The Bradford Children and their Family’s Place in Gold Hill History

I refer to this collection of narratives as “Stories of my Family,” but I often find myself writing about people who are not actually related to me. They sometimes are people who have crossed paths with my family, but in this case they are not at all related, just a family whose history involves a neighboring town. Perhaps I need to redefine the term family to include members of my geographic community.

The grave site of the three Bradford children in Gold Hill Cemetery. Photo by Eric Christensen.

While walking through Gold Hill (Colorado) Cemetery in 2020, I came upon the graves of three children named Bradford who had all died as infants during the first half of the 20th Century. Their grave markers looked quite new, indicating that they must have been replaced since the Four Mile Canyon Fire had swept through the Gold Hill neighborhood in 2010. Someone today knows who these children were and cares about them. There were no other Bradford graves nearby, so I wondered how they came to be buried in Gold Hill. After a bit of research, I discovered who their parents were and how they fit into the history of the town.

Close-up views of the name plates for the three Bradford children in Gold Hill Cemetery. Photos by Eric Christensen.

The Bradford Children

The three Bradford children buried together are Bonnie Rae Bradford (08/05/1928–03/29/1929), Lawrence Rufus Bradford (aka Gerald Rufus Bradford; 08/19/1936–08/19/1936), and Gerald Truman Bradford (02/16/1943–04/22/1943). The crosses marking their graves are made of copper-colored pipes and pipe fittings, with name plates attached and white stones arranged at their bases, obviously too new looking to have survived the 2010 fire without damage. There is also a fourth Bradford child listed in the Gold Hill Cemetery Burial Index, Carolyn Joy Bradford (11/09/1953–11/09/1953), who was later removed and reburied at Mountain View Memorial Park in Boulder, down Sunshine Canyon from Gold Hill. I later determined that she was a niece to the other three Bradford children, the daughter of their brother Richard Charles Bradford (06/12/1930–01/12/1977).

The Bradford Children listed in the Gold Hill Cemetery Burial Index as of December 4, 2018, page 2.

After determining that these three children were children of Harlie Elmer Bradford (11/14/1909–10/01/1982) and Elizabeth Anne Nichols (12/17/1911–03/01/1994), I created memorials for them on Find-a-Grave. It was through these memorial pages that a member of the family (related by marriage) contacted me to inform me the children were buried next to their maternal great-grandparents, Edwin David “Ned” Goudge (01/09/1853–08/04/1923) and Annie Bennet Goudge (04/06/1856–09/09/1930), who had been early settlers in Gold Hill. (The birth dates of Edwin and Annie Goudge come from their funeral records. Other documents show various other years, so they might not be completely accurate.)

Edwin David “Ned” Goudge and Annie Elizabeth Bennett(s) Goudge listed in the Gold Hill Cemetery Burial Index as of December 4, 2018, page 4.

Parents: Harlie and Ann Bradford

Harley (later known as Harlie) Elmer Bradford was born in Bogue, Kansas, and moved to Colorado with his parents as a child. He married Elizabeth Anne Nichols (also known as Anne Elizabeth) in Littleton, Colorado, on August 12, 1927, and they settled in Boulder, Colorado, where he worked as a real estate broker. Elizabeth Anne Nichols was born in Gold Hill. Her parents probably lived in Salina at the time, about halfway down Four Mile Canyon from Gold Hill. Harlie and Elizabeth had eight children together, five of whom survived to adulthood. I have since learned (see the comments to this post below) that one of their sisters has kept a promise to her mother that she would update their graves. Harlie and Elizabeth both died in Boulder, where they are buried together in Mountain View Memorial Park. Elizabeth’s headstone shows her name as “Anne E.”

Maternal Grandparents: Richard and Ethel Nichols

The name Nichols has evolved over the years, and in various documents it is spelled Nichols, Nicholls, or Nicholas, and these variations in spellings still persist today. I will simply use the spelling Nichols for the sake of consistency.

