Colorado Curiosities: Rattlesnake Kate, The Crying Bridge, Kit Carson’s Last Trip & More

By Cindy Brick

Colorado's Front Range, Western Slope, eastern plains and southern approaches were home to some of the state's stranger people, places and events. Meet Mike the Headless Chicken from Fruita and a Fort Collins architect who designed a university building to house his wife--after he killed her. Learn about Florence's "The Alcatraz of the Rockies" or Doc Holliday's final breaths in Glenwood Springs. Dig into the odd conspiracy theories and underground city connected to the Denver International Airport. Walk alongside dinosaur tracks, scout out old mines and ancient petroglyphs or climb into Mesa Verde's shaded, mysterious cliff dwellings. Author Cindy Brick shares quirky, odd and intriguing episodes in Colorado history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The History Press
• Release date: Jun 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781439672730

Cindy Brick

Cindy Brick has been interested in history since childhood. A nationally known speaker and teacher in the craft field (particularly the quilt world), she is also a certified personal property appraiser and a competition judge. Her writing has appeared in Quilter's Newsletter Magazine, Encyclopaedia Britannica, the Daily Camera and the Denver Post, as well as for the Quilt Heritage Foundation. She also writes extensively online and for her company, Brickworks. You can contact her via the Brickworks website at www.cindybrick.com or via her blog at www.cindybrick.blogspot.com. This is her seventh book.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

I love a good story. It’s even better when that story is true.

Part of it is hereditary. I grew up in a large, rowdy family of cousins, uncles and aunts who loved to talk about events, people and places—the stranger, the better. If I was very quiet, I could even hear the latest gossip about who was doing what with whom. Until, that is, my mom noticed Miss Big Ears avidly listening and told me to go play.

The other part was a proud sense of history and our role in it. My Grandma Cumings’ ancestors arrived on the Mayflower (Edward Fuller and family) and fought in the American Revolution. She was proud of that and of the antiques handed down from those brave forebears. Upstairs in an out-of-the-way bedroom she kept a bookshelf/cabinet full of unusual things: antique books, rocks, bones, arrowheads, odd little boxes from visiting missionaries to China and a linked chain carved from a single piece of wood. I spent many hours carefully handling those links to my family’s past.

We made our own history when Husband David and I moved to Colorado in 1984, one of the very few on both sides of our families to live in the West. Colorado was a dream filled with cowboys, western sunsets and ghost towns. Our first stop was Boulder, where I worked for the Daily Camera while David went to grad school at the University of Colorado. We explored everywhere we could; our Ford Mustang (and later Jeep Cherokee) bumped its way up to Gold Hill, made it up the dirt road to Central City’s cemetery and took us to many other living (and dead) ghost towns, including scruffy places with unusual names: Gothic, Tarryall, Bachelor Gulch, Montezuma, Pickle Gulch, Pieplant, Tincup, Tungsten and St. Elmo. Eventually, we moved up Boulder Canyon to Nederland, where we counted ex-miners and hippies as friends, then on to Castle Rock, where our friends were ranchers and native-proud Coloradoans. Over the years, we came to think of ourselves as near-natives, as well.

All along the way, these people told us wonderful stories of homesteaders, Indian raids, bandits, soldiers and pioneers. I was surprised and pleased when later research showed that these curious tales were essentially true. Eventually, they formed the basis for my previous book for Arcadia Publishing, Ghosts and Legends of Colorado’s Front Range. Ghosts, lost treasure, unusual people and events all became fodder for the book.

After Ghosts and Legends came out, I learned even more about some of those tales, from people who traveled and lived in the areas I’d written about. One creepy update came from a man who had driven down Riverdale Road, mentioned in my earlier book. A skeptic, he changed his mind after he noticed a handprint on his car’s rear window and heard someone commenting about it from the empty back seat.

I also didn’t realize how much current events could mimic past history. Writing about Sand Creek and other massacres, both Native American and otherwise, was incredibly frustrating as we watched protesters and looters intermingle in cities around the world following George Floyd’s and others’ deaths. It was clear that, even with centuries of experience, we haven’t learned much about understanding, even about simply getting along with each other.

