PATRIARCH BARNES IS DEAD SUFFERED PAIN FOR 59 YEARS.
One of Denver's Old Residents and Picturesque Figures, Whose 59 Years of Pain Did Not Mar His Benign Countenance.
Denver's patriarch of baseball, chess and whist, and of a horde of little folks whose affection for him was as simple as for St. Nick, is dead.
His office was not one of political preferment nor did he wield the might of patriarchs of old. His was a benign influence of the most kindly and gentle countenance, not marred a particle by the pain of 59 years, a magnet for all eyes as he passed up Colfax Avenue the last twenty-three years to his home with his sister, Mrs. Jane O. Cooper, widow of former Governor J. A. Cooper, at 1500 Grant. His face, as poetic in expression and closely resembling that of Henry V. Longfellow, was one of the most familiar in Denver.
This patriarch, Romulus E. Barnes, aged 79, died at 4:30 yesterday afternoon. His end was as peaceful as his life had been.
"I feel tired today," he remarked last Sunday when he returned home from his daily visit to the Chess, Checker and Whist Club, in the Masonic Temple. The "tired" feeling grew more pronounced, it encompassed his whole being until obsessed by it he sank into the last sleep.
HADN'T SHAVED IN 59 YEARS.
Patriarch Barnes' face was never touched by razor after his twentieth year. He never married. Badly crippled and always in pain, he was prevented from nearly all vocations. His years were given to his nephews and nieces and hundreds of acquaintances; the baseball game, of which he was a great devotee; to the Chess, Checker and Whist Club, of which, he was a charter member and to the Orpheum, where he occupied the same seat every Thursday night of every week for years. He confessed to three lies in all his 79 years, but they were labeled white.
He was a patron of sports and amusements because in them he found his only surcease from pain. When his mind was not occupied bodily, pain returned. "Every minute of my life I have suffered," he once said, "and the Orpheum has short sketches and stunts, so I like it. I wouldn't give a cent for plays and grand opera. I like baseball because it is clean and skillful and honest."
MET WITH PAINFUL ACCIDENT
Patriarch Barnes was born in Canton, Ill., March 4, 1832. When only 17 he heard the siren song of gold in California and joined the rush of '49. Three years later came the accident which made him a cripple for life. He was caught beneath a dislodged rock in the workings. The loss of the use of one leg and an injured spine resulted, forcing him to the use of a crutch under one arm and a cane in the other hand during his remaining years.
While in the gold workings in California, Patriarch Barnes assumed the ways of the West of those days, discarding razor and allowing his hair to drop to his shoulders.
While to adults he had the appearance of Longfellow, to the little folks this good gray man was Santa Claus. "Are you Saint Nick," he often was asked. And he smiled and to further questioning answered that their letters would be cared for alright.
A brother and a sister survive, S. D. Barnes, attorney, 501 Bank Building, and Mrs. Jane O. Cooper. Funeral services will be held at the Cooper home at 10:30 Friday morning, interment will be private. - Rocky Mountain News
One of Denver's Old Residents and Picturesque Figures, Whose 59 Years of Pain Did Not Mar His Benign Countenance.
Denver's patriarch of baseball, chess and whist, and of a horde of little folks whose affection for him was as simple as for St. Nick, is dead.
His office was not one of political preferment nor did he wield the might of patriarchs of old. His was a benign influence of the most kindly and gentle countenance, not marred a particle by the pain of 59 years, a magnet for all eyes as he passed up Colfax Avenue the last twenty-three years to his home with his sister, Mrs. Jane O. Cooper, widow of former Governor J. A. Cooper, at 1500 Grant. His face, as poetic in expression and closely resembling that of Henry V. Longfellow, was one of the most familiar in Denver.
This patriarch, Romulus E. Barnes, aged 79, died at 4:30 yesterday afternoon. His end was as peaceful as his life had been.
