Wild Times and Wild Women: (Old) Colorado City’s Shady Side

c 2015 by Jan MacKell Collins

Laura Bell McDaniel’s last luxurious bordello as it appears today.

Portions of this article first appeared in Kiva Magazine.

When it was first established west of Colorado Springs, Colorado in 1859, Colorado City was every bit of a notoriously rough western town. Long before Colorado Springs came along with its anti-liquor laws and elite citizenship, Colorado City sprouted as a thriving supply town. All the required elements were present: ramshackle houses, churches, a school, hotels and saloons. The place was a virtual melting pot for easterners who swarmed the state in search of gold. Accordingly, Colorado City’s population grew to include enterprising merchants, faithful families, hopeful miners—and prostitutes.

It could be said that prostitution was a cornerstone of any town. Like any other industry, “red light’ districts made healthy contributions to the local economy, especially the courts. The difference was that, unlike any other industry, prostitution was frowned upon even as it helped these cities thrive.

There is no doubt that the soiled doves who flocked to Colorado City saw golden opportunities everywhere. Trains and freighters stopped daily on their way to the gold fields, initially bringing lots of single and lonely men. In those early days, the business was hardly regulated and permitted these women freedom to work and live where they chose.

By 1880 Colorado Springs was booming, but Colorado City was still not much more than a village with a few streets and no visible red light district. That is not to say that some women did not ply their trade in the city limits. There were no more than four saloons in 1884, but the numbers began to grow as Colorado City’s population surged to 400 souls within three years.

Much of Colorado City’s new commerce was generated by Colorado Springs, located just a few miles away. Founder General William Palmer forbade alcohol within his city limits. It stood to reason then, that Colorado City should excel in that area. A variety of activities, from prize fighting to prostitutes and drinking to dancing, swarmed at all hours around what is now the 2500 block of Colorado Avenue.

As of 1888, Colorado City’s population had allegedly escalated to 1500, some of which supported sixteen saloons. Business was booming as shootouts, drunken brawls and “good ol’ boy” fights became common sights. Horse racing up and down Colorado Avenue was a popular pastime. In the midst of the foray, a number of single women were living on Colorado Avenue. Their occupations are all unclear, but for one lady. Her name was Mrs. Bell McDaniel, better known as Laura Bell McDaniel.

Laura Bell first got her start in Salida, where she first appeared in 1882 as Belle Dale. With her was her daughter, Eva Pearl. Although she was married, Mr. Dale was apparently not on the scene. The two were likely divorced, for in 1887 court records note that Miss Laura B. Dale married one John Thomas McDaniel. The two had been close for some time, as evidenced by their trip to Leadville during the winter of 1886-87. In their absence, Laura Bell’s house burned but she was heavily insured. She received a large settlement, despite the fact that a man named Morgan Dunn was suspected of setting the fire for a percentage of the insurance money.

A month after her marriage to McDaniel, Laura Bell reported to her new husband that Dunn had tried to kiss her.”Why didn’t you kill the son of a bitch?” Thomas retorted. That night, after several heated words, McDaniel would later claim Dunn said, “We might as well settle it now as any time,” and placed his hand on a hip pocket. McDaniel fired five shots at the man, killing him.

Employees of the nearby Arlington Hotel heard the shots and ran over. The scene was unnerving. Thomas was standing in the front door, with Laura Bell and her mother clinging to him and screaming. Laura Bell’s mother was exclaiming, “Oh Tom! Oh Tom! Why did you do that?” McDaniel coldly replied, “He had no business in my house.”

Thomas McDaniel was acquitted of the murder, but the shady elements surrounding the case made the couple uneasy. The two lost no time in departing from Salida and in fact parted ways, for Laura Bell appeared to be alone when she surfaced in Colorado City. Within a year of her arrival, the enterprising woman had access to twenty four saloons and only a handful of competition. Laura Bell’s sisters of the underworld included Miss Belle Barlow, Miss Daisy Bell, Miss Fernie Brooks, Mamie Maddern and Emma Wilson. The list continued to grow, so much in fact that a new city hall was constructed in 1892. City authorities boldly built the new structure at 119 S. 26^th Street, just around the corner from the red light district.

