The Utes of Ute Pass, Colorado

c 2014 by Jan MacKell Collins

For decades, Hollywood had movie fans believing all Indians were evil savages who ran around killing whites and committing barbaric acts. Such stereotyping has been countered by historians showing that America’s true natives were, like any culture, closely knit with their own society, religion and way of life that is in fact enviable. In Colorado, the Utes stand out as one of the friendliest tribes in the Indian nation. They also are the only indigenous Native Americans of Colorado. And, despite their reputation as a peaceful tribe, the Utes of Colorado were never violently conquered by another civilization. That isn’t to say they didn’t have their battles—beginning with early Spanish explorers—but it is rare to see an instance where the Utes started a fight. They just finished it.

Nobody really knows when Ute tribes first came to Colorado, or even where they migrated from. The Indians themselves simply say they have been here “since the beginning.” It is thought that the Ute nation is descended from the Desert culture, the Fremont Indians and perhaps even the Basket Makers, which would date their presence in Colorado to 10,000 years ago or more. Other sources speculate the Utes may have migrated from Mexico, since their native tongue is deemed Uto-Aztecan.

Throughout the 1600’s and 1700’s in Colorado, Utes both befriended and fought various incoming tribes, including Comanches, Apaches, and Navajos. Seven different tribes once thrived throughout the state, each with their own name, dialect and culture. The Utes commanded the mountainous regions of Colorado, guarding Ute Pass—one of the few ways to access the western portion of the state. It should be noted here that at last count, there were five areas officially known as Ute Pass. The pass referenced here today traverses a beautiful canyon west of Interstate 25 from Manitou Springs. Most recently, the area made international news for the Waldo Canyon wildfire in 2012 and the subsequent floods which created havoc along the pass in 2014.

In those early days, Manitou Springs at the bottom of the pass was regarded as a sacred sanctuary. Here, seemingly magical, bubbling springs flow from massive caverns below. The Utes believed a great god, Manitou, resided below the springs. Manitou’s breathing gave the springs bubbles and steam, bringing health to all who drank from them. To pay homage and bring good luck, the Utes made annual treks from the mountains to visit Manitou. Utes were adept at basketry, leather work and clay wares. They often left offerings of this nature, as well as beads and knives, for Manitou. Other tribes were permitted to pay homage as well, and springs were known as common ground among all nations. At the top of the pass near Florissant, however, immunity from war was forgotten; battles between the Utes and other tribes were common.

While the near the top of the pass Cripple Creek District is best known for its gold deposits and mining history, the Utes favored the area’s high country meadows as an abundant hunting ground for thousands of generations. Utes were hunters and gatherers, and the mountains offered an abundance of edible fauna, berries and wildlife. Because the District sits at an elevation close to 10,000 feet, however, the area did not make good winter quarters. The Utes spent their winters in the lower and warmer regions, such as northern New Mexico, once the snow began falling. Spring and fall were spent commuting and preparing for the alternate seasons.

After a treaty between the Utes and the Spanish was established in 1675, the Utes became accustomed to the presence of Spaniards, Mexicans and eventually, white settlers traipsing up and down Ute Pass. They traded freely with early explorers and weathered several historic events, including New Mexico Territorial Governor Juan Bautista de Anza’s quest to kill the Comanche leader Cuerno Verde in 1779, Zebulon Pike’s failed attempt to scale Pikes Peak in November of 1806, and Major Stephen H. Long’s successful climb to the top of the mountain in 1820. They also met such famous explorers as Kit Carson, explorer John C. Fremont, and English adventurer George F. Ruxton, all of whom traversed Ute Pass during the 1840’s.

The year 1859 saw the first use of Ute Pass by freighters. Hundreds of prospectors and merchants were making their way to the gold fields on the western slope of Colorado. Skirmishes between whites and Indians still occurred, but the occasional troubles hardly stopped people like Augusta and H.A.W. Tabor, who traversed the pass on their way to Leadville. Within a year, Ute Pass became known as the “Gateway to the Goldfields”. The Utes’ passiveness at the new flurry of activity was encouraged by their famed leader, Ouray, who encouraged friendships with white men. In 1863, Ouray served as an interpreter at the Conejos Peace Treaty and was subsequently appointed leader of the Tabeguache Utes. In 1873, he also assisted in negotiating the Brunot Treaty. Unfortunately many of these treaties, designed to bring peace between the Indians and the government, were later broken by the white men who agreed to them.

