Colorado Ghost Stories. Antonio Boone's Garcez
and its priests.
After having the blessings performed and returning home, I was not furthered bothered by ghosts. But many years after that experience the questions stayed with me as to why my uncle had appeared only to me, and who was the bothersome and terrifying ghost that had taken hold of my face, and most importantly, why didn’t my uncle’s spirit intervene when the evil presence came very close to actually causing me harm?
I have not been unable to fully understand why I was singled out for this physically dramatic and mental distress. I was only 10 years old. What or who could cause a young boy such emotional injury? Well, that incident took place many years ago. Today, I’m fortunate to be able to sit here and tell you my story. I hope there is someone who might read this and will recognize something in it that might help them.”
Museum of Colorado Prisons
The museum is unique in the fact that it is the only prison museum located adjacent to an actively, operating prison. Behind the walls on the west side of the museum is Old Max, now called Colorado Territorial Correctional Facility; it was originally built in 1868 as the Territorial Prison. On June 13, 1871 it received John Shepler as its first inmate. In 1876, when Colorado became a state, the Federal Government deeded the Territorial Prison to Colorado, and it became a State Facility. Today, there are approximately 700 medium security male prisoners housed at CTCF. There are nine State Facilities and four Federal Facilities located in Fremont County, and these are the largest employers in the area.
Pat Kant’s Story
I interviewed both Pat and Melissa for their stories in Pat’s office. Both women were very helpful in taking me around the inside of the property and pointing out various items of interest. Pat provided me with additional hearsay information, prison terminology, and factual details.
The prison today appears strikingly austere and somewhat odd. The stairs that lead to the main entrance is flanked on the left with a large gas chamber. Peeking inside the green tinted window is the actual chair of execution—leather straps and all. Not bad as an introduction, for what awaits within the main building itself.
— Antonio
“I’ve been the Executive Director of the museum for 12 years. Prior to this position I owned a small business in Canon City. Because of some financial problems that the museum was going through, I was chosen to straighten things out for the foundation. Having owned a business for some time, I had the knowledge and ability to make organizational decisions that ultimately did turn things around. We had a large debt on the building, and in a short time that financial debt was paid off.
The lock-step was used until mid-1960’s.
My position at the museum has given me the opportunity to interact with the public. At the end of their tour through the museum, it is not unusual for visitors to report to me, or to my staff, how eerie the experience has left them feeling, or that they even sense the presence of ghosts in the building.
Personally, I recall the numerous times when, after I first began working at the museum, employees would describe unusual things taking place. They reported decorations and ribbon barriers being removed from the entrance to the prison cells, without anyone else being in the building.
A dummy displays the process of a prison burial.
As part of the museum experience, prison cell doors are left open for the public to view the inside of a cell without having to actually walk inside. These cells have ribbons strung across the openings, to prevent visitors from entering them. Staff would make sure that these ribbons were securely tied at each end. Before closing the museum’s doors for the night, a visual security check would be conducted by the employees on duty. The next morning, employees readying the museum for a new day of visitors, would conduct a final walk through and discover that every one of the ribbons had been physically untied and were lying on the floor. Soon the talk among the staff was that this activity was enough proof that the ghosts of the prison were ‘at it’ once more.
A past warden, Wayne K. Patterson, who died just two years ago, was one of our board members. During his tenure, he happened to be the appointed warden when women were being housed in this building. The warden mention to me that at the time of his tenure, there was a particular woman prisoner who was kept in cell number 17. The prisoner was extremely angry about being incarcerated. She made it clear that she did not want to be here at all. Apparently, she would regularly make comments stating, “When I die, I’m going to return to this prison as a ghost, and I’m going to haunt the hell out of it. I’m going to haunt all of you!” Her criminal history states that she lived in Denver and was employed as a nurse. She was incarcerated at the prison because she murdered her boyfriend. Her boyfriend coincidentally happened to be a police officer.
Pueblo Hatch, alias Jimmie James was an American Indian born in Colorado. He was sentenced from Montezuma County on May 10, 1896. He died at the prison on October 27, 1896.
Cell #17.
Well, after her death, other prisoners began complaining to the warden about all the strange noises that would be coming from her now empty cell number 17. They complained about hearing what they say sounded like large furniture being dragged about, and silverware, or metal objects, being thrown against the walls of the cell, and dropping to the hard concrete floor.
With Cigar in hand Warden Roy Best stands outside the gas chamber door.
Warden Patterson told me about another incident in the 1960s when two prisoners were downstairs in the kitchen and a fight broke out between them. One prisoner took a knife and stabbed, killing the other. The attacker must have hit an artery, because a great amount of blood was spilt all over the kitchen floor. The floor was mopped and cleaned, but the blood strangely kept reappearing. Even though prisoners and employees witnessed the blood being cleaned right after the attack, in just a day or so, fresh blood would reappear upon the floor as if it had never been cleaned. I personally have not witnessed this, but I know people who swear that this did indeed happen. Gratefully, I’ve not had the blood reappear since I’ve been here.
Interestingly, during the summer months, Canyon City sponsors a 15-block ghost tour. To add a little extra enjoyment to the tour, the tour guide will assume the role of either a female or male local historical character while reciting stories. The tour begins at the prison proceeding into town. Local, historical information is shared with the public regarding the buildings and the town’s forefathers. They also tell the history of the K.K.K. who once made its home in Canyon City, and describe the stories of some inmates who made prison escapes. They also recount the personal stories of prisoners that were hung on main street, and the strange story of a local doctor who, because no one wanted to claim it, displayed for years in his office the actual unclaimed, embalmed body of an executed inmate!
Colorado’s last legal hanging.