 Frontier Fighters! Frontier Fighters! The amazing adventures of fearless pioneer men and women who fought and conquered the West. To those who sense this still throbbed to the memory of Pikes Peak Rush, Colorado is indeed a homeland, one from the red man and nature. In 1857, some Cherokee Indians brought the word 600 miles across desert-wasted mountains to Iowa that a little gold and silver had been found near Pikes Peak. Among those who immediately went in search of an easy fortune and didn't find it were D.C. Oaks, Jack Jones and William Green Russell of Iowa. These leaders, together with a handful of people, decided that this land, 600 miles from nowhere, must have a name. It should be a state and admit it to Congress. There ain't 500 people in the whole 600 miles counting the Braves and Squawks. You're forgetting the Pappusas, Tom. They sure swell the population. Just a minute, this meeting is getting a little out of hand. All right, man. Let's listen a while now to Trader Jack Jones. It's true, I reckon, that we're 600 miles from nowhere in the Pikes Peak country, but it's forgetting the Pillar. Oh, shut up, Tom. Over at Oraria on the west side of Cherry Creek, they got 200 settlers, five women, bless them. On the east side of Cherry Creek, they're St. Charles. That ain't St. Charles anymore, Jack. What's that, Oaks? We went in there this morning and found just some keepies and Indian traders. So we took it over and named it Denver in honor of Governor Denver of Kent. I guess things move pretty fast out here at Pikes Peak. Well, anyway, I'm forgiving this whole country a name. Getting it organized into a territory and sending a representative to Congress. We'll have to admit this into the Union. How about a name for this country? I'm for naming it in honor of the man who put over the Louisiana Purchase. A land 600 miles from nowhere will now be the territory of Jefferson. Charles, what's on your mind, Oaks? Just to be on the safe side, I'm for creating a county of Arapahole, which will include the whole of western Kansas, and send a representative to the Kansas legislature. Then we've got representation one place or the other. Good idea. How are we going to get more people to come out here to Denver in the territory of Jefferson? I'm leaving for home next week. I'll get out a pamphlet and spread it all over the country, from the Missouri River to the Atlantic Coast. If anybody can put that over, it's the man standing right there. DC Oaks! I can put over this gold rush, which is dying on its feet and a laying boom too. I can make Denver a real city and the territory of Jefferson a state. In such a fantastic manner was the territory of Jefferson later to become Colorado organized, and thus did Denver come into being as a city. DC Oaks was as good as his word. Immediately upon his return to Iowa, he issued a pamphlet entitled, Pikes Peak Journal. Oaks, with that highly colored pamphlet, unwittingly set off a keg of dynamite that was already imprimed. The people of the states fairly ate up the news to be found in the Pikes Peak Journal. To those who got in too late on the California gold rush, it looked like the Promised Land. In different parts of the country, people called such exaggerated rumors as these from the press. Landfake, Henry, look at this. Ridges of gold circle Pikes Peak like the stripes on a barber's pole. Look here, darling. It's a miracle. The miners slid down Pikes Peak in boats, and the blades in the bottom braces planed off the gold, which curled up in shavings inside a boat. To leave below, let me see quick. And by the time the foot of the peak has been reached, a boat might gather a ton of the gold shavings. There have arrived in Lawrence and Leavenworth and Council Bluffs and St. Joe barrels of gold from Pikes Peak Mine. D. C. Oaks, with a little fact and much fancy, had done his work well. 40,000 made the trek in 49 to California, but in 59, 150,000 set out for the Pikes Peak gold fields. The jumping off points of Leavenworth, Kansas, St. Joseph, Missouri and Council Bluff, Iowa were jammed with wagons and carts bearing signs like these. I've sure got a good name for my wagon. It's Pikes Peak or Bust. I've got you one better, partner. Root, father, dad! No, lady named mine. What do you call it, Lou? A Lightning Express. Wants you to walk up from a navel to America for a Tony, and now either go up from Pikes to County to Pikes to Peak. In March, the wagon trails across the plains were lined with optimistic eager gold seekers, whose numbers daily swelled into many thousands. Shortly after May 1st, wagons going west met wagons returning east. People were leaving the mines. Some said it was a trick to get people out there to buy goods in worthless land. Others, the pamphlet of D. C. Oaks was filled with lies. They'd been cheated and swindled. Suddenly, the wagon stopped in mid-trail. A scout had sighted Oaks with the train of prairie schooners coming west. In a moment, peaceful, law-abiding citizens became a