In the frontier of the Wild West, and early Denver is no exception, a familiar figure is instantly recognized. Tall, immaculate in style and dress (usually in black), his eyes are the only clue to his profession. Steady of nerve and constantly observant, he is the frontier gambler. This stereotype figure lives on as a character of the Old West. In Denver City of 1859, gambling was a way of life that soon became a raging fever, with violence frequently erupting over the poker tables from Blake Street to Larimer Street.
With the discovery of gold at the confluence of the South Platte River and Cherry Creek in 1858, it would only be a matter of time before a town would spring up nearby. That following spring, Gen. Larimer platted the streets of Denver City on the east side of Cherry Creek.
Blake Street became the first major street of commerce. Lined with tent saloons, rugged buildings and log cabins, including the first lumber home of Mormon Samuel M. Rooker, the first man to bring his family to Denver City. The Rooker family acquired many valuable land grants throughout the infant town, and soon became an esteemed member of the community.
It is not surprising that the first business establishment was a saloon. Jack O’Neil was the first fancy gambler to arrive in Denver. A long-time professional gambler from New York City, O’Neil had style, the demeanor of which sold in the dime novels of the era. A large man at more than 6-feet tall and weighing more than 200 pounds, O’Neil was a solid man in mind and stature. His dress, primarily black and white in color, stood out among the dust and mud of early Denver City. With fewer than a dozen tents or crude log buildings, when O’Neil arrived, he built the first wooden structure to house a formidable saloon.
A long narrow bar ran the length of one wall, while the rest of the building hosted a cluttered disarray of chairs and gambling tables. Oil lamps offered a weak glow while their greasy smell moved through the saloon along with the strong tobacco smoke.
O’Neil set up his living quarters with his mistress Salt Lake Kate, next to his saloon. The saloon was soon the most popular along the dirt streets of Blake, and O’Neil became a well-respected pioneer citizen of Denver City. So popular was his Capitol Saloon, and Jack O’Neil himself, it became known affectionately as “The House That Jack Built.”On the evening of March 29, 1860, O’Neil chose to take in a night of gambling and libations at the nearby Western Saloon. O’Neil sat down to a full table of gambling with the games changing from high ball to low ball poker, as well as seven card stud and five card stud. Late into the night, the gamblers had dwindled until only O’Neil and John Rooker (son of Denver’s first Mormon settler, Samuel Rooker) remained in the game, with a large pot of money at stake.
The game was five-card draw, and O’Neil had called Rooker’s hand. Rooker announced, “Two of a pair in picture cards.”
O’Neil replied with confidence, “Three jacks,” and laid out is hand. In an instant, Rooker threw down his hand, four kings and rose to collect the pot. Calmly, O’Neil told Rooker he hadn’t called the hand correctly and the pot was his. O’Neil was right, Rooker called his hand as two pairs instead of four of a kind. An argument ensued and tempers flared while poker chips, gold pieces and gold dust flew through the air. Suddenly both men rose to their feet threatening the other. The Western Saloon fell into silence as every man watched, stone-faced, while the two gamblers stared at one another in silence. Finally Rooker told O’Neil to arm himself, “We will meet again.”
Word of the incident and forthcoming confrontation spread through the infant town, with heavy wages placed on the outcome. The following morning, Rooker borrowed a fast horse, and quietly made his way to the rear entrance of the Western Saloon, which was closed. Rooker, armed with a double-barreled shotgun, positioned himself at the front door of the saloon where he had a clear view of O’Neil’s cabin. Around 10 a.m., O’Neil left his cabin, with Rooker watching his every move. As O’Neil approached the saloon, Rooker had him in his sights. Rooker shouted: “You SOB, I got you now.” Rooker then pulled both triggers and O’Neil fell dead into the street, as Rooker ran through the back of the saloon, jumped onto his borrowed horse and left town.
O’Neil was the most prominent person to die in Denver up to that time. Most of the town attended his funeral, held the following day at the City Cemetery on a sloping knoll just southeast of town. Laid out in his finest dress clothes, his body was lowered to rest by mortician McGavron.
A coward’s attack ended a Colorado pioneer’s life prematurely, yet O’Neil gained an ironic immortality. The cemetery site was soon called “O’Neil’s Ranch” by the locals in honor of their fallen citizen. In fact, the term soon spread across the West, becoming a euphemism for the early cemeteries long before the better known “Boot Hill” cemetery term coined at the famous Arizona shoot-out known as the OK Corral.
Following O’Neil’s funeral, Samuel Rooker, the killer’s father assembled a committee to seek evidence of murder by his son. Samuel appointed himself as judge over the proceedings. Before the committee, Rooker stated the facts as he saw them, exonerating his son “…because the act was one of noble Southern upbringing.” No one else was allowed to speak. In such a manner, Rooker was acquitted of murder.
Friends of O’Neil, including another notable gambler, Charley Harrison, let their anger be known regarding O’Neil’s murder, but exactly nothing was done to bring the killer to justice.
William Byers, editor of The Rocky Mountain News cried out for justice in his editorial of April 4, 1860, “It is high time that the citizens of Denver should show enough interest in their own welfare to right public wrongs, and not leave it to every citizen to take vengeance in his own hands, even to the taking of human life.”
Things lightened up quite a bit by the next decade when famed con-man Soapy Smith came to town and made gambling history.
