Love, Colorado: a Ranching and Mining Paradise

c 2023 by Jan MacKell Collins

Portions of this article are excerpted from Lost Ghost Towns of Teller County

The engaging, high-country community of Love began as a local ranch. With the coming of a toll road and later a railroad, however, Love blossomed into a well known community and pit stop on the way to the famous Cripple Creek District. The story of Love begins in 1875 when the Cheyenne & Beaver Toll Road was established. The road ran through the ranch of John Love, a young rancher who had homesteaded roughly five and a half miles west of the settlement of Clyde a few years prior. In the 1880 census, John and Charles Love are found on their ranch raising cattle. John Love also was the son of Colorado Springs postmaster Joel F. Love, who was appointed to that position in 1888.

Although ranching was the main staple at Love, mines began appearing in the area as the gold boom in the Cripple Creek District began in 1891. Early newspapers mentioned that Winfield Scott Stratton, destined to become the district’s first millionaire, stayed or stopped at the Love Ranch on his way to the area before making his millions. That wasn’t so unusual; Love’s ranch often served as a stopover for those traveling to and from Cripple Creek, and particular mention has been made that guests often became too intoxicated at the ranch to make it all the way to their destinations.

About half a mile from the ranch, a small community of was being settled by 1892. This place was alternately known as Beaver Park since it was situated along Beaver Creek. There was already a town called Beaver Park being platted closer to the Cripple Creek District, however, and the two were sometimes confused. When a graveyard was established, it was called Beaver Creek Cemetery. Unfortunately, the exact location of Love’s cemetery has proven to be quite elusive. Various graveyard directories for Teller County have pinpointed the place as being just northwest of Pringtime Reservoir on the old Love ranch. Most of those buried there are children, including the infant son of Henry Charles and Margaret Rathke, as well as Roy Harold McCallister, an eight-year old who died after an accidental shooting. The burials took place in 1896 and 1897, respectively. Other children buried in the cemetery include Ray Rathke, two babies from the Waters family and of course members of the Love family.

As the Cripple Creek District continued developing, an increase in traffic and population merited opening a post office in December of 1894. To avoid conflicts with Beaver Park, the new post office was christened Love. As rumors began that the new Colorado Springs & Cripple Creek District Railroad was going to be laying tracks near Love, the Colorado Springs Mill opened to service smaller mines in the area.

By 1896, John Love and his family had moved to Delta on Colorado’s western slope. The move may have been a wise choice, for soon Love was subject to the lawlessness often suffered by rural towns. Early in 1898, Constable Michael Hayes of the city of Victor went to Love to serve a warrant on Charles Nichols for some unknown crime. Nichols shot the officer, who died from his wounds. The killer was sentenced to life at the state penitentiary in Canon City. Six months into his sentence he tried to escape, but was apprehended. In June of 1899, Nichols tried to escape once again. This time he was successful, and because his wife still lived at Love, authorities banked on the outlaw trying to come home. A posse soon descended upon the village. “It is said that when Nichols is met by the posse, some one will shoot,” predicted the Cripple Creek Morning Times, “and it is rumored around [Cripple Creek] Nichols will never be taken alive, unless he is taken by surprise.” The next day, the paper reported that Nichols had indeed been apprehended, but at the town of Rockvale near Canon City. He surrendered without incident, but Canon City Deputy Sheriff Thomas Tobin was accidentally shot by another officer. He was expected to live.

One other bizarre incident marred the otherwise placid life at Love. On the same day Nichols was apprehended, a group of fishermen found the body of Adolph Huffman lodged against a large rock in West Beaver creek a mile and a half below Love. A scissor and tool sharpener by trade, Huffman had been seen some weeks before “lying behind an embankment apparently asleep, with his grinding machine standing nearby in front of a house at or near Love.” Nobody, apparently, had seen him since. Coroner Dunn of Victor and two assistants were called. Unfortunately Huffman was too decomposed to transport back to Victor for burial preparation, so the men loaded the body into a coffin and buried it near the spot where it was found.

Although most members of the community were ranchers by 1899, the occasional miner continued taking up residence as well. Love was remote enough, however, that the close-nit community had few worries about their village becoming a booming metropolis like those towns in the nearby Cripple Creek District. By 1900 Love still had its post office, as well as a store and a school taught by Miss Nora Smith. The population was seventy five, although citizens were listed in the Cripple Creek District Directory under the jurisdiction of the nearest town, Altman. Residents consisted of miners and timber men, postmaster and grocer F.W. Cady, and Samuel Cashmaker of the Love Saloon.

Love began declining in 1901, as evidenced by Postmaster Cady applying for a post office at Clyde. The post office closed in 1902, and the Cripple Creek District Directory still put the population at seventy five people. Most of them were miners, cowboys and ranchers. There was also a dairy serving up eggs, butter and cream. Love’s slow decline coincided with that of the Cripple Creek District. When the Colorado Springs & Cripple Creek District Railroad ceased service past the community in 1920, most residents moved away. Today the town lies within the privately owned Beaver Park Ranch. Nothing remains of the community except the old Love school and a wonderful old barn, which are both on private property.

The Story of Lanter City, Colorado

c 2023 by Jan MacKell Collins

Portions of this article appear in Lost Ghost Towns of Teller County, Colorado.

Alternately known as Lanter, Lantern, Lander’s, Landres and Landen, Lanter City hoped to become the next thriving metropolis in Teller County. Alas, the effort was a failure. The town first bore mention in 1896, but the few records about this long-gone community are obscure. Lanter City, and has been described as being located on Pikes Peak, near the toll road leading to the top of the mountain. BLM land records show the town to be located in the vicinity of Crystal Creek Reservoir, on Glen Cove and South Catamount Creeks. Roads from Lanter City probably led not just to Ute Pass, but also the Pikes Peak Toll Road and perhaps even Edlowe between Woodland Park and Divide.

 Around the turn of the century, the Fountain Creek Mining District was formed in the area that would later include Lanter City. Though only four miles square, the district was comprised of thirty eight claims. At that time, the land on which Lanter City was situated was owned by Henry Law. For three days, November 7, 8 and 9, 1900, surveyor L.J. Carrington surveyed, platted and laid out the town in the vicinity of the North Star Gold Mining Company. First, Second and Third Streets were intersected by Carrington, Main and Parshall Avenues.

 Lanter City’s desire to grow was indicated by a November, 1900 ad in the Colorado Springs Gazette. “Wanted,” the advertisement read, “Men and women to engage in all kinds of business at Lanter City in the Fountain mining district five miles north of Pikes Peak. One shipper and lots of good prospects. Take stage at Woodland Park. For information address Tyler and McDowell, Woodland Park, Colo.” The ad was presumably taken out by Robert Lanter, who appeared in various news articles about the budding boomtown.

Response to the advertisement was apparently positive, for on November 30 Robert Beers, who had purchased some nearby  land in 1891, platted his own Robert Beers Addition. The addition created 5th, 6th and 7th Streets, as well as Hartman Street. The new activity spurred more articles; the December 3rd edition of the Colorado Springs Gazette identified the “camp” as being located near Cascade in El Paso County, but “to the north of Pikes Peak.” In fact, the article wondered if Lanter City was not destined to be the next Cripple Creek. “Local mining men have been rather indifferent until very lately but it certainly must be admitted now that the camp…at least calls for respectful attention,” said the Gazette. Of particular interest, according to the article, was that gold was being found in the area. The news was enough to entice a group from Victor in the Cripple Creek District to hire one of their “experts” to go have a look. The man found several claims and figured that ore in the area was worth between $20 and $80 per ton.

In the end, county records show that Henry Law was able to sell only eight of the lots at Lanter City, to four different buyers. During the town’s heyday, however, there were twenty homes, a livery stable and a blacksmith shop. News of the town continued drifting into newspapers. “Ed Weston of Lanter City was in [Colorado Springs] Sunday,” read an article in January of 1901. “Mr. Weston, with Messs. McDowell, Foster and Wheat, have leased the Rico lode and will proceed at once to find what is in it.” On February 27, another article hinted a post office was soon to be established, but that never happened. Other news articles told of “Uncle Billy” Parshall who staked the Louise claim in April, and progress on the McCleary brothers’ mine in May. Also in May, fourteen more lots were sold at Lanter City. By October, plans were underway to build a steam plant on Lord and Dean’s claim just southwest of town.