reckless and furiated mob. I'm for hangin' them when we catch them. Hangin' is too good for a vomit like that. You can't take the lawn to your hands like this. If you string him up, it'll be a murder. I sure like to let her rest home, son. Here lies the body of D. C. Oaks. Killed or aided in the Pikes Peak Oaks. There comes his wagons now. There comes the faker. Come on! Both your horses, Oaks. Your game is over. Yeah, where's the gold that can just peel off a Pikes Peak? Get down off of that wagon, Oaks. You're gonna answer a lot of questions. Say, you got me confused. I don't understand what you're all turnin' back for. Well, there ain't no gold. But I've got a sawmill here in my wagon. I'm going to put money in Pikes Peak country. I'm stakin' everything I've got. I'm still of a notion to string him up and investigate afterwards. You gotta have faith in a new country. I never said you'd find gold in the streets. If the papers lie, it's not my fault. He's sure enough got his sawmill in here. Oh, that ain't go on. If it's bad, it'll be bad for him, too. Come on with me. I'll show you where the gold is. The territory of Jefferson's got a future, I tell ya. Denver will be a great city. Better get along, Oaks, before it changes our minds. This time. Get on, you faker, you. And when you're right home, don't you dare tell the folks you found gold growin' on trees. Oh, well. Pikes Peak a bust. Guess we can put that motto in moth balls for many a day to come. Some of the 150,000 turned back. Some stayed. A few farmed. Some became storekeepers. Others mined enough gold and silver to eat out of bare living. But thousands waited. Still clinging to the last straw of hope that somebody somewhere would discover a mother load. But Denver, that new miracle city of the West, continued to thrive. On May 6, 1859, 8,000 feet high in the Rocky Mountains, John Gregory accidentally discovered a gulch with the richest quartz seen by any miner of his day. The first pan yielded half an ounce of pure gold. Hooray! This is the stuff. This mountain's full of it. Yeah, better pan another one of it, just to make sure. Oh, I'd pay no need to try that, but it makes you happy. Here it goes. There he is. Another $8 pan. Well, we're rich! The news spread like wildfire. Denver and our area were emptied in the short span from sun down to sunrise. But who this time would take the news east that people would believe? Fate sent none other than Horace Greeley, famous roving correspondent for the New York Tribune, who addressed the first mass meeting in the Rocky Mountains. Ladies and gentlemen, partners, I give you the man who's going east and tell them the truth. That great and wonderful editor and writer. And our friend, Mr. Horace Greeley. I can go back east and tell them the truth about this gold rush. I've seen in my own eyes gold and oyster cans and buckskin sacks coming out of the mountain. The east needs your gold, the west needs supplies. Gold is a fine slogan, but I'll give them one better, especially for the youth of the nation. I'll tell them if they want a future, want to grow up with a new country, they'll go west, young man. Go west! Go west, young man. Go west, young man was more than just advice. It became a battle cry taken up by youths all over the land. It was more. Late in 1859, the gold production was 500,000. By 1860, it jumped to 3,250,000. Denver and our area united to become Denver City, the queen city of the plains. Then came one of the most eventful years in the history of Denver, 1863. Mrs. Middleton, whose husband was a half-owner in the lumber firm of Middleton and Wagner, one night awakened her husband. Say it. Say it. Wake up. Wake up, say it. What's that? Indians. Can we have a gun? It's not Indians. I think there's a fire somewhere about. I'm proud that I can hear the crackle. Sounds like it. Mother, it's in our lobby. And look, the flames are spreading like wildfire to the building. There's the bell in the square. Better hurry, mother. In a minute we'll be lost. We couldn't do a thing against that fire with buckets and pails. The whole east side of the town's gone. Oh, the Lord have mercy on us. All the houses and stores were wooden and dry as tinder. Burn to the ground. Everything we own, gone up in smoke. Everything except our hope. When they build Denver Newsday, we'll build with them. Build with them? On what? Says, dear, on faith. Not alone did the Middletons build on faith for every soul in East Denver, for no sooner had they rebuilt from the disastrous fire when a flood completely destroyed the city. Many believed the last day was at hand and that they were being called to judgment. But such sturdy stock as had originally founded Denver survived fire, flood, famine and Indian attacks. Then came the proudest day in Denver's life. On August 1st, 1876, Colorado was saluted as a state of the Union and Denver a famous historical city. And so, another thrilling chapter is enacted in the lives of famous frontier fighters of the rugged west.