Mommy Dearest LbNA #15815
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Add Location| Owner: | Adoptable |
|---|---|
| Plant date: | Jun 14, 2005 |
| Location: | |
| City: | Town of Grand Lake |
| County: | Grand |
| State: | Colorado |
| Boxes: | 1 |
| Planted by: | Aljan  |
|---|---|
| Found by: | Busy Bee'in |
| Last found: | Jun 27, 2018 |
| Status: | FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF |
| Last edited: | Jun 14, 2005 |
This box is part of a four box series marking some surprising, and sometimes disturbing, history of the small mountain town of Grand Lake, CO. The stories are historically factual. And a warning... these stamps are kinda morbid but loads of fun! Aljan
Mommy Dearest
The Spider House Tragedy
Nestled on a quiet lane in Old Grand Lake City sits the intricately crafted home of Warren C and Mary O’Brien Gregg, known today as the Spider House – a testament to a remarkable woodcraftsman and his tormented wife.
Warren (Watt to his friends) was a dreamer and in the 1870s he left his first wife and a young son in Wisconsin and headed for the Colorado territory seeking his fortune in the mines of Gilpin County. Upon returning to Wisconsin, Watt found that his first wife had died of fever, leaving him a widower with a small son. Holding tight to his dreams of the west, Watt eventually ended up in his native Indiana where he met and married 20 year-old Mary O’Brien, in 1884. By 1888 Watt packed up his new family in a prairie schooner and headed west. Like so many pioneer women before her, Mary bore a child along the trail, a son whose short life would set Mary on a dark and tortured path.
The family arrived in Middle Park late in the summer of 1888 and built a small homestead on the eastern slope of the Stillwater drainage. The newborn died shortly thereafter. Though the years would bring more children, Mary would never recover from the loss of her son. The Greggs continued to scratch out a living in this harsh and isolated land, where winters were long and supplies were meager. Money was hard to come by. Sometimes there was hardly enough food to hold bodies and souls together. Warm clothing for the children was harder to get and just as necessary as food.
The winter of 1895 was an especially bitter one and a plague broke out. The good Doctor Bock did not know what the plague was but thought that it might be diphtheria. Three of the Gregg children perished. Many of the town’s children were lost. The blow was hard on Watt but it was the undoing of Mary. Her moods deepened and she became very despondent and her melancholy grew to its fullest bloom.
Watt spent much of his time searching for game and exploring the new country. The Greggs moved numerous times, finally purchasing a plot of land from old Judge Wescott on the west side of the lake. Watt built his family an admirable house, with intricate detail and spider like webs of wooden elements. The house had six large rooms. A large bay window faced the west out of a spacious living room. Despite the warmth and comfort of this new home, and the close proximity of neighbors, Mary’s depression deepened. Several more children were born to her. They were strong, beautiful, healthy children but Mary found no solace in them for the loss of her other children. The loneliness with the tall mountains on all sides beginning at the very walls of the house closing out any ray of sunshine for full days at a time in the dead of winter darkened Mary’s mind. Tall, moaning pines swaying against the wind were more than Mary could stand. This and the loneliness caused her to scream out in terror time after time. No one heard her cries.
Josie Young was the Gregg’s neighbor and Mary’s only confidant. Josie often brought Mary and her brood of children to her home and kept them for weeks to see that the children had plenty of good hot food. Together, Josie and Mary mended any clothes given by the kind hearted for the Gregg and Young children alike. In Mary’s despondency, she was not capable of doing anything but weeping. Josie knew that Mary needed help, something that Watt never quite understood.
The beauty and grandeur of the peaceful mountains lost their appeal and became monstrous, savage demons. Mary was not interested in beauty any longer, she was a stranger in her character and to herself. She could endure no more.
On a Sunday in 1904, in the late afternoon, someone knocked impatiently on Josie’s door. It was Watt Gregg. He had been running and was terribly upset. He was panting and out of breath. “Josie, come quick,” he gasped, “a terrible thing has happened.” Watt’s breath came in gulps, he leaned on the door frame and great sobs shook his body. “What is it Watt! Tell me quickly! Is it Mary?” asked Josie. “Mary has gone completely insane. She shot and killed four of the children,” wailed Watt. He paused and could not restrain a soul shaking sob. “She used a rifle. I don’t know where she got it. I tried to keep all the firearms out of the house! She has shot herself too. She was bleeding terribly when I left. She may be dead when I get back.” As Josie and Watt ran together back to the Gregg house Watt lamented that he had been in the workshop in back of the house and had heard all of the shooting. “I couldn’t get there in time to save even one child.” He said.