In the aftermath of the infamous Meeker Massacre of 1879, Ouray and another Ute, Buckskin Charlie, went to Washington D.C. to negotiate a peaceable end to the ordeal. When Ouray resigned his position as Ute leader a short time later, he appointed Buckskin Charlie his successor. Ouray died in 1880, but the town of Ouray on Colorado’s western slope was named for him. Ouray’s wife Chipeta also had two towns named for her, including the Ute Pass resort town of Chipita Park.

A Colorado native, Buckskin Charlie was orphaned by the age of 11. He became a warrior, participating in many battles against plains Indians. One skirmish left a bullet scar on his forehead. Later, Charlie served as a scout for the U.S. Army. He earned his famous nickname for the number of antelope he killed and subsequently skinned on the expedition. Buckskin Charlie reigned over the Utes for an amazing 56 years. Photographs of him often depict him wearing a moustache, a rare characteristic among Indians. Charlie encouraged his tribe to let their children be educated by whites and attend church services. He also spoke English and dressed in white men’s clothing when visiting Washington D.C.—even though the government noted his preference for the Ute tongue and his refusal to outlaw peyote and other ceremonial aspects of his native culture. Still, Charlie was patient and sensible in his dealings with U.S. officials, even when arguing over broken treaties.

As Charlie continued his negotiations, more and more whites migrated to Colorado. Throughout the years, the Utes had watched as early ranchers homesteaded on their treasured hunting grounds and began mining in the Cripple Creek District. By the 1890’s, when the District was formed, the Utes had lost their hold on the area altogether. Within a few short years, hundreds of prospect holes and mines were erasing the past. Two gulches, Papoose Gulch and Squaw Gulch, were so-named for the remains of an “aborigine woman” and a child that were found there. More than likely, they were actually Ute skeletons.

Indeed, the turn of the century held many changes for residents of the Pike’s Peak region. In 1912, the El Paso County Pioneer’s Association in Colorado Springs decided to dedicate the old Ute Pass trail to those who had used it long before any white man. Buckskin Charlie was invited to the ceremonies. Scores of Utes, dressed in full regalia, rode the pass. As the party passed into French Creek Valley just below Cascade, the Indians burst into ceremonial song. Buckskin Charlie led the pack, declaring, “I seventy years old and never been so happy.” Ute outposts were still visible along the pass as late as 1920.

Throughout his career, Buckskin Charlie maintained his outstanding reputation and personally met with seven United States presidents. He died in 1936, and some say his death was the last of the Indian frontier as Native Americans knew it. Although fewer in number, however, many Utes still live in Colorado, maintaining their peaceful lifestyles and ceremonial beliefs.

Utes and Colorado pioneers traverse Ute Pass in 1912.

The Towns We Love to Love

c 2014 by Jan MacKell Collins

There’s nothing quite so good as waking up on a sunny morning and hearing, “Wanna go 4-wheeling?” For me and my companion, whoever says it first, it’s nearly the same as hearing we just won a cruise. Except the only cruise we ever seem inclined to go on is the cruise we take over hundreds of miles of back roads. Yup, there’s nothing better than roaming a countryside without the luxury of pavement, eating out of a cooler, finding ghost towns, and collapsing at the end of the day either at a remote campsite or an historic motor court with plenty of cold drinks on hand.

These days, that last part is definitely a hit or miss situation. In the 30+ years we have spent—together and separately—bumping over faded pathways and careening around rock slide corners, we’ve seen a lot of old towns come and go, but mostly go. There are places where as recently as 20 years ago, lots of buildings were standing but now there are none. Places where vandalism, theft or new development has reared its ugly head with no respect for our past. Places that make us sad, but also places that make us happy because they are still standing and well-preserved. But having watched some of our favorite towns fade away, we’ve become a little more secretive about where they are, a little more vague about where we’ve been, and a little more hopeful that our beloved towns might last a little longer.

