Part 6

In 1900 the mines closed down; operated again, 1911-1913; 1926-1931; and for about fifteen years after the mid-1930’s. In 1948 two mills were vibrating, two stores and a large school were open, and sixty to seventy residences were fully occupied. The large boardinghouse had room for nearly three hundred men. At its height Summitville’s maximum population was around fifteen hundred with about nine hundred men on the payroll. Lately the summer residents have been two.

In the early days three perilous toll roads led into town; the first from Jasper on the Alamosa; the second over the continental divide from Pagosa Springs, and the third from Del Norte. In 1960 the Forest Service was building a good new road that takes off a few miles above South Fork and will add to Summitville’s accessibility.

Summitville’s appearance may be stark and desecrated, but its gold is uniquely alive.

NINETY-YEAR-OLD SUMMITVILLE WON’T DIE

Nearly ten million dollars have been extracted from its mines, which cover seven hundred-odd acres and stem from four main veins—the Tewksbury, Hidden, Copper and Little Annie. In 1960 the property was three-fourths owned by Mrs. George Garrey of Denver (daughter of A. E. Reynolds) and one-fourth by B. T. Poxon of Creede, and was leased to Jack Rigg whose crew commuted from the San Luis Valley.

_From Silverton_

Eureka is the oldest of the San Juan camps, dating from 1860. That was the summer of the great placer excitement at Oro City (later Leadville). An enterprising prospector by the name of Charles Baker set out from Oro City on an exploration trip, backed in part by Samuel B. Kellogg. Kellogg had arrived in California Gulch (the site of Oro City) in May as a member of Horace A. W. Tabor’s party and had become acquainted with Baker.

Baker and six companions made their way down the Arkansas River, over Poncha Pass, through the San Luis Valley, up the Rio Grande River, over Stony Pass, and down into the valley of the Animas River. Here they found a large park extending from just below Silverton, up past Howardsville to just beyond Eureka. They forthwith named it Baker’s Park. They also found some placer gold which would yield about twenty-five cents to the pan. This seemed encouraging enough for others to follow, and a settlement was established, called Baker City (now Silverton). Their diggings and some brush shanties were nine miles above at what was later Eureka.

But the placer gold proved disappointing. Baker spent one terrible winter in his park and remained for the summer of 1861. Then he retreated to Fort Garland rather than attempt the hardship of a second winter. Here he heard about the Civil War and went home to Virginia to enlist in the Confederate army.

Years went by. Finally in 1874 Henry Gannett, leader of a detachment of the famous F. V. Hayden Geological Survey party, came down the Animas River, climbed over an enormous rockslide and “came out into a thick clump of trees in which were several log cabins, bearing on a flaring sign board ‘Eureka,’ evidently intended for the name of a town that was expected to be, though what had been found there to suggest the name was not immediately apparent.”

What was not apparent to Henry Gannett was the Sunnyside mine. It was staked in 1873 and had gathered around itself the cabins he encountered. The mine was so rich in gold that it operated continuously until 1931. Despite the richness of the Sunnyside, Eureka attained no greater rating in the Colorado Business Directory than “a small mining camp in the San Juans” until 1896 when Otto Mears’ railroad, the Silverton Northern, was completed, and more people moved in for a time. Again there was a boom period in 1918 when the Sunnyside mill was rebuilt, and a large crew was hired. Eureka’s population rose to two hundred and fifty.

Until 1931 no great change occurred. Then for six years, from 1931 to 1937, it was a ghost town. When the mine and mill re-opened in 1937, Eureka had about two years of new life only to die again because of a strike by the miners which the owners refused to settle. Again people moved away, and finally the Silverton Northern was sold and junked in 1942. By 1960 the town was almost leveled—and its unique jail towered alone—one of the most unusual buildings in Colorado. This odd jail gives Eureka its quality of uniqueness....

