By Steven Wade Veatch
On a fateful
Wednesday, July 15, 1914, 13-year-old John F. Bowen visited his friends at the
Kilpatrick Ranch near Gillette, Colorado. It started out like any other day for
John—his past behind him, his future ahead, but unlike other days, this would
be his last day on Earth.
Young John Bowen had lived an eventful life. He was born in Leadville on January 12, 1901, to Irish parents. John and his family lived in the Big Stray Horse Gulch in Leadville. His father, Thomas, worked in a Leadville silver mine. Certainly, his father had heard about the roaring Cripple Creek Mining District while working in Leadville. Unable to resist the lure of the Cripple Creek goldfields, Thomas gathered up his family and moved to the “World’s Greatest Gold Camp.” By 1905, he was working as a miner at the Free Coinage Mine and lived in Altman, one of the mining camps in the district (Cripple Creek City Directory, 1905).
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| A silver mine in Leadville. The author created this AI image with the assistance of DALL·E and MS Bing. |
On that fateful Wednesday, John prepared to visit friends at the Kilpatrick Ranch, near Gillette, Colorado. When it was time to leave for Gillette, he no doubt kissed his mother, Mary, goodbye, waved to his siblings, and shook hands with his father, who was, by now, the town marshal. John quietly stepped through the door, went outside, and stood beside his donkey—ready to ride. He then hoisted himself onto the donkey's back, adjusted his grip on the reins, and gave a gentle kick. The donkey responded to John’s command, and with the donkey’s cautious step forward, they began their descent down a winding mountain road. He passed by several of the big gold producers (the Burns, Pharmacist, and Zenobia mines) in the Cripple Creek District.
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| Main Street (Baldwin Avenue) in Altman. Photo date unknown. Courtesy of the Cripple Creek District Museum. |
Soon
the mountain trail stretched out before them, snaking through lush greenery,
wildflowers, aspens, and spruce trees. Sometimes long grass brushed against his
trousers as he rode. His heart raced with excitement at the rhythmic sound of
the donkey's hooves echoing through the crisp mountain air.
John’s
hands gripped the reins firmly as the sure-footed donkey worked its way down
the mountain with a steady gait. At times, the trail presented challenges—a
steep incline, a narrow passage between rocks, and a bend in the road that made
John lean into the curves, shifting his weight to aid the donkey's balance. Nature
seemed to come alive around him. John noticed deer, hawks, and squirrels in the
foliage, and each sight added to the thrill of the ride.
As
they rode to Kilpatrick's Ranch, John felt the wind tousling his hair and
smelled the scent of pine and earth in the air. Finally, the road brought him
to a peaceful clearing—Kilpatrick’s Ranch—below Pikes Peak.
Perhaps
his day can be thought of in this way: By the time he arrived at the ranch, the
sun was high in the open sky as a group of teenage boys gathered at the corral.
John dismounted and patted the donkey affectionately. The boys greeted one
another with laughter and handshakes. The ranch, with its pastures, trails,
ponds, and pine trees, promised endless possibilities. The boys reveled in the
freedom that came with riding horses as they explored the sprawling landscape,
galloped through open fields, and maneuvered around trees, rocks, and other obstacles.
As
the afternoon ended, it was time for John and the donkey to head for home. John
bade farewell to his friends, mounted his donkey, and started riding back home
to Altman. He carried with him the memories of a day well spent on the ranch
with his friends. The way back was uphill, and after a while, John dismounted and
sat on a flat, lichen-encrusted stone to give his donkey a break. A storm
seemed to be gathering.
As John
and his donkey approached Altman (the camp with the highest elevation in the
district) a storm developed. The sky roared with a primal fury as jagged bolts
of lightning split the heavens and illuminated the darkness with their dazzling
brilliance. Thunder reverberated through the air and a rumbling percussion
shook the ground. Gusting winds whipped through the trees. The air crackled
with raw energy, charging the atmosphere with electric tension. Nature's power
was on full display, revealing unpredictable might.
Just
as John and his donkey were nearing Altman, lightning stretched across the sky from hell to
breakfast, and struck a nearby tree, causing it to explode. Newspaper accounts
record what happened when he was close to home. The Rocky Mountain News
published this incredible report on July 16, 1914:
He had visited the Kilpatrick ranch nearer Gillette
and was returning to his home when he encountered an electrical storm. He had
proceeded within a half mile of his home when a bolt of lightning struck a tree
near the road. Rider and animal were felled by the effect of the bolt. Young
Bowen was strapped securely in the saddle and when the burro arose later the
limp form of the boy clung to the animal. The burro continued until he reached
the yard of the Bowen home where the mother of the boy loosened him from the
saddle and carried him into the house.
Members
of the Bowen family worked over the boy several minutes before he was revived.
He became hysterical and asked strange questions. The family sought to calm him
but failed.
An hour after
he had been brought into the house, young Bowen walked to a bureau, pulled out
a gun, which was small caliber, and fired into his body above the heart, dying
almost instantly.
The shooting
was witnessed by members of the family, but they were unable to reach the boy
in time to prevent him from ending his life. The remains were turned over to
the coroner (Youth
Crazed by Lightning, 1914).
Lightning is a formidable force. It is possible that lightning struck John in this way: When lightning struck the tree, it jumped to John Bowen as well (Auerbach, 1980). John would have felt its impact through multiple systems of his body. Neurologic complications could have been severe, including loss of consciousness, confusion, memory issues, dizziness, headaches, seizures, and changes in sensation or movement. He would have suffered other problems, such as burns (from heat caused by the strike) and associated blunt trauma from explosive shock waves (Fontanarosa, 1993). Objects damaged or thrown by a lightning strike can cause physical injury. The only thing known for sure is that John was not the same after the lightning strike. His eyes finally opened, he gulped in some fresh air, got up, walked to a chest of drawers, opened a drawer, picked up a revolver, and shot himself.
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| John Bowen, a spirited teen boy, riding his donkey back to his home in Altman. Rain started as the clouds grew darker. The author created this AI image with the assistance of DALL·E and MS Bing. |
John died at his home at the top of the hill. Time had slipped away from him, a life mostly unlived. The death of a teenage boy is a tragedy that makes us question our existence. It reminds us to appreciate the fragility of our time on Earth and appreciate the people around us.
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| John Bowen’s tombstone at the Sunnyside Cemetery, Victor, Colorado. Photo date 2023 by S. W. Veatch |
References and
further reading:
1905
Cripple Creek City Directory. Denver, CO: Gazette Publishing Company.
Auerbach,
P. S., 1980, October. Lightning Strike. Topics in Emergency Medicine
2(3): p 129-136.
Fontanarosa, P. B., 1993, Electrical shock and
lightning strike, Annals of Emergency Medicine, Vol. 22, Issue 2, Part 2.
Youth Crazed by Lightning, Sends Bullet into Body in
Presence of Family., 1914, July 16. The Rocky Mountain News (daily), Vol.
55, No. 197.
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