The surge in prostitution at Colorado City during the 1890’s alarmed city officials, as well as the media. The Colorado Springs Gazette pounced on every chance to report on the goings-on in the district. When Bell Barker died of a morphine overdose in 1893, the paper reported how her Colorado City friends buried her “in good style”, but that Billie Huffman, “the tin horn who was living with her”, had left the country. Similar sentiments were expressed for Minnie Smith, a sometime gambler and madam throughout Colorado, including Creede and Denver. When she committed suicide in Cripple Creek, her body was brought back to Colorado City for burial.

The Women’s Christian Temperance Union, better known as the WCTU, was waiting for chances such as these. In 1894, the WCTU submitted a petition to impose hours of operation on all saloons, bowling alleys, halls and “other resorts”. Only 152 people signed it, but city authorities had just begun. A widely publicized raid (the sting only netted two girls and their tricks) in 1896 was followed by a series of ordinances: “Keepers of disorderly houses shall not refuse to admit officers. Officers may break doors and arrest with or without warrant.” Getting caught in the act of prostitution was a $300 fine, with additional punishments for visiting opium joints, houses of prostitution, or dance halls. Music was not permitted at houses of ill-fame or saloons. Still the girls came, and many stayed. Both Ida Anderson and Elizabeth Franklin moved to Colorado City in 1896, staying as late as 1900 and 1906, respectively.

By 1900, it was said one could buy twenty drinks down “Saloon Row” on Colorado Avenue and never have to drink in the same bar twice. Despite this promising statistic, city authorities charged ahead and managed to prohibit gambling in 1901. By then, the shady ladies of Colorado City were running amok. Throughout the year, more and more girls showed up to ply their trade. Some left, some didn’t. Business flourished as even more saloons and gambling halls opened. Even girls like Georgia Hayden, who had been in Cripple Creek since 1893, came to try their luck. Among the new girls were veterans like Laura Bell and Mamie Majors, who had come to Colorado City in the 1890’s.

Indeed, Laura Bell and Mamie Majors were the epitome of the “whore with a heart of gold.” Both ladies ruled over their respective kingdoms with grace and finesse. One of Laura Bell’s employees and best friends was Dusty McCarty, a blind man who made his way by bartending. Even after employee Carrie Briscoe married in 1902, Mamie Majors paid for her funeral when she died of tuberculosis in 1906. Both madams paid their monthly fines to the city on time, subscribed to newspapers and donated to schools, churches and other charities.

In the mode of the day, the good deeds of the red-light ladies were unreciprocated. City authorities sought to make an example out of Mamie by arresting her for maintaining a house of ill-fame in 1905. The arrest was neither her first nor last, and despite her three attorneys, Mamie was sentenced to six months in jail. The decision was followed by a barrage of letters on the desk of Governor Henry A. Buchtel, who in turn reduced Mamie’s sentence to thirty days. Buchtel’s action brought a two year run of accusing hate letters by newspapers and churches. The fight escalated to ridiculous proportions as it was insinuated that Buchtel in effect pardoned the madam. Buchtel’s heated retort was eagerly published, reading in part, “I did not pardon Mamie Majors. Please fix that in your mind. I would like to say it over and over about 10,000 times, I DID NOT PARDON MAMIE MAJORS.”

Beginning in 1906, a new ordinance required bars to close at midnight and Sundays; another ordinance prohibited use of side doors. In February, there were a series of busts resulting in jail time, fines and warnings. The police were egged on by local newspapers. The Colorado City Iris reported on seven brothels where liquor was sold without a city license. A monthly fine of $600 was suggested. Other newsworthy items included questioning city council for failing to close bawdy houses on Sundays. By March of that year, some girls had enough. Two brothels closed, leaving seven houses. “One of the gangs went to Cripple Creek,” tattled the Iris with satisfaction. The city pounced once again, this time on Jacob Schmidt for permitting women in his bar. Schmidt argued he had a sign up barring “prostitutes or fast women” from entering. He was dismissed with a reprimand.

As of November, the number of prostitutes on the Row had slimmed down to twenty four girls and eight madams. Things began quieting down and there was talk about annexing Colorado City to Colorado Springs. The red light district was falling out of the limelight until a respectable boy named Tucker Holland died at Dolly Worling’s brothel. It seemed 24-year old Tucker was terribly sweet on Dolly, whom he had been spending his wages on for at least six months. When Dolly’s ex-husband, a foul mouth by the name of Frank Shank showed up, Tucker was ousted from the house one last time. Upon returning the next day, Tucker had it out with Dolly. According to Dolly’s later testimony, Tucker was sitting on the bed playing with a revolver while she looked out the window. Below, a small boy pointed a toy pistol at Dolly’s dog. “See, Tucker,” she teased, “he’s going to shoot my poodle.” In answer, Holland shot himself neatly through the head.

