As many long-time residents of the Denver's Capitol Hill area will tell you, Cheesman Park was built on top of a cemetery, once called the Mount Prospect Graveyard. In 1858, a man named William Larimer set aside 320 acres of ground that were to be used as a cemetery in the new and growing city of Denver, Colorado. He named the cemetery Mount Prospect and sites on the crest of the hill were to be set aside for the rich and influential residents of the city. Paupers and criminals were to be buried on the far edges of the graveyard and ordinary people would find burial spots somewhere in the middle.

The first burials to take place here were the victims of crime and violence. A Hungarian immigrant named John Stoefel had come to Denver to settle a dispute with his brother-in-law and ended up murdering him. After a short trial, Stoefel was dragged away by a mob and hanged from a cottonwood tree. He and his brother-in-law were then taken to Mount Prospect and their bodies were unceremoniously dumped into the same grave. Murder victims and those killed in accidents continued to be buried in the lower sections of the cemetery and the name Mount Prospect began to fall out of use. Most people simply referred to the place as the "Old Boneyard" or "Boot Hill". The cemetery failed to gain the respect and reverence that William Larimer intended for it to have.

As time passed, Denver began to flourish, with large fortunes being made in silver mining and real estate. Embarrassed by the unseemly reputation of the local cemetery (and names like Boot Hill), the city fathers decided to take over the property and re-name the graveyard to City Cemetery in 1873. Even the new name though couldn't hide the fact that it was becoming an eyesore. Lack of interest and care had caused the cemetery grounds to revert back to nature. Tombstones had fallen over, prairie dogs had burrowed into the hills and cattle were allowed to graze among the graves. Some time before, affluent families had started burying their loved ones at the newer Riverside and Fairlawn Cemeteries and were leaving the City Cemetery to paupers, criminals, transients and unclaimed smallpox and typhus victims from the local pesthouse.

In 1893, the city of Denver gave notice that all bodies had to be removed within 90 days. Given the aggressive schedule, it's obvious most of the graves weren't retrieved. The city hired an undertaker to dig up 6-10 thousand remaining bodies, put them in 1 foot by 3 1/2 foot pine boxes, and then deliver them for burial at Riverside Cemetery for the astonishing low price of $1.90 each.

Workers ended up breaking body parts into pieces to get them to fit in the tiny caskets. Body parts littered the grounds and got mixed up with other bodies. Many graves were looted by the workers. Psychics warned workers the dead would return unless a short prayer was said before each casket, but no one listened.

One worker, removing valuable brass from the coffins ran hysterically from the graveyard saying a ghost landed on his shoulders. People in neighboring houses started reporting confused spirits wandering through their homes or appearing in mirrors. and a huge scandal erupted, Mayor Platt Rogers ordered all work stopped and an investigation started. Since no one was able to fix the huge mess left by the workers, the remaining bodies were covered up with grass and trees planted.

Work on converting the the city’s cemetery to what would eventually become Cheesman Park took place from 1898-1907. During this time Nathaniel J. Shriek, who made his fortune from Colorado Silver Boom in 1879, used some of his newfound fortune to begin a construction project of his own... a stately new home for himself and his Wire Fox Terrier, Asta.

In order to get the project off the ground quickly, Mr. Shriek hired as many local laborers he could find. Unfortunately for Mr. Shriek however, his low wages also attracted several nefarious individuals to his project. And while some of these people did, in fact, work on the house’s construction during the day,  they would spend their off-hours scouring the nearby cemetery area for any loose “valuables” left behind by the dearly departed.

Sometimes the workers would bring the stolen items back to Shriek’s construction site and temporarily bury them in a pile of dirt until a “client” would arrive to complete a business transaction. That way, if the police became aware of the fencing operation, the workers could claim they “found” the items in the dirt on Mr. Shriek’s property.

Inevitably, as things were shifted from one pile of dirt to another, items became lost. So much in fact, that many restless spirits from the nearby cemetery (already disturbed by the failing relocation project) found that they could now move beyond their original confinements and into the surrounding neighborhood during certain times of the year, especially during the month of October as it lead up to the 31st.

During these periods of cross-over, many strange happenings began to take place on the Shriek Manor property. Workers claimed to have seen strange creatures popping out of the wishing well, bricks would bleed and tombstones would mysteriously appear out of nowhere, as if a spirit had decided to move in next to their stolen, worldly possessions, buried in the dirt.

Despite these setbacks and after several rounds of hiring new labor to replace the “runaways”, work on Shriek Manor was finally completed in the sumer of 1903. Mr. Shriek moved into his new home and, for the first few months, everything seemed relatively normal. Sure, the occasional hammer would disappear from the tool drawer and re-appear three weeks later in its original location, but Mr. Shriek simply dismissed this as a “senior moment.”

On the second weekend of October in 1903, the disturbances began again.  Tombstones began appearing in the garden beds, strange and eerie fog would seep out of the basement, chilling visitors to the bone and haunting sounds would drift on the evening winds.

As the month progressed, the property appeared to become more and more possessed. On Halloween night, you could hear the wailing of ghosts and howling of wolves from blocks away. Several neighbors tried to approach the house to check on poor Mr. Shriek and his little dog, but no one dared enter the premises while the spirits were in charge.

Over the years, Shriek Manor has passed through the hands of many owners. Most of them are wise enough to get out before the annual October hauntings began. Those who failed to heed the warnings, have also mysteriously vanished and replaced by tombstones and other gravely works, just as Mr. Shriek and his dog did so many years ago.

Today, the residents of Denver’s Capitol Hill neighborhood are warned to stay away from the house. Children are strongly cautioned against walking near the property, especially at night. And Trick or Treaters are warned that no matter how inviting the house may seem on Halloween night (when the rusty wrought-iron gate mysteriously swings open for the evening), to stay away or they too risk becoming a permanent resident of Shriek Manor!