Tag: ghost town

Arlington’s Abandoned Feed Mill: Fading Memories of Cattle Country Picture of the Week - Arlington, Arizona

Abandoned farm equipment at Arlington Cattle Company
Arlington’s Abandoned Feed Mill – The abandoned grain hoppers and silos of the Arlington Cattle Company were left to rust in the Arizona desert.

Last week, I wrote about the exceptional rainfall we had in Arizona and how the wildflowers love it. Well, the same wet winter that showered our land with nature’s colorful confetti also brought heavy mountain snowfall. Since the predicted snowmelt and runoff would overflow our reservoirs, the Salt River Project began releasing water into the river. It’s been quite a while since we have had water in our ordinarily dry riverbeds. While some may scoff at the idea of water in Arizona’s riverbeds, I was thrilled that I might get the chance to shoot some whitewater rapids in the desert.

I convinced Queen Anne to go-for-a-ride(?) a couple of weeks ago. We drove down the west valley to the Gillespie Bridge, excited at the prospect of capturing the raging torrents of water. However, upon arrival, we were met with disappointment. The river was spent and lethargic when the artificial flood passed through Phoenix. The snowmelt’s aftermath left us with sluggish, murky water oozing through the tamarisk. It looked more like effluent than a river. Feeling disheartened, we started to return home when I noticed the stunning light falling on the machinery at the Arlington Cattle Company. When I stopped the car and grabbed my camera, Anne responded, “Hurry up! I’m Starving.”

The Gila River begins its journey in New Mexico’s Gila Mountains. It collects water from its tributaries, including the Salt River, the Verde River, the Santa Cruz River, the New River, the Agua Fria River, and the Hassayampa River. The Gila River embarks on an audacious westward journey, carving its path through untamed landscapes. Just after the confluence of the Gila and Hassayampa rivers, the Gila turns south for thirty miles towards Gila Bend. As the river flows past the Buckeye Hills, it enters a natural pinch point several miles down old US 80. It passes between a formidable silhouette of a volcanic sentinel and the edge of Gillespie Shield Volcano. The black rock lava flow rises two or three stories above the road and river and is known for its impressive pictographs, visible along the cliff of lava rock when examined closely. At this pinch point, pioneers attempted to build three versions of the dam. After they all failed, the highway department erected an all-season bridge to cross the river. Local farmers plant the dam’s old flood plains in summer with deep green cotton, making the little valley a desert oasis.

I’ve been to the Arlington Cattle Company before, so this wasn’t my first time photographing this abandoned equipment. The last time I photographed there was over a decade ago; the massive boom that sent grain over the road to the feed lots there had collapsed into the canal flowing along the roadside. Someone has cleaned that mess up since then. As I stood and framed the shot, I could hear the ghostly sounds of machinery banging, gears meshing, and belts squealing in protest. The equipment stands as a testament to the relentless march of time, bearing the scars of decades past, with the weathered vestiges of industry adorned in hues of faded silver and rust contrasting against the intense blue sky. However, what catches my eye in this photo is the tall silver elevator which towers above all else, and with the sun’s reflection, it appears as a beacon against the bright blue sky. The wispy white clouds in the background are a bonus and provide a nice contrast to the earthy tones of the equipment.

The Arlington Cattle Company was established in the early 1900s by a group of investors led by William W. Clemens, who also served as the company’s president. The company purchased approximately 55,000 acres of land in the Arlington Valley and constructed a state-of-the-art cattle feeding facility. The company aimed to fatten cattle for the market using a combination of locally grown grains and hay from nearby farms.

The facility stood as a cathedral of innovation, a testament to the audacity of human endeavor, featuring a grain elevator that could lift and store thousands of bushels of grain at a time. The elevator was powered by an extensive motor and conveyor system that could move the grain from the elevator to the various silos and feedlots throughout the property. The company also built a vast network of canals and irrigation ditches to ensure a reliable water supply for the crops (and cattle).