This time, Mayor Ira Foote had enough and notified the girls of the Row they had ten days to leave town. The point was emphasized by a series of mysterious fires beginning in January of 1909. The first fire burned five or six houses on the south side of the red light district in a one block area. A second fire on January 8 destroyed the rest of the south side. Within hours, even a police watchman could not stop a third fire, which mysteriously originated in the same area. This time, the flames threatened the business district before being put out. The last fire, although blamed on a vagrant, took out Ridenhour & Rettigers livery stable in the 400 block of West Colorado. Forty three horses died, including Mayor Foote=s steed. Fourteen carriages and two other structures also went up.

Whether this last conflagration was related to sweeping the red light district clean will probably never be known. But retaliations of such proportions continued throughout much of 1909. Just a few days before Christmas, former madam Blanche Burton succumbed to burns received when a flaming curtain set her clothing on fire. The accident was typical for the time. Still, no one could explain the man seen running down the street near her home, nor a fire eighteen months before which burned her barn and killed a horse and two dogs.

In the wake of the 1909 fires, most of the madams’ insurance policies paid off and the district slowly grew up again. As the ladies of the district struggled to regain their composure, the Colorado City Iris continued to complain. Various exposés revealed new construction and accused the police of “dividing their ill-got gains with the city each month…” City authorities hustled to comply to the wishes of the WCTU and the Iris. In 1911, yet another ultimatum was issued to the prostitutes.

Nothing the authorities did seemed to sweep Colorado City clean of its soiled doves. When the WCTU succeeded in voting Colorado City dry in 1913, the red light ladies were hardly phased. They and their liquor-selling counterparts simply moved the brothels and bars to an area outside city limits. They christened their new town Ramona, and accounts of the ensuing battle with city and county authorities resemble an episode of Keystone cops.

Not everyone moved to Ramona. Mamie Majors gave up the ghost and went quietly away. Laura Bell McDaniel stayed right where she was, discreetly advertising herself as the “keeper of furnished rooms”. But inside, the business was the same, as court records show. Throughout 1917, Laura Bell paid her fines and minded her own business. Then fate dealt a final blow to Laura Bell and the red light district of Colorado City. Just a year before, the State of Colorado had outlawed liquor in anticipation of nationwide prohibition. Liquor became illegal everywhere except in private homes. Only city clerks were allowed to dispense alcohol, and strictly for medicinal purposes. In conjunction with the new laws, Colorado City annexed to Colorado Springs in June. The scene was devastating. Saloon kings like N. Byron Hames lost their fortunes and left town. Long time bar keeper Jake Schmidt committed suicide. Colorado City was almost clean, and it was no surprise when stolen liquor was found within the unmoving confines of Laura Bell’s.

In court, it was none other than Laura Bell=s blind and long time friend, Dusty McCarty, whose testimony revealed the true fiends. Two men, he said, stole that liquor from a Broadmoor home and planted it at Laura Bell’s. The good woman was framed! Much to the court’s chagrin, Dusty’s testimony held up and the case was dismissed on January 24, 1918. The very next day, Laura Bell set out for Denver. With her were Dusty and Laura Bell’s niece, Laura Pearson. It is said the latter two were very close, and that Laura Bell was teaching “Little Laura” to follow in her footsteps.

The threesome took off in Laura Bell’s spiffy Mitchell Touring Car, with Little Laura at the wheel. Near Castle Rock, the car inexplicably left the road and overturned. Little Laura died instantly, and Dusty was knocked unconscious. Later that night, 56 year old Laura Bell succumbed to massive internal injuries. She was buried in the lot she had already purchased at Fairview Cemetery, and the incident was forgotten. It was the perfect crime, but for certain Colorado Springs authorities who happened to witness the accident. Regardless of their suspicious presence, the accident was ruled just that.

That was the end of Colorado City’s den of prostitution. A scattering of girls continued living in the area, losing their identities as Colorado Springs continued to grow. Pearl Livingston, who arrived in 1903, was still here in 1927. Mamie Dedrick, in the profession since 1896, was living in the brothel she worked in when she died in the 1940’s. By then, the place was an apartment house for the elderly. Likewise, Laura Bell’s last brothel is now part of the Mountain View Care Center. Other brothels have found new life as private homes and even churches. The rest of the neighborhood is home to a park and a small Mennonite community. The occasional old-timer of Colorado Springs’ charming Westside might remember stories about the past. In the present, Laura Bell’s old haunt has melded into a quiet, comfortable historic place. At last, one of the west’s wildest places has a fitting end.

