The moment we enter through the gate, most of the kids burst onto the scene in full force. The first building to catch their attention, just a few short yards into the village, is the miniature Denver Fire Station. My toddler son, still a little unsure, crouches before the building gazing in, trying to understand what he is and is not allowed to touch.
One of the older girls reaches out the front door and grabs his hand, pulling him into the unknown. At that moment he is introduced to a world where windows can be seen through without the use of tiptoes and porches can be climbed upon without holding the hands of a grown-up.
A handful contain meticulously staged miniature décor inside.
With his daughter in mind, local business owner George Turner had begun construction on Tiny Town’s precursor, Turnerville, in 1915, creating buildings one-sixth in size. Five years later, the village, located at the Denver-Leadville stagecoach stop, opened to the public. By the mid-20’s, Tiny Town housed 125 colorful structures and was enjoyed by an annual 20,000 visitors traveling to see this enchanting little land.
Unfortunately, the 40 years that followed brought Tiny Town floods, a fire and the rerouting of Highway 285, making the area less obvious to passersby. In 1966, the town of miniatures closed its doors and was left desolate and empty.
Throughout the next few decades, many attempts were made toward the restoration of Tiny Town. Each resulted in only a few years of the village being open to the public before, once again, closing and leaving the structures in despair.
My son, now uninhibited and weaving around each building with rapid-fire speed, gets drawn to a theater with “Majestic” scripted down the front and the words “Now Playing Chaplin” placed on both sides of the angular marquis. This is one of the buildings that can’t be entered, but when tiny noses smash against the window, a variety of period-themed miniatures can be seen placed meticulously inside with great attention to detail.
The kids weave in and out and on the structures.
The next hour is spent winding in and out through an opera house, peeking through bars of an adobe jail, climbing to a windmill set atop a cluster of rocks and scaling cartoonish-painted cottages before stopping at one of the many picnic tables to refuel with snacks.
And finally, after much anticipation, we get to the train.The only thing that had made the kids take any pause at all during their exploration had been the Tiny Town Railway train chugging past as it followed the mile-long track along the outskirts of the village. For those few brief moments, they would forget the rest of the village and excitedly wave to the conductor and his passengers.
Added in 1939, the train’s whistle is heard throughout Tiny Town. My son excitedly takes his place next to me in one of the cars near the back as the older kids scramble to find a spot in the revered caboose. The conductor, complete with overalls and a blue and white striped hat, walks past, collecting the $1 tickets from eagerly outstretched little hands.
The nearly 10-minute ride cuts along the canyon wall, with the earth angling sharply upward to our right in many places.
The nearly 10-minute ride cuts along the canyon wall, with the earth angling sharply upward to our right in many places. We cross the narrow river in two places over wooden bridges as well as chug through a small tunnel. The entire way, miniature structures dot the grassy area to our left, including a fun little replica of Coney Island, the hot dog-shaped restaurant currently located near Conifer. Other replicas of structures from both present day and Colorado’s past can also be spotted with a keen eye.
As the train comes to a stop, the kids unload from the caboose and my son begrudgingly gives up his seat to the next round of passengers. Only promises of another visit soon convince the group of heavy-lidded children toward the exit to call it a day.