Unfortunately, the gold mines around Lanter City simply weren’t enough to create the boom everyone was hoping for. Aside from gold mining, Lanter City’s other main industry was intended to be logging, until the Pike National Forest was established in 1907 and the homesteaders at Lanter City there came to be regarded as trespassers. Thus, in 1908 Henry Law bought back the lots of Lanter City and sold his city to the Empire Water and Power Company for just $3,000. The company planned to build four reservoirs, but eventually sold the property to the City of Colorado Springs in 1930. Lanter City was vacated for good, and five years later, South Catamount Reservoir covered about half of the old townsite.

Researchers Kimberly Carsell and Kimberle Long believed they found five or so ruins at the site in 2000, as well as a large “glory hole” at the south end of the valley. Any remaining  mines were sealed by the Colorado Division of Reclamation and Mining Safety in 2008. Today there is nothing left of the town, only a dream of what could have been.

The plat map for Lanter City shows what might have become the “next Cripple Creek”

Adeline Hornbek: Woman With Backbone

c 2023 by Jan MacKell Collins

Picture coming to a desolate, lonely place with little or no knowledge of the land around you. Imagine building a home in such a spot while securing some means of support and survival. You are alone with four children, and your nearest neighbor is two miles away. It is solely up to you to survive in a foreign and undeveloped land. For Adeline Hornbek, these imaginings were very real. Adeline is the most commonly recognized settler in the Florissant region, where she settled in 1878. Not only was she unique as the first homesteader in the area; she also stands out as a courageous woman who knew what she wanted and got it.

 Born in Massachusetts in 1833, Adeline (nee Warfield) married Simon Harker in 1858 in Arkansas. The couple was living in the Indian Territory of Oklahoma when their first two children, Frank and Anna, were born. By 1861 they were living in Denver, Colorado, and the following year Adeline filed for 160 acres of land two miles south of Florissant in Teller County. But they were still in Denver when another son, George, was born in 1863. The following year, Simon Harker died sometime after the Great Denver Flood.

Even without a husband, Adeline became prominent in financial affairs and managed to build up substantial wealth for a woman in her times. She remarried in 1866 to Elliot “Ellie” Hornbek and bore another son, Elliot Jr. But Elliot apparently left Adeline high and dry in Colorado Springs in about 1875. Two years later, Adeline and her children headed to the homestead property near Florissant.

Adeline built her impressive ranch house on her homestead two miles south of town, on what is now Teller County Highway One. Her wealth permitted her to build bigger and better than other homesteaders. Subsequently, the two story home, which still stands today, contains four bedrooms, a parlor and a full kitchen including a large pantry. Water was hauled from nearby Grape Creek for cooking and washing. Other buildings were built as well: a milk house, a chicken coop, a large corral, stables and a root cellar. The ranch was completed in about 1878, when it was valued at a whopping $1,200.

Adeline insulated her home with 1879 newspapers, many of which remain on the walls today. The papers also served to keep dust from blowing between the chinked log walls. In some areas, Adeline was able to wallpaper her walls, a luxury few women in her circumstances enjoyed. Also, most of the buildings and especially her home, were built with care that is indicative she hired skilled craftsmen to do the work. She was also able to hire at least two or three hands to help around the ranch. Besides raising cattle and horses, Adeline also grew potatoes, vegetables and hay.

By these means, Adeline was able to support herself while becoming a well-known citizen in Florissant. In 1880, she served on the school board, and even provided room and board to a local schoolteacher, Rose Cunningham. She also worked at the general store in Florissant, and was active enough in civic affairs she merited mention in both the Crystal Peak Beacon and the Florissant Eagle, both published in Florissant. All of her children except for Frank, who was now grown, continued living with her and worked as ranch hands. Adeline’s social life not only consisted of the time she spent in Florissant, but also through the occasional parties and gatherings she hosted at her ranch.

Five years later, only Elliott remained at home, prompting Adeline to hire three other ranch hands who lived on her property: James Reid, Frank Burnham and Elisha Woody. Adeline kept so busy that she likely rarely left the area, save for 1889, when her daughter, Anna, died in Meeker. Ten years later, Adeline something quite odd for the time: at the age of 66 she married Frederick B. Stizkel, a German immigrant who may have been in her employ. The marriage was not so strange, but notably Stizkel was nearly 20 years younger than Adeline. This, unfortunately, left her at odds with her family and even some of her friends.

In fact, so disgruntled was Adeline’s family that legend says they declined to buy her a headstone when she died from a stroke in 1905. For years, Adeline’s grave at Four Mile Cemetery was marked with a brass plate until the early 2000’s, when a marble gravestone was purchased for her. Left with the ranch, Fred Stizkel remarried in Cripple Creek in 1906, but was living in Denver when he divorced in 1909. He remarried again, and died in 1926. He is buried in Wheatridge.

After Fred left the homestead, historians tell that various ranchers – James Lafferty, the Harry family and Palmer John Singer – owned the ranch through the years . A “well house” was added to the kitchen in 1909, but much of the original ranch house remained virtually untouched. With time, the remaining outbuildings were torn down or fell into decay, except for the root cellar which remains dug into a nearby hillside. Other area buildings were moved onto the property, a project which continued after the National Park Service acquired the ranch in 1973 and opened the Hornbek Homestead for tours.

In 1976, workers restoring the ranch were dismayed to find that someone broke in during the night and stole the home’s contents. In time, both the antiques and the foundation have been replaced. The furnishings are simple but practical and represent how Adeline likely lived during her twenty seven years at the ranch. Unfortunately, a second incident happened in 2010 when, during the night, thieves stole six wagon wheels from two antique wagons sitting in front of Adeline’s home. Two other wagon wheels were destroyed in the effort to remove them. Both wagons also were damaged. A $1,000 reward was offered for any information about the theft, but the vandals were never caught.

Today, visitors are welcome at the Hornbek Homestead year round, but Adeline’s home is only open to the public on weekends between June and September, and occasionally at Christmas. It is well worth a visit to enjoy the legacy of a lady ahead of her time.

Image: The Hornbek Homestead in 2005. Copyright Jan MacKell Collins.

Dairy, Mining & Crime at Spring Creek, Colorado

c 2023 by Jan MacKell Collins

Portions of this article are from Cripple Creek District: Last of Colorado’s Gold Booms and Lost Ghost Towns of Colorado 

Located on the outskirts of today’s Cripple Creek Mountain Estates west of Cripple Creek, Spring Creek’s early beginnings came from several mining claims in the area. While not exactly in the Cripple Creek District proper, the community provided important services to the residents of Cripple Creek and the rest of the district. The tiny hamlet was located along its namesake creek in a pleasant and quiet valley. The main road skirting the creek was dotted with tidy little houses. A wagon road cut through the valley between Copper Mountain and Mineral Hill, providing easy access to Cripple Creek.

Spring Creek’s beginnings are marked by its little cemetery, which was established in 1893. In all, fourteen to sixteen people were entombed there over time. Locals who spent time exploring Spring Creek as teens remember seeing five or six wooden grave markers, which have long since disappeared. Some also remember a wrought iron fence surrounding the graveyard. Today, even the one granite tombstone of the burial ground has been buried by the deep woods around it.

On the newspaper front, the first mention of Spring Creek was in the Cripple Creek Morning Times of December 6, 1895, when the Modoc Mine was recorded as selling a mining deed to the Spring Creek Gold Mining and Milling Company just a month before. There was little other news, as Spring Creek never grew large nor prominent. The community never did have a post office or even a newspaper. If it had, Jacob Abby most likely would have been postmaster since he was one of the longest residents of the community.

In the early days, Abby partnered with Ed Neppel. But it is Abby who is most often mentioned in a handful of notes about Spring Creek, and it is known he operated one of three dairies there. He also dabbled in mining, and with good reason. In January of 1896, the Morning Times revealed that the Mineral Hill Tunnel Company was “quietly” digging a tunnel from Spring Creek, through Mineral Hill and “directly to the new Midland Terminal depot in Cripple Creek.” Work had just started, but “solid formation has not been reached.”

