An existential and historical journey into the finer, yet lesser-known quarters of this country.
|
Bonneville Mariner Dot Com |
Thursday, May 31, 2007,9:03 PM
A Few Notes
I hope you've enjoyed this web site's first article. I'm currently facing the dilemma of time constraints. I'm discovering it takes a long time to research, outline, and write these articles. This is frustrating because that makes it tough to publish a timely article.
Example- I am writing an article on the Utah ghost town of Iosepa, which I had planned to coincide with this year's Memorial Day festivities. But even if I devote all my research/interviewing/writing time to Iosepa now, I won't be ready to publish until early July.
A few factors contribute to this dilemma. First and foremost, this website is purely a hobby. You may have noticed that there are absolutely no ads here. I profit nothing from this website. I have a couple jobs and a few kids, so my schedule is pretty tight. Most of my writing is done on my blackberry while riding on elevators or waiting for meetings to start. I conduct most of my phone interviews on the drive home from work.
Another factor is that I am the slowest writer on the planet. I write a sentence, re-read it, tweak it a bit, delete it, re-write it, mull it over, tweak it, then finally move to the next sentence. It's too bad that one of my greatest loves happens to also be one of my greatest weaknesses.
So while I'm gathering info and waiting for people to get back to me regarding Iosepa, I'll finish off and begin posting an article I've been working on about New Orleans and the Gulf Coast. A change in direction, I know. But this article, compared with the recent ghost town series, will give you a taste of what I plan to do with this web site.
Keep reading, and let me know what you think!
Bonneville Mariner
Example- I am writing an article on the Utah ghost town of Iosepa, which I had planned to coincide with this year's Memorial Day festivities. But even if I devote all my research/interviewing/writing time to Iosepa now, I won't be ready to publish until early July.
A few factors contribute to this dilemma. First and foremost, this website is purely a hobby. You may have noticed that there are absolutely no ads here. I profit nothing from this website. I have a couple jobs and a few kids, so my schedule is pretty tight. Most of my writing is done on my blackberry while riding on elevators or waiting for meetings to start. I conduct most of my phone interviews on the drive home from work.
Another factor is that I am the slowest writer on the planet. I write a sentence, re-read it, tweak it a bit, delete it, re-write it, mull it over, tweak it, then finally move to the next sentence. It's too bad that one of my greatest loves happens to also be one of my greatest weaknesses.
So while I'm gathering info and waiting for people to get back to me regarding Iosepa, I'll finish off and begin posting an article I've been working on about New Orleans and the Gulf Coast. A change in direction, I know. But this article, compared with the recent ghost town series, will give you a taste of what I plan to do with this web site.
Keep reading, and let me know what you think!
Bonneville Mariner
Labels: Site Updates
Thursday, May 24, 2007,11:38 PM
My First Ghost Town Trip, Part V: Conclusion
MY EARLY RESEARCH ON ORVIL JACK resulted in story after story about an old one-armed coot living in a box car near the old Gold Acres townsite. With a little help from Google, I located Orvil's daughter, Grace Wintle, who still lives in the area. She assured me that her father was no old coot, and that he did indeed have both of his arms. I concluded that there must have been some old one-armed miner that people were confusing with Orvil Jack. Then author/photographer Richard Menzies emailed me the above photograph that he shot in 1975.Here's Richard's description of the picture:
"He (Orvil) was highly regarded as a mechanical genius, the sort of guy who could field strip a D-9 Cat in a sandstorm and put it all back together, single handedly. Literally. Orval lost a hand to a steam shovel in Manassa, Colorado.
I've had people complain about this picture, which they find disgusting. One woman wrote to say she was shocked that I would snap a picture of a man who had just lost his hand and who was bleeding profusely--instead of running for help. Actually, it's not blood. It's degreasing salve. And although he looks pretty intimidating in this picture, Orvil was a genial fellow."
So rather than a one-armed geezer, Orvil Jack was a one-handed mechanical mastermind.
Later, Grace explained to me that "missing a hand is very different from missing an arm." She was clearly frustrated at her father's portrayal in ghost town lore and was grateful that I called her to clarify.
Orvil and his wife, Bessie, founded the Blue Ridge Mine in 1956 while Orvil was working as an assayer in Gold Acres. There he discovered the famous neon green turquoise that now bears his name. Grace and her husband took over the mine when Orvil passed away in 1986. I sensed joy in Grace's voice as she recounted the old days with her father.
"Every day my sisters and I would hear dad's pickup driving home. We would run down the hill to meet him and he'd give us a ride back up to the house."