Richard John Nichols (12/04/1887–09/24/1941) was born in Ophir, Utah, and he was merely a toddler when his family moved to Boulder County, Colorado. He married Ethel Goudge (10/15/1892–07/14/1981) in Boulder on April 9, 1910. Ethel had been born and raised in Gold Hill. Richard held various jobs in the mining industry, and they lived sometimes in Boulder, sometimes in Gold Hill, and sometimes somewhere in between. They raised two daughters together. Richard and Ethel both died in Boulder. Richard is buried in Gold Hill. Ethel, who outlived him by nearly thirty years, was cremated and is inurned in Mountain View Memorial Park in Boulder.

Richard John Nicholls listed in the Gold Hill Cemetery Burial Index as of December 4, 2018, page 9.

Maternal Great-Grandparents:
Edwin and Annie Goudge

Edwin David Goudge was born in Galena, Illinois, to English immigrants John and Harriet Wicks Goudge. Annie Bennet (also spelled Bennett) was born in England to John and Amelia Bennet, and immigrated to the United States as a child with her parents. Edwin and Annie were married in Randolph, New Jersey, on August 1, 1874. They visited Colorado on their honeymoon, fell in love with the state and its mountains, and finally settled in Gold Hill, where Edwin worked as a miner.

In 1900, Edwin and Annie purchased the Gold Hill Hotel (earlier known as the Kinney House, the Grand Mountain Hotel, and the Wentworth Hotel) and reopened it as the Goudge Hotel. In 1920, the Holiday House Association of Chicago, a women’s club offering therapeutic mountain getaways for working girls from the big city, purchased the Goudge Hotel from them. The organization was also known as the Bluebirds, and the hotel became the Bluebird Lodge. In 1927, the Bluebirds mounted a fund-raising campaign for the construction of a log recreation and dining hall adjacent to the Bluebird Lodge, which later became the Gold Hill Inn, an extremely popular dining establishment in Boulder County.

Edwin and Annie raised eight children in Gold Hill, and they remained in Gold Hill for the remainder of their lives. They are buried together in the Gold Hill Cemetery.

Copyright 2021
Eric Christensen

The Woman who Stood off Billy the Kid

Many of the family historical stories I tell become rather mundane recitals of facts, so it is always refreshing to find an exciting story to tell. While I was studying the history of my first-cousin-four-generations-removed Mary Ann Johnson Farnsworth, I discovered that she was known as “the woman who stood off Billy the Kid.” I did a little digging and found the details of the story.

The Life of Mary Ann Johnson Farnsworth

Mary Ann Johnson was born August 5, 1858, in Fairfield, Iowa. Her parents were Anders Madsen and Elisabeth Maria Johnson Madsen, who immigrated to America from Norway in 1857 with four children, and Mary was their first child to be born in America. Anders later Americanized his name to Andrew, and he also changed his last name to Johnson to match his father’s last name (his father was Mads Johnson, and he had been named Anders Madsen following the Norwegian patronymic naming convention). He and his children were known by the last name of Johnson after that.

After crossing the ocean as part of a shipload of Mormon immigrants aboard the packet ship Tuscarora, they immediately moved to Iowa. Most of the company were anxious to continue to Utah, but Andrew wanted to earn enough to be able to outfit a wagon and have provisions for a year. Andrew worked for several years as a lawman in Fairfield, Iowa, and in Omaha, Nebraska, and they traveled to Utah in the John G. Holmes Company in 1868.

When she was fifteen years old, Mary Ann became a second wife to Albert Stephen Farnsworth, who was fourteen years older than she was. Albert later married two more wives. His first wife left him shortly after his marriage to Mary Ann; and after that Albert and Mary Ann and their children moved to St. Johns, Arizona, along with his third wife, whom Mary Ann’s children referred to as “Aunt Lide.” Later they moved to Fruitland, New Mexico, and then to Mancos, Colorado, and they finally settled in a Mormon colony, Colonia Pacheco, in Chihuahua, Mexico, where they could live their polygamous life without interference from the government.