In the end the tunnel never materialized. The only news in Spring Creek during 1896 was that Abby’s five year old son, Lloyd, died. The child was buried in the little cemetery, supposedly alongside two other siblings named Hazel and Clare. Later, Jacob named the Little Lloyd mining claim after his son. Other claims filed by Abby include the Little Annie, Little Ellen, Little Emma, Little Jessie and the Little Mary. Thus by 1897, Abby was better known as the partial owner of several mining claims.

Spring Creek was just far enough away from law enforcement authorities in Cripple Creek for some rather odd crimes to occur. On New Year’s Day in 1898, for instance, a most gruesome discovery was made at the home of Annie Robinson on Spring Creek. Robinson’s large log home, which was occupied by herself and two young children, had burned to the ground. A Morning Times reporter and neighbor, W.S. Carmele, investigated and found charred bones amongst the ruins. Then in June, the Times reported,

Officers last night effected the capture of the man who has been deranged for some days, and has eluded captures, staying in the country near Spring Creek. He was brought to this city and locked up, charged with insanity. 

Last, in August, stolen goods were recovered from the Spring Creek cabin of Sherman Crumley, one of three brothers who, the Morning Times charged, “have been responsible for many a depredation in this district for the past two years.” Crumley’s cohorts, a man named Purdy and one Charley Ripley, had already been apprehended following the theft of some saddles and harnesses from a Mr. Harker. Three days later, it was reported that sheriffs Frank Boynton and Tom McMahon had found more stolen goods in a cabin near Sherman’s Spring Creek home, known to be one of his “hiding places.”

The crime wave in Spring Creek had subsided by 1899, and newspapers reported only on the mines around the community throughout the year. Because it was not officially considered part of the Cripple Creek District, Spring Creek is not even mentioned in city directories until 1900 when the Abbys, plus forty other people, were listed as residing there. Jacob Abby now worked as a carpenter, but there also were two dairies, the Union run by Fred Desplaines and the Midway, owned by Charles Warner. Twenty three miners lived at Spring Creek too. Their children attended a schoolhouse on the south slope of Copper Mountain. Miss Alberta Smith, who lived in Cripple Creek, traveled over the saddle daily to teach them. There were also Edward Tealon and his nineteen-year-old wife Belle who ran a saloon. Belle’s brother, John Parr, was the watering hole’s bartender.

Jacob Abby continued dabbling in mining, but was trying his hand at farming by 1910. The total population of Spring Creek that year was around eighty people, but folks gradually began moving away as the Cripple Creek District’s mines began playing out. By 1920 the Abbys were at, or considered part of, Gillett where Jacob returned to carpentry. Mary died in 1927 and Jacob died in 1934.

Throughout the 1930’s and 40’s, Spring Creek continued to shrink, although many of the community’s cabins were still occupied as late as the the 1950’s and 1960’s. Around that same time, however, many of the buildings were dismantled or moved into Cripple Creek. One of them is located near Golden and B Street today. The remaining buildings at Spring Creek have silently sunken into the grass, and a few modern homes have appeared in the area since the 1990’s.

Image: Little Lloyd Abby’s grave as it appeared in 1996. c Jan MacKell Collins

Strange Happenings at Colorado’s Spinney Mill

c 2023 by Jan MacKell Collins

Portions of this article have appeared in Lost Ghost Towns of Teller County

As the gold boom at Colorado’s famous Cripple Creek District in Teller County during the 1890’s unfolded, scads of camps, big and small, were quickly established as hundreds of prospect holes appeared in the hills around the district. Although much of the activity centered in the vicinity of Mt. Pisgah, other outlying areas also were settled during the boom, at least for a short time. One of these was the ill-fated resort town of Beaver Park, which was platted but never really settled by 1893. In fact not much happened around Beaver Park at all, save for a couple of stamp mills – special mills constructed to crush gold ore instead of grinding it. One of them, Spinney Mill, was built by some men identified only as “Mssrs. Spinney.”

The Fairplay Flume newspaper at Fairplay, in its August 31, 1893 issue, would report that “the Spinney Stamp Mill at Cripple Creek has been started and is a complete success.” Accordingly, the Cripple Creek District’s first official directory in 1893 listed the mill as being located on Beaver Creek, some four and a half miles from Cripple Creek, just east of the budding railroad town of Gillett, and near the budding town of Grassy which would eventually be renamed Cameron. But while Spinney Mill was initially an important addition to the district’s gold boom, it appeared to fail to amount to much in the coming years, when other mills were constructed closer to the district’s mines. Even so, some mighty odd occurrences took place around Spinney Mill from time to time, just enough to merit mention of the place from time to time.

Although a few miners and millers lived at Spinney’s Mill, the first real news about the mill came during the district’s tumultuous labor war of 1894. Mine owners and managers wanted to extend the work day to nine hours at the same rate of pay, an idea which outraged miners. Their point was emphasized in January with the kidnapping of Isabella Mine manager D.E. or H.C. Locke, the first to implement the nine hour day. In January, the Buena Vista Herald reported that:

D.E. Locke, manager of the Isabella Mining Company, which property is located on Bull Hill, was met at or near the Taylor boarding house a few minutes after 10 o’clock Saturday morning, while on his way to the property, by about 100 miners, quickly taken from his cart, relieved of his side arms and walked down to the Spinney mill, where he was told to get down on his knees and solemnly declare that never, so long as he lived, would he again put foot on Bull Hill.

Locke started to protest, but upon being shown a rope he agreed to the demand. The manager was then escorted “down the canon [sic] several miles,” given his horse, and released with instructions to head for Colorado Springs without looking back. This he died, stirring up great excitement when he rode into town late that night.

In October of 1894, the Cripple Creek Morning Journal reported, Dr. S. F. Shannon and a Dr. Carrington had partnered to purchase Spinney Mill, which would be processing ore from Winfield Scott Stratton’s Independence Mine, as well as another property called the Plymouth Rock and Independence. Likely due to the wear and tear suffered by crushing rock, the Spinney Mill was “thoroughly retrofitted and improved” in 1895 as a small settlement sprang up around it. Referred to as “Spinney,” the camp was large enough to have a school, yet too small to have its own post office. It was simply too remote. 

Being so far from the heart of the Cripple Creek District made Spinney Mill a target for crime over time. On a July evening in 1896, for instance, three masked men stopped the Kuykendall stage just a quarter of a mile from Spinney Mill. Fourteen men, four women and driver George Worden were aboard when a man accosted the coach with a Winchester, telling Worden to stop and warning him, “If you pull a line [reign], I will shoot you.” Two other men then appeared, brandishing revolvers. The passengers were made to exit the coach and line up, whereupon the men’s pockets were emptied.

The women might have been robbed as well, but Mrs. Joseph Gandolfo of Cripple Creek fainted. This alarmed the robbers a bit, who instead turned their attentions to the coach. Thankfully, they completely missed two pocketbooks that had been hidden under the seat by their owners. The thieves allowed their victims to “go ahead” before riding quickly in the other direction. The coach resumed its trip to Cripple Creek—although two of the men actually remained behind to look for money they had discreetly tossed out the window upon seeing the masked men. The thieves, who came away with about $500 and ten watches, were believed to be three escaped prisoners from the Victor jail.

Spinney Mill hung on for a few more years, receiving another facelift in 1896 before the school was finally abandoned in 1898. The mill was still being used as of 1900 when a third lawless, yet puzzling, incident occurred. Laborers Ed Ash and J. Kirk were working at a pumping station near the mill when seven mounted masked men suddenly appeared. The group ordered Ash and Kirk to quit working and marched them to Spinney Mill. Five of the men rode off towards Cripple Creek, but the remaining two escorted Ash and Kirk to “the half way house” somewhere nearby. There, the kidnappers called their victims a couple of “lying scamps” and ordered them to walk to Colorado Springs and never return. Ash and Kirk continued on to Colorado Springs to report the incident. They were “beaten up some,” according to the Aspen Tribune, but otherwise unharmed. The mystery of why they were kidnapped remained unknown.