The Wintle family continues to work the mine, but Grace is suffering from cancer and no longer works the mine herself. Much thanks to this dear lady for her time and her willingness to speak with me.
GOLD ACRES
Grace Wintle told me the old buildings in Gold Acres were bulldozed in the seventies, nearly a couple decades before our visit. She referred me to Steve Bishop, who grew up in Gold Acres and now lives in Elko. Bishop describes Gold Acres as a quaint little town filled with "stick-built" houses. He was educated in a one-room school, where a single teacher taught kindergarten through eighth grade. The town had no gas station, one commissary, a bunkhouse and a cookhouse. Contrary to what I've read in various ghost town books, Bishop says Gold Acres was a dry town. That doesn't mean there weren't any underground booze operations, but no swinging saloon doors creaking in the dusty breeze.
Gold Acres was a company town with most of its residents working for the company. Bishop says one of the very few vehicles in town was the "manwagon," which would pick up and drop off the miners.
Bishop says he has pictures of the old town packed away somewhere in boxes, which he'll scan and send to me as soon as he can dig them up. I will post them at that time.
CORTEZ
Bishop also told me that many of Cortez's residents were Chinese- former railroad workers that turned to mining. These workers were buried in a separate cemetery near town. According to Bishop, all but one body in this cemetery were exhumed at some point and reburied in China.
Old wooden buildings in Cortez (Photo by Charles Hall)*
A grave in the Cortez Cemetery (Photo by Charles Hall)*THE HOLY GRAIL
A short note on that pristine abandoned mining camp that I mentioned in Part 2 of this article: Using a popular satellite imagery program, Tyler and I believe we have located it. And that's all I'm going to say...
Related Links
First Ghost Town Trip - Part I
First Ghost Town Trip - Part II
First Ghost Town Trip - Part III
First Ghost Town Trip - Part IV
* Charles, I've been desperately trying to reach you to ask permission post a couple of your pictures of Cortez. When all attempts to contact you failed, I posted the above two pictures anyway. If you're out there, let me know if you have a problem with that.
Labels: American West, BUDS, First Ghost Town Trip, Ghost Towns, History, Trip Reports
Monday, May 14, 2007,2:19 PM
My First Ghost Town Trip, Part IV: The Lonliest Road and Wendover
HAMILTON LIES 9 MILES SOUTH OF HIGHWAY 50, a grim stretch of pavement that for me embodies the very essence of the Silver State. Spanning the width of Nevada from Fallon to Ely, the highway crosses 9 mountain ranges and parallels the old Pony Express trail through the most barren part of the state. In it's July, 1986 issue, Life Magazine called it the "Lonliest road in America." The magazine quoted a AAA spokesman, who issued this warning:
Like most worthwhile things in the high desert, the attractions along Highway 50 aren't advertised by billboards or decorated with shiny lights. State parks, historical markers, and numerous ghost towns dot the route and are easily accessed. 70 bumpy miles along that glorified pack trail from Cortez made America's lonliest road look like the 405 in Los Angeles! We were only on Highway 50 for 110 miles or so, but the road is aptly named.
The Jeep was cramped and noisy. John had called shotgun for the return trip, so I was folded like a contortionist in the back seat. We turned north on Highway 93 as the sun set. This leg of the trip was more or less quiet. By about Eureka we had sufficiently discussed our love lives (or in my case at the time, the lack thereof) and solved the world's problems. By about Ely we had finished postulating about the mysteries of Gold Acres, Cortez, and Hamilton. The wheels in my head had spun non-stop for two days and now the only thing keeping me awake was my concern that Tyler would fall asleep at the wheel.
Wendover
Two hours or so later, we were greeted by Wendover Will, a 64 foot tall, neon-light lined mechanized cowboy. Will is the small gambling town's unofficial mascot. For half a century (1952-2002) his wink and wave beckoned travellers to the State Line Casino. The town straddles the Utah-Nevada border and is the most convenient spot for most Utahn's to get their casino fix. The Nugget and Montego Bay resorts sit right on the border, their parking lots on the Utah side and their first slot machines just feet across that imaginary line.
In the 1920's, Bill Smith erected a tall light post in front of his gas station on the border that he kept lit around the clock- a constant beacon for the weary traveller. Bill's gas station became a popular pit stop and later became the State Line Hotel and Casino. Bill's ever-burning light was eventually replaced by Wendover Will (named for Bill Smith). The State Line was sold in 2002 and was renamed the Wendover Nugget. The new owners quickly refurbished the hotel and removed the landmark. After many of letters and donations, the beloved cowboy was deeded to the city in 2005. A newly polished Will again greets visitors to Wendover, now from a a platform in the middle of Old Highway 40.