For additional reading, see Brothels, Bordellos & Bad Girls: Prostitution in Colorado 1860-1930 and Red Light Women of the Rocky Mountains. Both books are available at http://www.unmpress. Ms. Collins’ 3rd book on prostitution, Wild Women of Prescott, Arizona, is available http://www.HistoryPress.net.

Count Pourtales Takes A Swim

The Green Mountain Falls and the town’s charming lake are pictured here, circa 1889.

c 2014 by Jan MacKell Collins

The year was 1884 when Count James M. Pourtales first arrived in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Of European royalty, Pourtales was on the lookout for investments to save his interests in Germany and Prussia. He was also looking to spend more time with his beautiful cousin, Countess Berthe de Pourtales, whom he later married. Perhaps as a means of staying nearer to Berthe, Pourtales invested in the failing Broadmoor Dairy Farm, located on the southwest end of town, in about 1885.

Pourtales balanced his time in Colorado Springs with frequent visits to his homeland in Prussia. He soon discovered, however, that his departures generally resulted in doom for his investments. Pourtales soon learned to bloom where he was planted. Upon reviving the dairy farm, he next began purchasing more land. In the spring of 1889 he purchased a few hundred acres in what is now the five star Broadmoor neighborhood for development as a resort and casino.

In his free time, Pourtales courted his beloved Berthe and took short excursions around the growing Pike’s Peak region. One of his trips included a visit to Green Mountain Falls in May of 1889. As one of many resort towns of Ute Pass, Green Mountain Falls offered expansive picnic areas, a pretty little lake and namesake falls which cascaded gently down a local rock formation. Whether by accident or design, the Count happened to be present for the grand opening of the Green Mountain Falls Hotel. The new hotel was one of a number of pleasure resorts along Ute Pass designed to attract travelers from the east.

The hotel was a grand three story structure, built by W.G. Riddock very near the picturesque lake. Locals predicted the place would soon rival the Ramona Hotel in Cascade, located just down the road. The Green Mountain Falls Hotel offered 70 spacious guest rooms and comforting surroundings. Like the Ramona, the Green Mountain Falls Hotel also sported scenic gable rooms on each side and verandas running the length of each floor.

The grand opening was an event to be remembered, with hundreds of people attending the festivities around the hotel. Count Pourtales was amongst them, and at one point took a stroll down to the lake. There, he watched as Mr. F. E. Dow, president of Green Mountain Falls Town & Improvement Company, paddled leisurely on the water with his wife, their child and one Mrs. Clark. Suddenly the boat capsized, sending the occupants splashing into the water. As Mr. Dow attempted to save his family and Mrs. Clark, a man swam to their rescue. The hero was none other than Count Pourtales. Some say the lake is no more than a few feet deep in the middle, but the Count no doubt enjoyed his notoriety for saving the day.

Count Pourtales’ fame did not end with swimming to the rescue of Mr. Dow and his family. In 1891 the Count visited the Cripple Creek District, located just over Pikes Peak from Green Mountain Falls. The Count quickly made friends with such influential people as Sam Strong, Emma Carr, Bob Womack and Winfield Scott Stratton, all of whom contributed to the success of the District’s gold mining. When Pourtales and his partner invested $80,000 in the Buena Vista claim, their purchase made the papers and enhanced the gold rush to Cripple Creek.

In spite of his fame and notoriety, Pourtales’ investments continued to falter on occasion. In 1893 he defaulted on a $250,000 loan and lost his investment in the Broadmoor, destined to become a top star, classy destination for the millionaires of the future. Ironically, the loan company later sold the land to the estate of Winfield Scott Stratton, the Cripple Creek District’s first millionaire who averaged $12,000 a day in mining profits and died in 1902. The land was used for the Myron Stratton Home, Stratton’s own orphanage and home for the aged that is still in operation today. By the time the Myron Stratton Home was built, Pourtales had returned to his native land, where he died in 1908. His departure from the Pikes Peak region was surely final, but a good many people remembered him for years to come.