Prior to moving back to my native state of Arizona from Colorado, I spent decades rambling over precarious mountain passes, barely passable roads and overgrown trails in search of Colorado’s past. Unfortunately, with each passing year more fences appeared. Roads were gated. New homes were built right next to, and sometimes even on, cemeteries where the graves of the very pioneers who got us here lay forgotten. In the last five years I was there, aghast at no longer being able to access a place or encountering some new property owner who was too greedy to even recognize the true treasure they had, I heard myself muttering, “This is not the Colorado I fell in love with.” Now, in Arizona, I am quickly learning that the state has been too slow in preserving what they have left. Lots of ghost towns are still highly accessible, but the search and the trip to find them often yields nothing more than an empty field.

Fortunately, there are several alternatives to fighting against our places of the past facing imminent destruction. Evidence of this is becoming clear and more common in Colorado. One idea is to have a caretaker on-site during the months the town is accessible. They do this at Ashcroft, located near Aspen. The caretaker lives in what looks to be an original one-room cabin with no more than a bed, some furniture, water and some pegs to hang clothes on. For the right person, it’s the dream job of a lifetime, waking up each morning to the succulent scent of wild flowers, which are protected by law, and looking out the window at the magnificent old two-story hotel with its false front, which is also protected by law. Both laws would likely be violated on a regular basis if it weren’t for the caretaker.

Sometimes the best of both worlds are reached when an old ghost town is revived by residents. Such is the case with places like Bonanza and Crestone, north of Alamosa. Both have been occupied in recent years by summer dwellers, but now even a few die-hards are known to stick it out the year through. In some cases, towns are also protected by private owners who are often descendants of historic figures. Take Greenhorn, an 1840’s circa rest stop that later blossomed into a fur trading center and, even later, a small resort complete with a restaurant and zoo. The Fossceco family, residents since 1916, still own the land and have done their best to save the community’s buildings from falling apart.

St. Elmo is another classic example, albeit also a reason why historic preservation laws should be more stringent. Property owners obviously love their little town, with gracious signs asking visitors to stay in the street and avoid trespassing. But although more of the town remains than most other ghost towns, fires in the last two decades have destroyed some of the historic buildings. To make matters worse, newcomers in recent years have threatened the town’s historic fabric by expressing a desire to build modern homes amongst the old ones.

A lesson could easily be learned by observing what they are doing at Turret, another classic ghost town nestled up north of Salida. At Turret, the old town plat has been utilized to sell lots to new owners—with the agreement, however, that all new construction will follow the town’s historic aesthetics . That means no modern architecture, no electricity, and plenty of respect for what made this town what it was.

One place in particular that seems to have stood the test of time is Animas Forks, despite having no caretaker. Located between Lake City and Silverton, Animas Forks has managed to keep many of its buildings, including a landmark two-story home with a beautiful bay window. Although the town is located a good long way from civilization and lies in the path of some favorite off-road trails, and although hundreds of people walk into the house and to have their photo taken from the bay window, somehow it has prevailed.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is Ludlow, home of heart-wrenching, emotional strikes in 1914 that took the lives of several men, two women and eleven children. Situated on a remote county road between Walsenburg and Trinidad, the abandoned buildings of Ludlow are largely overshadowed by a beautiful granite monument depicting a miner, his wife and their child. In 2003, the monument was severely damaged when vandals chopped off the heads of the adult statues, including the woman’s arm. To the descendants of strike victims who still live in the area, the act was like vandalizing a veteran’s memorial wall. Supporters of the monument worked hard to raise funding to restore the statue, and a memorial event commemorated their efforts in 2005.

