Ten years ago, Sharon Whitehair was a homeless, single parent. Then she and her family found refuge in a trailer park in Goat Hill.
Four generations of Veronica Cordova’s family have prospered in this once-rural community on Denver’s northwest outskirts. But she was the only sibling out of seven who stayed here to raise her own daughter and grandson.
John Hurtado left Goat Hill in 1976 to join the military. He came back and settled 20 years later because he believed Goat Hill was the only place he ever lived where people truly care for one another.
Residents of this working-class neighborhood in unincorporated Adams County have lived under the radar of organized government for decades – reveling in lower taxes and a “live and let live” mentality.
But after half a century without basic municipal services, emerging community leaders have learned the importance of forging neighborhood identity. A stronger community means securing long-ignored amenities like sidewalks and park space. The people of Goat Hill are learning that investing in their neighborhood can foster higher property values, and a better quality of life.
Welcome to Goat Hill, population 2,478.
Sidewalks not included
The thing that bothered John Hurtado about returning to his old haunts was that nothing had changed.
“No sidewalks, no safe passages, even the schools hadn’t had any maintenance in 60 or 70 years,” Hurtado says. “People have been paying property taxes for years, but without any results.”
Denver boasts historic, established neighborhoods and active resident associations. But some formerly agricultural, unincorporated suburbs like Goat Hill share the same tale of a land that development forgot. Growth in the northern reaches of Adams County bypassed older, poorer neighborhoods like this. Goat Hill – along with other nearby areas settled by farmers and ranchers in the early 1900s like Welby and Irondale – don’t have the same amenities as new, master-planned communities like Stapleton or Lowry.
Adams County zoning laws did not require things like curbs and gutters. But many of the people who settled here some 50 years ago still own their homes. Children have grown up to see their children and their children’s children live here.
Goat Hill is the kind of place where all the kids know they can wait for the school bus at the Raigosa house on cold, snowy days. Olivia Raigosa puts newspapers down on the carpet for the foot traffic.
Yet passersby might never realize this place exists. There are no welcome signs, statuettes or gabled gates at its boundaries, which Adams County defines as Lowell Boulevard on the west; Pecos Street on the east; West 64th Avenue on the south and West 67th Avenue on the north.
This neighborhood, where the median household income is around $32,000, is not even noted on county maps. There is graffiti, but no parks; there are sex shops and liquor stores, but no grocery.
Building community
About five years ago, the Adams County Community Development agency had a name that didn’t live up to its mission, says Keith Frausto, the agency’s administrator. Instead of reaching out to communities like Goat Hill, it concentrated on doling out nonprofit grant money. “No one in our office really knew people at the neighborhood level,” he says.
Adding to the challenge: Goat Hill is a mix of rural, urban and industrial lifestyles. A house on a 1-acre plot could be next to a warehouse or farmers’ field.
“You can hear roosters crowing when you attend meetings held in Goat Hill,” Frausto says. “These residents are proud of their agricultural roots.”
Some neighboring communities have already organized for better amenities. Perl Mack, for instance, holds monthly meetings that draw dozens to tackle such issues as graffiti and high vacancy rates.
Goat Hill hopes to create the same sense of identity, belonging and organization to guide its future.
W.R. “Skip” Fischer, Adams County District 1 commissioner, has lived for 40 years in his house just west of Perl Mack. He concedes that the county never got around to developing Goat Hill because there were always more projects than funds. Now organized neighbors are “increasing the values of their homes by making their whole neighborhood look better.”
Frausto’s office began reaching out five years ago to Goat Hill, Perl Mack and nearby Monaco to identify community leaders and determine which neighborhood improvements should be first.
And Gabe Guillaume with the Community Resource Center provided Goat Hill leaders with formal training to help them navigate government bureaucracy.
“We didn’t know anything about bylaws, writing a mission statement or understanding how our taxes could be used to make this area better,” Whitehair says. “We didn’t have a mayor or councilmembers to fight for us.”
“When you are low-income, you have to learn how to negotiate the middle-class world. We had to learn the ropes and be empowered to speak up for what we needed.”
Focus groups uncovered a vision of better infrastructure, neighborhood beautification and youth educational programs. The newly formed Goat Hill Neighborhood Committee teamed up with volunteers from Brothers Redevelopment Inc. to refurbish aging homes.
“Working-class residents don’t have the time to address some of these bigger infrastructure issues,” says Jeff Martinez of Brothers Redevelopment Inc. “They just needed something to really spur them on and prompt a sense of community and belonging.”
Needing safe passage
For the majority of Goat Hill residents, that lightning-rod issue was sidewalks.
Neighbors still talk about the time Raigosa, 65, slipped on the asphalt and fell into a ditch to escape an oncoming car. Residents feared the worst for children who had to cross busy Federal Boulevard to get to Baker Elementary and the former Hodgkins Middle schools because in Goat Hill, people are forced to walk in the street.
“When there was snow on the ground, attendance would drop at the schools,” Whitehair says.
Now, three years later, new sidewalks line 67th Avenue so the kids can walk up to a light and cross Federal Boulevard.
More sidewalks are in the works. But growth is still pretty piecemeal. A mother walked down the middle of a street with a child and a baby in a stroller one recent afternoon, forced to move to one side to let traffic by.
Residents are still holding out for a park and a convenience or grocery store. They want to bring the teenagers in check – put an end to the tagging. And they could use some benches and bus-stop shelters for their elderly.
Some residents worry that developers will try to buy them out to build apartment complexes and condos. Others like Veronica Cordova with the Goat Hill Neighborhood Committee say the community had better get used to it as new businesses are moving in, and light rail is coming soon.
Becoming a bold dot on the map means you can’t hide from development anymore.
In this community where Latino residents make up more than half the population, the mantra has become: “Poco a poco se va lejos.” The Spanish saying means, “Little by little one goes a long way.”
Sheba R. Wheeler: 303-954-1283 or swheeler@denverpost.com.
