The Huntsman House in Clear Creek Canyon
History from 1945-1949 – torn down to make way for Hwy 6
The next time you drive through Clear Creek Canyon on U.S. Highway 6, you might take time to think what the canyon gorge was like before the Gold Rush began, or before Golden was the launching point from Denver to Black Hawk and Central City. In those long ago days, the Arapahoe and Ute Indians would travel through this canyon.
According to my research, the narrow gorge canyon was the home to many types of animals; deer, big horn sheep, mountain lions, bobcats, likely bear and a large variety of birds. The creek was crystal clear and filled fish, the sides of the mountains were steep. Out cropping of rocks graced the mountains that were covered by trees so large their trunks were as round as a wagon wheel. In the spring and summer flowers bloomed in abundance.
In 1859 came the gold rush, and by 1871 the narrow gage train make it first trip through Clear Creek Canyon, traveling from Golden to Black Hawk. This route not only provided easy access to Gilpin County, but also provided the Denverites, with pleasure trips to Beaver Brook Stop, where there was a dance pavilion, and for outings in the mountains. The last train run was in 1939, and by 1941 the railroad tracks were removed leaving a narrow winding dirt road.
It was on this road in late August of 1945 that, Paul & Irene Allander with their two children, Betty and Joan traveled when we moved into the Huntsman; a two story section house in the shadow of Tito, the big out cropping of rocks on the ridge overlooking the house. We were located about five miles from Golden and just east of Huntsman’s Bridge; the first bridge in the canyon as you travel west on what is now US Hwy 6.
The Huntsman section house was likely built at the same time as the railroad. It did not have modern conveniences. Coal/ wood stoves were used for heating and cooking, and kerosene lamps or Colman white gas lamps for lighting. The upstairs bedrooms were accessed by the steep stairs which, turned half way up. The well was in front of the house while the outhouse seemed like a long walk from the back of the house.
If the walls could talk, I am sure they would have told me the stories of the men who stayed within its walls, and the sound of the train as it came by. Bob Brooks was one of the men, and when the train left he built his home in the canyon. I never knew why he went blind, but I well remember playing on the front room floor the day he came to visit. Bob was sitting in an overstuffed chair near the window that faced the rocky face of Tito. As I looked up I saw he had begun to rub his eyes and smile. Then he said more to my mother than to me, “I can see the big rock!” The excitement of his voice will forever echo in my mind as his eyesight was returning at that moment. I wish I could remember all the stories that Bob Brooks would tell us about the canyon.
Clear Creek Annie also lived farther up the canyon, though she was happier when left alone. Sometimes on summer days we would walk by her house and talk to her – she always had a nice garden, but kept a shotgun handy.
By the time I was old enough to remember, the creek was no longer clear. Once in awhile people would pan for gold along the river banks, in hopes of finding a fortune. We knew that though the road passed our house and on up the canyon to Black Hawk, the bridges had missing boards which made the road impassable except on foot.
Life was different for me, but of course from a small child’s point of view, I didn’t realize that everyone didn’t live like our family. Once in a while we would go to Golden with my parents, but not very often. I liked the return trip home, and the peaceful feeling I felt as Tito came into view. Santa Fe and Trigger, our two dogs, would be waiting for us as the car stopped in front of the house.
One rainy summer evening, on our way back from Golden, my mother’s brother Tony Shearer, was riding with us. A big rock had rolled off the mountain and was in the middle of the road. My father stopped the car and Tony jumped out to remove the rock. Much to my astonishment, as he lifted the rock, a rattlesnake was attached to his finger. The snake soon dropped to the ground and slithered away. My parents did not make a big deal out of this, but when we got home Betty and I were sent upstairs to play while my parents took care of the snake bite. As I recall, Tony stayed with us for some time and slept on the couch. Betty and I played outside or upstairs and had to be quiet until Tony was better. I was thankful that we had a dog that would kill snakes and we were taught to watch out for them, for they can be deadly.
In 1948, one or two cars on a weekday were sometimes seen driving past our house, and soon they would drive back by our house. Betty and I were told to stay out of the road when we heard a car coming, as not all the people in the cars were coming to visit us. The next time a strange car passed by, I realized that my mother did not know them, and they did not stop.
Then one day we were told that A.D. Quaintance had lost the court battle with the state highway department about stopping the canyon road, and that our house would be torn down to make way for the new U.S. Highway 6, and we would have to move.
Betty and I began to play “moving day” by throwing our toys out of the upstairs window and running down stairs to retrieve them. We learned this by watching my mother move furniture by using a rope and lowering furniture out the upstairs window and then going downstairs and bringing the furniture back into the house before loading onto the car.
One day, my mother called Betty and I in from playing in the front yard, and told us we were to stand with her on the front porch. Suddenly a loud boom vibrated through the canyon, and we saw part of the wall of the canyon fall. She then told us that the building of the road was coming close and we would be leaving soon. In 1949 I did not realize that moving meant we could never live in Clear Creek Canyon again. To this day I often wonder what happened to Bob Brooks and Clear Creek Annie.
In the summer of 1952 after we had moved to Black Hawk, my parents took my sisters Betty, Judy, and I for a ride from Golden to Black Hawk on the new Hwy US 6. It felt strange to pass our favorite rock Tito, and know we had just driven over the spot where our house once stood. Since then I have traveled this highway many times. Often just as Tito comes into view, I find my mind wondering back to the long ago days when I lived in Clear Creek Canyon.