Thankfully, History Colorado (aka the Colorado Historical Society) continues to play a bigger part in preservation and stabilization efforts these days. Seems one can’t access any of the better known ghosts without seeing a sign regarding preservation efforts by the CHS. Sometimes the signs have obviously been there awhile, but they illustrate two wonderful ideas: the state is working diligently to save historic buildings, and the signs serve to deter vandals no matter how deserted the area appears.

Boggsville, Empire and Iron City are just some of the places receiving funding from the state. Founded in 1866, Boggsville served as the last home of explorer Kit Carson, as well as the county seat of Bent County. Since 1993, the state has been working to slowly but surely renovate the buildings at Boggsville, and the project is nearly complete. At Empire, located north of I-70 on the way to Blackhawk and Central City, four buildings that include Colorado’s oldest hotel, the Peck House, have been added to state and national registers. A rough and rocky road just before St. Elmo leads to the only remaining building at Iron City, a power plant that went under in about 1917 and was recently restored. A sign explaining the structure’s history ends with a most appropriate statement: “The historical heritage of the state of Colorado can only be preserved by the citizens themselves.”

So what to do? You can start by remembering the old adage about visiting ghost towns: Take only pictures, leave only footprints—unless the place is slated for demolition with no archeological digs or documentation planned. In that case, photograph what you find, carefully remove what artifacts you can with permission, document and photograph where you found them, and donate them to the nearest museum. There are indeed those wrapped in government bureaucracy who insist this last idea is wrong, and further submit that historic structures should never be moved in order to protect them from destruction. Better to know exactly where their history occurred, they say, than to move a building and confuse people as to the site of its original footprint. Let it fall. I disagree. After years of leaving something in place only to see it up for sale in a local shop or on EBay, I prefer being the rogue historian who saves a piece of history and assures it is preserved for all future generations to enjoy.

Better yet, joining local historical societies, History Colorado and Colorado Preservation Inc., the state’s leading preservation organization, will help keep you up to date and get you involved not only in finding ghost towns, but assisting in their preservation. Using a five-point criteria (significant events, significant persons, unique architectural points, geographic importance, and/or important discoveries related to prehistory or history), the History Colorado accepts nominations every year for everything from Indian campsites to trails to bridges and mountains to structures and even whole cities. To contact Colorado Preservation Inc., access their website at http://www.coloradopreservation.org. History Colorado can be accessed at http://www.coloradohistory.org.

In 2012 Anaconda, the last of over 20 abandoned towns in the famed Cripple Creek District of Colorado, was bulldozed and molded into the latest pit for a gold mine.

Hagerman Pass, Colorado Makes An Easy and Beautiful Trek

c 2014 by Jan MacKell

Portions of this article originally appeared in Colorado Central Magazine.

Just one of the great things about living in Colorado are the striking views. Indeed, the state offers amazing mountain vistas quite unlike anywhere else on earth. And, where best to take in such awe inspiring scenery than from a pleasing array of historic mountain passes? The pioneers of yesterday blazed their trails over rough and unforgiving terrain in search of gold, prosperity and new lives. Their efforts have resulted in numerous passes today that range from smooth and easy to challenging and dangerous. Hagerman Pass falls into the category of the former, offering a delightful mountain journey steeped in history.

Hagerman Pass is named for John J. Hagerman, builder of the Colorado Midland Railroad. The pass traverses the Continental Divide along the Sawatch Mountain Range west of Leadville. Here, the headwaters of the Arkansas River connect with the upper valley of the Frying Pan River above Basalt. In the years preceding Hagerman and his famous railroad, the pass was known as Frying Pan and had served as a foot trail between Leadville and the community of Basalt.

Hagerman himself hailed from Michigan and Wisconsin. In one of those places he contracted tuberculosis, high-tailing it to Colorado on his doctor’s advice in 1884. By then he already had at least some of his fortune, and Colorado seemed like the right place to spend it. Using his forthright business knowledge, Hagerman invested in mines around Leadville and Aspen and soon had even more money. Before long he was building the Colorado Midland, intended to be the biggest and best in Colorado.