Five miles farther up the Animas is Animas Forks which supported three mills and was close to many good mines—the Iron Cap, Black Crow, Gold Prince, Eclipse and others. In 1877 it was a stagecoach stop on Otto Mears’ toll road from Silverton to Lake City. According to George Crofutt’s _Grip-Sack Guide of Colorado_, published in 1881, Animas Forks also had two stores, a hotel, a number of saloons and several small shops. Its population was then close to two hundred. But through the years its location at 11,200 feet altitude was extremely unfortunate because of snowslides. Dispatches frequently told of injuries and deaths to men only a short distance from town. Nevertheless, the Silverton Northern was extended to Animas Forks in 1904, and the town lived on in spurts until World War II.

In 1960 its jail, two of its mills, scattered outlying cabins, and a substantial residence with an impressive bay window were still standing. A number of erroneous tales have grown up around this house, saying that Thomas F. Walsh built it and that his daughter was born there. Actually Walsh’s San Juan interests were all centered around Ouray and the Camp Bird mine.

But this house gives Animas Forks the uniqueness to enter our collection—a spot of pure folklore—Animas Forks. So don’t believe what you hear while there!

(_Photos of both towns on next two pages_)

THE SUNNYSIDE WAS EUREKA’S MAINSTAY

The Sunnyside mine and mill were served by one of Otto Mears’ three little railroads, the Silverton Northern. Gladstone, a similar mining camp to the west of Eureka and now also a ghost town, was served by its own railroad. The tall building at the right of both photos is the jail from which all the bars and bolts have recently been vandalized. The road that crosses below the dump at the right leads up to Animas Forks.

EVALYN WALSH McLEAN DID NOT SLEEP HERE

On these two pages the usual order of the “then” photo at the top of the page and the “now” photo at the bottom of the page has not been adhered to because of the size of the pictures. Eureka is at the top of both pages and Animas Forks at the bottom. Evalyn Walsh McLean testified in her book _Father Struck It Rich_ that she was born in Denver on August 1, 1886 (see page 3). The local legend is quite erroneous.

_From Ouray_

On the way over Red Mountain Pass two unusual ghost towns may be seen by slight northerly detours from the Million Dollar Highway. Originally known as the Rainbow Route, this highway was Otto Mears’ toll road from Silverton to Ouray, and later the grade of his Silverton Railroad which ran as far as Ironton.

Red Mountain began first as a mining district in 1831 and then blossomed into two settlements, Red Mountain City and Red Mountain Town. There are also three separate Red Mountains to add to the confusion. But Red Mountain City, on the Silverton side of the pass, died an early death, and Red Mountain Town dropped the “town” a few years later. This left three mountains and a town with the identical name.

It was in the summer of 1881 that John Robinson and two companions found the Guston mine, according to Ernest Ingersoll in the 1885 edition of _Crest of the Continent_. The Guston’s ore was low grade, but did have an excess of lead which was wanted by the Pueblo smelter. So the three continued working it. In August of the next year Robinson was hunting deer and carelessly picked up a small boulder. He was astonished at the weight, broke it open, and found solid galena. This led to the discovery of the Yankee Girl only a dozen feet below the surface.

A month later they sold their prospect hole for $125,000. The new owners had to pack the ore on burros all the way to Silverton, and still the ore yielded a profit of $50 a ton. The Yankee Girl’s final production figures were around $5,000,000. But long before that, the mine caused a rush, and the town of Red Mountain was platted in June of 1883. By 1800 it had a population of six hundred, a water works, school house, weekly newspaper, saloons, business houses and shops—and dozens of stories of fluke discoveries.

The most sensational of these discoveries was that of the National Belle whose popularity and allure soon outshone that of the Yankee Girl. In 1883 some miners were working in an underground tunnel and accidentally broke through the foot wall into a cavity. One man took a candle and climbed down into an immense natural cavern. The flickering flame showed up effulgent pockets of gold and silver galenas, chlorides and carbonates—a veritable treasure cave. The National Belle became one of the most celebrated mines of the San Juans with a long, preciously-guarded life and production figures of close to $9,000,000.

