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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781609492939 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Arcadia Publishing SC |
| Publication date: | 09/02/2011 |
| Series: | Haunted America |
| Pages: | 112 |
| Sales rank: | 518,488 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.90(w) x 8.90(h) x 0.40(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
CORPSES OF CAPITOL HILL
This chapter will guide you on a tour filled with stories heading through the Capitol Hill neighborhood, sharing the chilling tales my colleagues and I have gleaned over years of discussing the ghosts in that most densely populated part of the state. If you follow directions well, you will even be able to walk the route and see all the buildings in question. As far as seeing an actual ghost, we make no promises, but hey, you might get lucky! So put a bookmark here at this spot, close your book and get yourself to the west side of Colorado's marvelous gold-domed capitol, there at the southeast corner of Colfax and Lincoln Streets. Resume reading once you are ready to go.
(Mood music goes here, so hum to yourself as you make your way to the capitol.)
Are you there on the west side of the state capitol? Great! Let's get started then.
On the west side of the capitol in downtown Denver is a famous step with words carved into it proudly referencing the moniker attached to the city: One Mile Above Sea Level.
Do you see it? Hunt it up, find it, sit down so that your posterior is exactly a mile high and continue reading!
If you look off to the northwest (that's toward all those skyscrapers over there), you will see a building peeking over the top with the word SHERATON written in big red letters. That's what is there at the time of this writing, at least. At the corner of the 16 Street Mall and Court Place, it has had a few names over time and might change again in the future. Either way, that's the building you may admire from your seated position there on the steps because that building is the scene of our first story, one that sets Denver apart from every other city around, at least as far as we know. Long ago, before it was a hotel, before it was a hyperbolic paraboloid, it was the Arapahoe County Courthouse. It was also the location of the Gates of Hell.
Yes, you read that right. It was the location of the Gates of Hell. In the summer of 1900, the elevator shafts in the basement would open and the dead would walk among those on duty guarding the place overnight, to the accompaniment of unnatural lights and the smell of brimstone. The Arapahoe County Courthouse had seen many people consigned to their various fates for whatever ill deeds they had accomplished. Apparently, some of them ended up on the infernal side of things after their deaths and came back to the site of their sentencing. The gates had never opened before and have not opened since, but Denver gets to claim access to the underworld, a claim I have yet to hear associated with any other city on earth. No wonder there are so many ghosts here. Way to go Denver!
So if you would like to get to hell and you don't have a lion, leopard and she-wolf to get you there, just go to the Sheraton Hotel in downtown Denver. Check in to your room and do something naughty. I will leave the decision on what qualifies as "naughty" up to you. You might get the Gates of Hell to reopen once more. Just make sure to take some marshmallows.
Before we leave the capitol behind entirely, it should be noted that numerous folks have declared the capitol itself to be haunted by a floating head, one removed in the 1860s from one of the famous Espinoza brothers of the San Luis Valley. The other Espinoza brother was also decapitated, but the ghost of his head must haunt elsewhere. There's certainly plenty of gruesome detail surrounding how these fellows ended up having their heads separate from their bodies, and there are authors who have spoken with people who affirm one of the ghost's occupation (his head at least) of the capitol. For my part, I once asked a colleague about the ghost in the capitol. She had worked there for many years and told me, flatly, that there was no ghost in the capitol, no way, nada, zip, don't even think about it, zilch, ubsoyo, zero, nul. Rather than incur her wrath (for she is a fine as well as formidable woman), I will go with there being no ghosts in the capitol. Between you and me, however, please let me know if you are visiting the beautiful Colorado state capitol and happen to run into Mr. Espinoza's head floating about some corridor. As you will see from the ensuing paragraphs, I am always gathering new information for my repertoire.
Now that we have finished with our see-from-the-step stories, let's get off that One Mile Above Sea Level seat of yours and head deeper into Capitol Hill. In order to continue your tour, head to the south side of the capitol. You'll be at the corner of Sherman and 14 Avenue. Keep walking east (which is away from the mountains) and you will soon reach Grant Street. Perhaps you are noticing a theme with the streets: Lincoln, Sherman, Grant. You amazing historian, that's right! These are named for some of the prominent figures from the Civil War. Once you reach the corner of 14 Avenue and Grant, head south on Grant and continue to read. I will give you a little primer on the history of the neighborhood you are entering. You should keep an eye on the sidewalk and the traffic and avoid tripping, running into another pedestrian or getting squished by a vehicle. When you have crossed 13 Avenue, you will soon come to a beautiful mansion on your left at 1244 Grant Street, which will be our first stop.