With a peak elevation of 11,925 feet, the old Frying Pan Pass proved quite challenging when Hagerman decided to extend the Colorado Midland tracks over it in 1887. Ultimately the high-mountain trail proved impossible for railroad construction, so Hagerman decided to construct a tunnel underneath it instead. Many of the immigrants Hagerman hired to build the tunnel were Italians who settled at Douglass City, a shanty settlement that is still accessible along the Hagerman Hiking Trail. The town once hosted eight saloons, a dance hall and, allegedly, a post office—all clustered together on one main street.

For a time, Douglass City gained a reputation as being one of the rowdiest new towns in Colorado. There were no schools, churches, police or firemen. But there was a lot of wine and other libations. Soiled doves who were too jaded to work down in Leadville made their way to Douglass City, and shoot-outs and knife fights were common. According to author Marshall Sprague, the community met its end when the tunnel’s dynamite powder house blew up by accident.

On the other end of the Hagerman Tunnel was Ivanhoe, an even more uncomfortable town in which to live. The small camp was named for nearby Lake Ivanhoe, so-named by a Scotsman who thought it resembled Loch Ivanhoe in Scotland. Ivanhoe’s post office was established on April 26, 1888 and ran until June 13, 1894 as a postal and passenger station along the railroad. By then there were several cabins and railroad buildings there, but not much else in the way of accommodations.

Paying his laborers at Douglass City and Ivanhoe was just a fraction of Hagerman’s expenses. Shipping oak railroad ties from Missouri, bringing materials from Chicago and freighting everything over the rough roads from Leadville cost plenty. Also, Colorado’s tough winters didn’t help. When finished, the tunnel ran 2,151 feet from its beginnings over to Lake Ivanhoe and was soon heralded as the highest railroad tunnel in the world. It had also cost roughly $80,000 per mile to build, making it the most expensive road built to date. Construction on the railroad included two trestles, one of which spanned 1,100 feet and was 84 feet high. When complete, however, the new addition was the first standard-gauge railroad to traverse the Colorado Rocky Mountains.

In spite of the initial accolades, Hagerman Tunnel’s fame was short-lived. The Busk-Ivanhoe Tunnel had replaced it by 1893. This latter tunnel began construction in 1891. Admittedly, there were some advantages over the Hagerman: the Busk-Ivanhoe was lower in elevation, and thirteen snowsheds would help the trains travel through during heavy winters. A tiny working community, known as Busk, had established a post office in December of 1890 in anticipation of building the tunnel. But such an undertaking proved costly.

During construction of the tunnel, several workers who likely lived at Busk died. Among them were John Carlson, killed by falling rock in April of 1891 and Morris Donahue and George Hoffman, killed by an explosion in May. A man named Moore Allen was considered fatally injured in another accident later that month. When yet another man was crushed by falling rock in February of 1892, newspapers began calling the Busk-Ivanhoe Tunnel “the greatest life destroyer in the state.” Even more accidental deaths were reported through 1893, when the tunnel neared completion. During one ill-timed explosion in April, five men were killed at once.

The post office at Busk closed in 1894, shortly after the tunnel was completed. Hagerman had by then turned his attentions to Cripple Creek, where he had made several investments. His Isabella Gold Mine was coming under fire in the wake of Cripple Creek’s first labor wars, and Hagerman was called upon to represent other mine owners during negotiations. Soon the Santa Fe Railroad had become involved in the operations on Hagerman Pass. Promoters of the railroad were glad to announce that the new tunnel cut a full ten miles off of the trip to Salt Lake City, Utah—only a slight gain considering how many lives were lost building it.

Then in February of 1896, residents at Ivanhoe were witness to a train wreck. On the way from Leadville to Basalt, the train struck a rock in the track during a wild blizzard and the engine overturned. Engineer John Mead was crushed to death under the engine and the train was forced to return to Leadville until the tracks could be cleared. Despite the tragedy, an assessment of the company in June of 1896 valued the railroad at $6,000 per mile.

In 1897 the Midland took over operations of the Busk-Ivanhoe. Again, it was an expensive endeavor. At a cost of $1,250,000, questions were raised over repayment options on the loans needed to build the tunnel. For a time the old Hagerman Tunnel was brought back into use until negotiations could be settled. And in 1899, severe snows stopped traffic over the pass altogether from January 27 until late April.

