In the late 1920s -- long before gay marriage threatened to subvert the gender-role-based order of the universe -- there was companionate marriage.
Denver's Ben Lindsey was the nation's most vocal proponent of allowing men and women to marry without the express intent to procreate. Plus, he argued that couples ought to be able to divorce by mutual agreement.
His critics accused him of advocating free love and "trial marriages." Lindsey made a spectacle of himself by disrupting church services in protest of prevailing religious rules. By the 1930s, companionate marriage faded from the national conversation.
Companionate marriage sounds a lot like today's typical heterosexual marriage. But at the time, Lindsey was blasted for his views. Quotes from the New York Times on November 28, 1927 could have been said recently about allowing gays and lesbians to marry.
Of all of Denver's colorful personalities -- such as Baby Doe Tabor, Mayor Robert Speer and "Unsinkable" Molly Brown, etc. -- Ben Lindsey is one of the least known today. I'm a Denver native and I'd never heard of him until I started researching Denver's history of election fraud. (More on that later.) In his time, Lindsey was probably Denver's most famous resident.
Lindsey stood a mere five-feet-five-inches tall, and weighed in at 98 pounds. Teddy Roosevelt was the "Bull Moose;" Lindsey was called the "Bull Mouse." He had a knack for involving himself in dramatic controversies and getting lots of press. He won national fame with his crusades on behalf of juvenile justice reform, election reform and nationwide women's suffrage. He spoke out against unfair enforcement of prohibition laws. He made himself an enemy of the Ku Klux Klan. In the late 1920s, he pushed for "companionate marriage" -- a poorly defined "new kind of marriage" that allowed for birth control and easy divorce -- for which Lindsey was excoriated by almost every rabbi, reverend, preacher and priest in America.
I came across this blurb in the New York Times about Lindsey being in a train wreck near Chicago on April 9, 1910.
Judge Ben B. Lindsey of Denver, Col., was painfully injured late this afternoon when a fast train on the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad jumped the track...
...Judge Lindsey and Mr. Loop, as soon as they had extricated themselves, rushed to the aid of the imprisoned women regardless of danger to themselves. There was a cry outside that the air tank was about to explode, and the crowd scattered, but Judge Lindsey and Mr. Loop stuck to their task and had the windows chopped open to release the women...
...Judge Lindsey had a sprained shoulder and was suffering from a severe nervous shock, but he refused to leave his post and helped others to escape from the car....
No doubt, Lindsey's national reputation for heroism was enhanced by this report. His critics called him a grandstanding publicity seeker, or a degenerate, or worse. Granted, he had flaws and blind spots. Still, in my opinion, he was a genuine hero.
I'm not aware of any Denver "monument" honoring Lindsey. Please e-mail me if you know anything about a Lindsey memorial in Denver.
One of my projects this summer is to digitize and organize our family archive for the next generation. So I've been making lots of little videos like this. I think my folks have a star quality. Natch.
Some have observed that Barack Obama has a few things in common with William Jennings Bryan -- such as an ability to draw energized crowds and engage them with spellbinding, populist oratory.
But Bryan turned out to be a three-time presidential loser for the Democrats. He is remembered for arguing in favor of biblical literalism in the Scopes "Monkey Trial" and propounding anti-Darwin religionism. But that came later.
The 1908 Democrats were wildly enthusiastic about Bryan. He was known as "the boy orator of the Platte" on account of his relative youth, charismatic speeches and Nebraska roots.
But the vice presidential line on Bryan's ticket wasn't much coveted. Back then, the national convention selected the veep candidate. The New York Times reported that many names were bandied about the convention in Denver but several politicians declined the nomination.
The Democrats eventually settled on John Worth Kern, who had served four years in the Indiana state senate, but had lost two bids for Indiana governor. He'd never held a national or statewide office -- although, years later, he was elected to the U.S. senate.
Sounds like the Dems didn't have much of a bench in 1908. The NYT explains:
In 1864, Denver's city hall was built on stilts over Cherry Creek on Blake Street. The Rocky Mountain News building was located adjacent to the creek at Market Street. The creek overflowed during heavy May showers and the city was devastated by the flood.
Phil Goodstein wrote in Denver from the Bottom Up: From Sand Creek to Ludlow:
...The dark, icy waters spread far and wide. The inundation carried the News' office down the rivulet. Parts of the paper's power press were subsequently found at 20th Street and the Platte. The hand press showed up during excavation in 1871, 12 feet below the river bed. As late as 1898, workers uncovered more parts of the press while building the old 14th Street Viaduct near Cherry Creek and the river.
The inundation destroyed city hall. The latter contained the town safe, packed with real estate records from a recent survey which sought to quell disputes over property deeds. In anticipation of Washington clearing title to Denver's original borders, in early 1864 the city had reviewed the precise ownership of all real estate, including parcels beyond the town borders. The city hall vault also contained documents about Denver's early development. The safe was never found.
Wow. Bad day for the town's clerk and recorder. I'm guessing the safe is under the question mark (below) or under a parking lot at the Pepsi Center. Maybe?
(The flood photo is from the Denver Public Library, Western History Collection, used without permission. Satellite screenshot is from Google.)
Skeptics often explain that the UFO phenomenon is due to the public interest in science fiction and modern science, but there are UFO reports from all times. Here is one of a vast collection of old UFO reports, of course it is not a proof of the material reality of an extraordinary phenomenon, there was no scientific investigation or radar traces then. But it is at least proof that events similar to modern times UFO sightings were recorded also in the past.
No Denver-based sightings were cited. So. With the help of the Denver Library digital image collection -- and photoshop -- I was able to discover provocative evidence of otherworldly Denver tourism:
(I don't believe that human beings are the only "intelligent" life forms in the universe. But I have my doubts about the wisdom of establishing a Denver ET Commission.)
The estimable Tom "Dr. Colorado" Noel kicked off the political NostalgiaFest a few weeks ago with his debut column for The Denver Post, Once Every 100 Years, noting:
Colorado women, who had received the vote in 1893, were disappointed that the Democrats' platform did not endorse women's suffrage. In protest, some women wore the latest style from Paris to shock traditionalists: a sheath dress with a slit from the ankle to the knee, flashing the female calf. Women from Colorado, Utah and Wyoming - all states that had given ladies the vote - attended the Denver convention as the first-ever female delegates.
Republicans won statewide in 1906. "Lid Off in Colorado," said the New York Times on Nov. 8 of that year:
Gov.-elect Henry A. Buchtel, although a Methodist minister, will conduct his administration along liberal lines. One of the immediate results is that prizefighting will be resumed in Denver, and open gambling may possibly be tolerated. Dr. Buchtel is Chancellor of Denver University.
"Smile and push" was Buchtel's campaign motto. When opponents asked him embarrassing questions he merely responded with eulogies of Colorado's climate or a tribute to the Rocky Ford canteloupe. He has been cartooned unmercifully.
Smile and push? Perhaps the campaign slogan "Turn your head and cough" was already taken.
...every morning, I watch the sun come up and glint off the dome of the State Capitol, then illuminate the confluence of two rivers, the spot where gold was found back in 1858. I see 150 years of history spread out before me. The next 150 are off to a rocky start.
The crux of the matter: What is the "highest and best use" of land? This question is going to shape the city's future, much as it shaped the past. More to come...