Only a few miners and blacksmith James Wells were living at Spinney Mill during 1900. Further evidence that someone still lived there came in 1901, when a sudden ferocious cloudburst broke the reservoirs of the Victor water works. “The great wave of water rolled down the gulch, wiping out three dwelling houses near the Spinney Mill and breaking against the new steel concrete dam of the Pikes Peak Power Company two miles below,” stated the Colorado Transcript newspaper in its May 22 issue. That was the last mention of Spinney Mill. Whatever was left of it was torn down 1905. It’s demise marked the end of the last of the earliest mills that once marked the Cripple Creek District.

Some believe the far-off ruins in this image may be Spinney Mill, but others aren’t so sure.

Midway, a Halfway Point in Colorado’s Cripple Creek District

c 2023 by Jan MacKell Collins

Portions of this article first appeared in Lost Ghost Towns of Teller County, Colorado.

In the vast expanse of the historic Cripple Creek District, literally dozens of camps, placenames and whistlestops popped up within a radius of just 24 square miles. None were quite so important, however, as Midway. The community was so-named because it was conveniently located about halfway between Victor and Cripple Creek, and likely came about shortly after the Cripple Creek District Interurban Line, aka the High Line, was established. The line ran hourly between 5:00 a.m. and 2:00 a.m. daily, with stops at Midway. The elevation measured 10,487 feet, making the High Line the highest interurban railroad in North America. From Midway, one could see majestic views of the Cripple Creek District, as well as Pikes Peak and the Sangre de Cristo mountains some distance away.

Although Midway was never intended to be more than a stop for miners commuting between their homes and area mines, railcars that were meant to hold no more than forty passengers often carried upwards of one hundred men through the small camp. By about 1896, Archie McKillip and Ed Doyle had built the Grand View Saloon at Midway, providing a place for miners to stay warm and have a drink before catching a ride or, perhaps, after a long day’s work.

Eventually, a handful of cabins surrounded the Grand View Saloon. Their residents numbered about fifty people, many of them colorful characters. One of them was “Bathless Bill,” a “mucker, skinner, and dance hall sinner” who was particularly known for the pungent odor permeating his clothing, and body. Miner Rufus Porter, aka “The Hard Rock Miner,” wrote a most delightful poem about Bill. The ballad recounts that Bill’s claim paid off, and on a night while buying rounds of drinks, Bill’s friends challenged him to take a bath. Bill met the challenge for a refreshing change, filling his tub with bottles of expensive champagne at a cost of $1,400. Bill’s long-needed soaking turned the champagne black, but the story goes that:

“He dipped a handful up,

And damn his hide, his grin was wide

As he slurped sup after sup

At last all clean like a dance hall queen

Old Bill stepped out to rub—

He’d tasted the wine and said it was fine

And they all made a dive for the tub.

Bill stood there bright, his skin as white

As lilies in the rain—

Admirin’ his wealth, they drank to his health

In that filthy black champagne.” 

Midway never did have a post office; in 1900, residents could pick up their mail at the nearby town of Altman instead. Aside from the Grand View Saloon, there was also an eatery, appropriately named the Midway Restaurant. Things were relatively quiet at Midway for a number of years. A grocery and blacksmith were present by 1912, and remained in business through at least 1916. There was also “French Blanche” LaCroix, whose home was located across from the Grand View Saloon. A French immigrant and prostitute by trade, Blanche had once worked for Cripple Creek saloon owner Morris Durant. When Durant’s wife found out the two were having an affair, she threw acid in Blanche’s face, scarring her badly. Blanche moved to Midway, where she initially served miners before retiring and becoming somewhat of a recluse. Locals remembered seeing her from a distance, sitting in the afternoon sun so wrinkles would eventually mask her scars. They also noted that she wore a brown veil when out in public. 

Although Blanche’s face frightened certain children of the Cripple Creek District, others recalled visiting her and eating her delicious cookies. In time, Blanche’s only other neighbor was Robert T. “Monty” Montgomery, a miner who lived in a tiny cabin across from the Grand View Saloon. The two dated for a time, until Blanche caught Monty seeing another former working girl named Annie Bowers from Independence. Blanche and Annie stayed friends, but Blanche never spoke to Monty again. 

Blanche eventually moved to Victor. By the time she died in 1959, Midway was long abandoned. As late as 1994 much of the Grand View Saloon remained intact, but the building and the rest of Midway were bulldozed in 2001 by modern mining operations. The exception was French Blanche’s cabin, which the City of Cripple Creek was able to save and move to town. In 2010, the cabin was given to the Cripple Creek District Museum, where today it is furnished to illustrate the way Blanche kept it when she lived there.

Image: French Blanche LeCroix stands in front of the old Grand View Saloon at Midway.

Putting the “L” in Lawrence, Colorado

c 2023 by Jan MacKell Collins

Portions of this article are from Lost Ghost Towns of Teller County, Colorado

The Cripple Creek District of Colorado lies high on the backside of Pikes Peak and fairly spills over with some of the most fascinating history in the west. Die-hard lovers of the Cripple Creek District’s fascinating history will tell you: Cripple Creek got the glory, but it was Victor that had the gold. Indeed, if it weren’t for the hundreds of mines within a stone’s throw of that city, Cripple Creek never would have grown to be the first-class city it aspired to be over a century ago. It is not surprising then, that in those early days the very first town to be platted in the District was Lawrence, which eventually evolved into a Victor suburb.

Lawrence was carved from a portion of Victor C. Adams’ cattle ranch, which had been formed back in 1888. Born in Kentucky in 1853, Adams had lived in Missouri before coming to Colorado. In 1880 he was working as a surveyor in Silver Cliff, in southern Colorado, but soon moved to his new homestead on the southeast slope of Squaw Mountain. By the time of the gold boom in the Cripple Creek District in 1891, Adams was very familiar with the old Cheyenne & Beaver Toll Road over today’s Gold Camp Road from Colorado Springs.

In 1891 Magdalene S. Raynolds, the wife of a prominent banker in Canon City to the south, took an interest in Adams’ ranch as a prime spot for a new town in the Cripple Creek District. Raynolds’ husband, Frank, had founded the Fremont County National Bank at Canon City back in 1874. Mrs. Raynolds, along with her husband’s business partner Dana Lawrence, decided to visit the area. A good portion of Adams’ ranch was on a large, flat meadow and skirted by Wilson Creek. The area was indeed ideal.

On January 4, 1892, Mrs. Raynolds purchased thirty acres of the Adams homestead. The town of Lawrence was platted on January 5, and named for Dana Lawrence. This early date confirms that Lawrence was the first official town in the Cripple Creek District. Shortly afterwards, a stage stop was constructed at the new town so travelers could easily reach the town from Canon City and Cripple Creek. Lawrence was laid out on a grid that was, not so ironically, “L” shaped. The main streets included such presidential names as Lincoln and Cleveland, but also Wilson Avenue for Wilson Creek and of course Raynolds Avenue for the Raynolds family.

It was no surprise that Dana Lawrence’s name was bestowed upon the new town, for he appears to have been more than a business partner to the Raynolds family. As early as 1887, Lawrence was secretary of the Raynolds Cattle Company. Frank Raynolds was president. When Magdalene Raynolds gave birth to a son just six months after the Lawrence plat was filed, the baby was named Dana Lawrence. The last reference to Dana Lawrence the partner, however, appears in some 1894 court documents filed in Fremont County. The documents concerned some water rights and confirmed that Lawrence still owned a portion of the Raynolds Cattle Company.

As of the 1900 census the Raynolds were still in Canon City with their five children. As they graduated high school, each child was sent to prestigious Colorado College in Colorado Springs. At least one of them, an adopted daughter named Pansy, also attended Columbia University. Following the death of Frank Raynolds in 1906, Magdalene took over as president of the Fremont County National Bank.

There is nothing to suggest that the wealthy Raynolds family, nor Dana Lawrence, ever lived at Lawrence in the Cripple Creek District. Rather, some of the earliest settlers were the McCormack family, who settled near the town in 1891 and soon formed a colony numbering over 100 Scotsmen. Upon arriving in the Cripple Creek District, the McCormacks changed the spelling of their name to McCormick in order to pass themselves off as Irishmen. Why? Because in those early days, the people of the District quickly established racial class among its communities. Scotsmen were viewed as foreigners. The Irish were not.