By then Hagerman, whose investments in his Cripple Creek mines, property throughout Teller and El Paso Counties and even business dabblings New Mexico had brought him even more wealth, had sold almost all of his business interests to his son, Percy. John Hagerman died in Italy in 1909. Despite troubles with ownership and the expenses involved, the Colorado Midland continued chugging from Leadville to Basalt for a few more years. Ivanhoe’s post office reopened again in July of 1899 and lasted until 1912. Then it opened a third time in 1913, this time lasting until 1918 when the railroad was abandoned.

When the Colorado Midland Railroad abandoned its tracks over Hagerman Pass, Cripple Creek millionaire Albert E. Carlton stepped in. Carlton’s wealth first came from freighting and later from his many mine investments, and he had long ago become president of Cripple Creek’s First National Bank. The capitalist purchased the failed Colorado Midland shortly after it closed, took up the rails along Hagerman Pass and converted the rail bed into a wagon road at a cost of $25,000.

The road was next designated an official state automobile route and the Busk-Ivanhoe Tunnel was renamed the Carlton (spelled Carleton) in about 1924. The road ultimately fell into disuse when easier roads were built over the Continental Divide. In 1943, the tunnel was closed for good, but the old trail over Hagerman Pass had been sufficiently widened enough for continued access from Leadville to Basalt.

Today, Hagerman Pass is still highly accessible from Turquoise Lake near Leadville. The road follows the former Colorado Midland tracks as far as Hagerman Tunnel before veering off. Hikers can also still access the original railroad bed. Skinner Hut and Betty Bear Hut, built as part of the 10th Mountain Division Trail System, are available for use in both summer and winter. In Colorado Springs, the 1885 Hagerman Mansion on Cascade Avenue has been an apartment house since 1927, but is still exemplary of the grandiose projects Hagerman so struggled to achieve.

Photo: Hagerman Pass makes an excellent hike or 4-wheel excursion and offers scenic vistas, towering mountainsides and beautiful creeks.

The Two Lives of John C. Fremont

C 2014 by Jan MacKell Collins

Portions of this article originally appeared in the Frontier Gazette.

In Arizona, John C. Fremont is remembered for serving as Territorial Governor from 1878 to 1881. Prior to taking office, however, he made history for decades as one of the premier explorers of the American West. Born in 1813, Fremont aspired to do great things. At the age of 25 he was appointed to the Corps of Topographical Engineers and began his career as a surveyor.

Following his 1841 marriage Jessie Benton, daughter of a Missouri senator, Fremont began planning his first expedition. In 1842 he led 22 men to explore the Platte River between Missouri and the Rocky Mountains. His guide was fellow explorer Kit Carson, whom he had met in St. Louis. Carson knew the way to South Pass, Wyoming as well as Colorado to the south. The endeavor was a success.

Fremont spent much time in Colorado the next year, planning a second expedition to California in 1843. Finding supplies lacking due to Indian uprisings in New Mexico, Fremont finally found assistance at an American farming community just south of Colorado Springs. “They had a fine stock of cattle,” he later reported, “and furnished us with an abundance of excellent milk.” The group successfully made it to California.

The adventurer undertook a third expedition in 1845. This time he led a group of 62 men from St. Louis to locate the source of the Arkansas River in Colorado. Rather than complete the project, however, Fremont decided to return to California and made a brazen attempt to overtake the territory on behalf of the United States. He was promptly arrested for defying orders and court marshaled.

By late 1848 Fremont had returned to Colorado to organize yet another expedition—this time to see if a railroad could pass through the Rocky Mountains. The trip was financed by Senator Benton, but Fremont could only gather about 30 men after seasoned settlers warned of an especially harsh winter. Carson was also unavailable, so Fremont stubbornly hired a mountain man to guide the group. The party soon became lost. The men were forced to eat their mules, belts and mocassins. Ten died. The survivors used pots to shovel through 30-foot drifts before making their way to Taos.