My notebooks were still full—of people, places and things I just couldn’t jam into the Ghosts and Legends book. Colorado is a wonderfully layered place, filled with unusual people, places and events, from earliest days to recent years’ COVID-19 shenanigans. Unfortunately, due to space, I could only include a brief sampling of each area. But the short takes after each section will give you a taste of other interesting stories.

To make these stories easier for you to follow, they’re separated generally by geography: Points North (Fort Collins, Greeley and such); Points Central (Denver and similar places near it along the Front Range); Points East (DIA—a city in itself—Kiowa, Sand Creek, etc.); Points West (Boulder and Golden, then into the mountains to Estes Park, Glenwood Springs and so on); and Points South (Colorado Springs, Pueblo and Bent’s Fort). Other spots are mentioned when they cover the same basic subject. I’ve also included unusual people, animals, monuments and landmarks, as well as military and railroad spots, which had a strong influence on Colorado—past and present (and future, too). Short takes are included—extras that couldn’t be expanded on because of space but are still intriguing. Whenever possible, I’ve also included directions and contact information on these places in the bibliography, so you can visit and see for yourself. Here’s your chance to stock your own cabinet of curiosities and learn more about this fascinating state.

Bub and Tige, an early twentieth-century comic popular on college campuses, visit the Manitou Springs incline. Author’s collection.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Ghosts and Legends covered a lot of ground in Colorado. I’ve tried, wherever possible, not to retrace my own steps, which means that some cities get less space in this book than they normally would. A look at Ghosts and Legends will not only fill in the blanks and answer your questions about those areas but also give you more people, places and things to add to your mental cabinet of curiosities. My notebooks are filling up again. There’s much more to explore.

1

POINTS NORTH

SHADES OF COLORADO STATE (FORT COLLINS)

The Agricultural College of Colorado may have been founded in 1870, but wasn’t funded until 1876, when the territorial legislature voted enough money for the University of Colorado, the School of Mines in Golden and Colorado A&M, as it was called. President Elijah Edwards and two faculty members were hired to teach the first students, or Aggies, of the class of 1879. An A on Fort Collins’s hillside, much like the School of Mines’ M in Golden, is painted white every spring by the freshman class.

(Boulder and Cañon City fought it out for the privilege of the new university. Boulder won, and the University of Colorado (CU) opened its doors in September 1877. Cañon City got the consolation prize: the state prison. See Ghosts and Legends for more on Boulder and CU.)

Today, Colorado State University has nearly 27,000 undergraduate students, is a Carnegie Class I research institution.…The university has approximately 1,550 faculty in eight colleges and 55 academic departments, boasts its website. But they forgot to count the ghosts.

The first Claim Shanty, a red brick building with a foundation of stones dragged into place by oxen, was meant to do just that: claim the land for the new college. Old Main came next, but it barely survived. Whoever installed its lightning rod got things backward. The lightning rod was conducting electricity into the building, not protecting the structure. Old Main was set on fire in May 1970, along with the ROTC building, during student protests about Cambodia and the Kent State shootings. The ROTC building was barely damaged, but Old Main was completely destroyed. Its burning remains one of the area’s mysteries. No one was ever charged.

Bub and Tige visit Colorado College. Wikimedia Commons.

However, CSU has more than its share of ghostly attendees, thanks in large part to the tone set by its Student Services Building. The architect, Eugene Groves, had plans for it that he didn’t share with university officials. The basement foundation was meant to do more than just hold the floors up; it would be a secret tomb for Groves’ wife, whom he planned to murder. Fortunately, his plan was discovered before he put it into action. His wife lived, and he ended up in a mental institution. The building, then called Braiden Hall, was completed in 1948 after its predecessor, an 1892 building used as the CSU president’s home, was demolished.

Lory Student Center Entrance, Colorado State University. Wikimedia Commons.

Students living there felt that the building was unusually cold and dark. Staff members soon reported hearing odd voices and footsteps or watching doors and chairs moving on their own. Strange orbs have been photographed and appear in videos. During a 2013 visit, the Ghost Hunters of Colorado documented what they called an intelligent spirit that not only answered questions but also sounded footsteps, slammed a few doors, chattered and groaned. Was it Groves, angry that his disappearing wife act didn’t work? Or was it one of CSU’s former presidents, irritated at his home being torn down? Even when the building was converted for student services and a new Braiden Hall built, the strange noises and events continued. It remains one of the campus’s most haunted buildings today.

