On a cool, sunny Thursday morning, Cripple Creek was transformed as local resident Patrick Weier was memorialized. Weier died a week earlier in an equipment malfunction at the Mollie Kathleen Gold Mine.

Twenty-three visitors were eventually rescued from the tourist mine on the edge of town. Weier was not.

Usually vibrant, Cripple Creek’s main drag, Bennett Avenue, was somber. Throughout the morning, small groups walked silently toward the staging area at the top of the street, where they gathered in the parking lots of the Cripple Creek District Museum and the Cripple Creek & Victor Narrow Gauge Railroad.

Then a solitary church bell chimed 10 times. Crisp notes above the hushed town that rang clearly before, seconds later, echoing softly off the surrounding mountainsides. Both a call and an answer.

And in answer, the processional moved forward. An honor guard from American Legion Post 1980 led the way, honoring Weier in three different capacities: as a veteran of the United States Air Force, as a member of the Gold Camp district of Victor and Cripple Creek, and, steeped in tradition, as a mine worker.

“Today is 125 years of mining tradition,” Post 1980 Commander and Teller County Commissioner Dan Williams said. “When we lost miners back in the day, they would have a procession.

“That’s what you have today; an open memorial so more people could come and watch instead of being confined to a building.”

The honor guard was followed by more than 200 marchers. The throng was made up of family, neighbors and friends — some of whom had driven from Arizona, where Weier went to high school, and Illinois, where he attended college.

Finally came emergency vehicles representing communities around Teller County and beyond. Weier was on the verge of becoming a volunteer firefighter at the time of his death. His 7-year-old son was riding on one of the vehicles.

The memorial

To his friends and family, Weier was larger than life in the smallest of ways.

“There was no discrepancy between who Patty was and who he wanted to be,” said a college friend who identified himself only as Teal. “He never said he was sorry. He never had to.”

A former baseball teammate of Weier’s at Sauk Valley Community College had driven all the way from Chicago and arrived for snacks at the Gas and Roll about an hour before the processional. With him were his wife and two children, each of whom was barely older than the son Weier left behind. He later spoke at the memorial at Cripple Creek City Park.

“If you met him, you’d never forget him because of his presence, his smile and his bringing everyone together,” he said. “We’re never going to forget him.”

That presence made an impact. Several speakers said Weier was among the friends they cherished most, even those who were unable to see him often.

“To know Patty was to automatically consider him among your closest friends,” said Jeremy, another friend. “If you knew him, you get that. Every man on earth would be wise to follow Pat’s lead as a father, as a brother and as a friend.

“If you knew him, he was in your Mount Rushmore of friends.”

Community

Weier immediately fell in love with the Victor and Cripple Creek area after years in Arizona and Illinois.

Area resident Mike Knott and Weier became instant friends over their shared love of the Chicago Bears.

“He came up here and he goes ‘this is the place where I think I want to raise my family,'” said Knott, who had trouble holding back tears during his address.

Weier’s brother, John Paul, initially couldn’t understand the move. He visited his brother a couple of times a year.

“I always loved coming here but having this (the memorial) happening, it makes total sense,” he said. “This was the place for him to raise his son. The community here is special, and you should all feel very proud of your community.

“I’ll never forget what everyone has done here for us these past few days.”

At the end of John Paul’s address, a gust of wind whipped through the park and blew Patrick’s photo off the easel. John Paul deftly grabbed it before it hit the ground.

“I guess that’s his cue it’s time to wrap it up,” John Paul said, which helped the grieving crowd leave with a smile.

Much like Patrick Weier always did.