This photo of Mary Ann Johnson Farnsworth comes from The Life Story of Mary Ann Johnson Farnsworth, a collection compiled from articles written by her granddaughter, Ella Romney Miller, and her daughter-in-law, Ivis C. Farnsworth.

Their encounter with Billy the Kid occurred while they were living in Arizona. I am sharing the story as it was told by Mary Ann’s daughter-in-law, Eleanor “Ella” Romney Farnsworth:

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Lest We Forget

By Ella R. Farnsworth

In the summer of 1880, Albert Farnsworth and Ammon Tenny moved their families into a rather lonely ranch about twenty miles from the little settlement of St. Johns, in the state of Arizona.

Near the close of the summer, Albert went to a logging camp about seventy-five miles away, leaving his wife at the ranch. Some time later Brother Tenny came and took his family to St. Johns. He left his young son, Ammon, about ten years of age, to do the milking.

He felt a little anxious about leaving a lone woman and helpless children so far from town, but Mary stoutly maintained that she was not afraid.

As the hours passed slowly by, a feeling of helplessness came over her and remained, in spite of her determination to shake it off. Those were the days when Billy the Kid roamed the country at large and many were the wild rumors that had reached the ranch concerning the desperate deeds of daring done by him and his band of famous outlaws.

Mary dreaded the approach of darkness. Just at dusk the little boys came running in, to say that some one was coming, and Mary’s heart stood still in terror. Who could it be? Imagine the joy and surprise of the little mother when the visitor proved to be her own husband. Clasping her in his arms he inquired anxiously, “Tell me, is everything all right? I don’t know why I should have been so worried but as I worked at camp it seemed to me as if I heard a voice bidding me go home. I have driven seventy-five miles without resting or feeding my team. But since I find you here alone, I’m glad I came.”

What a feeling of safety seemed to settle down with the coming of the father. The evening passed pleasantly and the family retired early.

The following morning, just before the sun rose, a loud knock was heard on the kitchen door. As they opened it a commanding voice spoke. “We want breakfast for seven or eight men and we want it quick. We’ve got to have feed for our horses too.” And at a sign from their leader the men filed in.

Big, burly fellows they were, well-dressed and armed to the teeth. Their big hats, pulled low over their faces, hid their features. Mary followed her husband into the other room.

“I can’t get breakfast with all those men in there… Who are they anyway?”

“I can’t say. Probably a company of wealthy miners passing through the country. But I’ll build a fire in Tenny’s front room and entertain them there.”

In an incredibly short time, skillful hands had prepared a steaming breakfast. Fresh ham and eggs, hot biscuits and fragrant coffee, pickles and preserves, made a tempting looking breakfast table for the hungry men yet they ate in surly silence. The leader was smoothfaced. “Got any milk?” he demanded.

Then from the cellar Mary brought a large panful of rich milk and watched it also disappear.

The meal over, the leader approached the host. “What’s the bill?”

“Oh, I’d say about $3.50.” Brother Farnsworth replied smiling.

Raising a clenched fist, the visitor answered, “Well, that’s just three dollars and fifty cents more than you’ll get.”

“We’ll see about that,” and Brother Farnsworth made a movement toward the house.

At that, the muzzles of a half dozen revolvers were thrust into his face and with heavy oaths they threatened to blow out his brains if he moved from the spot.

Brother Farnsworth said, “Well, if that is the kind of men you are go right ahead. You have the drop on me now but if I had a chance you would find me right there.”

Quickly the terrified wife threw her arms around her husband’s neck, protecting·his body with her own. One of the gang appeared bringing two Winchester rifles from the Tenny home. Another helped himself to Brother Farnsworth’s new saddle.

“Got any firearms in there?” asked the leader, indicating their home.