When they arrived at the house, the sun was streaming through the bay window. It shone on the bright curls of Jo, a girl of about thirteen years. She was sitting in a rocking chair with little Ralph, the youngest, about three years old, leaning on her knee. Alex was leaning with his back against the chair and Harold was slightly slumped back in his own little chair. Jo was holding a book of fairy tales and had been reading to the boys. Not one of them had fallen to the floor, though each had a puddle of their own blood around them. Mary was in the bedroom on the bed. She was conscious. Mary lingered for four days after the killing of her children. Not one word passed from her lips in those four days.
The five victims of this tragedy, one girl, three boys and Mary herself are buried together in one grave in the Grand Lake cemetery. Mary O’Brien Gregg finally found peace in the quiet grace of the little town cemetery surrounded by her children. Now, over a century later, as the tall pines whisper their mournful song, the Spider House still sits nestled on that quiet little lane.
Watt lived in the Spider House for another 29 years. With his son, Lloyd, he continued building homes and stone fireplaces. He succumbed to heart failure in 1933.
Sources: Spider House Tragedy, an article contributed by Lorraine Turk and Grand Lake in the Olden Days by Mary Lyons Cairns
The clues...
Turn into the town of Grand Lake off of US Hwy 34. Take the first right and pass the post office and the elementary school, both on your left. At the first stop sign, turn left. At the next intersection turn right. Wind around and watch out for signs leading you towards "Hilltop". Turn right and cross the "Rainbow (aptly named) or Jericho" bridge. Pass the sign for the entrance to Hilltop fee area on your right. Look for a small brown sign just past that, also on your right advertising overflow parking. On your left is an open area that is used for... well, for overflow parking from Hilltop! You can park here along the side of the road or at Hilltop and walk over. At the front corner of this small lot are some large boulders lumped among a few trees and some overgrown willows. Just behind the fence, between the second and third boulders, accompanied by a rock and a greyed piece of firewood waits the portrait of poor, tortured Mary O'Brien.
Walk towards the lake on this street, what was originally Grand Lake's main street. The Spider House sits quietly on the right. Please respect their private property.
Email me with the condition of my box at AljanSundance@gmail.com
Thanks! Aljan
Mommy Dearest
The Spider House Tragedy
Nestled on a quiet lane in Old Grand Lake City sits the intricately crafted home of Warren C and Mary O’Brien Gregg, known today as the Spider House – a testament to a remarkable woodcraftsman and his tormented wife.
Warren (Watt to his friends) was a dreamer and in the 1870s he left his first wife and a young son in Wisconsin and headed for the Colorado territory seeking his fortune in the mines of Gilpin County. Upon returning to Wisconsin, Watt found that his first wife had died of fever, leaving him a widower with a small son. Holding tight to his dreams of the west, Watt eventually ended up in his native Indiana where he met and married 20 year-old Mary O’Brien, in 1884. By 1888 Watt packed up his new family in a prairie schooner and headed west. Like so many pioneer women before her, Mary bore a child along the trail, a son whose short life would set Mary on a dark and tortured path.
The family arrived in Middle Park late in the summer of 1888 and built a small homestead on the eastern slope of the Stillwater drainage. The newborn died shortly thereafter. Though the years would bring more children, Mary would never recover from the loss of her son. The Greggs continued to scratch out a living in this harsh and isolated land, where winters were long and supplies were meager. Money was hard to come by. Sometimes there was hardly enough food to hold bodies and souls together. Warm clothing for the children was harder to get and just as necessary as food.
The winter of 1895 was an especially bitter one and a plague broke out. The good Doctor Bock did not know what the plague was but thought that it might be diphtheria. Three of the Gregg children perished. Many of the town’s children were lost. The blow was hard on Watt but it was the undoing of Mary. Her moods deepened and she became very despondent and her melancholy grew to its fullest bloom.