Lawrence’s post office opened on February 3. Other businesses included Bert Cave’s general merchandise store, a laundry and a restaurant. The short-lived Lawrence Miner newspaper reported the news. Two early roads led straight to Lawrence: the Canon City Road along Wilson Creek, and the Florence Road, a.k.a. Phantom Canyon Road. Promoters of both roads also proposed building separate railroads: the Canon City & Lawrence and the Florence Railroad. Preliminary reports for the Canon City & Lawrence Railroad resulted in three studies; in all three cases, surveyors of the hair-raising, narrow trail concluded that building a railroad along Wilson Creek would be impossible. The Florence and Cripple Creek Railroad, however, was built up Phantom Canyon and flourished for a few years before flooding shut it down for good.

Initially, Lawrence proved an ideal place to live. Early mines around the town included the Florence E., the Gloriana, the Home Run, the London, the Lone Pine, the Lulu, the May Belle, the Monte Cristo, the St. Patrick, the Southern and the Tom Bigbee. In time, however, larger mines like the Portland, the Cresson, the Independence and many others were staked up the hill on the other side of Victor. For miners living in Lawrence, walking to work at the latter mines was a job in itself, and many of them moved to Victor. They did, however, make social visits to Lawrence, gathering at The Eureka saloon to chat and drink. The saloon proved especially popular on Saturday nights.

By 1893, Lawrence did not even merit mention in the Cripple Creek District Directory. There was, however, an experimental chlorination plant for processing gold ore. The plant was the brain-child of Joseph R. DeLamar, a Utah mining man who partnered with mill expert Ed Holden to build the plant in 1893. By February of 1894, ads for DeLamar’s mill promised the highest market price for Cripple Creek ores. For a time, even Winfield Scott Stratton brought ore from his famous Independence Mine to Lawrence for processing. By the middle of the year Lawrence had two stamp mills and was described as being “ribbed with gold bearing mineral veins.” But although the Florence & Cripple Creek railroad tracks crossed the southeastern section of town on their way to Victor, they were deemed too far from the town proper to merit a depot.

 Even so, the 1894 District Directory had much to say about the quality of life at Lawrence: “The numerous springs and flowing wells which came to the surface on the Lawrence townsite, together with its lively mountain brook, make it one of the most desirable residence spots of the entire district.” But Lawrence was just not destined to last. Victor’s Sunnyside addition eventually crossed into Lawrence, and Lawrence Avenue was actually located in Victor’s original plat map. The new addition was the first sign that Victor would soon gobble up Lawrence.

When the chlorination plant burned during the winter of 1895-1896, Lawrence’s economy took a dive. Even so, the population stayed steady at 250 through 1896. A church and a school were present. Postmaster Walter Baldwin ran a grocery. There was also a meat market, two livery stables, a hotel and two saloons, including one run by Daniel Quinn. Lawrence also provided an attorney, a cobbler, two bakeries, a barbershop, a blacksmith, a grocery, a laundry, and, at last, a small F. & C.C. railroad depot.

But even with its business district intact, Lawrence was declining. By 1897 people were referring to it as “Oldtown.” As the city of Victor continued growing down the hill towards town, those light in the wallet could still rent one of the rundown residences at Lawrence, but could only access their mail at Victor after the post office closed in April of 1898. Even so, those who loved little Lawrence just didn’t want to give it up. Property transactions also remained steady through 1899, including business with the Cripple Creek Gold Exploration Company. In fact, an amended plat for Lawrence was filed on July 3, 1899. Avenues within the town boundaries at that time included Dewey, Harrison, Logan, Allison, Cleveland, Wilson, Lincoln, Lewis, Raynolds and Independence.

By the following year, businesses in Lawrence included shoemaker Michael Brown, several teamsters, a jeweler, contractor N.A. Chester, butchers Fred Kasaner, Mark Lewman and David Wathan, physician Charles Thornburg, carpenters Henry Levett and Fred Schanuel, tailor Donald McKenzie, cemetery sexton W. R. Brush, the May Belle hotel and Morris Klein’s Lawrence Saloon. George Demorre ran a vegetable wagon. Mrs. W. H. Diggs offered laundry services. There was still a school too, overseen by principal Miss C.E.S. Crosse who made the trek on schooldays from her home in Cripple Creek. Outside of the business district proper, the wide meadows comprising the town were accommodating to larger businesses such as Amos and F.H. Aspey’s brickyard, a slaughterhouse and Edward Richard’s dairy. Most of the 300 residents were miners who lived in Lawrence or the nearby hamlet of Reigerville. But an old electric plant had been abandoned.

Although city marshal George Cooper kept the peace at Lawrence during its twilight years, the town did see its fair share of lawlessness—mostly petty thievery but also shootings over mining wages and claims. In September of 1899, local papers reported on Henry Nelson who fired two shots at former miner Alec Carlson from the Pittsburgh claim. One of the bullets grazed Carlson’s head just above the left eye. Carlson survived, and Nelson was arrested. Then in February of 1900, H.C. Rhien was found hiding at a Lawrence boarding house after bilking several merchants around Colorado out of $8,000 in general merchandise.

In 1901, Victor C. Adams platted more land in Lawrence with partners John C. Adams and John Wilson, but it was too late. By 1902, Lawrence had been officially absorbed by Victor. For many more years, Lawrence survived as a suburb of Victor. As of the 1920 census, ninety five people were left in Lawrence proper. Ten years later, however, residents of Lawrence were counted as citizens of Victor in the census. Although a handful of residents continued living there over the years, the town of Lawrence has settled back into the meadow today, with only one private home from the old days left to prove it was there to begin with.

Stratton’s Town: Independence, Colorado

c 2023 by Jan MacKell Collins

Portions of this article are excerpted from Lost Ghost Towns of Teller County

Of all of the Cripple Creek District’s historic cities, Independence stands out as one of the most interesting. Named for the Independence Mine staked by Winfield Scott Stratton in 1891, the city spilled down the hillside of Montgomery Gulch in what is now known as the Vindicator Valley. Stratton eventually relocated to a more upscale and modest house in Colorado Springs, but his former home at Independence remained well known.

Independence was platted on November 11, 1894. Nearby was the Hull City Mine, a big producer throughout the early 1900’s. Upwards of eleven streets made up the fledgling town, surrounded on all sides by such mines as the Vindicator, the Teresa, the Portland #1 and #2, the Findley and of course, the Independence.

In time, the Midland Terminal Railroad tracks would divide Independence from Goldfield, located across Montgomery Gulch. Founded in 1895, Goldfield eventually became a suburb of Victor. In turn, Independence sort of became a suburb of Goldfield when the two towns grew to meet each other in the gulch.

Perhaps because there was already another town named Independence, located along the pass of the same name near Aspen, the post office was called Macon when it first opened in February of 1895. Part of the reason for opening the post office was because the one at Altman, above Independence, was being revisited by the postmaster general to make sure there were enough residents up there merited having mail service. Altman eventually got their post office back, and the Macon post office continued service to Independence.

By 1896, the population at Independence was around 500. Businesses included an assayer and jeweler to service the rich mines surrounding the camp. One boarding house and two hotels sheltered miners. There was also a drugstore, grocery, two meat markets, a milliner, a cobbler, a photographer, one physician, one restaurant and two saloons. A lumber mill and a general contractor serviced mines, merchants and homesteaders alike. The Midland train dropped passengers off at First and Montgomery. A harness maker and hay and feed store served the equine population.

Over the next few years, Independence grew fast. In 1899, the Macon postmaster succeeded in renaming the post office to Independence. In spite of having a population of 1,500 by 1900, Independence was never able to form its own town council or elect a mayor. The town was instead governed by Goldfield. The decision to do this is puzzling, as services at Independence included telephone and telegraph service, and an inventory of the business district also included a number of stores, nine boarding houses, two hotels and two churches. The school was run by Mrs. S.L. Leazer. Three doctors and a dentist had put up their shingles. There were also now eight saloons. Numerous productive mines continued to surround the town, including the Vindicator, the Delmonico and the Atlanta.