Despite the initial success of the operation, the Arlington Cattle Company struggled to turn a profit. The company faced several challenges, including drought, floods, and fluctuations in the price of beef. In addition, the company’s location in a remote part of the state made transportation difficult and expensive. As a result, the company was forced to declare bankruptcy in the early 1920s. After the default, the land and equipment were sold to various buyers. Today, the rusting equipment seen along the roadside in the Arlington Valley are the only remnants of the Arlington Cattle Company.

Rustic Gillespie Bridge spanning the Gila River with a mountain in the background
Old US 80 Bridge at Gila River – The historic Gillespie Bridge at Gila River, part of Old US 80, features a rusted iron truss structure and spans over the water with a volcanic rock mountain in the background.

I hope you enjoyed this week’s photo and reading about the Arlington Cattle Company and the old farm equipment that still represents Arizona’s ranching history. Don’t forget to check out the larger version of Arlington’s Abandoned Feed Mill Cattle on our website by clicking here. Join us next week for more fascinating stories and photos of farming equipment, from the old to the new. And who knows, maybe we’ll even find something borrowed and blue. Thanks for reading!

Till next time
jw

Vintage Charm: A Festive Window Display Bisbee, Arizona

A festive window display showcasing a vintage Chambers gas stove and Christmas decorations.
Vintage Charm – Step back in time with a charming window display featuring a vintage Chambers gas stove and festive Christmas decor.

Prepare to embark on a mouthwatering adventure as we take a bite out of Bisbee’s culinary scene. My first visit to the old mining town was on a double date with another couple. In the Phoenix paper, we read a feature story about the Copper Queen Hotel restoration that convinced us to explore it firsthand. After checking into the hotel, Dick and I went out to find a beer while the girls refreshed themselves. We only walked a block to the Brewery Gulch corner before we were overcome with the aroma of tortillas fresh off the press. We went inside the tortilleria and bought a half dozen—still warm—a couple of Fantas and a stick of butter. Since there weren’t any tables, we sat on the front stairs, let the butter melt on the warm corn delicacies, and then wolfed them down in a few bites. That delightful moment sealed my love affair with Bisbee.

Let’s be honest; I’m a foodie. I know that because when we redid our kitchen, I insisted on a six-burner gas stove; I replaced my college-era Farah Fawcett poster with one of Alton Brown; I buy cookbooks and never use them. My cupboard is full of spice jars arranged in alphabetical order. Maybe, one of the reasons why Queen Anne and I have stayed together for 35 years is a vow that she cooed on a date, “You cook, and I’ll clean.” By sharing my dirty little secret with you, I hope you’ll understand why we try to discover the best local cuisines during our overnight photo trips. As I’ve previously written, it disappoints us when our choices are limited to Burger King, Taco Bell, or Pizza Hut. Bisbee doesn’t disappoint.

When I checked TripAdvisor this morning, there were over 30 Bisbee restaurants, and the list didn’t include the dozen or so food trucks operating in Cochise County. That’s too much food for one man to tackle, so I’ll share a selection of places that Queen Anne and I recommend.

Breakfast— Bisbee Breakfast Club (TripAdvisor #3): Start your day with a hearty breakfast at the Bisbee Breakfast Club, a must-visit spot. This local favorite serves delicious breakfast and brunch options, including pancakes, omelets, and breakfast burritos. The Breakfast Club is down Highway 80 in Lowell at the head of Erie Street.

Lunch—Le Cornucopia Café (TripAdvisor #1): An American café that features soups and sandwiches. Its customers rave about the fresh ingredients, generous proportions, and friendly staff. The café is located downtown on the main street (In last week’s picture, it’s the third building from the left). They’re open for lunch on most weekdays, dinners on Friday and Saturday, and Sunday Brunch.

