Phil Van Cise: Scourge of Denver's Underworld

Although his wedding was only days away, Van Cise was summoned back to Ludlow to investigate and help end the spreading violence. He took statements from eyewitnesses, including fellow soldiers, indicating that three prisoners had been murdered. He was named to a review board that urged court-martial proceedings for two dozen members of the militia. The hearings ended in acquittal for every participant except Linderfelt, who was found guilty of assaulting union leader Louis Tikas. Linderfelt was reprimanded; Tikas died of his injuries, which included a fractured skull and several bullet wounds.

Van Cise became a strident critic of the Guard. He and other officers prepared an anonymous internal report denouncing several of their colleagues by name. Months later, Van Cise was called to testify at another court of inquiry. The presiding officer was Lieutenant Colonel Edward Boughton, who'd also headed the original review board. Boughton accused Van Cise of plotting with the United Mine Workers of America to discredit the National Guard. Van Cise responded that Boughton's investigation had been a "whitewash" of the Ludlow massacre and that the militia was drowning in incompetency, graft and cowardice.

"I have nothing to conceal about anything I did in the field," Van Cise said. "I had experience with you when at Ludlow, and I know how you deal and how crooked you are, and you are not going to get away with it here."

Boughton hurriedly ended the questioning. Recalled to the stand by other officers, Van Cise described his efforts to bring the murder of prisoners to the attention of the governor and the Adjutant General. The state's leaders were content to bury the matter, he said. It would stay buried for years — although Van Cise's testimony, part of a special collection of Ludlow materials at the Denver Public Library, would ultimately prove invaluable to future historians.

When the United States entered the Great War in 1917, Van Cise became a lieutenant colonel in the Army. He served with the infantry in France and as an intelligence officer on the general staff of the American Expeditionary Forces. He returned home in time to organize an American Legion post that helped keep the peace during the tense Denver Tramway strike of 1920. Then he decided to make a run for district attorney, using the slogan "A Fighting Man for a Fighting Job."

Van Cise was a dark-horse candidate at best. But a rift had developed between the City Hall machine's favorite son and a Republican senator's pick for the job; with the vote badly split, the Fighting Man won the GOP primary. As the Republican party hacks lined up to support his Democratic opponent in the general election, Van Cise was urged to meet with a fellow who could deliver at least 1,500 votes.

The kingmaker turned out to be Lou Blonger, a heavyset, bulbous-nosed but well-dressed fellow in his seventies. Blonger praised the Colonel's war record — he was a Civil War veteran himself, he boasted — and offered him a $25,000 campaign donation. "I like your style," he said, "and you are the only soldier on the ticket."

Van Cise struggled to keep his expression blank. At the time, the office of DA paid five grand a year. But Van Cise knew that several of his predecessors had left the job much wealthier than when they arrived, presumably because of generous supporters like Blonger.

He'd heard of Blonger during his days as a reporter. The man had mining interests in Cripple Creek and a huge cherry orchard west of Denver. He'd supposedly been a Texas sheriff and a close personal friend of famous private detective William Pinkerton. He'd blown into Denver in the 1880s and transformed a Larimer Street saloon, the Elite, into the flashiest joint in town. But he was also known as the Fixer, the go-to man who collected tribute from Denver's hustlers and kept the cops and politicians on a tight leash. Even Soapy Smith, the legendary scammer who sold bars of soap to suckers who thought they contained ten-dollar bills, was said to have paid half his profits to Blonger for the privilege of operating in Denver.

Van Cise didn't know much about Blonger's current operations, but he wasn't keen on joining the old dodger's string of marionettes. He thanked him for his offer and graciously turned him down. Blonger pressed; if he became DA, would the Colonel at least agree to not set high bonds for poor, innocent stockbrokers unjustly accused of unfair dealings? Van Cise declined. "As he went away," the Colonel later wrote of his younger self, "he wondered how much of a boob Blonger thought he was."

The Fighting Man won the election without Blonger's help. A few days later, he invited the Fixer to another sitdown. The two sat staring glumly at each other for several minutes. Finally, Van Cise asked Blonger his "honest opinion" of their previous conversation.

"That was the damnedest fool stunt I ever pulled in my life," Blonger replied.

"Well, Lou," Van Cise said, "I just wanted to give you notice to quit while the quitting was good."

Blonger protested. He wasn't running any gambling joints. He wasn't doing anything illegal. Quit what?