Globeville Boxer, Henry Rein

"I was the welterweight champion for awhile and then I got smart and quit." 85-year-old Henry Rein reminisced. "I worked at the Rio Grande Railroad and they had a group down there who worked out in the gymnasium all the time and that’s how I got started. We used to put on boxing shows down at the yard for the folks who worked at the Rio Grande, and they taught us how to box, which is different from street fighting. 
"Gus Pappas was the guy who used to set up the matches at the carnivals and got in touch with you. He said I was his boy because I would always fight. I used to box against the carnivals — take all comers. I’d have four or five fights a night. I’d hurry and come home from the railroad and go over to the carnivals.
"I was about 17 when I went professional and we used to drive to Durango, Manassas, and Nebraska, working for a percentage of the gate. I never did make big chunks of money - $115 dollars is the most I ever made for a single fight, but that was good money those days.  I was champ from ’29 to ’34.
"I married a Globeville girl, Lydia Engleman in 1934. We met at the Frieden’s Evangelical Lutheran Church there on 45th and Lincoln and we lived in Globeville after we got married. My wife didn't mind my fighting and used to come to see me box once in awhile.
"I retired from boxing in 1939. I had a bread route for Happy Home Bakery and also hauled trash. Then I was the business agent for the Teamsters Union, Local 13 who handled highway construction. I traveled the state, checking the sites, making sure new guys joined the union and that everyone was carrying their cards and were paid up."
Henry retired from the Teamsters Union and he and Lydia moved to the new retirement complex, Windsor Gardens in 1962. Lydia passed away in 1987 and Henry in 1997.
A conversation with Henry Rein, and his daughter Reneé and son-in-law Ron, in his home in June, 1996

  

Somebody up there likes me

In the 1956 film biography of boxer Rocky Graziano, middleweight "Cowboy" Ruben Shank is mentioned, a detail for which Shank would receive a small royalty. In his later years, Shank would appreciate the monetary gesture. 
Raised in a family of Germans who emigrated from Russia, sons Adam, Ruben and Emil Shank were all capable boxers, but it was young Ruben surprised the boxing world in 1942 when he easily won a match with Fritzie Zivic, a brawler who was noted for "thumbing" the eyes of his opponent. A win over triple-crown titleholder Henry Armstrong at the Denver Auditorium was much closer, causing some critics to complain of hometown bias. 
Shank's continued success over former champions catapulted the 20-year-old newcomer to a bout with Sugar Ray Robinson in Madison Square Garden on August 22, 1942, one of the most important competitions in Shank's career.
The underdog Shank started fast, pummeling Robinson. But Robinson came back in Round 2 to drop his opponent four times and finish him. For several years, the scrappy Globeville resident continued to challenge big-name competitors, losing twice to former middleweight champ Fred Apostoli in 1946. However, it was a match with Melvin Brown in Minneapolis that resulted in Shank's knockout loss and damage so severe that he nearly lost his life. Although he slowly recovered, the National Boxing Association ruled that Shank couldn't fight again and his manager, Chris Dundee, agreed.
Shank challenged the decree in Denver District Court and Judge Henry Lindsley ruled in 1952 that the boxer could resume his career. Armed with the ruling, the 31-year-old Shank fought  a dozen more times, possibly the cause of his labored speech during his later years.
For 28 years, he worked for the Denver Public Works Department and moonlighted at the Mile High Kennel Club. Ruben Shank passed away at age 74 in December 1995. Friend and former boxer Ray Schoeninger remembered, "Reuben was the nicest and most honest person you'd ever want to meet."


"Ex-boxer Shank Dies at 74", Denver Post, December 14, 1995. by Alan Katz.
Photo of "Cowboy" Reuben Shank with Roy Rogers, courtesy of Betty Reed.  