Dinner—Café Roka (TripAdvisor #2): Known for its upscale dining experience, Café Roka offers a seasonal menu featuring creative fusion cuisine. Their dishes incorporate local ingredients and flavors, resulting in a memorable culinary experience. This is my go-to spot for an upscale dinner in Bisbee. While it leans toward the pricier side, it’s a YOLO experience. Café Roka is also on Bisbee’s main street, almost directly across from Le Cornucopia.

Bar Food— Old Bisbee Brewing Company (TripAdvisor # 8): If you’re a beer enthusiast, stop by Old Bisbee Brewing Company. This local brewery offers a range of handcrafted beers, including IPAs, lagers, and seasonal brews. Pair your beer with their pub-style food for a satisfying meal. The brewing company is a short walk-up Brewery Gulch.

Mexican—If you’re looking for authentic Mexican food, Douglas and Agua Prieta are only 30 miles away, and Naco is even closer. You can’t get any more authentic Mexican food than in Mexico—where they just call it food. As a word of caution, stay away from unbottled water and ice, and wear a bulletproof vest.

Before I move on, there’s one more place I think you should experience. It’s the Spirit Room at the Copper Queen Hotel. The restaurant is low on the TripAdvisor totem pole because the food isn’t inspiring, but I feel that the hotel’s grand history and mystique are food for the soul, so you should try it at least once.

You may wonder what sparked our appetite to delve into the delectable world of Bisbee’s culinary scene. Well, let me introduce you to this week’s featured image—Vintage Charm: A Festive Window Display—a captivating glimpse into the heart of Bisbee’s gastronomic heritage. This charming image invites us to take a step back in time, where the centerpiece is an old Chambers 36″ wide gas stove, an emblem of vintage cooking prowess. With its unique features, including the pointed handles and the accompanying seasonal cookware, this snapshot serves as a delicious reminder of the rich traditions and joyous moments associated with home-cooked meals. Wouldn’t this be the perfect gift for a chef with a retro kitchen?

The historic Phelps Dodge Company Store, an Art-Deco gem, with an American flag waving proudly.
Art-Deco Delight: The Historic Phelps Dodge Company Store – A glimpse of the historic Phelps Dodge Company Store, a stunning Art-Deco building adorned with an American flag.

As we bid farewell to Bisbee’s culinary adventure, we end our month-long exploration of this charming town. We’ve taken a Technicolor stroll down Tombstone Canyon, delved into the fascinating history of Bisbee’s Pythian Castle, immersed ourselves in the vibrant art scene, and marveled at the exhilarating coaster races and stair climb. It’s been a captivating journey filled with diverse stories and visuals. But fear not; our exploration doesn’t end here. Next week, we’ll embark on a new project, uncovering the secrets and wonders of a different location and theme. So stay tuned for more exciting adventures! In the meantime, don’t forget to check out the larger version of the captivating Vintage Charm: A Festive Window Display photo on its webpage by clicking here. We hope you’ve enjoyed our Bisbee tour and that it inspired you to visit this great town.

Till next time
jw

Heart of Bisbee Bisbee, Arizona

A view of Bisbee's Main Street, with its colorful storefronts, snow-capped mountains, and decorative lights.
Discover the heart and soul of Bisbee on its Main Street, where history, culture, and charm come together uniquely and unforgettably.

You should know that I may be a sports legend of sorts. When my family moved to California in 1960, we lived in a rental home in Sylmar. Our street was at the west end of the San Gabriel Mountains, and it was so steep we couldn’t play ball sports because any balls that got away rolled down into the San Fernando Valley and wound up in Hansen Dam Lake. So, we played a lot of tetherball and invented our fun.