"I feel tired today," he remarked last Sunday when he returned home from his daily visit to the Chess, Checker and Whist Club, in the Masonic Temple. The "tired" feeling grew more pronounced, it encompassed his whole being until obsessed by it he sank into the last sleep.
HADN'T SHAVED IN 59 YEARS.
Patriarch Barnes' face was never touched by razor after his twentieth year. He never married. Badly crippled and always in pain, he was prevented from nearly all vocations. His years were given to his nephews and nieces and hundreds of acquaintances; the baseball game, of which he was a great devotee; to the Chess, Checker and Whist Club, of which, he was a charter member and to the Orpheum, where he occupied the same seat every Thursday night of every week for years. He confessed to three lies in all his 79 years, but they were labeled white.
He was a patron of sports and amusements because in them he found his only surcease from pain. When his mind was not occupied bodily, pain returned. "Every minute of my life I have suffered," he once said, "and the Orpheum has short sketches and stunts, so I like it. I wouldn't give a cent for plays and grand opera. I like baseball because it is clean and skillful and honest."
MET WITH PAINFUL ACCIDENT
Patriarch Barnes was born in Canton, Ill., March 4, 1832. When only 17 he heard the siren song of gold in California and joined the rush of '49. Three years later came the accident which made him a cripple for life. He was caught beneath a dislodged rock in the workings. The loss of the use of one leg and an injured spine resulted, forcing him to the use of a crutch under one arm and a cane in the other hand during his remaining years.
While in the gold workings in California, Patriarch Barnes assumed the ways of the West of those days, discarding razor and allowing his hair to drop to his shoulders.
While to adults he had the appearance of Longfellow, to the little folks this good gray man was Santa Claus. "Are you Saint Nick," he often was asked. And he smiled and to further questioning answered that their letters would be cared for alright.
A brother and a sister survive, S. D. Barnes, attorney, 501 Bank Building, and Mrs. Jane O. Cooper. Funeral services will be held at the Cooper home at 10:30 Friday morning, interment will be private. - Rocky Mountain News
PATRIARCH BARNES IS DEAD SUFFERED PAIN FOR 59 YEARS.
One of Denver's Old Residents and Picturesque Figures, Whose 59 Years of Pain Did Not Mar His Benign Countenance.
Denver's patriarch of baseball, chess and whist, and of a horde of little folks whose affection for him was as simple as for St. Nick, is dead.
His office was not one of political preferment nor did he wield the might of patriarchs of old. His was a benign influence of the most kindly and gentle countenance, not marred a particle by the pain of 59 years, a magnet for all eyes as he passed up Colfax Avenue the last twenty-three years to his home with his sister, Mrs. Jane O. Cooper, widow of former Governor J. A. Cooper, at 1500 Grant. His face, as poetic in expression and closely resembling that of Henry V. Longfellow, was one of the most familiar in Denver.
This patriarch, Romulus E. Barnes, aged 79, died at 4:30 yesterday afternoon. His end was as peaceful as his life had been.
"I feel tired today," he remarked last Sunday when he returned home from his daily visit to the Chess, Checker and Whist Club, in the Masonic Temple. The "tired" feeling grew more pronounced, it encompassed his whole being until obsessed by it he sank into the last sleep.
HADN'T SHAVED IN 59 YEARS.
Patriarch Barnes' face was never touched by razor after his twentieth year. He never married. Badly crippled and always in pain, he was prevented from nearly all vocations. His years were given to his nephews and nieces and hundreds of acquaintances; the baseball game, of which he was a great devotee; to the Chess, Checker and Whist Club, of which, he was a charter member and to the Orpheum, where he occupied the same seat every Thursday night of every week for years. He confessed to three lies in all his 79 years, but they were labeled white.
He was a patron of sports and amusements because in them he found his only surcease from pain. When his mind was not occupied bodily, pain returned. "Every minute of my life I have suffered," he once said, "and the Orpheum has short sketches and stunts, so I like it. I wouldn't give a cent for plays and grand opera. I like baseball because it is clean and skillful and honest."
