoes, and roasted the meat.
"It was held West of the Rio Grande tracks and East of Monument Lake.  In the afternoon there was horseshoe pitching, tugs of war, and a baseball game. At night, a dance in Walker Hall finished the day," Lavelett said.
All in celebration of the remarkable plant that can grow in tremendous range of climates and altitudes and produce more than any other staple crop. The potato, of course, is so basic, it is possible for people to live on them alone. It has changed the arc of history from the rise of the Inca Empire in Peru, to the Potato Wars in Europe of the 17th and 18th centuries, and on to "Great Hunger" in the middle of the 19th century Ireland.
"The Divide potatoes were known as the best potatoes in the country. It was the chief industry," writes Lavelett. "In 1877, the greatest number of potatoes raised to the acre were 25,000 pounds by Paton Wilson. The average number of pounds were from 4 to 6 thousand per acre. In 1875, potatoes sold for 75 cents a hundred. One potato would weigh 3 and quarter pounds ... At potato harvest time, it wasn't uncommon to see 60 wagon loads of potatoes in a day coming in from Table Rock and Gwillimville areas to be stored in Walker's large potato cellar, or to be shipped out. At first Denver and Colorado Springs were the only markets for the Divide potatoes, but Monument soon became a permanent shipping point," Lavelett said.
By 1889, Monument was shipping as many as 380 rail cars of champion potatoes to Kansas, Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. And special trains were arranged with railroads to bring people to the Bake.
Unfortunately, a blight, thought to have been caused by abundant wild rose bushes locally, eventually took a toll on the big potato crops, and like "Gorta Mor," or Great Hunger, in Ireland, completely changed the local agricultural picture.
In Ireland's case, more than three million people were entirely dependent on the potato, and the failure of the crop left them destitute. Of a better  fortune, the Palmer Divide Country also had rye, and oats, and corn growing.  Local sawmill's blade whirred.  Dairies produced milk, cream, butter and cheese. Beef cattle proliferated.
Monument moved on from the potatoes, though the Bake was still an annual occurrence as late as 1917.
Ah, the Irish moved on as well.

Discovery, marking unknown in local cemetery

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Existence is all about discovery, knowing the unknown. The longer one lives, the more mysterious life seems. The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear, is fear of the unknown.

Here in Monument, as in all over, the local cemetery helps us mark an existence, capture a passing, pay respect. If you think about it, it is a part of our life, as much as it is a part of loved one's death.

For at least five years, volunteer John Howe and others, have been working on a project at the Monument Cemetery.

"I started working on the paperwork, trying to get the files in order more than five years ago," Howe said last week in the cemetery. "It was a fool's errand. Impossible. So many have worked on it over the years, and there is so much time passed. So many unknowns."

To be a little more precise, Howe, who is also on the Monument Board of Trustees,  and others have identified and labeled 189 unknowns — possible graves that names cannot be attached. They used technology to identify that something is there, underground.

"I would love to know their history," he said. "Some of them are a real mystery." 

He cited uncontrollable instances, such as the train wreck in 1895, where someone might have needed buried locally, without the burial party knowing for sure, who was committed to earth.

In most cases, when there was a question, and when technology was able to tell them something was there, they tried to mark the spaces in some manner. Many have temporary plaster of Paris markers that are subject to the ravages of time and weather. 

Other temporary and permanent markers can become buried, or displaced by growing turf, blowing dirt, vegetation and trees and bushes and even maintenance.

"It is supposed to be perpetual care, but it is difficult, as time passes."

The oldest grave that Howe knows of, is near the center of the cemetery, and is attributed to Alonzo Welty, for 1860. The Welty family (including another Alonzo), were later well-known in the Cripple Creek district.

A wealth of local history resides within the boundaries of the Monument Cemetery, with sprinkling of names like Noe, Lavelett, Pettigrew, and Gossage, and McShane. The five acres were donated by C.R. Bissell in 1886, but burials occurred there long before that. Approximately only 150 plots remain there, and 15 in crematory garden.

It is well-visited by family and friends of the deceased. 

"About 80 percent of the time when I'm here, someone else is too. They come from all over, Wyoming, Kansas, points East. One local guy comes here every day," Howe said.

Photo information:  

Top photo: Recent tree thinning and maintenance is evident in the midst of the cemetary.

Photo 2: Disrepair and damaged stones is an ongoing problem.

Photo 3: Howe points to a rich history that exists among the markers.

Photo 4: Historic ironwork surrounds some graves but can make maintenance difficult.

Photo 5: Unknown graves are, in some cases, are marked by plaster of Paris temporary makers.

Photo 6: Alonzo Welty's grave is the oldest known burial located near the center of the cemetery.

Photo 7: Another unknown grave suffers the ravages of time and weather.