“Yes,” and the burly leader moved toward the door while his companions still covered the husband with their arms.

Already the husband and wife had decided that they were in the power of the terror of the west, Billy the Kid. The leader had the same youthful appearance, the same small hands that had so often helped him evade the law by slipping out of iron handcuffs. But forgetting that she was only a frail woman, forgetting everything but their desperate situation, Mary dashed for the door, barricading it with her arms.

“You stand back.”

A cynical smile played around the corners of the desperado’s mouth and he would have pushed her aside, but something in her fearless attitude, in spite of her pale face and flashing brown eyes, restrained him.

“Stand back, I tell you.” And smothering an oath the bandit slunk away.

While two of their number guarded the prisoner, the rest of the men rounded up a band of very choice horses belonging to the people of St. Johns, Arizona. Brother Farnsworth ground his teeth in his helplessness. No sooner had his captors released him and ridden away, than he rushed into the house and returned with a rifle determined to take his revenge. He was a good shot and some­one would pay for this. But his brave little wife restrained him.

“Albert, if you value my life, or those of our children, do not shoot.”

And hard as it was he let her have her way. At this juncture and while the desperados were driving off the first horses, two other bands appeared in sight. Quickly Mary and her husband drove these into a corral. “Mary, I will not see a single one of these horses taken. Take this gun and go into the cellar. Shoot the first one that tries to enter. I will stand guard here…”

A commanding figure he made as he walked back and forth, his bright Winchester rifle shining in the morning sun. The outlaws paused to consider. This was no man to be trifled with. His every stride spoke desperate determination and that plucky little trump of a wife might do some mischief too. They had no wish to lose any of their number. “Better not take any chances.” And Billy the Kid gave the crisp orders to be on the trail.

Meanwhile, young Ammon Tenny had been placed on a horse and was riding furiously toward St. Johns. He would return with help.

The following morning twelve men came to the rescue, but Billy the Kid and his gang already had twenty-four hours start and were well on their way. The roads lay over desert country and only three of the rescue party were willing to go in pursuit of the outlaws. Ernest Titchen, Sam Tenny, and Bill Gibbons volunteered to accompany them.

For three weeks they camped on the trail, but on arriving at Albuquerque they found that they would have to get requisition papers to enter another state. Their horses were given out. Information came to them that the desperados were on a certain ranch in the vicinity of Albuquerque. Accompanied by a Mexican officer who, by the way, soon fell from his horse because of his drunken condition, they made for the ranch, but in some way warning went ahead of them, and when they reached the ranch they were told that the desperados had made a dash for the mountains with a gun in each hand. Further pursuit seemed useless and the men gave up the chase.

All that winter the bandits were watched so vigilantly that they were often in desperate plight. Many times their limbs were frozen and they suffered extreme hunger in their seclusion. A year later the famous outlaw, who it was said had killed a man for every year of his life was shot in the back at a secluded sheep camp by an officer of the law.

In the meantime Mary with her little children had been moved to St. Johns. Brother Burnham returned the following day to move the furniture. A party of men drove up to the ranch.

“Where is that woman that stood off Billy the Kid?”

“I took her to St. Johns yesterday.”

One of the party ripped out an oath. “I’ve come fifteen miles out of my way just to see that woman. I tell you that woman is a trump.” Many times in the years that followed Mary was singled out to strangers as “the woman who stood off Billy the Kid.” The grateful people of St. Johns whose horses had been saved, often said to her, “Mary we can thank you for this.”

More than fifty years have passed since then and many of them Mary has spent on the pioneer trail. The same dauntless courage and faith that brought her through that thrilling episode have brought her through many other trying experiences. Today as her grandchildren sit at her feet she retells the story to which they never tire of listening. With shining eyes they often exclaim, “Grandma, how could you do it?”

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Sometimes we can find a gem of an exciting story amid the family histories.

Copyright 2021 Eric Christensen