When a barbecue and soul food historian finds out an icon in the industry lies buried without a grave marker, he does something about it. At least, if you’re the Soul Food Scholar Adrian Miller you do, which is why Columbus B. Hill, barbecue master, will never be forgotten.
Adrian Miller Meets Columbus B. Hill
While researching and writing two books that would go on to win James Beard Awards, Soul Food: The Surprising Story of an American Cuisine, One Plate at a Time and Black Smoke: African Americans and the United States of Barbecue, Adrian Miller unearthed the stories of many long-forgotten Black chefs. Many of his discoveries took place while he was buried in the stacks at the Denver Public Library’s Western History and Genealogical section.
“I was that brother hanging out reading all the microfiche, and I decided to read every issue of the Black newspapers that existed in Colorado at the turn of the century,” said Miller. “I was looking for anything related to food.”
That was when he learned about Columbus B. Hill, or C.B. Hill, the chef behind some seriously large-scale barbecues held in Denver at the time. Newspapers published for both Denver’s Black and white residents included numerous mentions of this long-forgotten pit master.
“He just kept popping up everywhere, and one thing that interested me was that he had done a barbecue for my own church, Campbell Chapel A.M.E., in 1902,” said Miller. “I was writing an article for 5280 about the great moments in Colorado Barbecue History, and that accelerated my need to know more about him.”
How the Barbecue Master Garnered the Title
Arriving in Colorado by way of Missouri in the 1880s, C.B. Hill soon made a name for himself as king of the grill, manning events like the dedication of the cornerstone of the Colorado State Capitol Building in 1890. In those days, huge barbecues were held as public events and funded by Denver’s wealthy elite.The event drew an estimated 60,000 guests, a large number especially for that era.
Miller was struck by not only the frequent mentions of Hill in the newspaper, but his numerous interviews and even illustrations. Though, because Hill was black he was sometimes portrayed speaking plantation dialect and appearing as a farcical minstrel.
“African Americans were strongly associated with barbecues at that time, but in the newspaper accounts of these barbecues, the cooks weren’t mentioned at all, and if they were, they would be referred to as a negro, a colored man, or worse, as being in charge of the barbecue,” stated Miller. “If they were named, they might typically use someone’s first name with the derogatory term ‘Uncle’ in front of it, which was in vogue at the time to show that you’re not fully a man, while white men in the newspaper might be called ‘Mister’.”
The Great Feast
In 1898, Hill dreamed up a barbecue for the Denver Stock Show, which featured a menu filled with whole cows and bison, mutton, elk, antelope, sheep, and even possum and bear. For this event, 3,000 people were invited, but 30,000 showed up. This resulted in a debacle called the Barbecue Riot of 1898 and referred to as “a Maelstrom of Humanity” by the Rocky Mountain News.
Unable to wait to be fed, the crowd rushed the grill, a table collapsed, and a food fight broke out. Fueled by barrels of beer from Zang Brewing Co., bones and bread flew through the air and tableware and cutlery from the event were plundered, leaving locals to question whether they wanted to host the Stock Show at all. Hill took a step back from the spotlight after that, only hosting one newsworthy barbecue in 1908, the Atlantic Fleet Barbecue, held for 1,000 Naval personnel in Seattle.
A Lonely Gravesite
Miller eventually came across C.B. Hill’s obituary and learned he was buried at Riverside Cemetery in Commerce City, along with many other notable Denverites from the era. Curious about what the gravestone might read, he decided to pay Hill’s final resting place a visit.
Only, when he got there, he couldn’t find a gravestone. He contacted Fairview Cemetery, which manages Riverside, and discovered that one of the historic barbecue greats of the West was in fact, buried in an unmarked grave.
Miller decided to take action. He wanted C.B. Hill to have a gravemarker and a service, and more.
Gaining Barbecue Stardom
Aside from an actual grave stone, Miller felt Hill deserved to be remembered and posthumously inducted into the Barbecue Hall of Fame.
The organization started in 2010, launched by the American Royal, a Kansas City-based nonprofit dedicated to agriculture and the host of the world’s largest barbecue competition, the American Royal Barbecue International. Over the years, dozens honorees have been inducted, but Miller noted the lack of representation of African Americans and other minorities in the group.
“By 2018, there were 33 people inducted into the Barbecue Hall of Fame and only one of them was African American,” said Miller.
After getting a milquetoast response from the board of directors to his query about why so few people in the Barbecue Hall of Fame were people of color, Miller wrote an op-ed for a Kansas City newspaper, “putting them on blast.” American Royal invited Miller to join and help select inductees.
They have since diversified their inductees to include not only Black pit masters (even anonymous ones), but women and Latinx barbecue masters, too. Columbus B. Hill was entered into the Barbecue Hall of Fame as a legacy inductee in 2023, with Miller accepting the award and its commemorative apron on his behalf.
The Memorial Service
On September 7, 2024, Miller and a dozen people from his church and the local barbecue scene met at Riverside Cemetery to hold a service for Columbus B. Hill. There he dedicated the headstone, which he bought and designed.
The gray rectangular flush grave marker reads “C.B. ‘Columbus’ Hill, 1851-1923, ‘The Most Famous Barbecue Cook in the West,’ and 2023 American Royal Barbecue Hall of Fame Inductee,’” and features a profile illustration of Hill.
“I thought ‘you know what, this guy should have a grave marker, and I’m going to get him a gravesite,’” said Miller. “I wanted to bring him to broader attention, he has such a great story.”
Rev. Barbara Berry-Bailey of St. Paul Lutheran Community of Faith, attended the headstone dedication service. A long-time fan of Miller’s before moving to Denver, she is also connected to him through his work as the executive director of the Colorado Council of Churches.
“For me, it was an opportunity for me to finally meet Adrian, learn more about Columbus B. Hill, and connect with others in the area over the subject of barbecuing,” she said. “It was a “fan-girl” moment for me, as well as a wonderful educational experience.”
After the service, which included prayer, reflection, and singing, Miller treated the group to lunch at Smōk, a local Michelin-noted barbecue restaurant inside The Source in RiNo. At the event was Alice Sueltenfuss and her husband Paul, who had heard about Miller’s mission to give Hill a headstone on KUNC, Northern Colorado’s NPR affiliate station.
“With a shortage of peace and justice stories in the news and sad stories in abundance, I was drawn to be a part of this positive experience that provided justice for Columbus B. Hill,” said Sueltenfuss. “My husband Paul, an avid barbecuer, wanted to come along after hearing about these amazing men.”
A century after his death, a prominent and respected member of Denver’s earliest culinary community has finally gotten the recognition and the memorial he deserves.
