CHANUKAH EDITION SECTION E PAGE 13
Since 1988, when Phil Goodstein’s first urban history, Denver’s Capitol Hill, was published, the historian has put out some 17 books on various facets of the city’s geographical, ethnic, religious, political and social history.
Taken together, this body of work is a massive and impressive reference — more, one suspects, than any other Denver historian has ever managed to amass. Set side by side, the books take up the greater part of an ordinary bookcase shelf.
The latest addition to that collection, is a cumulative index of all those volumes; a master key, if you will, to the life’s work of this prolific Denver Jewish historian.
Its obvious purpose — to make researching the Goodstein library considerably easier to do — is based on the belief that some of his readers probably have several (or, as in the case of this reviewer, all) of Goodstein’s tomes on the shelf.
The further supposition is that these readers are interested in Denver history and fond of Goodstein’s unique way of exploring and describing that history.
That approach — scholarly, subjective, anarchic, macroscopic, microscopic, misanthropic and muckraking by turns — is an acquired taste, to be sure, but once acquired, hard to resist.
Goodstein’s historical perspectives on the Mile High City may or may not be agreed with by his readers — they might even anger some — but it’s a sure bet that the reader will come away from his books with a keener and deeper understanding of how Denver came into existence and how it came to be the vibrant and distinctive city it is today — and likely have some fun in the process of such learning.
The sheer scope of his cumulative work is graphically illustrated by the Denver History Index, which comes complete with interesting auxiliary features, including a summary of topics covered in his newsletter “The Naysayer,” a multi-pronged, equal opportunity skewer on which Goodstein has roasted local and national figures for a quarter of a century.
An opening section, “The Quest for an Alternative Denver,” provides the back story and author’s motivation behind his respective books.
Denver Jewish readers, for example, might find it interesting how Goodstein’s Jewish history, Exploring Jewish Colorado, came to be and why the author himself remains dissatisfied with the book.
He also describes why ghost stories and haunted houses play such a recurring role throughout his books, often appearing in their very titles — despite Goodstein’s self-description as an “unbeliever” in the supernatural.
The author admits at one point that the Denver History Index was motivated at least partially by ego, implying a desire to see a comprehensive and knowledgeable overview of his collective work.
One can only respond that, considering the depth and breadth of that work, and the seriousness with which it has been so persistently pursued, a little egotistical indulgence might be justified.
Goodstein’s latest book, The Lumber Baron Inn: Denver’s Mystery Mansion, although referenced in the Denver History Index, didn’t see its own light of day until a few weeks after the index came out.
This well-known edifice in North Denver, long the subject of local lore and legend, has appeared in several of Goodstein’s earlier books and has now become the subject of its own slender tome, commissioned by the current owners of the mansion, now a bed and breakfast and popular wedding venue.
Known formally as the Mouat Mansion, after its builder, Denver lumber merchant John Mouat, the imposing Queen Ann structure has, like many of Denver’s elaborate Victorian mansions, a checkered history.
Built by a man who amassed a fortune when frontier opportunities were plentiful, its ostentatious presence gradually grew outdated in the 20th century, as its maintenance costs grew disproportional to its practical value.
Like many old manses, the Mouat Mansion grew ever more shabby and seedy. In more recent decades, it escaped the wrecking ball only narrowly.
Goodstein’s account recounts the sweat and financial equity the current owners have put into the place, not only saving it but restoring it to its original grandeur, eventually transforming it into the prestigious Lumber Baron Inn.
The author admitted, when he recently brought a copy of the book to the IJN offices, that The Lumber Baron Inn is one of the few books he’s written that doesn’t have at least one Jewish angle or personality between its covers.
Despite that, it still has many of the elements that make for an enjoyable Goodstein read — uncompromising depictions of historical personalities, accounts of violent crime (notably a still-unsolved, probably drug-related, double murder that took place in the house in 1970), chilling ghost stories (which may or may not be related to said murder) and lots of interesting pictures.
Further, if one is searching for literary themes, consider this tale of a once glorious mansion, reduced in subsequent years to squalor and violence, eventually perceived as a haunted house and finally reborn in a new century with most of its original splendor intact.
Such a tale of redemption!
Copyright © 2013 by the Intermountain Jewish News