Potica - Povitica

Derived from the Slovenian word "poviti" meaning "to wrap in," potica (Serbs refer to it as Povitica) is a sweet yeast bread with a walnut, apple, poppy seed or cream cheese filling. 
Making this treat should be mandatory during the holidays: several generations of family are gathered at Christmas or Easter, the process takes most of the day and there are tasks suitable for both young and old family members. Small hands can grind walnuts while grandma explains how the recipe arrived from the "old country" with her mother "who left when she was 16-years-old, and was never able to see her parents again."  A tattered recipe card contains ingredients and the steps, but the commentary provides the variations: "Your aunt Helen always adds raisins, and aunt Agnes uses honey instead of sugar. Folks worried when your Uncle Andy married a German girl but she learned to make the best potica, and it worked out all right." 
More important than a written recipe is the action of kneading, of observing the dough rise (twice!), spreading the filling just so in order for the pastry to cook and pricking the bread so air bubbles can escape. The kitchen is filled with the aroma of baking bread and the warmth of family stories.

Whistles, bells and horns

There was a time in Globeville when few people owned a watch or even a radio, yet most residents were aware of the time and of events important to the community.
"When we heard the Globe Smelter whistle in the morning, we knew we had about 10 minutes before school began and we'd better start walking," June Jackson Egan said. Whistles, bells and horns made sure the neighborhood and the blue-color labor force knew what time it was. 
The meat packing plants used whistles to signal a shift change and lunch time at noon, church bells rang out before Mass each morning and trains blew their horns in warning at every crossing. All would peal in celebration at the end of World War I and on VJ Day, and sound an alarm whenever the Platte River would overflow its banks. New Year's Eve was a noisy affair of whistles, bells and inebriated gunfire. 
Today, the smelter and packinghouses are quiet, and residents check updates from smart phones for detailed information. Yet the bells of Transfiguration, St. Joseph's and Holy Rosary Churches continue their tradition of announcing that Mass is about to begin, and trains interrupt the day with their horns. 

Top photo, the silent Globe Smelter Plant, by Mary Lou Egan
Bottom photo, Employees of Armour and Company, 1929, photo used with written permission from Dorothy Nevelos

1918 Spanish Influenza

In 1918, the nation was at war and people were on the move. So too was a mysterious and lethal illness that first appeared in the spring in Fort Funston, Kansas and then traveled with soldiers going to Europe. There the virus mutated into a more deadly form before returning to the United States in the late summer of 1918, carried by men returning from the battlefields. 
At first the virus targeted military camps on the East Coast, but rapidly spread to civilians and to inland cities and rural areas. By the time influenza was reported in Denver in September, it had already killed over 1000 people in Boston and 100 in Chicago.
Denver's manager of health, Dr. William H. Sharpley, hoped to avoid a panic and gave newspapers rules for combating the disease..."breathe deeply when the air is pure" and to remember the three C's: "clean mouth, clean heart and clean clothes." As the epidemic progressed, Denver's Board of Health ordered all schools, churches, and theaters to close and indoor gatherings banned. Dairys and grocers stopped delivering to homes. 
In Globeville, it seemed that every family had at least one member who was ill. Steve Machuga remembered two of the men who were boarding in their home. “John Stashenko and John Pastor both worked at the Globe Smelter and shared a room at our house. Stasienko got the flu in the morning and died that night and Pastor died the next week.” Records from St. Joseph Polish Church show a burial nearly every day, and sometimes two or three a day from September 1918 to the spring of 1919. Parishioner Tony Mandich lamented that he had served as a pallbearer eighteen times in four months. 
Gradually, the occurrences of the flu subsided. Like the rest of the nation, Globeville lost fewer of its citizens in the World War than to the Spanish Influenza.* 


* Globeville's two casualties in World War I were John Wysowatcky and Martin Clement. Numbers of people lost to the flu have not been compiled, but could be surmised from church burial records. 
Statistics on the epidemic are not entirely reliable, but it is estimated that between September 1918 and June 1919, the lethal virus known as "Spanish Influenza" and its complications, particularly pneumonia, killed nearly 1,500 Denverites.