On a sunny summer morning, my friends on the block were hanging out in my front yard trying to fix my sister’s roller skates—the metal ones that you adjusted to fit on your shoes. One of them had come apart, and as hard as we tried, it wouldn’t go back together. One of the boys said, “I got an idea.” He ran to his garage and returned with a hammer, some nails, and a scrap piece of 2×4. He quickly nailed the skate halves to each end of the board. Once he secured the skate, he walked to the top of the street, sat down on the contraption, and tried to ride it down the sidewalk. Of course, he immediately fell off, but the game was on. We lined up for our turn to see who’d go the furthest before getting a personal dose of road rash—the red badge of courage. It’s a good thing that it never occurred to us to stand on the stupid thing, and that’s probably why I’m alive today. Within a month, pictures of missing roller skates appeared on milk cartons all over LA. For all I know, we may have been the brain trust that invented skateboards, but my real point is: You make do with what you have.

Think about it—it’s a worldwide truth. In the frozen north, they slide rocks across the ice to show people where to sweep. New Zealanders either race or jump off objects depending on whether or not the objects move. Scottish highlanders wear skirts so they can chuck telephone poles. So, it’s unsurprising that Bisbeeites turned their hills into sports fields.

Take this week’s featured image, called Heart of Bisbee. It was taken at the bottom of Bisbee’s Tombstone Canyon, looking up the hill. It’s a serene photo of Bisbee’s shopping district. There’s little traffic and just a few people walking. Imagine fully grown adults riding in gravity-powered oversized cigars hurtling around the corners, trying to achieve the fastest downhill time. That happens during Bisbee’s 4th of July celebrations, where the highlight event is the Coaster Race. Unfortunately, the race was suspended during the Covid pandemic and canceled in 2022 due to staffing shortages, but organizers are working hard this year to ensure the race returns.

The Coaster Race is an actual test of skill, courage, and homemade engineering. It has been a Bisbee tradition since 1969, making it the country’s second-oldest running soap box derby. The rules are simple: racers must build their cars from scratch and be powered only by gravity. The race begins at the top of Tombstone Canyon and winds down the steep and twisting street, with racers reaching up to 40 mph speeds. Spectators line the sidewalks to watch the cars zoom by, and the excitement is palpable.

Over the years, the Coaster Race has attracted some notable participants, including former Arizona Governor Bruce Babbitt and the late comedian Gallagher. The race has also had its share of mishaps and close calls. In 1980, tragedy marred the race when a racecar careened onto the sidewalk, killing two bystanders. In response, organizers revised the rules and shortened the course to prevent future accidents. Despite the dangers, the Coaster Race remains a beloved Bisbee tradition, and racers and spectators look forward to it yearly.

A staircase in Bisbee leading up to an adventure with railings on each side and a rosemary bush in the corner.
Bisbee is full of unique outdoor activities, including climbing up the many flights of stairs throughout the town.

But wait, there’s more. May I direct your attention to this week’s other photo— Bisbee’s Stairway Adventure—shows an absurd flight of stairs? You already know about my step affliction, so I won’t burden you with that tirade again. I’m out of breath just looking at it. They may seem innocent enough, but they’re only part of a sinister foot race called the Bisbee 1000 Great Stair Climb. The grueling event occurs on the third Saturday of October each year and consists of running up nine sets of stairs, totaling 1,034 steps, over a distance of 4.5 miles. The race starts in downtown Bisbee and winds up the steep hills and through the narrow alleyways of Old Bisbee. The race is so famous that the entries are limited to 1,500 runners. The current record holder is Eriks Zars, who, in 2016, managed to complete the race in less than 23 minutes. It’s an impressive feat that only the most dedicated or insane athletes attempt.

If you want something unique and exciting in Bisbee, consider planning your trip around the Coaster Race in July or the Stair Climb in October. These events are truly one-of-a-kind and will give you an unforgettable taste of Bisbee’s adventurous spirit. Of course, if you prefer a more relaxed activity, you can always try the annual Ghost Hunt. Whatever you choose, I’m confident you’ll enjoy visiting Bisbee and experiencing all it offers. And don’t forget to click here to see a larger version of Heart of Bisbee, and join us next week as we wrap up our April Bisbee tour.