Fremont eventually returned to California and was elected Senator in 1850. The appointment only lasted for six months. By 1853 he was back in Colorado where he organized one last expedition to Utah, overcoming another harsh winter to complete the trip. In 1856 he next ran for president against James Buchanan. But his image was marred by his previous behavior, the failed third expedition and his position as an abolitionist. After losing the election, Fremont boldly attempted to abolish slavery on his own without seeking President Lincoln’s blessing. Once again he was court marshaled.

Fremont eventually received a presidential pardon, but his downward spiral continued. A railroad investment failed. By 1870 the family was broke, relying on wife Jessie’s writing career. Then in 1878, Fremont was appointed 5th Territorial Governor of Arizona. The family moved into a roomy home at Gurley and Marina Streets in Prescott. The rent was $90, but it gave Jessie a pleasant place to receive guests.
Unfortunately, the new governor was frequently absent while trying to regain his wealth. In 1881 Fremont was asked to either resume his duties as governor or resign. He chose the latter, moving to California a final time in 1887 and dying during a trip to New York in 1890, just months after receiving a pension from the government.
Today there are counties, towns, schools and festivals all over the West named for Fremont, the “Great Pathfinder”. His home in Prescott was relocated to Sharlot Hall Museum in 1971, where it remains a testament to a determined man whose epitaph should probably read, “He meant well.”

Central City Represents Colorado’s Earliest Mining Days

c 2014 by Jan MacKell Collins

When John H. Gregory made the first gold discovery in the central mining belt on May 6, 1859, little did he know that Central City and other towns like it would soon be dotting the landscape. In fact, Central City and its surrounding “Richest Square Mile on Earth” grew to rival Denver, as well as any other city in Colorado’s mountains. In actuality, Central City sprang from the loins of nearby Mountain City, founded due to John Gregory’s discovery of gold in 1859. Rocky Mountain News publisher William Byers suggested the name of the new camp be tailored to its location in the center of the other gold camps. In October of 1869 the new town managed to have its post office moved from Mountain City; hence Central City was born. In time, Central City grew to be the county seat of Gilpin County and bigger than Denver, at least for a little while.

The mines around Central City produced half a billion dollars in minerals, mostly gold. Yarns of gold discoveries are still plentiful today, including the time Pat Casey struck it rich while digging a grave on Quartz Hill. Central City’s colorful citizens built their homes wherever they could find flat ground, whether it be in the bottom of the canyon or perched high on a mountainside. So closely situated were many homes that the joke around Central City was that “a fella can’t spit tobaccy juice out his front door without putting out the fire in his neighbor’s chimney.”

No doubt Central City was a wild mining town, but it was also a cultural center with much entertainment. The first theater was erected in 1861, with plenty of competition. The grand Teller House was built in 1872. A number celebrities passed through, including Horace Greeley, Mark Twain, midget General Tom Thumb, P.T. Barnum, and George Pullman, who liked the idea of miners folding their bunks into the walls in their tiny cabins to make extra space and incorporated the idea into his train cars. Ulysses S. Grant visited Central City both before and during his presidency, when he was treated to a walk over a silver-bricked sidewalk in front of the Teller House. In addition, U.S. senators Henry Teller, Jerome Chaffee and W.A. Clark came from Gregory Gulch, as did Colorado Senator Henry R. Wolcott.

The Colorado Central Railroad, which had reached Black Hawk in 1872, took several more years to reach Central City. Travel writer Isabella Bird, who visited Clear Creek Canyon in 1873, marveled at the narrow gauge tracks of the Colorado Central Railroad perched precariously along the canyon walls and called the railroad “a curiosity of engineering.”

In May 1874 a fire in the city’s Chinatown nearly wiped out Central City, causing $500,000 worth of damage. Most of the businesses burned, but the Teller House and five other commercial buildings survived. In the fire’s wake, the Belvedere Theater was built and Central City decided an Opera House was in order too. The Central City Opera House opened next to the Teller House in 1878. Performers there in the early days included Edwin Booth, Lotta Crabtee, Christine Nilsson, Madam Janauschek, Emma Abbott and California’s famous Helena Modjeska.