Memories
Wendover has always been a pleasant sight for me. My parents used to take us there for quick, cheap vacations. To me, Wendover met all the requirements of a vacation- hotels, pools, bright lights, and prime rib buffets. My first trip to Wendover was to see an air show with my Grandpa. I remember the stale cigarette smoke and cheery jingles as we weaved through the maze of slot machines toward the diner at the Red Garter Casino. That's when grandpa gave both my little brother and me a quarter and said "See that machine over there?" For all we knew it was a pinball machine, but for the life of us we couldn't figure out what the scrolling pictures were for.
We also couldn't figure out why those very serious looking guys in security uniforms came and had a chat with grandpa.
We didn't get to play any more "pinball" that day, but the sights and sounds (and smells) of Wendover stayed with me. I was probably the only kid in my elementary school that played pretend casino at recess, or that would excitedly report on my latest family vacation to exotic Wendover, Nevada.
Many years later on my honeymoon in Wendover, I returned to the Red Garter and won $3.83 at the penny slots. When I cashed out, the Red Garter staff looked as unamused as they did the day I pulled that lever and lost grandpa's quarter.
What's interesting is that while Wendover is a gambling town, it's something totally different to me. Except for that brief childhood obsession with casinos, I've never had any interest in gambling. I figure if the winnings were as easy as they're advertised, more people would probably win. I've met many people who've lost big, but never anybody that ever won big. Let's just say Wendover Will isn't grinning for nothing.
The real treasure in Wendover is its landscape and history- from the unspoiled miles of its World War II era airfield to its ancient Indian caves. Look for future articles here about the Wendover area, for there is much to tell. For a good look into Wendover's soul, check out my friend Richard Menzies' book Passing Through.
In recent years Wendover has seen a slight boom- at least on the Nevada side. But it was still pretty quaint when Tyler, John and I passed through on that quiet night. The lights of the town meant we had reached an oasis of civilization. It also meant our trip was coming to an end. Normally we would have stopped at the Rainbow Casino to get our fill of meat and cheesecake, but we were out of time and cash, so we made do with a tray of truck stop nachos. From there it would be another two hour trip over the earth's curvature back to the Salt Lake Valley.
I often think about that first ghost town trip. Since then I've visited most ghost towns in Utah, and several others in the greater Southwest- each of which I will detail in this space. I also did my homework on Gold Acres, Cortez, and Hamilton and I've learned a lot about them. Next week's article will be a follow-up on those ghost towns and a conclusion of this series.
Related Links
First Ghost Town Trip - Part I
First Ghost Town Trip - Part II
First Ghost Town Trip - Part III
American Heritage Magazine article on Wendover Will
-Wendover Will photo by Doug Pappas.
"It's totally empty. There are no points of interest. We don't recommend it. We warn all motorists not to drive there unless they're confident of their survival skills."
Like most worthwhile things in the high desert, the attractions along Highway 50 aren't advertised by billboards or decorated with shiny lights. State parks, historical markers, and numerous ghost towns dot the route and are easily accessed. 70 bumpy miles along that glorified pack trail from Cortez made America's lonliest road look like the 405 in Los Angeles! We were only on Highway 50 for 110 miles or so, but the road is aptly named.The Jeep was cramped and noisy. John had called shotgun for the return trip, so I was folded like a contortionist in the back seat. We turned north on Highway 93 as the sun set. This leg of the trip was more or less quiet. By about Eureka we had sufficiently discussed our love lives (or in my case at the time, the lack thereof) and solved the world's problems. By about Ely we had finished postulating about the mysteries of Gold Acres, Cortez, and Hamilton. The wheels in my head had spun non-stop for two days and now the only thing keeping me awake was my concern that Tyler would fall asleep at the wheel.
Wendover
Two hours or so later, we were greeted by Wendover Will, a 64 foot tall, neon-light lined mechanized cowboy. Will is the small gambling town's unofficial mascot. For half a century (1952-2002) his wink and wave beckoned travellers to the State Line Casino. The town straddles the Utah-Nevada border and is the most convenient spot for most Utahn's to get their casino fix. The Nugget and Montego Bay resorts sit right on the border, their parking lots on the Utah side and their first slot machines just feet across that imaginary line.