Red Mountain was plagued by fires and was completely destroyed in June, 1895. It also changed its location once in 1886 to be close to the toll road, later the railroad. When trains began to reach Red Mountain in September, 1888, the depot had to be placed inside the wye because of the narrowness of the site.

In 1960 only the dump and shaft house of the National Belle gave any idea of the lively Red Mountain that once was—nonetheless a unique town because of its National Belle....

Ironton was three miles below Red Mountain and was as far as the Silverton Railroad could go because of the impossibility of laying rail in the precipitous confines of Uncompahgre Canyon on its way to Ouray. Ironton was founded in 1883 and platted in 1884 over a long oblong running beside Red Mountain Creek. Its main business was freighting and transportation for the many mines such as the Saratoga and Silver Belle, dotting the mountainsides above it. This was especially true after the Silverton Railroad began full operation in 1889. In 1890 its population was three hundred and twenty-two, around half that of its neighbor, Red Mountain.

As time went on, Ironton’s more salubrious location won out. Ten years later Red Mountain had only thirty residents, and Ironton, seventy-one. Gradually they both melted away, although Ironton did not completely die until 1926 when the railroad track was removed.

In 1960 only ten or twelve houses remained. Two of them had been renovated by employees of the wealthy Idarado Mining Company which has consolidated all the mining activities of the Red Mountain district into one big operation. In addition the company has driven a long tunnel under the mountains to Pandora, close to Telluride. On the Red Mountain side Idarado’s surface buildings are impressive enough to give hope that Colorado will make a comeback as a mining state.

Ironton won a place in our collection because when the Silverton Railroad was completed to this point, Otto Mears decided in celebration upon a new and unique railroad pass for his friends—a silver engraved watch fob.

THE NATIONAL BELLE MARKS RED MOUNTAIN

The upper photo was taken before the Silverton Railroad reached Red Mountain in 1888. The National Belle was already in profitable operation as can be seen from the size of the dump. In 1960 nothing remained of the town, and only the shaft house was standing. If you are traveling by jeep, there is a most picturesque alternate road into Red Mountain which leads out of the valley around the ridge to the right.

IRONTON WAS THE RAILROAD TERMINUS

It was here that passengers on the Silverton Railroad transferred to a four-horse stage to continue their journey to Ouray. Actually the Silverton Railroad was later extended some two miles farther down the creek to Albany Gulch to pick up ore although Ironton was considered the real terminus. The railroad grade may be seen as it circles in the heavy timber at the left beyond this log cabin and to the town at right.

_From Telluride_

Pandora, two miles east of Telluride, was settled around 1881 and was briefly called Newport. But in August of that year, when a post office was established, the name was changed to Pandora. Undoubtedly this was because of the Pandora Mining Company which in 1883 already had a forty-stamp mill, a boardinghouse and offices in profitable operation, according to the Colorado Mining Directory of that year.

Pandora is unique in Colorado history for its annual snowslides, for its long aerial tramways, and at present for its amazing jeep trail.

As early as March 20, 1884, the _Rocky Mountain News_ was reporting:

“The Pandora snowslide which comes down every winter, and which has been looked for for some time came down Monday, sweeping everything before it and making a total wreck of the Pandora sampling mills. Quite a number of Telluriders visited the effects of this slide this week. Some say it was not the Pandora slide, claiming it came over the Ajax Mine, following for some distance the former course of the Pandora slide. At all events, it was a terror.”

But this devastating freak of nature did not discourage the pioneers. They rebuilt the mill, and through the years there has always been a large mill at Pandora. Twice it burned down but was always replaced. The Telluride Mines Company operated the mill up until 1956 when it was liquidated into the Idarado Mining Company, which also acquired the Tomboy Mines Company in the same year. Seventeen years after its inception Idarado thus consolidated all the big mining properties in the Pandora area under its own banner. These included the Pandora, Black Bear, Imogene, Barstow and the towers of the two spectacular trams into Pandora—the Tomboy from Savage Basin and the Smuggler Union. The Smuggler tramways landed at a site close to Ingram Falls from which ore was hauled to the mill past the Bridal Veil Falls and the present power plant down a two-thousand-foot cliff. In 1960 this old ore road had been converted into the last leg of Colorado’s most fantastic jeep ride.