Not all of the citizens of Independence liked the arrangement with Goldfield. In late 1900, the Independence Mining & Townsite Company purchased a large plot of land and started advertising the new town with vigor. “In twelve months, it will be the commercial center of the great Cripple Creek District,” the town fathers declared. Despite their intentions, however, the men failed in their mission and Independence remained under Goldfield’s shadow. Still, the town was not without some memorable residents. Among them was the “Queen of Independence.” The unidentified young lady was the toast of the town according to the late Rufus Porter, a.k.a. the “Hard Rock Poet,” who actually lived in Goldfield. Porter recalled the “Queen’s” story of watching two gamblers sitting on a wooden sidewalk, each with a stack of gold pieces. The men were spitting at a crack between the boards on $20 bets.

Business at Independence continued to boom. As of 1901, the Volunteer Fire Department had upwards of twenty members. Hull’s Camp, at the northwest section of town, was becoming part of the city. Business houses of every kind still ran through the downtown area. Among them was Mrs. Mamie Crooks’ Hotel Montgomery, advertised “A nice home for miners. Good board and clean rooms at reasonable rates.”

Independence made national news in 1903, when professional assassin Harry Orchard set off a bomb in the Vindicator Mine above town during the famed Cripple Creek District labor strikes. Orchards’ targets—an elevator full of scabs working for non-union mine owners—escaped unharmed but superintendent Charles H. McCormick and shift boss Malverne Beck died instead. Next, in June of 1904, Orchard bombed the Florence & Cripple Creek train depot in the downtown area. There were twenty seven miners standing on the platform when the bomb went off. Thirteen were killed instantly when “their dismembered bodies were blown 150 feet up the hillside.” Orchard’s actions were on behalf of the Western Federation of Miners who were striking against unfair mine owners, but his deeds were so dastardly that they played a big part in the mine owners winning the strike.

The strikes also had an unfavorable affect on Independence. By 1905 many businesses had closed and the population hovered around a thousand people. At least some money was still flying around, as evidenced by the robbery of the Silver Bell Saloon in Independence on a February night in 1906.

It was widely known that the Silver Bell was happy to cash miners’ paychecks, so a bit of money had to be on hand at all times. At 10 p.m. on February 11, Eddie Foy, “Two-Gun Wild Bill” Gleason, Frank Edmunston, Jimmie Welsh, Frank Drake, deputy marshals Hardy Potts and Cal Webster, and several other men were in the bar when two masked robbers walked in and ordered everyone to put their hands up. Drake headed for a room in the back but was shot by one of the robbers, Harry Harris. Deputies Potts and Webster, along with Gleason, returned shots. More gunfire broke out. When it was all over the second bandit, Fred Powell, was dead. So was Drake. Harris absconded with $1,800 in cash. It is unknown whether he was ever caught.

Independence’s population in 1907 was around 1,200 and a handful of business remained open. But as the mining opportunities around the Cripple Creek District downsized, so did the towns within the district. By 1912 only one assayer, one dry goods, one hotel, and one saloon were still in business at Independence. Those needing medical attention had to go to Dr. L.D. Louis in Altman. Fifteen mines continued to provide limited employment. By 1919 there were only 500 people left in town. Some of them, including Leslie Carlton and W.E. Ryan, were superintendents of area mines. Only a hardware store and two cigar stores were left.

Independence was given a brief reprieve in 1921 when Les Carlton’s brother, millionaire A.E. Carlton, purchased the old Vindicator Mine and tried to work it. Unfortunately the mine was plagued by water for years. After Carlton’s death his wife, the former Ethel Frizzell, successfully built the Carlton Tunnel to release the water from the Vindicator and other area mines. Twenty five thousand gallons per minute gushed from the tunnel, and the Vindicator successfully operated for nearly four more decades.

As the old mines around Independence continued being worked, a few families continued living in town. As late as 1939, Mr. and Mrs. Alfred H. Bebee were mentioned in the Cripple Creek Times Record as hosts of an evening get together at Independence (notably, the Bebee house still stands, and was never a brothel per the graffiti scribbled on some of the walls.) Others who lived there in the 1950’s included a man named Skinny Ward and the family of former Victor mayor Kathy Justice. Justice remembered her brothers finding sticks of dynamite at the Hull City Mine. “They brought it into town and sold it to the police chief for two cents a stick, and then we would buy candy at Harshie’s [now the Fortune Club in Victor] with the money,” she said.

   Not until 1954 did Independence’s post office close. The Hull City Mine closed in 1958, and the Vindicator closed for a final time in 1959. The last of Independence’s early residents moved away, although a couple of homes were occupied as late as 1982. Almost the entire town was engulfed by modern mining efforts in 2004, although some structures at the very east end of town were preserved. The Hull City Placer was moved and a hiking trail was installed. Today visitors can walk the trail and read interpretive signage about Independence and its surrounding mines.

Image: The Beebe House in Independence as it appeared in 2004. Copyright Jan MacKell Collins.

Jack Haverly and His Colorado Towns for Suckers

c 2023 by Jan MacKell Collins

Portions of this article have appeared in Lost Ghost Towns of Teller County and Colorado Central magazine.

For Jack Haverly, life was truly an up and down affair. The man who gained fame and fortune on the theater circuit during the mid-to-late 1800’s was well known throughout America over his long career. But he also filed bankruptcy so many times that newspapers truly lost count of just how often Haverly found himself broke. It could be said that in his day, Haverly was a force to be reckoned with, an idea man who tried everything once and twice if he liked it. He was also said to be quite lucky, for as much as he was down, Haverly nearly always bounced back up. His many friends never hesitated to loan him money when he needed it, knowing he would pay it back the next time fortune smiled upon him again. “Jack Haverly was a fine man and a lovable character,” wrote Edward Le Roy Rice in 1911. “None did more for minstrelsy than he, and some of the greatest names in theatricals were once associated with him.

John H. “Jack” Haverly was born Christopher Heverly in Pennsylvania in 1837. As a young man he worked as a “train boy”, selling peanuts and candy on passenger trains. He also worked as a “baggage smasher” for the railroads, and did a brief stint as a tailor’s apprentice. By 1864 he had moved to Toledo, Ohio where he opened his first variety theater. A misspelling on a poster changed his name from Heverly to Haverly, and the new moniker stuck.

Acquisition of the theater in Toledo was subsequent to the formation of “Haverly’s Minstrels”, which gave its first performance on August 1 that year. Within a short time, Haverly was partnering with other promoters and visiting grand places across the United States and as far away as Toronto, Canada. During his travels, Haverly married Sara Hechsinger, of the famed singing duo known as the Duval Sisters. When Sara died in 1867, Haverly married her sister, Eliza, later that year. Neither marriage resulted in children.

Theater life appeased Haverly greatly. Over time he bought and sold numerous theater houses, and also headed up a number of traveling troupes. The man was also remembered by some as “a compulsive gambler and speculator” who sometimes threw his money away as quickly as he made it. Somehow, however, Haverly made it work. At the height of his career, he owned six theaters and an amazing thirteen road companies.

Haverly’s greatest achievement was probably in 1877, when he merged four of his minstrel companies to form “Haverly’s United Mastadon Minstrels.” After the fashion of P.T. Barnum and other entertainment promoters of the day, the “Mastadons” consisted of some forty performers and a marching band. Upon arriving in town for a show, the troupe would march up and down the streets, spreading themselves out as thinly as possible so that while performers marched through one part of town, the band played in the other. The Mastadons became so famous they even performed seventeen shows in London during 1880 alone.

It is unlikely that Haverly was with the performance in London, for he was busy discovering the mining boomtowns of Colorado around 1880. Folks around Gunnison remembered him as “famous theater and minstrel millionaire,” and a “colorful and key figure in the development of early Gunnison.” Indeed, Haverly “bought up fine ranch land just east of Gunnison, had a town named for him, invested heavily in silver mines at Gothic and Irwin, bought coal land up in Washington Gulch, and purchased several ranches and a sawmill up Ohio Creek.” The town of Haverly proper consisted of a group of claims, which the entrepreneur advertised “extravagantly.”