Till next time
jw

BTW:

It’s only April, and we’ve already had our first snake sighting—well, sort of. Queen Anne found a shed snake skin on the side of the house on Saturday. It was so small you had to move rocks to see it, and it didn’t have a pattern, so I think it was from a Garter Snake. In any case, I’m hoping it’s our snake-in-the-yard for 2023.

Technicolor Stroll Down Tombstone Canyon Bisbee, Arizona

Technicolor Stroll Down Tombstone Canyon - A group strolling down the sidewalk on Bisbee's colorful main street-Tombstone Canyon.
Technicolor Stroll Down Tombstone Canyon – A group strolling down the sidewalk on Bisbee’s colorful main street-Tombstone Canyon.

Welcome back to a new month and a new project! To play a joke on you, I almost sent out a blank post yesterday for April Fools. But, being the clever person you are, I deduced that you’d be too smart to fall for it. So then, I switched days on you and almost sent the prank out this morning, but I realized that you, a person of superior intelligence, wouldn’t be tricked by that ruse, either. Instead, I fooled you and wrote this new article, and you never saw it coming—HA! Inconceivable! Happy April Fools’ Day! – (thanks, Rob)

This month, Queen Anne and I will drag you back to Cochise County and Bisbee because we have a soft spot for this little mining town nestled in the Mule Mountains. Of all of Arizona’s ghost towns, Bisbee has been our favorite since our first visit, sticking with us like a catchy tune you can’t get out of your head. With its mile-high elevation, the weather’s usually pleasant, even in the hot summer months—as if Mother Nature herself turned down the thermostat. Instead of decaying wood shacks, Bisbee’s structures were built to last, and most of them are still standing, like proud survivors of a bygone era. The town boasts a thriving art community and a wide variety of shops, restaurants, and architecture. Oh, and let’s not forget the Copper Queen Hotel, once the poshest place to rest your head between St. Louis and San Francisco, where even its ghosts have high standards.

The Mule Mountains and Bisbee area have a rich natural and geological history. Millions of years ago, the mountains were formed through volcanic activity and shifting tectonic plates, resulting in deposits of copper and turquoise hidden beneath the surface—the juniper-covered Mule Mountains cradle Bisbee, nestled in the folds of its canyons. The region’s unique geological history has also led to the formation of these valuable deposits, shaping Bisbee’s identity as a mining hub. Anne and I enjoy capturing the breathtaking landscape and remnants of the town’s mining heritage. The area’s natural beauty and rich history have made it a true gem in the heart of the Southwest.

Long before the arrival of European settlers and the establishment of Bisbee, the Mule Mountains were already painting a masterpiece in vibrant hues of copper and turquoise, like a natural work of art that only the Hohokam, ancestors of today’s Tohono O’odham and Pima tribes, had the privilege of appreciating up close. These skilled farmers, traders, and artisans were the original caretakers of the land, leaving behind a legacy of pottery, petroglyphs, and other artifacts that offer a glimpse into their rich and colorful culture. The mountains were their muse, the copper and turquoise their paint, and the result is a stunning canvas that still takes our breath away today. The Mule Mountains had always held a special place in the hearts of those who called this land home long before Bisbee became the colorful town it is today.

Bisbee’s European history began in the late 19th century when prospectors discovered rich copper deposits in the Mule Mountains. The town proliferated, attracting miners, merchants, and entrepreneurs worldwide. By the turn of the century, Bisbee was a bustling hub of activity, with saloons, hotels, and shops lining its streets. Bisbee has had its fair share of both good times and bad. The town has a rich history, from its early days as a mining community to its recent incarnation as an artsy, quirky town. But with its history comes some dark moments, such as the Bisbee Deportation of 1917 and the Bisbee Massacre. These events left a lasting impact on the town and its residents, reminding us that Bisbee’s story is not just one of beauty and charm but also struggle and resilience.