For many years Pandora was a sizable town. In its heyday the Rio Grande Southern Railroad had a spur from Telluride that passed through and reached the mill under stoutly built snow sheds. In 1960 the hauling of ore from the mill was done by trucks, and only three or four families were living there.

The actual site of Pandora is about half a mile down the San Miguel River from the mill, and its superb setting is now marred by two enormous tailings ponds between it and the river. But the town’s backdrop of Ingram Peak with its two sets of falls, Bridal Veil and Ingram, cannot be matched anywhere in Colorado. Pandora is truly unique.

PANDORA’S SETTING IS SUPERB

In 1902 the population of Pandora was one hundred. Whatever its size, no town in Colorado can match its magnificent backdrop and jeep trail.

MINING GHOSTS OF THE STORIED SAN JUANS

In saying farewell to the unique high-country places, you are left with many dramatic memories other than of towns alone. There are shaft houses or portal-houses like that of the Copper Vein mine at Summitville which provided Thomas M. Bowen with wealth to defeat Horace Tabor in his bid for the seven-year term for U.S. senator; or aerial tramways like the Tabasco mine’s crossing Cinnamon Pass to its mill.

_L’Envoi_

If you have read this far, we hope that you have attempted one or more of the short trips. Perhaps you have done the whole suggested tour around Colorado and seen all forty-two of our selections. Whichever you have attempted, you must have come away awe-struck by the prodigious energy and enterprise of the pioneers. Their feats of transportation over villainous terrain, and of building shaft houses, dwellings and even towns on the face of cliffs or at the top of mountains, were so herculean as to seem incredible.

The pioneers’ amazing accomplishments lie crumbling now. What cost them so much are largely regarded today as mere relics for curiosity or spots for souvenir-hunting—an attitude that raises my blood pressure to the danger mark. No one would think of chipping off a piece of tile from a fireplace in Spain or a bit of wood from a Tudor cottage in England. Yet they will do the equivalent in Colorado.

True, our past and our heritage are much closer to us here, but they should be no less dear. For my part, they are even dearer for being just around memory’s corner and being almost within touch. When I stand on the rock dams of Lake Caroline (which my father named for me) and think of what effort a man would need to expend, working alone at 11,800 feet altitude with only a couple of hired workmen and a team of horses to build these dams, I cannot bear for one rock to be dislodged.

There were not only the rock dams of Lake Caroline but the concrete and rock dams of Ice, Ohman, Steuart, and Reynolds Lakes and the great earthen dam of Loch Lomond, the main lake of the reservoir system. I cannot remember the actual building of these dams; but I can remember the many horseback rides in later summers when my father and I went to check on the head gates and on what serious damage the severe winters had done to his engineering work.

And then there were those many shaft houses that I knew as a child and girl where my father was the consulting mining engineer. I cannot remember the shaft houses being built; but I can remember them later with the whir of the hoists, the sharp sound of the bell signals, and the clang of the primitive ore buckets and go-devils as they took us down the shafts. I can remember the speed of the go-devil in the Little Jonny mine near Leadville when in 1927 John Cortellini (then mayor of the town and superintendent of the mine) ushered us down with his courtly Italian manner. He expected me to be frightened at being brushed so rapidly past the crooked rock wall. But I thought it was fun.

I do not think it is fun today when I hear that the silent and deserted Little Jonny shaft house has been broken into and some of the machinery stolen. I know at what human and financial cost that machinery was put there. It should be left in peace until that rosy day when precious minerals and base metals are once again in demand.

Speaking of cost, no visitor to our collection of towns but must have wondered about finances. Only a gambler could understand them. It is my private contention that more money has been sunk into the mountains of Colorado than any wealth they have yielded up. But this is the practical and prosaic view of one who has heard too often about the millions that would pour in tomorrow when the vein widened out or when the drift was extended just ten more feet. Mining and narrow gauge railroading were for gamblers, and no one pretended otherwise. They had no illusions about its being an industry or a business. My father and his cronies always spoke of “the mining game.”

