A frigid Fourth

Here’s wishing all of you a happy Fourth of July weekend. There will be a lot going on right here in Montrose. Hopefully the weather will feel like July. Although we’ve had some cool, unsettled weather this spring, it hasn’t been nearly as bad as the year 1897.

According to former cowboy, rancher and county treasurer Alva Galloway’s memoirs, “Passing of a Two-Gun Era,”  the weather really put a damper on the planned festivities for the 1897 July Fourth.

“All of Ouray and the surrounding country were expected to be in attendance,” wrote Galloway. “The big feature of the day was to be a relay bicycle race.”

Riders were to start at the shot of a gun at two-minute intervals from Main and Cascade, then ride out what is now Chipeta Drive (referred to by Galloway as the “Ouray road) to a point near Chipeta Spring (where the Ute Indian Museum is located today). At the designated point, marked by a stake, they were to turn around and head back to town.

Galloway wrote, “At this time the country had gone wild over bicycles, or the sport of traveling so fast with so little effort. Each community had its crack rider and considerable rivalry was shown over this race. Montrose was putting forth as its chief rider, Maurice Diehl, Charlie Alderson next and Mose Harlan…Olathe had sent Bob Mills up to show how it was done; Uncompahgre had entered its mighty Chris Larson. Now Chris was young and handsome, muscled like a gladiator, with perfect wind. There was no reason why Chris should not win.”

The night before the race it had not only rained, but snowed, leaving the course knee deep in mud and water in some places. The surrounding foothills were covered with snow, making it bitter cold. In fact, Ouray had six inches on the ground.

Mrs. Coley Akard had invited numerous friends to bring picnic baskets in order to eat on her lawn. Most were wearing overcoats and overshoes while wishing for a bonfire. As the riders lined up, dressed in short sleeved shirts, trunks and “pumps,” the spectators couldn’t help but notice the goose flesh “standing out all over them,” according to Galloway.

At the crack of the gun, the riders were off, with Mose Harlan bringing up the rear. There was an official set up at the river bridge in order to set off a bomb when the first returning rider approached. The riders had not been gone long at all when the report of the bomb was heard. There was a big commotion as the special police cleared the streets, making way for the in-coming riders.

Galloway wrote, “Soon a rider appeared coming down Main Street hell-bent for the finish. People naturally thought it was Maurice Diehl and began shouting their heads off thinking Montrose had beaten the crack Chris Larson. A hose was turned on this first in, in order to wash some of the mud off so as to identify him. It did not reveal Maurice Diehl, but Mose Harlan.”

Seems that Harlan got tired, thought the race was too much work, sat down in the middle of the road and built a fire to warm up. After smoking a cigarette or two, he looked up and saw a horseman coming toward him. Mistaking the rider for one of the returning cyclists, he headed back for the bridge and gave the signal to set off the bomb.

In the meantime, just as expected, Chris Larson was leading the race, but just before reaching the stake a chicken suddenly flew in front of him, causing his bicycle to skid, throwing him into some rocks.

“He discovered that the part of him that belonged down on the saddle was badly stone bruised,” said Galloway, “so gave up and was some time getting back to town. Bob Mills had fallen in a mud hole and was half drowned. Thus the big day ended — going down in history as the coldest Fourth of July ever experienced on the Western Slope. It will long be remembered by the shivering crowd.”