This week’s photo is a street scene of Bisbee’s main street—Tombstone Canyon—lined with a row of historic buildings painted in various colors reminiscent of San Francisco’s Painted Ladies. As was expected before WWII, the shops share a common wall to maximize their interior space. The most colorful building is topped with a plaque identifying it as the Letson Block. A small group of pedestrians is walking down the sidewalk; perhaps they’re window-shopping tourists. On the otherwise drab street, reflections of the sun off windows create interesting random rectangles.

Dot's Diner - Don't care to stay in a stuffy ghost-laden hotel. Then head down to the cemetery and stop at Dot's, where you can book a night in an Airstream, Airplane, or Yacht. Besides, it's an excellent place for breakfast in the morning.
Dot’s Diner – Don’t care to stay in a stuffy ghost-laden hotel. Then head down to the cemetery and stop at Dot’s, where you can book a night in an Airstream, Airplane, or Yacht. Besides, it’s an excellent place for breakfast in the morning.

We hope you’ve enjoyed this week’s photo of Bisbee’s Main Street, showcasing Bisbee’s charm. You can view a larger version of Technicolor Stroll Down Tombstone Canyon on the official website by clicking here. Join us next week for another exciting photo and tale from our favorite ghost town. We can’t wait to share our enthusiasm for this quirky, historic town.

Till next time
jw

BTW:

I told you so. If you haven’t gotten out yet, you need to get going. The fields are awash with flowers now. Grab your camera and get out there.

Lowell Theater Lowell, Arizona

Lowell Theater - A Chevy flatbed truck parked at the Lowell Theater in southern Arizona.
Lowell Theater – A Chevy flatbed truck is parked outside the Lowell Theater in southern Arizona.

It was already well past lunch as we drove up Highway 80. Queen Anne’s all too familiar whining had begun, “I only had one meal today.” We were heading to Bisbee’s Copper Queen Hotel, where we could satiate our hunger. As we approached the Lavender Pit, I noticed an old Shell gas station in my peripheral vision. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that—not only was it real, but an old car was parked outside. That was enough catnip for me to slow the Buick and make a U-turn across four lanes of traffic. Lunch could wait.

When I turned onto Erie Street, I was surprised to see an entire block of old buildings with vehicles of the same period parked out front. Was I on a movie set, or had I died and gone to some photographer’s idea of heaven? I decided it had to be the former because I still heard Anne’s food grumbling in my ear. I was further confused by a wall sign saying, “Welcome to Lowell, Arizona.” I turned to Anne and announced, “We’re not in Bisbee anymore.”

Lowell is to Bisbee as Tempe is to Phoenix—a cling-on. Bisbee and Lowell were founded in the late 1800s as mining claims—Bisbee in the 1870s and Lowell in 1899. As the mines grew, they needed men to work them. Like every other mining town, the population lived first in tents, shacks, and finally, proper homes. Unlike the Tombstone mine, the ore at the Copper Queen Mine and Lowell Mine was so abundant that it supported the towns for over fifty years. That’s why these southern Arizona towns have masonry buildings instead of the rickety shanties of most ghost towns. Bisbee reminds me of the coal-mine towns in Pennsylvania or West Virginia.

As time passed, the Copper Queen (and Phelps Dodge) took over the operation of the Lowell Company. Underground mines are inherently dangerous, and there was so much copper ore still buried there that during the World Wars, it became economically feasible to build giant machines to scrape away mountains and dig big pits to extract the copper. Bisbee’s renowned scab in the ground is called the Lavender Pit—named for Harrison Horton Lavender (the mine superintendent). As the abyss grew, it took parts of Lowell with it. All that remains of Lowell today is Erie Street which runs from the traffic circle in the south and the pit’s edge on the north side.

Lavender Pit - The famous Lavender Pit mine where tons of copper ore was dug from the ground. The pit is so vast I couldn't fit it all in the frame, even with my wide angle lens.
Lavender Pit – The famous Lavender Pit mine where Phelps-Dodge dug tons of copper ore from the ground. The pit is so vast I couldn’t fit it all in the frame, even with my wide-angle lens.