Although Haverly was initially welcome in Gunnison country, others took his claims of fortune with a grain of salt. At the nearby town of Irwin the local newspaper, the Elk Mountain Pilot, had nothing good to say about Haverly’s investments. “Take a man from his line of business and place him in a business entirely foreign to his own,” sniped the paper, “and he will surely make a wreck of it.” True to the newspaper’s prediction, Haverly’s first namesake town in Colorado ended up being “essentially a promotional scheme.” Newcomers almost immediately started squabbling over who owned what claim. Eventually, the forty or so miners at the camp “‘jumped’ the town and left Mr. Haverly ‘out in the cold.'” The town of Haverly survived for a few more years, taking on different names and residents until the place faded away altogether. Jack Haverly, however, had long ago moved on.

Haverly continued to conduct a successful theater tour in Colorado. Not only was he continuing his minstrel shows, but he began forming opera companies as well. The names of his shows generally changed as much as his address. In 1880, “Haverly’s Church Choir Opera Company” performed Gilbert and Sullivan’s H.M.S. Pinafore at Barnum Hall in Greeley, the Central City Opera House, the Denver Opera House and the Tabor Opera House in Leadville. The outfit came complete with its own orchestra and starred such celebrities of the day as C.M. Pyke, Dora Wiley and Pauline Hall. Like everywhere else, Haverly’s show received rave reviews. Success was sweet; an 1881 article in the New York Clipper commented on sixteen of Haverly’s minstrel shows and opera companies. In addition, Haverly’s company had offices in Boston, Chicago, Denver and New York.

With so many troupes on the road, it was impossible for Haverly to travel with each one. Instead, he hired capable theater managers and road agents. In 1883, manager J.H. Mack accompanied the Colorado circuit. In February 1883 alone, the troupe—under the name “Haverly’s English Opera Company”—performed Strauss’s Merry War at the Colorado Springs Opera House, the Fort Collins Opera House, the Tabor Opera House in Leadville and the Tabor Grand Opera House in Denver.

Keeping up with his many traveling troupes could not have been easy, and Haverly often spread himself too thin to conduct his businesses well. In spite of the success of the Colorado circuit, his finances were soon taking a dive. Throughout much of 1883, the New York Times was full of articles regarding Haverly’s many legal and financial troubles. Haverly carried on, however, borrowing money to invest in various endeavors, paying back the money to his lenders, then losing everything all over again on a bad risk. By 1884 his fortunes were said to be beginning “their final collapse”. The enterprising man, however, wisely decided to start investing in mining as a means to make additional money. It is true, his love for speculation in the mines often proved costly, but at least he remained successful with his shows.

Throughout 1884 and 1885, Haverly’s shows continued performing in London and even Scotland. He was still dabbling in theater and doing quite a good job of it when he visited the Cripple Creek District in January of 1896. According to the Cripple Creek Morning Times, the minstrel man had “bade farewell to minstrelry several years ago, and when his face becomes sooty now it is from a miner’s lamp instead of a makeup box.” Haverly told the reporter that he planned to be in the area for a couple of weeks. “I came here to see if I couldn’t get hold of some property in this district,” he said. His plan was fortified with some extra cash he had lying around from his mining investments in Clear Creek County.

Within a short time, Haverly had purchased “a plateau known as Bull Hill when in the height of its prosperity,” according to the Hoosier State Chronicle in Indiana. Due to his rags-to-riches-to-rags reputation, however, few investors showed much interest in partnering with him. After some fast talking, Haverly was finally able to convince some prospects into having a look at his mines themselves. The properties did look mighty promising, enabling Haverly to acquire partners. The group filed a plat and divided up some town lots. They naturally named the new town Haverly. As reports circulated about the findings on Bull Hill, one hundred miners and several saloon keepers converged on the new town within just four days.

“Jack Haverly is rich again,” announced the Hoosier State Chronicles. The paper went on to illuminate Haverly’s up-and-down financial career, but ended by announcing that Lady Luck had smiled upon him once again. This time, he was said to have made upwards of $200,000 by investing in mines around the Cripple Creek District. Also, “the story has been further told in Chicago that Jack would soon be a millionaire.” The folks of Chicago remembered Haverly well, for at one time he purchased the controlling interest of the Chicago Jockey Club race track for a whopping $150,000.

From all appearances, Haverly was back on top. “Colonel Jack Haverly and associates have a shaft down 20 feet on a well-developed vein in Camp Haverly,” announced the Mining Industry & Review magazine in July of 1896. “A new steam hoist has lately been put in operation and ore is being saved for a shipment, which will be made sometime next week. A double shift of men  will be put to work on Monday.”

One source says that Haverly simply wanted no more than a town named for himself, platting the town, selling lots at high prices and skipping town. If the story was true, it may have been because Haverly was seeking vindication for having been swindled before. Yet no evidence of a swindle at Cripple Creek appears in local papers, although neither does news of the new town. In fact, Jack Haverly’s name is curiously absent from Colorado newspapers until June of 1897 when it was simply noted he was staying at the Sheridan Hotel in Telluride. The next mention of him came in September, when it was reported he was on his way back to New York via Kansas with a plan to get back in showbiz.

Haverly later declared that he had lost $250,000 by investing in the mines of Colorado. But he hadn’t lost faith in the entertainment industry. By 1898 his famed minstrel troupes were on the road again. He stayed in New York for only a short time, bouncing between there and Salt Lake City beginning in 1899. His last endeavor was starting a small museum in Brooklyn, New York in May of 1901. Just a few months later, on September 28, Jack Haverly succumbed to some longtime heart problems. His body was shipped back to Pennsylvania for burial. Newspapers all over the country published Haverly’s obituary, paying tribute to the flamboyant theater man who had entertained the country for decades. One of his good friends, writer Eugene Field, paid tribute to him in the New York Times with a poem titled “Memories of ‘Jack’ Haverly”:

‘Jack’ Haverly, ‘Jack’ Haverly, I wonder where you are.
Are your fortunes cast with Sirius, or ‘neath some kindlier star?
How happens it we never see your wondrous minstrel show,
With its apt alliterations, as we used to, years ago?
All the ebon aggregations that afflict these modem times
Are equally unworthy our prose and of our rhymes.
And I vainly pine and hanker for the joys that used to come
With the trumpets um-ta-ra-ra and the big base drum.
‘Jack’ Haverly, here’s a-hoping that some bright propitious star
Beams kindly down upon you, whereso’er your interests are,
For my heart is warm toward you for the joy you gave me when
I was a little rambling tyke; and I were glad again
To see you marching up the street with your dusky knights of song—
By George, I’d head the gang of boys that whooped your way along;
And I’d stake that all our plaudits and acclaims would over come
The trumpet ump-ta-ra-ra and the big base drum.

Today, theater history buffs fondly remember the man who entertained the world with his minstrel shows and opera companies. In the Cripple Creek District, however, Jack Haverly seems to have had the last laugh.

Goldfield, the Family Town of Colorado’s Cripple Creek District

c 2023 by Jan MacKell Collins

Portions of this article appear in Lost Ghost Towns of Teller County.

Of the many towns once located within the Cripple Creek District, Goldfield reached third largest in population during its time. While the city is now no more than a bedroom community of nearby Victor, Goldfield is recognized as one of the most active cities in the District during the 1890’s and early 1900’s. The city lies at an altitude of 9903′ feet on the outskirts of Montgomery Gulch, better known now as the Vindicator Valley. To the east, Big Bull Mountain hovers over Goldfield. To the west is the former town of Independence, surrounded by the ghost mines of Teresa, the Golden Cycle, the Portland #1 and #2, the Findley, the Independence, and the Vindicator.

Goldfield’s beginnings date to 1894 when three men, James Doyle, James Burns, and John Harnan struck it rich with the Portland Mine. The Portland’s name was derived from Portland, Maine, where the “two Jimmys,” as they became known, grew up. With the Portland in full swing the partners decided to form their own town. The men established the Gold Knob Mining and Townsite Company on a large pasture where, some twenty years before, a forest fire had left an expansive clearing.

By the time the new town was platted in January of 1895, Burns and Doyle had wisely changed the name of Gold Knob to the more attractive name of Goldfield. Burns was put in charge of the company, laying out the streets and selling lots, starting at $25.00 each. A number of mining claims were also made on the future townsite; because of that, property was sold with surface rights only.