Watt spent much of his time searching for game and exploring the new country. The Greggs moved numerous times, finally purchasing a plot of land from old Judge Wescott on the west side of the lake. Watt built his family an admirable house, with intricate detail and spider like webs of wooden elements. The house had six large rooms. A large bay window faced the west out of a spacious living room. Despite the warmth and comfort of this new home, and the close proximity of neighbors, Mary’s depression deepened. Several more children were born to her. They were strong, beautiful, healthy children but Mary found no solace in them for the loss of her other children. The loneliness with the tall mountains on all sides beginning at the very walls of the house closing out any ray of sunshine for full days at a time in the dead of winter darkened Mary’s mind. Tall, moaning pines swaying against the wind were more than Mary could stand. This and the loneliness caused her to scream out in terror time after time. No one heard her cries.
Josie Young was the Gregg’s neighbor and Mary’s only confidant. Josie often brought Mary and her brood of children to her home and kept them for weeks to see that the children had plenty of good hot food. Together, Josie and Mary mended any clothes given by the kind hearted for the Gregg and Young children alike. In Mary’s despondency, she was not capable of doing anything but weeping. Josie knew that Mary needed help, something that Watt never quite understood.
The beauty and grandeur of the peaceful mountains lost their appeal and became monstrous, savage demons. Mary was not interested in beauty any longer, she was a stranger in her character and to herself. She could endure no more.
On a Sunday in 1904, in the late afternoon, someone knocked impatiently on Josie’s door. It was Watt Gregg. He had been running and was terribly upset. He was panting and out of breath. “Josie, come quick,” he gasped, “a terrible thing has happened.” Watt’s breath came in gulps, he leaned on the door frame and great sobs shook his body. “What is it Watt! Tell me quickly! Is it Mary?” asked Josie. “Mary has gone completely insane. She shot and killed four of the children,” wailed Watt. He paused and could not restrain a soul shaking sob. “She used a rifle. I don’t know where she got it. I tried to keep all the firearms out of the house! She has shot herself too. She was bleeding terribly when I left. She may be dead when I get back.” As Josie and Watt ran together back to the Gregg house Watt lamented that he had been in the workshop in back of the house and had heard all of the shooting. “I couldn’t get there in time to save even one child.” He said.
When they arrived at the house, the sun was streaming through the bay window. It shone on the bright curls of Jo, a girl of about thirteen years. She was sitting in a rocking chair with little Ralph, the youngest, about three years old, leaning on her knee. Alex was leaning with his back against the chair and Harold was slightly slumped back in his own little chair. Jo was holding a book of fairy tales and had been reading to the boys. Not one of them had fallen to the floor, though each had a puddle of their own blood around them. Mary was in the bedroom on the bed. She was conscious. Mary lingered for four days after the killing of her children. Not one word passed from her lips in those four days.
The five victims of this tragedy, one girl, three boys and Mary herself are buried together in one grave in the Grand Lake cemetery. Mary O’Brien Gregg finally found peace in the quiet grace of the little town cemetery surrounded by her children. Now, over a century later, as the tall pines whisper their mournful song, the Spider House still sits nestled on that quiet little lane.
Watt lived in the Spider House for another 29 years. With his son, Lloyd, he continued building homes and stone fireplaces. He succumbed to heart failure in 1933.
Sources: Spider House Tragedy, an article contributed by Lorraine Turk and Grand Lake in the Olden Days by Mary Lyons Cairns
The clues...
Turn into the town of Grand Lake off of US Hwy 34. Take the first right and pass the post office and the elementary school, both on your left. At the first stop sign, turn left. At the next intersection turn right. Wind around and watch out for signs leading you towards "Hilltop". Turn right and cross the "Rainbow (aptly named) or Jericho" bridge. Pass the sign for the entrance to Hilltop fee area on your right. Look for a small brown sign just past that, also on your right advertising overflow parking. On your left is an open area that is used for... well, for overflow parking from Hilltop! You can park here along the side of the road or at Hilltop and walk over. At the front corner of this small lot are some large boulders lumped among a few trees and some overgrown willows. Just behind the fence, between the second and third boulders, accompanied by a rock and a greyed piece of firewood waits the portrait of poor, tortured Mary O'Brien.
Walk towards the lake on this street, what was originally Grand Lake's main street. The Spider House sits quietly on the right. Please respect their private property.
Email me with the condition of my box at AljanSundance@gmail.com
Thanks! Aljan