In the 1920's, Bill Smith erected a tall light post in front of his gas station on the border that he kept lit around the clock- a constant beacon for the weary traveller. Bill's gas station became a popular pit stop and later became the State Line Hotel and Casino. Bill's ever-burning light was eventually replaced by Wendover Will (named for Bill Smith). The State Line was sold in 2002 and was renamed the Wendover Nugget. The new owners quickly refurbished the hotel and removed the landmark. After many of letters and donations, the beloved cowboy was deeded to the city in 2005. A newly polished Will again greets visitors to Wendover, now from a a platform in the middle of Old Highway 40.Memories
Wendover has always been a pleasant sight for me. My parents used to take us there for quick, cheap vacations. To me, Wendover met all the requirements of a vacation- hotels, pools, bright lights, and prime rib buffets. My first trip to Wendover was to see an air show with my Grandpa. I remember the stale cigarette smoke and cheery jingles as we weaved through the maze of slot machines toward the diner at the Red Garter Casino. That's when grandpa gave both my little brother and me a quarter and said "See that machine over there?" For all we knew it was a pinball machine, but for the life of us we couldn't figure out what the scrolling pictures were for.
We also couldn't figure out why those very serious looking guys in security uniforms came and had a chat with grandpa.
We didn't get to play any more "pinball" that day, but the sights and sounds (and smells) of Wendover stayed with me. I was probably the only kid in my elementary school that played pretend casino at recess, or that would excitedly report on my latest family vacation to exotic Wendover, Nevada.
Many years later on my honeymoon in Wendover, I returned to the Red Garter and won $3.83 at the penny slots. When I cashed out, the Red Garter staff looked as unamused as they did the day I pulled that lever and lost grandpa's quarter.
What's interesting is that while Wendover is a gambling town, it's something totally different to me. Except for that brief childhood obsession with casinos, I've never had any interest in gambling. I figure if the winnings were as easy as they're advertised, more people would probably win. I've met many people who've lost big, but never anybody that ever won big. Let's just say Wendover Will isn't grinning for nothing.
The real treasure in Wendover is its landscape and history- from the unspoiled miles of its World War II era airfield to its ancient Indian caves. Look for future articles here about the Wendover area, for there is much to tell. For a good look into Wendover's soul, check out my friend Richard Menzies' book Passing Through.
In recent years Wendover has seen a slight boom- at least on the Nevada side. But it was still pretty quaint when Tyler, John and I passed through on that quiet night. The lights of the town meant we had reached an oasis of civilization. It also meant our trip was coming to an end. Normally we would have stopped at the Rainbow Casino to get our fill of meat and cheesecake, but we were out of time and cash, so we made do with a tray of truck stop nachos. From there it would be another two hour trip over the earth's curvature back to the Salt Lake Valley.
I often think about that first ghost town trip. Since then I've visited most ghost towns in Utah, and several others in the greater Southwest- each of which I will detail in this space. I also did my homework on Gold Acres, Cortez, and Hamilton and I've learned a lot about them. Next week's article will be a follow-up on those ghost towns and a conclusion of this series.
Related Links
First Ghost Town Trip - Part I
First Ghost Town Trip - Part II
First Ghost Town Trip - Part III
American Heritage Magazine article on Wendover Will
-Wendover Will photo by Doug Pappas.
Labels: American West, BUDS, First Ghost Town Trip, Ghost Towns, History, Trip Reports
Tuesday, May 1, 2007,9:59 AM
My First Ghost Town Trip, Part III: Holy Grail, Eureka and Hamilton
IT’S AMAZING HOW DIFFERENT THE DESERT LOOKS IN THE DAYLIGHT. After spending the night driving and trekking a labyrinth of dirt roads, we thought we had a pretty good lay of the land. But we awakened on the side of SR-306 to a whole new world. We couldn’t find where we had been lost the night before, but we did find an interesting cluster of abandoned mines near the current Gold Acres operation, complete with relics and infrastructure. These shafts were still open- many with rickety ladders leading down into the darkness. We could only imagine the historical treasure that lay below.As the years have passed I’ve learned to take notes and log waypoints when adventuring. I took only mental note of the location of Tyler’s favorite part of our journey- an abandoned mining camp- completely intact. But by midday every road looked the same to me, and it seemed like we had been exploring in circles. It was definitely in Lander County and definitely off the beaten path, but I’m not sure we’ll ever find it again. The compound included converted mobile homes, offices, dormitories, various equipment, and broken-down vehicles. From the look of the place, I estimated the site had had seen its last human in the ‘80s.
