Pardon me, because I’m certain I’m repeating myself, but some stories are worth re-telling.
For anyone interested in local history, the story of Horace Tabor who reach dazzling heights of wealth only to die penniless is the quintessential 19th-century Colorado story. It’s the ultimate tale of (literally) peaks and valleys; of ambition; of entrepreneurship; of civic-mindedness; of love; of betrayal; and of downfall.
When one visits Leadville, which I did recently, one can’t help but be captured by Tabor’s story. It is unique but also representative. While my family certain never had the fame and fortune of Tabor (nor, I might say, did we suffer his spectacular fall), my ancestors did come to Colorado in the 19th century seeking new opportunities.
Arriving a few decades after Tabor, they encountered more development, but Denver — not to mention Trinidad, Cripple Creek and Colorado Springs — were still proverbial one-horse towns. Somehow, visiting Leadville, and delving into Tabor’s story, brought me closer to my Colorado roots.
It also highlighted for me how people are drawn to different aspects of a place. For many, visiting Lake County is about connecting with nature. I am more struck by the human traits of adventure, ingenuity and resilience. I love the architecture; the abandoned hotels; the ramshackle mine remnants; the legendary residents.
I love transporting myself to a past era, trying to see and hear the footsteps of those who once walked these streets, dashing from hotel to saloon to general store.
Or from temple to Shabbat dinner. You see, at some point I realized the inn I was staying at — just up the street from Temple Israel — was once the home of David May, the founder of the May Company whose fortune began in the Cloud City. To think that close to 150 years later, I was eating Shabbat dinner in the same dining room that May and his family once did! I never imagined my penchant for “time travel” would take me to David May’s Shabbat table. I wonder how his chicken soup tasted.
Shana Goldberg may be reached at [email protected]
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