By 1887, Central’s population had climbed to 2,625. The figure may have included Mountain City, which was annexed to Central in 1880. During its heyday, Central City was said to have more than 5,000 people. By 1895 Central City boasted 20 saloons, including two breweries. In 1897, Ignatz Meyer took a building that had formerly housed restaurants, a funeral parlor, the post office and a newspaper and converted it into a saloon. The building later served as a grocery store before being purchased by Emmy Wilson in 1947 and called the Glory Hole. Emmy is best remembered for hanging through the a hole in the ceiling, thus allowing her patrons to gaze up her skirt. The Glory Hole still exists today.

Another landmark is the Gold Coin Saloon, also constructed in 1897. In more recent decades, the Gold Coin became known for bartender “Smiling Jack” Brown who would buy you a drink if you could make him smile (this author failed to do so during a visit in about 1989). In the 1970’s the campy film, “The Dutchess and the Dirtwater Fox” starring Goldie Hawn and George Segal, was filmed there.

Towns near Central City included American City, which in 1911 was the scene of at least one movie filmed by the Selig-Polyscope Picture Company of Chicago and starring leading lady Myrtle Stedman and actor Tom Mix. American City was part of the Pine Creek Mining District, whose headquarters were at the town of Apex a few miles away. Apex also had two hotels, the Palace Dance Hall, a newspaper, a school and no less than two churches. The Pine Creek District also supported mining camps like Elk Park, Twelve Mile, Kingston, South Kingston, Nugget, and its own Pine Creek.

Other towns around Central City included Black Hawk, Bortonsberg, Clifford, Eureka and Dogtown, Gregory Gulch with seven small mining camps, Mammoth City and Missouri Flats, which was absorbed by Central. There were also Springfield, Wide Awake and Yankee Bar. More important cities of the time included Russell Gulch, where William Green Russell made his second strike during the beginning of Colorado’s gold boom in 1859. Most of the gold at Russell Gulch was mined within just a few years, but mining activity continued for over two decades.

Another town was Nevadaville, one of Colorado’s oldest mining towns. Founded in 1859, the population soon numbered at over 1,000. A fire in 1861 did little to deter the town from growing; there were 6,000 people there in 1864. For a time Nevadaville was renamed Bald Mountain, but stubborn miners refused to acknowledge the post office’s change. Miners in particular enjoyed calling Nevadaville home. The town’s peak population was 1200 in the late 1890’s while Central City stayed steady with 3,114 souls in 1900.

As prohibition loomed on the horizon, Central City struggled to stay alive. Bootlegging became popular, especially around Russell Gulch. The last Colorado Central Train came through in 1931. Around that time, author Muriel Sybil Wolle recalled being the only guest of Senator Teller during her stay at the Teller House with its exquisite “Face on the Barroom Floor”. Later that year, former Governor John Evans’ daughter Anne purchased the Teller, restored it to its former glory, and operated it as part of the Central City Opera Association. The Opera House, which had closed some years before, reopened in 1932. Players have included have included Lillian Gish, Buffalo Bill Cody, Walter Huston, Henry Ward Beecher, Julia Harris, Mae West, Shirley Booth, Ruth Gordon, Helen Hayes, and George Gobel.

Even with the Opera House’s success, the city fell on such hard times that many homes in suburban Central City were demolished in order to avoid paying taxes on them. In 1970 the
population hit an all time low at 226. That figure had doubled by 2000, ten years after gambling was legalized in Central City and Blackhawk. The resident population still enjoys casino action, but also has a local grocery and other favorite hangouts.

Today, Mountain City also survives as a suburb of Central City. In its heyday, Mountain City was the subject of a riotous play at Central City’s Opera House, titled “Did You Ever Send Your Wife to Mountain City?” Today, the old town has found new life as a refuge for historic buildings that have been threatened with demolition in and around Blackhawk, Central City and other parts of the district.