MET WITH PAINFUL ACCIDENT
Patriarch Barnes was born in Canton, Ill., March 4, 1832. When only 17 he heard the siren song of gold in California and joined the rush of '49. Three years later came the accident which made him a cripple for life. He was caught beneath a dislodged rock in the workings. The loss of the use of one leg and an injured spine resulted, forcing him to the use of a crutch under one arm and a cane in the other hand during his remaining years.
While in the gold workings in California, Patriarch Barnes assumed the ways of the West of those days, discarding razor and allowing his hair to drop to his shoulders.
While to adults he had the appearance of Longfellow, to the little folks this good gray man was Santa Claus. "Are you Saint Nick," he often was asked. And he smiled and to further questioning answered that their letters would be cared for alright.
A brother and a sister survive, S. D. Barnes, attorney, 501 Bank Building, and Mrs. Jane O. Cooper. Funeral services will be held at the Cooper home at 10:30 Friday morning, interment will be private. - Rocky Mountain News
One of Denver's Old Residents and Picturesque Figures, Whose 59 Years of Pain Did Not Mar His Benign Countenance.
Denver's patriarch of baseball, chess and whist, and of a horde of little folks whose affection for him was as simple as for St. Nick, is dead.
His office was not one of political preferment nor did he wield the might of patriarchs of old. His was a benign influence of the most kindly and gentle countenance, not marred a particle by the pain of 59 years, a magnet for all eyes as he passed up Colfax Avenue the last twenty-three years to his home with his sister, Mrs. Jane O. Cooper, widow of former Governor J. A. Cooper, at 1500 Grant. His face, as poetic in expression and closely resembling that of Henry V. Longfellow, was one of the most familiar in Denver.
This patriarch, Romulus E. Barnes, aged 79, died at 4:30 yesterday afternoon. His end was as peaceful as his life had been.
"I feel tired today," he remarked last Sunday when he returned home from his daily visit to the Chess, Checker and Whist Club, in the Masonic Temple. The "tired" feeling grew more pronounced, it encompassed his whole being until obsessed by it he sank into the last sleep.
HADN'T SHAVED IN 59 YEARS.
Patriarch Barnes' face was never touched by razor after his twentieth year. He never married. Badly crippled and always in pain, he was prevented from nearly all vocations. His years were given to his nephews and nieces and hundreds of acquaintances; the baseball game, of which he was a great devotee; to the Chess, Checker and Whist Club, of which, he was a charter member and to the Orpheum, where he occupied the same seat every Thursday night of every week for years. He confessed to three lies in all his 79 years, but they were labeled white.
He was a patron of sports and amusements because in them he found his only surcease from pain. When his mind was not occupied bodily, pain returned. "Every minute of my life I have suffered," he once said, "and the Orpheum has short sketches and stunts, so I like it. I wouldn't give a cent for plays and grand opera. I like baseball because it is clean and skillful and honest."
MET WITH PAINFUL ACCIDENT
Patriarch Barnes was born in Canton, Ill., March 4, 1832. When only 17 he heard the siren song of gold in California and joined the rush of '49. Three years later came the accident which made him a cripple for life. He was caught beneath a dislodged rock in the workings. The loss of the use of one leg and an injured spine resulted, forcing him to the use of a crutch under one arm and a cane in the other hand during his remaining years.
While in the gold workings in California, Patriarch Barnes assumed the ways of the West of those days, discarding razor and allowing his hair to drop to his shoulders.
While to adults he had the appearance of Longfellow, to the little folks this good gray man was Santa Claus. "Are you Saint Nick," he often was asked. And he smiled and to further questioning answered that their letters would be cared for alright.
A brother and a sister survive, S. D. Barnes, attorney, 501 Bank Building, and Mrs. Jane O. Cooper. Funeral services will be held at the Cooper home at 10:30 Friday morning, interment will be private. - Rocky Mountain News
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