In 1890, the site of Cripple Creek was just rolling ranchland on the backside of Pikes Peak. Long inhabited by the Utes, the United States government had formally dispossessed them of their ancestral lands and forced them into reservations hundreds of miles to the southwest. The land was peaceful, although cold and forbidding during the winter.
In 1890, Bob Womack, a prospector/cowboy/dreamy-eyed drifter had spent years searching for gold near Mount Pisgah, a conical peak a dozen miles from the little town of Florissant. No one paid much attention to Bob’s fixation, especially since The Gazette’s story about a “very rich strike of gold” on the Hensley ranch near Florissant had quickly fizzled when the metal proved to be copper. When that news broke, The Gazette had a new story: “A young ranchman came here with the statement that he had found a vein of rich ore…the find is about 13 miles south of Florence.” Published on February 12, 1891, that was the first news of the great gold strike that would forever alter Colorado Springs, the Pikes Peak Region, Colorado and the entire nation.
The young ranchman was Bob Womack, and his discovery was made on October 20, 1890. The news ignited the last great gold rush in the continental United States. Thousands flocked to Cripple Creek, the city that suddenly rose at the foot of Mt. Pisgah.
Cripple was a wide-open town, home to saloons, gambling parlors, brothels, miners, eager prospectors, newly minted millionaires, grifters, scoundrels and ordinary families with kids. At the peak of the boom in the mid-1890’s, the district population was close to 30,000, including Victor and half a dozen now-vanished settlements.
By the early 1900’s, the boom was over. Mining continued on a reduced scale, but the saloons, brothels and gambling halls closed. The population shrunk dramatically, and Cripple Creek became a virtual ghost town. The city’s population went from 10,000 in 1900 to a low point of 425 in 1970. Like other historic Colorado mountain towns, Cripple Creek needed a stable, year-round economy to survive.
Colorado voters came to the city’s rescue in 1991, legalizing casino gambling in Blackhawk, Central City and Cripple Creek. A new boom began. Crumbling buildings along Bennett Avenue were renovated and repurposed, thousands of new jobs were created and the future was bright…until it wasn’t. Local operators struggled to compete against Tribal casinos in southern Colorado, where mega-casinos in Blackhawk seized the Front Range market. The Great Recession in 2008 also took its toll and gaming revenue diminished, but ten years later a new era of innovation began, driven by the idea that Cripple Creek could become a destination resort. Day tripping gamblers would be augmented by conventioneers, corporate events and multi-day visitors. They’d be drawn not only by gaming, but by the many delights of the Cripple Creek area.
Casino owners are all in. Wildwood opened its 102-room hotel in 2022. Triple Crown’s hotel is under construction. Bronco Billy’s owner, Full House Resorts, is spending $180 million on its expansion. The project includes 300 hotel rooms and suites, multiple restaurants, a parking garage, a rooftop pool, a spa and a sizable convention and meeting space. It’s by far the biggest bet in Cripple Creek’s long history of reckless gold-seekers and optimistic gamblers. Full House CEO Dan Lee believes that despite the city’s recent setbacks and relative inaccessibility (at least compared to Las Vegas and Blackhawk), he can pull this one off.
“Look what we have,” one city official said. “There’s the Butte Theater, the Cripple Creek and Victor Railroad, the Heritage Museum, the Homestead House (a restored brothel from the late 19th century), Mueller State Park and all the hiking and climbing trails. So many things are absolutely unique to Cripple Creek. We have wonderful B&B’s, historic hotels and much more.”
She’s right. For example, check out the historic Hotel St. Nicholas on 3rd Street, a splendid Gold Rush era building that’s now a B&B. And don’t miss the amiable herd of donkeys that roam the city, descendants of the burros that worked in 19th century mines. For the last century, Cripple Creek residents have cared for them voluntarily, making sure that they’re fed, sheltered and healthy. They’re the living embodiment of the city that nurtures them: wild, free and friendly.