As you are heading south on Grant Street, you are heading into what most people would consider the heart of Capitol Hill, the most famous neighborhood in the entire city, I would say. Before it was known as Capitol Hill, its nickname was "Millionaires' Row." Before that, it was simply and somewhat derisively known as "Brown's Bluff" for the man who owned it. The Homestead Act was an effort on the part of the federal government to get folks to move into the empty-of-Americans West, thus displacing the people who were already there (Native and Mexican alike) and securing the land for the United States. Through the Homestead Act, people would be given up to 160 acres for free with the understanding that they had to remain on the land for at least five years and make improvements to it. Should they satisfy these requirements, the land would be theirs. Many homesteaders took advantage of this opportunity, among them a fellow named Henry Cordes Brown. He ended up with an area southeast of the infant settlement then known as Denver City. The area was sere, devoid of trees and really quite a long way from the hustle and bustle near the confluence of the South Platte River and Cherry Creek. Sure, the area had some height and offered a fine view of the mountains to the west, but anyone who thought this land would be anything was either chewing on some loco weed with the cows or simply deluded.
Mr. Brown proved there was another option. The subject of what city would be the territorial capital for Colorado was one that much preoccupied the populace, with Golden and Denver City among the forerunners of the cities vying for the honor. Denver City wanted it, but how could Denver City get it? Brown had the perfect answer, one that would satisfy the forward-looking people of Denver and make Brown's land suddenly a lot more valuable. He "generously" donated ten acres of his land to serve as the grounds for a future capitol. Denver City graciously accepted and eventually used the space for the construction of the capitol. Your derriere was recently firmly planted on a staircase set on those ten acres, just so you know. Denver City got the title of capital (which it would retain once Colorado became a state), and Brown's land became really valuable, which is what Brown had intended all along, this leading to my putting the word "generous" in quotes.
The city, which had been growing toward the northeast along the named streets of downtown, took a ninety-degree turn to the right and began growing toward the southeast. This would have a number of effects, some intended and some not, as we shall soon see. For now, simply understand that Brown's land was valuable and he became a rich man. Rarely did any homesteader make such grand improvements to his/her land.
By the late 1800s, the streets of the neighborhood played host to all the big names and all of their big houses. Unfortunately, things changed. With economic ups and downs, as well as the fickleness of architectural fashion, the great houses of Millionaires' Row began to come down during the urban renewal efforts of the mid-1900s. The corner of 12 Avenue and Grant Street used to be known as "Millionaires' Corner" for the truly spectacular homes that graced each point on the compass. You'll see that there's not much there now by way of megalithic mansions.
So, by this time you should have made your way to 1244 Grant Street, the Cresswell House. Built for a gentleman who made his money providing the infrastructure to do the steam heating of downtown buildings, it is an artistic and architectural marvel, and haunted too. Spooky! Stand on the sidewalk and gaze up at the house. Just to be polite, you should resist the temptation to stand on the lawn or go up to the porch, since that could be construed as trespassing.
Now, in the olden days, people used to show their worldliness and education by referencing the classics: the cultures of Greece, the architecture of Rome, the ancient folks who had inspired awe and emulation for millennia. Over the years, the building has become a virtual menagerie of the world's imagery, with time and different residents adding things to the exterior or the walls. So, at the top of the building, we see an eagle, wings spread and worthy of adulation, indicating someone's patriotism first and foremost. Immediately below the eagle, you see a cornucopia and other classical Greco-Roman imagery. At the lower corners of the roofline triangle, on either side of the eagle, are two odd- looking dogs. At the time Mr. Cresswell had the house built, the exotic Orient was hot, and that fascination continued into the twentieth century. Unfortunately for whoever put those dogs up there, that person did not quite get the details right, though I imagine the Asian-focused individual probably didn't know or care. Those animals are called Fu dogs. In the spirit of symmetry, there are supposed to be a male Fu dog and a female Fu dog. One of the female's paws is supposed to be held somewhat upright, resting on a sphere, that sphere representing an infant Fu dog. Thus, the Fu trinity. If you look closely, you'll see that Mr. Cresswell's house is graced by two male Fu dogs. Again, someone probably wasn't paying too much attention, but I was told by someone who knows about the way things work with such imagery that having two male Fu dogs will mess up the building's lay lines. I know anyone messing with my lay line would be a bad thing, so it's easy to see how screwed up lay lines could lead to a place being haunted. Think about it.