 

Bob Ford Thrown Out of Cripple Creek!

c 2014 by Jan MacKell Collins

It is certain that, in its prime, the Cripple Creek District in Colorado had its share of criminals. From the local Crumley and General Jack Smith Gangs to such notorious notables as Butch Cassidy’s Wild Bunch, the district saw more than just a few outlaws pass through. More often than not, the more wicked of the District’s transient population often went unnoticed until some unfortunate incident brought their identities to light. In the interim, the good citizens of the District did their best to keep the scourge of society out. Such was the case with Bob Ford, killer of the notorious outlaw Jesse James.

Bob Ford was only nineteen years old when he made his place in history by killing James. At the time of his death, 34-year-old Jesse Woodson James had murdered upwards of sixteen men and taken $250,000 in cash, gold and jewelry from banks and stages across the Midwest. There was a $10,000 price on his head, but legend has it that Jesse was trying to go straight under the alias of Thomas Howard when death came. Ford was a guest of Jesse’s at his home in Missouri at the time. He was also allegedly Jesse’s first cousin, recruited to assist in Jesse’s last robbery before he turned from his life of crime.

The story goes that on April 3 of 1882, Jesse noticed a crooked picture on the wall and stepped upon a chair to straighten it. Bob Ford, the gleam of a $10,000 reward in his eye, took advantage of Jesse’s unguarded move. A single shot through the back of Jesse’s head did him in. Next Ford surrendered to local authorities, was tried, convicted, and pardoned immediately by Missouri Governor Thomas Crittenden.

Even now, certain historians and would-be relatives of James claim Jesse didn’t die at Bob Ford’s hands. But at the time, America believed him dead. And, no matter how bad the outlaw, the wild West’s code against shooting a man in the back prevailed. Besides, Jesse James had been respected and admired despite his outlaw status. Ford received less than a heroes’ welcome, especially when he began touring and giving lectures on the incident. He was often booed from the stage and nearly lynched more than once.

For several years following the killing, Bob Ford roamed the country. History is scarce as to exactly where he went and what he did. No doubt, Ford had trouble shaking his reputation as a yellow coward. Eventually he landed in Colorado City, that wild and woolly place just west of Colorado Springs. In 1889, Bob was dealing Faro at the Crystal Palace. He also worked for Colorado City’s notorious madam, Laura Bell McDaniel, and at the Nickel Plate Saloon.

The unwelcome reception Ford had received in other places eventually echoed in Colorado City. In December of 1891, he was arrested for gambling. It was likely this incident that inspired him to seek greener pastures once more. This time, he decided to try his luck in Cripple Creek. The District was just starting to roll with one of the nation’s last—and most productive—gold booms.

What Ford didn’t know was that Cripple Creek authorities were very aware of his presence in Colorado City. Someone must have tipped them off about his plans to invade Cripple Creek, for when Ford reached the fair city he was met by Sheriff Hi Wilson. Exactly what Wilson said to him is lost to history, but the conversation was enough to convince Ford that Cripple Creek wasn’t his kind of place.

On February 3 of 1892, the Colorado City Iris announced Ford had gone to try his luck in Creede. Success came easier there, and Ford soon found himself officiating prize fights and even running a dance hall and brothel out of a tent. Ironically enough, Ford’s newfound happiness was deterred briefly by a rumor that he had been killed in Creede shortly after he departed Colorado City. The killer was thought to be Billy Meyer, with whom Ford had quarreled before leaving town.

That fateful rumor would soon ring truer than anyone realized. By April Ford had managed to make several more enemies in Creede. The newspaper there reported him dealing Faro but staying “out of the range of any window…” Furthermore, the paper stated, Ford “keeps a restless eye on the crowd about him, while ever near him lies the gun with which he brought down by a shot from behind, the much-feared Missouri Outlaw.”

Before long, Ford was run out of Creede and returned to Colorado City once more. But he wasn’t any more welcome there than before, and soon departed for Creede again. By June he was back at his dance hall tent in Creede. Ed O’Kelley was waiting for him. A former deputy sheriff from Pueblo, O’Kelley was one of hundreds who didn’t like Ford. Their relationship was especially strained after some incident in Pueblo, perhaps a gambling debt. On June 8, according to most accounts, Kelley walked into Ford’s, said “Hello, Bob!” and fired off two sawed off shotguns a mere five feet from Ford’s throat.

Accounts vary as to whether O’Kelley actually shot Ford in the back. But other facts are certain: O’Kelley received a life sentence, was paroled in 1902, only to be killed in a scuffle with Oklahoma City police in 1904.

