Wicked Cripple Creek District: A Book Review

Wicked Cripple Creek District. By Jan MacKell Collins. History Press: Charleston, SC. 2024. 176 pages with black and white photographs. Paperback.

Book Review by Steven Wade Veatch

There are dozens upon dozens of histories written about Colorado’s most famous mining district, Cripple Creek. What sets MacKell Collins' Wicked Cripple Creek District apart from the others is that it pulls back the curtain on the scandalous and shadowy history of the district. Collins masterfully describes, in richly detailed storytelling, the Cripple Creek district’s wicked ways, recounting the lives of its infamous inhabitants: saloon keepers whose establishments pulsed with raucous music, miners whose days were filled with the clang of picks and the scent of dynamite, brothel madams whose hushed whispers held secrets, gamblers whose fortunes rose and fell with the roll of the dice, conmen whose slick words could charm any victim, and lawmen whose badges couldn’t always keep the peace in the ever-expanding gold rush of Cripple Creek and the other towns of the district.

The book examines Cripple Creek’s wild side and delves the district’s dark past, including crime, exploitation, and the hardships of living in a gold camp. Yet, the author also points out the tenacity and drive of those who came to Cripple Creek to pursue riches and independence. Balancing historical accuracy and storytelling skill, her writing creates an engaging book for everyone, from history enthusiasts to casual readers.

What sets this book apart is Collins' ability to weave a tapestry of little-known stories from this period. Using firsthand accounts, historical records, newspaper clippings, and historic photos she intensely portrays the district’s darker side. The bittersweet tales of hardship and loss woven into the author’s narratives are a poignant reminder of lives lived on the edge. She directly addresses the racy tales and complex lives of the women in the mining camps’ red-light districts.

Central to the Wicked Cripple Creek District’s appeal is its focus on the human stories that make up its historical foundation. A saloon in Cripple Creek was the scene of the town’s first murder in 1892—and this was only the town’s second year—when Charles Hudspeth, following an argument in the Iron Clad Dance Hall, took a shot at the bartender but missed, hitting the piano player instead, killing him. By then shadows clung to the corners of the district’s streets, whispering danger from dance halls, saloons, and the brothels that lined them.

More mayhem and murders followed. The Victor Hotel was the scene of a robbery in 1894, just months after it opened. The fatal shooting of railroad superintendent Richard Newell stemmed from a heated construction right-of-way dispute.

In 1896, a quarrel broke out between Otto Floto and Jennie Larue, a prostitute living in the cramped confines of a second-floor apartment in Cripple Creek’s Central Dance Hall. A fire broke out in their apartment, spread, and burned part of downtown Cripple Creek. Three years later (1899), Jennie Thompson was cleaning a garment with gasoline in the Victor shack she lived in. Her careless smoking ignited the fumes, resulting in a fire that ravaged a section of Victor.

Collins describes the sad story of Mexican Jennie and how her abusive blacksmith husband, Philip Roberts Jr., filled her life with the constant sounds of his rage, while he browbeat fear into her heart until she reached her breaking point. Then, on Christmas night, 1913, inside the walls of their Poverty Gulch shack, she shot Roberts dead. The cold steel of her gun was a stark contrast to the festive season. Collins includes a photograph of the quilt Jennie painstakingly sewed in prison—a visual autobiography stitched with love, loss, and hope; a testament to her spirit: each square a memory, each stitch a story.

A more unusual story recounts how the miner John McEachern plotted to defraud insurance companies and fake his own death in a mining accident. To perpetrate his scam, he used the corpse of Bob Speed (which would eventually be buried three times) as a substitute for his body.

Jan MacKell Collins has meticulously researched and vividly written this new account of the Cripple Creek mining district, bringing its wicked inhabitants to life and preserving their stories so that the reader can almost smell the perfume of the district’s love workers, see the gamblers’ sly faces as they bet, and hear the honkytonk saloon music play. Wicked Cripple Creek District is a must-read for anyone interested in Colorado mining history and the wicked side of a mining district. Collins brings to life the bright dance halls and shadowed alleyways, capturing the spirit of a time and place where fortunes were made and lives unraveled.

Rating: 4.8/5 prospector picks