A group of volunteers banded together and formed the Lowell Americana Project. They worked hard to restore and enhance the quarter-mile street and transform it into an open-air museum. Their hard work got them international attention for their cultural preservation. They have turned Erie street into one of the most photographed streets in the West. Like me, you’ve probably seen some of those pictures in magazines and films without knowing the location.

We’ll explore Lowell’s Erie Street in February, hopefully, to delight my car friends. I consider this week’s photo the foundation shot. It was taken at the north-end parking lot where I left Anne to starve while I skipped up and down the street taking pictures. In this shot, I wanted to show the theater marquee, the Gulf, and the Lowell welcome sign. As an additional no-extra-cost bonus, the town thru in a Chevrolet flatbed truck. I don’t know what year it is, so perhaps one of you gearheads can tell us. I also have no idea about the flying saucers. I didn’t find a reference to any abductions in the area, although more aliens visit Arizona than any other place. They like the weather here—especially at Bisbee’s mile-high altitude. Maybe the spaceships are a warning that you’re about to enter The Twilight Zone.

You can see a larger version of Lowell Theater on its Webpage by clicking here. We’ll begin our walk down Erie Street next week to see what we can find. Be sure to come back then.

Till next time
jw

BTW:

No Queen Annes were harmed in the making of this article. She finally got her lunch and a glass of wine before she fell asleep as we drove back to the motel.

Courthouse Yard The Town Too Tough to Die

Courthouse Yard - The tall brick wall surrounding the Tombstone Courthouse yard conceal the gallows within them
Courthouse Yard – The tall brick wall surrounding the Tombstone Courthouse yard conceals the gallows within them

Whenever I visit Tombstone, it takes me a while to get oriented. But when I see a town map, I understand why. Unlike most communities established in the Mormon Territory of Deseret, the streets aren’t aligned to the compass points and aren’t centered on an intersection named Central and Main. Instead, the town is 45° off the compass; there’s no Central Avenue, and Allen Street substitutes for Main Street. Given Tombstone’s distance from Salt Lake City and its rough and tumble history, I don’t suspect its citizens weren’t concerned about religions.

When I visit the “Town Too Tough to Die,” I consider the OK Corral its social and geographical heart. As I stand on the corner of 3rd Street and Allen and look the town over, I see the streets lined with one and two-story old wooden buildings. They’re either painted in bright colors or left in their natural dull brown finish. The only exception is a block southwest on 3rd Street. There you’ll see a large two-story brick building trimmed on each of its angles with white stones. On top is a cupola festooned with a widows-walk. The first time you see this pearl before the swine, you instantly know it must be important. It was—is. It’s the original Cochise County Courthouse.

It only took five years from the silver find to the OK Corral gunfight. In that brief time, the population swelled to 7,000, and robberies and lawlessness ran rampant. Wikipedia notes, “Except for the Earp–Clanton feud, which gave Tombstone an extremely bad press—from which it has no interest in recovering—citizens gladly accepted the proffered alternative.” The townspeople wanted a change. More importantly, miners had to make a two-day journey to Tucson to file a new claim. In 1881 two historical events happened; the shootout and the state legislature carved Cochise County out of Pima and made Tombstone its seat. The irony of those events and building the courthouse a block away from the Corral the next year isn’t lost on me.

By 1929 the silver played out, and Bisbee became the next boom town. The copper strike there required more men to work the mine. With a larger population, Bisbee won the county seat in an election, and the government offices moved 25 miles down the road. The old courthouse sat empty between 1931 and 1955. That’s when the local historical society took an interest in it. They began restoring and lobbying using local contributions until the Arizona legislature declared it an Arizona State Park.