That was the end of the Bob Ford saga. The bar behind which he was shot was sold to a saloon keeper in the Colorado town of Spar City, now a long gone ghost town. Later, Ford’s body was said to have been moved from Creede to the family plot in Richmond, Missouri. Creede went on to claim its own fame as the death place of Bob Ford, and the answer to what would have happened if Sheriff Wilson had let Bob into Cripple Creek will never be known.

“The dirty little coward who shot Mr. Howard”, Bob Ford.

Hermann’s Hotel Succumbs to Flames!

C 2014 by Jan MacKell Collins

It was Albert Gould’s worst nightmare, that September night in 1886.

The expressman was working late in Manitou one Friday evening, when at about ten minutes past 11 p.m. he looked up to see flames close to his home next to Hermann’s Hotel on Manitou Avenue. A combination dancing hall, dining room, bar and hotel, Hermann’s had taken on some undesirable residents of late. Now the place was going up in smoke. Gould sounded the fire alarm and hurried to the hotel, whereupon several half-dressed men fled from the building.

Inside the building, a number of men continued to run in the wake of the fire. Among them was Mr. G. Hattox, driver of Hermann’s ice wagon. Hattox later said he thought the first cries of “Fire!” were a joke, and only realized the situation was serious when he smelled smoke. Moments after escaping out of his first floor room into the street, Mr. Hattox watched as the second story of the building collapsed. Within a short time the whole place was reduced to a pile of smouldering rubble, and Hermann’s Hotel was no more.

For Frederick Hermann, the fire was the end to a growing travesty. A man of many occupations, Hermann had resided in Manitou as early as 1878 when the Colorado Springs Gazette announced the July 4th opening of his new hall on the road between Colorado City and Manitou. “A good musical entertainment will be held in the afternoon and a ball in the evening,” the paper reported.

Upon overseeing the hall’s opening, Hermann next traveled around Colorado scouting for more investments. The 1880 census lists him in Trinidad with several family members. By 1884 he may have migrated to Leadville and briefly worked as a miner while rooming at the Grand Pacific Hotel. A short time later the 42-year old German arrived back in Manitou and settled permanently into the hospitality business. Early maps show his café as being located just west of the intersection of Sutherland Creek and the old Manitou Road.

A month before the fire, Hermann had rented the bottom floor of his hotel to contractors McMurtie and Streeter, who worked for the Colorado Midland Railroad. The Colorado Midland had just recently began construction up Ute Pass, and several workers needed temporary shelter as the tracks were laid. The deal seemed pleasing enough, until Frederick Hermann made an unpleasant discovery. McMurtrie and Streeter had merely acted as agents for the firm of Murray & Reid, who misunderstood the lease to include the hotel in its entirety.

Soon Frederick Hermann found his hotel overrun with itinerant Italians, many whom were working for Murray & Reid or the railroad. The upstairs rooms had accordingly been amply supplied with straw upon which several men slept each night. When Hermann appealed to Streeter, the contractor claimed to be powerless over the proceedings. An infuriated Hermann threatened to double Murray & Reid’s rent, and the building was vacated once more.

Things might have returned to normal, but for a tricky door leading to the second floor that was nearly impossible to latch properly. During the night as Hermann’s hired man slept, a handful of Italians snuck back into the building and once more took over the top floor of the hotel. Upon discovering the trespassers, Hermann chased the unwelcome boarders off. He did, however, rent rooms to three of them with the promise that the straw would be disposed of.

Before long, the unruly Italians once more took advantage of the hapless German and the place filled up yet again. What to do? Hermann mulled over his dilemma as he took a necessary business trip to Pueblo. And that was when the fire started. Several men, it appeared, were smoking pipes on the second floor. Their carelessly tossed matches soon caught to the remaining straw, and before long the whole building was engulfed. The real tragedy lay in Hermann’s fateful decision some months before to not sell the building for the offered price of $3,500.

Hermann’s Hotel was insured—but for a mere $1,200. The thankful German took the money and opted not to rebuild. The 1887 Manitou directory found him working as a bottler. What line of work he pursued after that is anyone’s guess. The illustrious man did continue to live in the Pikes Peak region with his wife Josephine, who died in 1924. Frederick passed away in 1926, and the infamous conflagration of Hermann’s Hotel was forgotten.

Manitou Springs circa 1890

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.

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.