The buildings were filled with animal dung, as most abandoned buildings in the desert tend to be. Most doors were hanging open and many were simply missing. Claim maps hung on the walls of what must have been the mining offices. Desks, chairs, filing cabinets, and shelves filled with scrolls and core samples stood frozen in time. Other than the slight toll the years had taken on this property, it looked untouched. I can only assume that the mines dried up and the camp was abandoned, just like Gold Acres and Cortez.
What blows my mind is that whoever lived here left absolutely everything- tools, books, pots, pans, utensils. The holy grail of ghost-towning is to discover an unknown town so secluded and intact that you could walk into a house and spend the night in a bed. The bunkhouse in this mining camp had beds and chairs, which were strewn with clothing and papers. If not for the animal droppings, a person could stay there quite comfortably. We touched nothing, took nothing, and were quite pleased that nobody else had either. Someday we will return and identify the site. Hopefully it will be in the same pristine condition we left it in.
Ghost Town Defined
The term “ghost town” is defined loosely. When most people think of ghost towns, they think of a western movie set, complete with false front buildings, horse troughs, and spooky cemeteries. Indeed, that Hollywood image is based in truth, and most Old West towns did more or less fit that mold. Some were railroad towns- glorified pit stops on along travel and shipping routes. Many were company-owned mining camps like Gold Acres and Cortez. Some of these towns cheated fate (Dodge City and Hayes in Kansas come to mind). Others died but were preserved, like Bodie and Calico in California. Some coded but were revived, like Park City in Utah. Most, however, died and were long forgotten.
The generally accepted definition of a ghost town is any place that is a shadow of its past glory. Under this definition, a town could have an active population and still be considered a ghost town. Such towns are often classified by ghost town buffs as “almost ghosts,” while towns completely abandoned are called “true ghosts.”
Eureka and Hamilton
It was still early, so we pulled out the map and decided to check out Eureka, a former “almost ghost,” and Hamilton, a “true ghost” before looping back up to Wendover. The most direct route to Eureka was an unnamed (at least on our map) road leading south about 70 miles to U.S. 50. There is a reason that dirt road had no name, and we were glad we were in a Jeep (I was even gladder that it was Tyler’s Jeep and not mine). It was slow going, but that was ok. We were traversing through country rarely seen and we considered ourselves lucky. Every bump in that road was part of the adventure.
Eureka is a sleepy ex-boom town with a long, rich history. It’s Main Street actually does resemble a movie set, lined with original buildings and set against a mountain backdrop. We only spent enough time in Eureka to fill the gas tank and stock up on Gatorade and Slim Jims. After all, we came for true ghosts. And as long as there was still somewhere in town I could buy Gatorade and Slim Jims, there was no reason to stick around.
Hamilton is a true ghost 37 miles west of Ely at the base of Treasure Hill in White Pine County. Hamilton began life in 1868 as Cave City, named so because the earliest settlers lived in caves and dugouts in the nearby hills. The town was eventually renamed after W.H. Hamilton, one of the town fathers. Stories of the great riches discovered in Treasure Hill sparked “White Pine fever” and prospectors flocked to the district.
Between June of 1868 and spring of 1869, the town’s population grew from 30 to over 10,000. Stage lines kept the goods and people flowing in, and Hamilton became the county seat. Soon the valley was dotted with businesses, restaurants, a post office, a newspaper, theaters, and saloons. At its peak, Hamilton was home to 60 general stores and 100 saloons!
But, like most other boom towns, mines ran dry, companies folded, and speculators left for greener pastures. By 1870, the population had shrunk to 3,915. An 1873 fire ripped through the business district, destroying both the buildings and the town’s economy. Only 500 people remained by the end of that year. The county seat was eventually moved to Ely, the post office closed, and Hamilton became a ghost in 1931.That would have been the perfect time to explore this ghost town- before several mining companies returned to Hamilton in the 1980’s and built large aluminum buildings- only to later abandon them. The most prominent ruins at the town site are those of the Wirthington Hotel and a few scattered wooden buildings.
It’s remarkable to consider the scale of this once bustling mining town compared to today’s remains. Like most true ghosts, little remains of Hamilton. But the beauty of a ghost town lies not just in what buildings remain, but in the history that saturates the crumbling foundations and scattered wooden planks.
Click here for part 4 of this story
Related Links
www.nevadadventures.com
-Hamilton photos used with permission from the White Pine Historical and Archaeology Society. Any reprint or unauthorized use of these photos is prohibited.
Labels: American West, BUDS, First Ghost Town Trip, Ghost Towns, History, Trip Reports