In this week’s featured image, I call Courthouse Yard, I tried to capture the gingerbread and grandeur of the red-brick building, but I wanted to emphasize the wall surrounding the side yard. Inside those enclosures is where convicted murderers met justice at the gallows. The first hangings were the perpetrators of the Bisbee Massacre in 1883, while the last was the two men that killed a sheriff and deputy at the Wilson Ranch Shootout in 1899. The tall brick walls were designed to shield the gentle public from the gruesome hangings, but most of the town went inside and watched through the second-floor windows anyway. Incidentally, I like the foreboding clouds hanging above the courthouse.

You can see a larger version of Courthouse Yard on its Webpage by clicking here. I hope you’ll join us next week when we tell another thrilling tale from yesteryear in Tombstone.

Till next time
jw

BTW:

We’re planning to visit Temecula, California, wine country, in the upcoming weeks. I hope to bring home a bottle or two along with the pictures and stories we gather.

Gunfighters The Town Too Tough To Die

Gunfighters - Actors dressed in Earp costumes try to stay warm on Allen Street while they coax visitors to come see the 3:00 pm show.
Gunfighters – Actors dressed in Earp costumes try to stay warm on Allen Street while coaxing visitors to see the 3:00 pm show.

Ghost towns in Arizona are a dime a dozen. There are enough of them to fill a book. I know because I currently have five of them sitting on my shelves. The morphing of a city into a ghost town follows a familiar pattern. It starts with some loony prospector finding a valuable mineral—gold, silver, copper, diamonds, or another precious stone. News of the bonanza spreads quickly and lures a gaggle of opportunistic people. Half of them want to get rich by picking nuggets from the ground, and the rest want to pick them from someone’s pockets.

A new town springs from the ground like a children’s pop-up book. More people settled in the town and either got jobs at the mine or open shops that every mining community needed, like bars, gambling halls, and whore houses. Eventually—in a year, a decade, or a century—the gold (or whatever) pans out. The excitement of living in a mining town slowly dies, and its residents move on to the next boom town. Mother Nature reclaims the land without caretakers; all that remains is a pile of rotting wood, some foundations, and the eerie spirit of ghosts.

Of course, there are exceptions to my rule. In a handful of cases, when the mine goes bust, its residents look around and say to themselves, “This is a great place to live.” They find other sources of income. I call these places amusement communities. Examples that come to mind include Oatman, Jerome, Bisbee, Bagdad, Clifton, and Tombstone.

Of those locations, Tombstone is the odd duck. There are no gaping open pits to gawk at, historic hotels, or James Beard-worthy restaurants. I suspect that most of its visitors don’t even know about the silver mine. That’s because the silver vein wasn’t gigantic, and that’s how it got the name Goodenough Silver Mine. A gunfight between the Earps and the Clantons secured Tombstone’s historical spot. If it weren’t for that singular gang fight, Tombstone—’The town too tough to die’—would be a pile of splinters by now.

Don’t get me wrong; there is a list of exciting things to see in Tombstone. It was the Cochise County seat for a while, so there’s the old courthouse (with its gallows patio), the Crystal Palace back bar, the world’s largest dead rose bush, and the Birdcage theater should be on everyone’s checklist. Of course, if you have the time and money, you should see the show at the OK Coral, but realize that the actual gunfight was on Highway 80—behind the Coral.

I took this week’s photo on a cold, windy December afternoon. We had checked into our motel and started into town before the light faded. Standing in the middle of Allen Street (dirt, then paved until the street department poured dirt over it again—for authenticity) were four gunfighters dressed in black wearing badges. They tried to stay warm while they hawked visitors to the 3:00 pm show. I don’t know how successful they were because the streets were empty as people sheltered inside the bars. I titled this shot Gunfighters.

You can see a larger version of Gunfighters on its Webpage by clicking here. I hope you’ll join Queen Anne and me throughout January as we show some of the exciting Tombstone scenes we found.

Till next time
jw

BTW:

Queen Anne and I are working on our calendar for the year. We’re putting together a list of places we’d like to visit and this year’s book topics. If you have any requests, let us know in the comments section.

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