Enough about screwing with someone's lay! If you look below the second-floor windows, you will see winged creatures of the British Isles, most likely drakes, wyverns or griffins.
Finally, between the first-floor windows, the face that causes much of the consternation for the building. If you are working with the imagery of the Greco-Roman world, it could be Bacchus or Pan, perhaps a satyr even. If referencing the mythology of the British Isles, the Green Man or the Horned God, perchance. During my tours, I have had a number of people look at the face and say, "Clearly, that's the face of the devil. Satan himself looks out from the front of the building." I don't actually know, and Mr. Cresswell didn't leave behind architectural renderings with notes in the margins that I have been able to peruse: "Put face of Satan on front of house, which is sure to be a talking point for guests. Perhaps it will keep mother-in-law from visiting, though there's always the chance she may come more frequently, recognizing her boss." Nope, no such luck in finding such notes, so we must do our best to interpret.
While many folks on my tours have thought that it is this face that draws in the negative energy that bedevils the place, my personal opinion is that no one in the Victorian era or most any time period would have put something hellish on the front of his or her home. Still, stranger things have happened, and the world of the occult was much more a part of people's days than we might think. More on that later, however.
When I first began giving this tour, I had read of various poltergeistesque activities within the mansion and would relate these on my tour. One day, as I was standing outside with my tour group, a lady opened the front door and called out, "Hey, what are you doing?"
"I'm giving a haunted tour."
"Well, come on in. I'll show you around and tell you about what happens here!"
Blink blink blink.
"Okay!"
So we shuffled in and admired the interior of the Cresswell House, which these days serves as rental office space. Though some folks refer to this place as a mansion today, in the Victorian era it would have been seen as an upper-middle-class home. Mansions were built on corners, as we shall see further on the tour. Some of the beautiful details in the Cresswell are still present, especially around the fireplace on the ground floor. Other areas have been altered to their modern form. We mingled in the foyer, and the lady told us the building's tale.
This building is one of the properties managed by the company that I work for, and we have the hardest time keeping tenants in here. People feel as if they are constantly being watched, and not a nice "Hi, I'm a friendly ghost and welcome to my home" being watched. No, the sensation is one of trepidation, the feeling that someone unpleasant is sneaking up right behind the person, intent on malevolence: "If I could only manifest, I would strangle you to death right now."
Most of us know the sensation of having someone sneak up behind us, so you should be well able to imagine the feeling. That doesn't make for a calm work environment, now does it?
That's it. Doesn't sound too hideous, but it is. With that sort of sensation, it's almost impossible to be relaxed at work. For one day, it's not such a big deal. Day after day, week after week, and it's a problem. The lady told us that people would go home from work exhausted, not from the work of the day but from constantly being on edge. So the building would go through company after company as people succumbed to the overbearing threat in the air.
After her kindly offered turn about the place, we left and continued our tour. I was happy because I had another story to add to my tour. It was a good day. Oddly enough, the stories I would garner from the Cresswell home were not yet done.
I began telling this story preferentially, the truth of the threatening presence within the home. On occasion, folks would offer their own thoughts on the face on the front of the building, and everyone agreed that the grinning visage was peculiar, if nothing else.
Now when you're giving a tour, it's always easy to tell who the ones are, the people who simply don't believe in ghosts. (For a fuller explanation of these labels, please see the preface at the beginning of the book.) Ones have usually been dragged along by their spouses, and they spend the bulk of the tour with their heads tilted slightly back and, the indicator of indicators, with their arms crossed. On one of my tours, when I had just finished recounting the problems with the Cresswell House, one of my ones on the tour piped up, saying, "That's @%*#."
My ears turned red because, as you may well imagine, I am a gentleman and never utter such things.
There's no ghost in there. I know the problem, and it's nothing haunted at all. I am an electrician, and I've dealt with this for years. People whose electric boxes are set too high report the same kind of thing. Having your electric box set too high creates this inaudible vibration in the air. You may not be able to hear it, but you can sure feel it, in your nerves and in your bones. That's all they need to do here, just have an electrician come in and get their place fixed.
Not being an electrician, I had no response to that, but it sounded just as likely as anything else, so I began to add that to my information about the Cresswell House. More time passed, and I didn't have any more electricians, but the story was not yet done.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Haunted Heart Of Denver"
by .
Copyright © 2011 Kevin Pharris.
Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Preface,
Acknowledgements,
Introduction,
1. Corpses of Capitol Hill,
2. A Life with Ghosts,
3. Beastly Ghosts on Inca,
4. Street Walking with the Dead in LoDo,
Bibliography,
About the Author,