By Jeff Francis

A question kept running through my head while reading Alan Prendergast’s “Gangbuster: One Man’s Battle Against Crime, Corruption, and the Klan”… Could this be a streaming show? You know, a Netflix documentary? A prestige miniseries? A six-parter on one of those platforms you just heard about?

I say “yes.”

The career of Denver District Attorney Philip Van Cise — the basis of “Gangbuster” — is certainly interesting, but longtime Westword scribe and Denver chronicler Prendergast wisely focuses the narrative on how Van Cise imprinted himself on the events of the times, from the infamous Ludlow Massacre to the surprisingly ugly Tramway Strike of 1920. Navigating Tammany-Hall-style politics to reach his position, Van Cise eventually emerged as Denver’s precursor to Eliot Ness.

The hype around this book mainly regards the Ku Klux Klan. Prendergast views the organization through both a local and national lens, documenting how in 1923 and 1924, membership exploded across the country, with Denver as an epicenter.

Although the KKK definitely engaged in the white supremacist terrorism it’s remembered for, there was a bit more to it. The group became so popular that many budding politicians knew they had no choice but to get on its good side, even if they didn’t subscribe to all its principles. Despite the equivocation, though, Van Cise was at the forefront of opposing them. “We will not stand for any Ku Klux Klan monkey business in Denver,” he declared to the press. “It is my intention to try to put the Klan out of business in this city.”

Van Cise certainly had success in that effort, but as Prendergast shows, the KKK died a rather natural death when it lost its luster. Infighting and rivalries struck a major blow to the rolls from which it never recovered.

Despite the draw of the KKK content, I was most intrigued by the parts about swindlers and fraudsters. Turns out the Denver of 1900-1920 was nationally known for such rackets, attracting confidence men from all over the country. The cons were myriad and impressively elaborate (I’d be lying if I claimed to understand how all of them worked). From under-the-table bets to the get-rich-quick appeal of the burgeoning stock market, perpetrators targeted average Joes, and actually prosecuting the wrongdoers was notoriously difficult. When Van Cise mounted a gargantuan effort to reverse those fortunes, not only was he up against a corrupt system where many lawmen were on the take, but also a kind-of idolatry surrounding the criminals.

“Reporters tended to romanticize (certain swindlers), depicting them as urbane, well-tailored Robin Hoods… But Van Cise didn’t see anything noble about them,” Prendergast writes.
“Many of them had extensive criminal records, including convictions for armed robbery and worse. Their schemes entrapped and destroyed not simply the greedy, but also the trusting and naïve, small town ministers and immigrant florists.”

Fun side note: In “Centennial,” legendary novelist James Michener’s 1974 ode to Colorado, there’s a scene involving “the badger game,” a con in which a woman lures a traveling, married businessman into a tryst, only for the woman’s “husband” to angrily burst in. The “game” usually ended with an exchange of money for discretion. Turns out this con was not an invention of Michener’s; the badger game existed and was one of many deceptions practiced by Denver swindlers.

Prendergast has gifted us a riveting read in “Gangbuster.” Yes there’s a thrill to seeing local landmarks in print (The Broadmoor, Brown Palace, etc.), as well as famous Colorado figures (just what was up with Mayor Benjamin Stapleton?), but the biggest reward of reading “Gangbuster” is learning about a time different from the one we live in. In some ways good, in some ways bad, but unequivocally, undeniably different.