The Life & Times of Emma Crawford

When a global pandemic is not our greatest fear,
Look for the return of Emma Crawford Coffin Races next year.
In the meantime, “Who was Emma Crawford?” do I hear?

She was a local of Manitou—born a year past 1862.

Atop Red Mountain she was buried,
But washed away down main street she was carried.

To honor the legend, as townies and tourists do,
We dress in costume racing coffins down the avenue.

Four mourners to a casket and one Emma in toe,
They hurdle towards the bottom—come rain, sun or snow.

But who is the lady and who is the legend,
If you’re here for a story—your ear I shall bend.

Ill since the age of seven,
Emma moved here with her mother in search of heaven.

It was said that the mineral springs were healing,
And could cure disease and an unwell feeling.

Tuberculosis or consumption,
Whatever may be your presumption,
Emma remained in Manitou,
With fresh air and cloudy days a few.

And as all tragedies too often go,
She fell in love with a man from the metro.

A New York engineer was Mr. William Hildebrand,
Employed by the cog railroad—he asked for her hand.  

One day, as Emma gazed up towards the sky,
A handsome Indian beckoned from atop Red Mountain high.

She vowed to climb the mountain and meet her guide,
As for this plot—her loved ones were not on her side.

But firm in her resolve as no one could stop,
She snuck away and climbed Red Mountain to the top.

She tied her scarf to a pinon tree and left her trace,
Claiming this peak as her future resting place.

For Emma, death arrived in December 1891.
And her wish to be buried under the warmth of the sun,
Was honored by her betrothed,
Though securing a deed had been left undone. 

A group of twelve pallbearers in two shifts,
Carried Emma to the top as their last, parting gift.

Buried beneath an old, wind-swept tree,
They covered the grave with loose gravel which broke free.

You see, after 40 years of rain and sleet and snow,
Emma descended into the mountain town below. 

And from her voyage down the peak,
Only a bundle of bones and skull of which to speak.

In 1929, a new grave would be dug for the deceased,
So the spirit of Emma Crawford might rest in peace. 

A celebrated local of our little mountain town,
Don’t be surprised if you still see her around.

And if you wish to honor the legend and these words,
Celebrate with us—the Spirit of Emma Crawford.