But for a game it carried a deal of heartbreak. If you take time to look at the cemeteries of the mining towns, you cannot fail to notice the numbers of babies who could not survive in this harsh land nor the number of young men killed by accidents other than shootings, nor in the “Boot Hills” the number of unhappy young women who went the laudanum route. There is sadness, as well as serenity and romantic nostalgia, hanging in the aura of these high-country towns.

Memories of humor—raw pioneer humor—hang there also. The old-timers used their boundless energy for play and for practical jokes as well as for work. I remember a passage from the _Silver World_ that was written about Eureka in April, 1877, which pictured their superhuman efforts at entertainment. A dance had been scheduled in one of the cabins, according to the correspondent who described the affair thus:

“Soon the damsels began to arrive, some on burros and some on foot. The music was provided by a fiddle and a banjo, and the ball opened with the ‘San Juan Polka’ which resembled a Sioux War dance.... Soon the ironclads of the miners began to raise the dust of the floor so that before long it was impossible to tell what was what.... Ground hog was the chief dish at the late supper which also served big ox, gravy, bacon, coffee, tea, and a large variety of pies and cakes. After this light repast the dance was resumed till morning.”

* * *

And so, farewell, for the present. Let us hope that in the years to come both humans and nature will be kind to the high-country towns so that we may all continue to enjoy these reminders of a way of life that is now completely lost—a way of life that was the mainstay of Colorado for over half a century and is now only a mountain ghost.

_Acknowledgments_

(reprinted from the first through seventh edition)

For Research Aid:

As in all of my historical work, I want to thank the alert and unusual staff of the Western History Department of the Denver Public Library—Alys Freeze, Opal Harber, Katherine Hawkins, Mary Hanley and James Davis—who have been known to find needles in haystacks. At the Colorado State Museum, Agnes Wright Spring and Laura Ekstrom are always generous; as is Lorena Jones at _The Denver Post_.

The Lake City area was made informative and hospitable by the Joel Swanks and the Lowell Swansons. Hahns Peak research was aided by Maurice Leckenby of Steamboat Springs and Herman Mahler; North Empire, by Louise Harrison, “Wise” and Tulley Nelson and Mac Poor; Turret, by Steve Frazee; Bonanza by Mrs. Olle Olson; Lenado, by Jack Flogaus and his son; Lulu City, by Carolyn and John Holzwarth; St. Elmo, by Jody Grieb and Marie Skagsberg; Stumptown by S. L. Logue; Ashcroft, by the Stuart Maces; Pandora, by Fran Johnson and John Wise; and the Wet Mountain Valley towns by the Pierpont Fullers.

For Proofreading:

Mrs. Bryant McFadden and Beatrice Jordan have kindly helped with the search for typographical errors and have made suggestions about style.

For Photographs:

We, Dan Peterson and I, are especially indebted to Jim Davis of the Western History Department of the Denver Public Library, and Lorena Jones of _The Denver Post_ for running down historic photos of our special ghost towns. When Dan Peterson was unable to go personally for contemporary shots, numerous other friends helped with picture-taking or with transportation for research.

Ed Hargraves of Creede loaned his jeep five times for the trip to Bachelor where the weather was continuously uncooperative. It was piloted by Orin Hargraves, “Ish” Stewart, Paulette Campbell, “Frenchy” Slanakin and Lonny Rogers. Dixie Munn and Lillian Hargraves, also of Creede, drove me on successive trips to Spar City where Mrs. Dorothy Reubling and Dr. O. W. Longwood aided with research and photographs, Jack Rigg jeeped down from Summitville to Jasper on the Alamosa River to fetch and return me, generously giving a whole day to entertainment, education and picture-taking.

Photos that we lacked were obtained for us by Bryant McFadden, Robert Richardson, Virgil Jackson, Ed Nelson, J. B. Schooland, M. R. Parsons, Robert Symonds, and Michael Davis.