**The 1918 influenza outbreak: An unforgettable legacy by By Stephen J. Leonard, The Denver Post, May 5, 2009


Photo of Joseph Chintala's headstone, one of many graves at Riverside Cemetery with a story to tell. Photo by Mary Lou Egan

The Haunted House of Globeville

A lot of decorations and haunted houses will appear in yards around Globeville during the month of October, but none of them will be as interesting as Globeville's real "haunted house."
The story begins with the discovery of gold in Colorado in 1858 and John B. Hindry, who  made a fortune supplying lumber and cattle to others who came seeking mineral riches. In 1870, the wealthy Hindry purchased 110 acres of land north of Denver along the South Platte River to build a country home away from the grime and noise of frontier Denver, with plans to create an exclusive subdivision. He constructed his two-story Victorian mansion in 1873, a masterpiece crowned with an ornate cupola and an entrance watched over by two massive iron lions. The interior was decorated with black walnut paneling and Italian marble. A two-story brick stable for trotting horses and a greenhouse stood behind the house. A miniature playhouse for the Hindry children, William, Nettie, Horace, and Charles, was built in the style of the mansion.

By the turn of the century, Hindry’s fortunes had turned. He suffered the death of his son Charles in 1878 and of his wife in 1881; his other children had married and left to begin lives of their own. John Hindry was alone in his mansion.

His dream home soon become a nightmare. Not long after his mansion was completed, the Boston and Colorado Smelter began operating (1879), followed by the Grant (1882) and Globe Smelters (1889). The construction of railroads, foundries, and meat-packing plants made the area more suited to heavy industry than to exclusive homes. The fumes from the smelters killed the trees, and ate through the carpets and curtains in the mansion, and the stench from the meat-packing plants ruined any hopes for a subdivision. When Hindry's lawsuit against the Globe Smelter was unsuccessful, he became increasingly bitter.

Rumors circulated that the lonely old man had a hoard of money hidden in the house, and thieves began to prowl the property. After being robbed several times, Hindry set up a trap with a shotgun that would fire straight out the window when the sash was raised. It didn’t take long to get results.

On the morning of September 18, 1901, Hindry set his trap as usual, and went to Golden on business. When he returned home at 6 pm, he found a man dead in his front yard.*

Eventually the trap became Hindry’s undoing. One night he entered the room when he thought he’d heard a prowler, tripped over the trigger cord and was wounded by his own gun. Although he recovered, he abandoned his former dream home to move to California in 1906. 

As the neglected and abandoned property deteriorated, stories of ghostly apparitions began to circulate. Some said they saw Hindry’s ghost, while others claim the figure was that of the man who had been shot there. The former mansion became known as Globeville's “haunted house.”
In 1921 Leo Bomareto bought the house at a tax auction for $6000 and leased it to the city for an isolation hospital for tuberculosis patients for five years, beginning in 1923. In the 1940s, the Bomareto family moved in, fixed up the house and converted the former stable in the backyard to a meat-packing plant. During the 1950s the family sold Christmas trees from a lot set up in the backyard. In July 1962, an unexplained explosion threw Frank Bomareto out of bed and the resulting fire destroyed the house. 

Today nothing remains of the Hindry Mansion but memories.

*Automatic Gun Kills Thief” Rocky Mountain News, September 19, 1901



Top photo, Hindry mansion in its prime, Colorado Historical Society
Middle photo, deteriorating "haunted house" Colorado Historical Society
Bottom photo, the site today is occupied by Bomareto's Market, Mary Lou Egan

Easing the Way - Emigration

Political unrest, religious and cultural oppression and economic uncertainty were some of the factors that motivated Eastern Europeans and German Russians to emigrate in the years before World War I. Improvements in transportation eased the way. Steamships crossed the Atlantic in as little as two weeks and offered a variety of accomodations and rates, including the opportunity for men to work off their passage. The invention of the prepaid ticket and the development of inexpensive and reliable means of transferring funds abroad made it easier for families to finance their own exodus. 


A sample of a wire transfer of funds in 1902