In the summer of 1876, a young newspaper correspondent from The Pueblo Chieftain received shocking word that a vicious pack of man-eating rats had devoured a human baby at the summit of Pikes Peak.
The alarming event, which should have seemed too fantastical to be true, was reported by Pikes Peak signal station attendant Private John O’Keefe. His job was to collect weather observations from the top of the jagged fourteener and report them to the United States Army via telegraph. Things got lonely for O’Keefe up at that elevation, where only the occasional climber or supply-laden burro train passed through. Tourism had yet to find its way to the mountain.
According to O’Keefe’s report, in which he identified himself as the father of the baby, the day of the attack started calmly enough. His wife had brought their baby girl, Erin O’Keefe, up for a visit at his high-altitude post. While they enjoyed the view outside the signal station, a pack of ravenous mountain rats crept from the surrounding rocks and ambushed the unsuspecting family.
Battle between man and beast ensued. In a frenzy, O’Keefe snatched a tool to club the savage rodents, while his wife hurled a coil of wire at them like a cowboy with a lasso. She intended to electrocute the rats by connecting the wire to the station battery and turning loose the electrical current. It was a heroic effort, but before the fatal shock could be delivered, the rats made a meal of baby Erin and scattered into the rocks.
Jolted by O’Keefe’s terrifying account, The Pueblo Chieftain correspondent promptly ran the story. It was picked up by newspapers across Colorado, then spread through the country and traveled overseas. The story was translated into a dozen different languages. Soon everyone had heard about the ferocious mountain rats, and many sought to visit Pikes Peak to see where the horrifying attack occurred. To prepare for their visit, O’Keefe erected a stone monument for baby Erin outside the signal station.
Tourists arrived in droves. They posed for somber photographs beside the stone monument, unaware the fantastical tale O’Keefe had spun was merely a ruse to draw visitors to his lonely post.
Unlike the general public, scientists saw through O’Keefe’s hoax. They disseminated articles proving rats did not inhabit rocks above the timberline or consume live humans. Their efforts to dispel the myth of the man-eating rats were mighty, but it seemed people were more inclined to believe a hair-raising story than the truth.
Several months passed before The Rocky Mountain News realized O’Keefe was neither a father nor a husband, and that the attack had never happened at all. They printed a lengthy retraction, concluding the hoax was the most successful of modern times. O’Keefe was transferred from his post, though in an unexpected twist, was later promoted to sergeant and allowed to return.
In the years that followed, Pikes Peak became a popular destination for early tourism in Colorado. Its popularity has only grown since then, partially thanks to the imaginative tale crafted by Sergeant John O’Keefe from his isolated signal station up there at the summit.