Goldfield’s post office opened on May 5, 1895. Referred to as the “City of Homes”, Goldfield was a family town. Modern, wooden sidewalks graced the streets, and in later years locals said the Sunday school was the longest running institution of its kind in the Cripple Creek District. Indeed, unlike the wild town of Altman just half a mile away, Goldfield’s citizens were far more interested in establishing schools and churches than saloons. Two newspapers, the Goldfield Gazette and the Goldfield Times, set about reporting news of the day.

Not ironically, all of Goldfield’s town officials belonged to the Western Federation of Miners Union. Some of them had already been through a labor war in the district during the previous year. Perhaps the best-known union supporter in Goldfield was the first mayor, John Easter. There is no doubt that Easter was hoping for a civilized, prominent city in Goldfield. Not only did he immediately establish a fire department, but he also hired a city physician at $300 per year. There was even a “pest house” for confining those with contagious diseases (and almost immediately, pest house attendant Albert Pheasants was fired for coming to work drunk.). Everybody, from the dogs of the town to the few saloons, had to have a license and prostitution was strictly outlawed. A town engineer was paid to maintain the roads at $10 per day.

By the end of its first year, Goldfield had a population numbering 2,191 residents. This figure may have included the town of Independence, located across Montgomery Gulch and divided from Goldfield by the tracks of the Midland Terminal Railroad. Two of the main avenues, Independence and Victor, led to those two towns respectively.

By 1896 the population of Goldfield proper was a thousand people. A new mayor, Edward M. Sullivan, was elected as was a new marshal, Allen Combs. As with the pest house attendants, a city ordinance stipulated that the town marshal could be replaced if found too drunk to work. The ordinance was not without merit, since Goldfield had grown to include two assayers, an attorney, two boarding houses, one dentist, three groceries, one hotel, two meat markets, three doctors and three saloons. A reservoir made use of several natural springs in the area, supplying water to ditches under the sidewalks and fire hydrants on every corner in town. The Florence & Cripple Creek Railroad reached Goldfield in November. Passenger service between Goldfield and Victor, a little over a mile away, commenced soon after.

Goldfield continued to progress at a rapid rate through 1897. The F. & C.C. built a new depot, and by 1898 the city had street lights and telephone lines. The latter were provided by the La Bella Power Plant, constructed by railroad tycoon David Moffat. The plant was designed to provide power not just to Goldfield, but also to outlying towns and mines. Street car service was provided at five cents a ride. Those with their own transportation were made to obey the six mile-per-hour speed limit in town. Another city ordinance prohibited loud or profane language in public.

By 1898, Goldfield had reached its status as the third largest city in the Cripple Creek District. Water was supplied to the town of Independence across Montgomery Gulch. But Goldfield appears to be the exception to the typical frontier gold town. Social activities included lots of parades, picnics and concerts versus the usual saloons, shady ladies and shoot outs. In 1899, possibly in an effort to compete for the county seat of newly formed Teller County, Goldfield was officially incorporated. However, the loss of the county seat to Cripple Creek was not surprising.

By 1900, Goldfield’s population had risen to 3500. The Cripple Creek District Directory described Goldfield as a “lively little city,” which it was. Homes ranged from simple miner’s cabins to gaudy Victorian architecture, and were well kept with nice lawns. Each resident was responsible for keeping the sidewalk in front of their home clean of debris and snow. A local junk dealer provided trash service. Seven boardinghouses, a variety of stores, nine groceries, five doctors, nine restaurants and nine saloons served residents. Clark’s Opera House provided nightly entertainment. There were also several societies, including a Masonic lodge and the Red Men. Three railroads: the Florence & Cripple Creek, the Midland Terminal and the Colorado Springs & Cripple Creek District, afforded transportation. Twenty thousand tons of gold ore were being transported from Goldfield annually. In fact, it was estimated that three fourths of the ore shipped from the District went through Goldfield. With all these amenities, it could be said Goldfield made an exemplary city, save for one tiny incident. A Miss Luella Vance of Goldfield served papers on mining magnate Sam Strong at the close of his wedding to another woman. Luella’s claim was one of many imposed on Strong, a philandering womanizer and a drunk besides. Miss Vance received $50,000 to aid in the mending of her broken heart.

From all appearances, Goldfield retained its union status as a second labor strike loomed on the horizon in 1903. Interestingly, there does not appear to have been much strike activity within city limits. In fact, it would appear that rather than witness messy fisticuffs and battles within its refined city limits, Goldfield chose to handle things outside of town instead. When the National Guard was called to Battle Mountain in the midst of the strike, they quartered just above Victor. Yet a photograph of the settlement is identified as “Camp Goldfield.” Furthermore a “bull pen” was erected to imprison striking miners nearby, safely outside city limits. Even so, a number of citizens left town for safer pastures. One man named Jack Ried, however, worked as the town marshal after being shot during labor war scuffle in Victor. The injury resulted in the amputation of Ried’s leg. In Goldfield, he was fondly referred to as “Peggy.”

By the end of the strike in 1904, about half the homes of Goldfield were empty, just like they were at Altman and Independence. Of the three cities, however, Goldfield alone elected to start fresh. Accordingly, non-union citizens impeached the union city officials. Elected in their place were officers who played neutral parts in mining activities. By 1905, Goldfield was holding steady with a population of 3000. There were still three churches, four social halls and seven lodges, although a number of other businesses had fallen to the wayside. The last of the city’s many newspapers, the Goldfield Crescent, closed down its press in 1909.

As the mining boom of the 1890’s subsided, Goldfield’s population was dropping steadily by 1911. The business district dwindled down to one assayer, one barber, one dairy, four stores, four groceries, two meat markets, one doctor and two saloons. The downsizing was accented by the death of John Easter in 1914. Nearly every citizen of Goldfield accompanied the first mayor’s body to his burial at Sunnyside Cemetery.

Somehow, Goldfield stayed busy during the waning years of the gold boom. By 1915 the population was holding steady at 1,200, and new businesses in town included three auto garages – the start of a whole new era. Two churches and three lodges were still functioning, and little else changed save for the abolishment of the saloons with statewide prohibition in 1917.

With time, however, the whole district slumped as the mines slowly became too expensive to operate. The wooden sidewalks in Goldfield slowly disappeared. As they rotted or fell away, a popular pastime became searching the ditches underneath for long lost money or other items. It is said even a few gold coins surfaced on occasion. But Goldfield was slowly being forgotten. The post office officially closed in 1932, and book chronicling the infamous labor wars neglected to even mention Goldfield. Even the Cripple Creek Times Record stopped publishing Goldfield news after 1939.

By 1954, only 60 people still called Goldfield home. One of them was miner Rufus Porter, aka The Hard Rock Poet. Porter first came to the district in 1917. Now, he was writing a column for the Colorado Springs Gazette Telegraph, penning poems about the old days in the Cripple Creek District, and publishing his own set of history booklets. Among the characters in Porter’s Goldfield memoirs was Jack Condon, who once fought Jack Dempsey in Victor. It also was according to Porter that long after Goldfield ceased electing mayors, one Billy Butler became an honorary mayor for a number of years. Butler was also a former miner, and described as having a good heart and being respected by all who knew him. Upon retiring, Butler purchased a mimeograph machine and published his own newsletter.

Thirty-five people, including Porter, still lived in Goldfield during 1969. At that time Goldfield’s businesses had all closed, and it was officially considered a ghost town. Yet the city hall still contained its huge safe with “City of Goldfield” etched in gold leaf on its door. A few years later, however, the City Hall had been relieved of its safe, as well as valuable documents and ledgers, which began appearing for sale on various websites. In the meantime, some of the remaining homes and buildings began swaying with time. Some fell with an unheard sigh into the weeds around them. Still others retained much of their original flavor, lovingly looked after by the residents within.

Today, Goldfield’s city hall and fire station still stand. In the last forty years alone, citizens have garnered support for the preservation of Goldfield in the way of the Goldfield Restoration Association, along with assistance from the Cripple Creek District Museum and the Victor Lowell Thomas Museum. Thanks to their efforts, Goldfield remains as a charming bedroom community, its history intact.

Pictured: The author at Goldfield City Hall, circa 1985