Ammons Hall, built in 1922, originally featured a pool inside, as well as other recreational facilities for women. A student is said to have drowned there; water does seem to play a part for the spirits that live in the building, from wet footprints to students being splashed with water from the fountain in the atrium, even when it’s off. Lights, orbs and shadows have been caught on video, along with the sound of footsteps, singing and keys jingling. Sometimes, an entire floor of lights will turn on and off—curious, considering the lights were engineered to turn off only when done individually. Tour groups have heard growling, giggling and footsteps marching around the edge of the atrium, as well as a voice that will answer questions.

Ammons Hall, Colorado State University. Wikimedia Commons.

Centennial Hall, now the office of the registrar, has a wide staircase that features unseen footsteps, along with a tall, dark man who occasionally allows himself to be seen. Perhaps he is the walker from Ammons Hall, taking a break from his usual circuit.

Johnson Hall was the first on-campus student union when it was finished in 1936; three years later, a ballroom was added for military balls and college proms before it was converted into a theater. This may explain why its chief spirit seems to be an artist. Employees have heard singing, as well as footsteps that seem to be dancing. Could the ghost be reliving his or her recital or a favorite performance?

RATTLESNAKE KATE (HUDSON)

Newcomers to Colorado are told that there are no snakes here, because they don’t tend to like high altitudes. What those well-meaning advice-givers forget is that the state, in whole, is considered high desert. It’s dry, sunny and features plenty of rock formations with warm surfaces and cozy holes—perfect from a snake’s point of view. Most aren’t poisonous; in fact, they often keep down the number of mice and other pests in a garden. But it isn’t uncommon to find a variety of snakes both benign and poisonous.

For snakes, the more, the merrier. When conditions are right, not just one or two, but dozens, even hundreds of snakes will nest, snugly curled around each other. This way, they keep each other warm during the long months of brumation (similar to hibernation), often in underground burrows. No wonder the ancient Maya considered the snake, especially the rattlesnake, a vision serpent that knew how to access the subterranean underworld.

During the winter, it’s no problem. But when spring and summer arrive, the snakes head out and about. When the den is full of rattlesnakes, particularly prairie rattlers, this can pose an annual problem. One of Colorado Springs’s longest-lived restaurants, the Sunbird, was located high on Rattlesnake Hill above the Springs. It was forced to clear out the snakes when the weather turned warm each year. (Snakes not only enjoy hanging out with each other; they also come back to the same den for years, even traveling great distances to get there.) The Sunbird finally closed in 2018.

Kate McHale knew snakes well. She’d seen them plenty of times on her farm near Ione in Weld County. (The town was named for the original owner’s favorite phrase, I own it. The post office opened in the late 1920s, about when Kate first lived there, but closed in 1958.) She was born in 1894 (some say 1893) in a cabin near Longmont and trained as a nurse before she moved to Ione, now known better as Hudson. Although she married several times, Kate took only one husband’s name, Slaughterback, and kept her own farm through all the divorces. She was said to do some bootlegging, along with the farm chores. Farms on the prairies were generally dryland and hard to keep going. But Kate was known to be strong, independent, resourceful and a good shot.

October 28, 1925, was a fall day but still warm enough for what happened next. The Depression had already hit the West, and money was scarce. Kate, along with her horse and three-year-old adopted son Ernie, headed toward a lake near their farm. She had heard hunters’ shots earlier and hoped for a free dinner from ducks they might have wounded. The plan seemed to be working until Kate came across a prairie rattler. No problem; she’d kept her .22 Remington rifle handy, just in case. It was an easy kill.

Then she saw another rattler. And another. And another.

By this point, the horse, with Ernie aboard, was dancing about nervously. And Kate was running out of bullets. Fortunately, a No Hunting sign was posted nearby. Kate wrenched it out of the ground and used it to kill each rattler as it crawled toward her family. The migrating rattlers were heading to their winter den, and they were persistent. I fought them with a club not more than 3 feet long, whirling constantly for over two hours before I could kill my way out of them and get back to my faithful horse and Ernie, who were staring at me during my terrible battle, not more than 60 feet away, she said later. By the time she finished, Ernie and the horse were safe, with a huge pile of dead snakes next to the ruined sign.