Just north of Kingman is the small mining town of Chloride. If we talk about areas that have been continuously inhabited since the mid-1800’s, this village would be near the top.

Back in the 1840’s, miners were inspecting the region for gold, silver, or other minerals. They found that the Cerbat Mountains had plenty, so a town was established in the foothills. It was named after the silver chloride produced there.

During the 1860’s mining was strained due to Indian attacks. It would appear that the Hualapai Indians weren’t keen on the area being inhabited by anyone other than them. One day in 1863 they got a hold of some miner’s boom sticks and wreaked havoc. Eventually the military got involved and a treaty was signed. The yellow rock that has us so enthralled was soon filling pockets again.

By 1871, Chloride became one of the most populated towns in Mohave County, securing it the county seat. At that point, about 75 mines were producing in the area. Stagecoaches ran through it as well as the railroad. The latter was essential, since one mine was shipping 500 tons of ore daily. Wow!

Today Chloride is a preserved Old West town. Some of the original buildings are still standing, and are well taken care of. One can see the Santa Fe Railroad Station, the early cemetery, a 2-room jail and quite possible the oldest post office in the state. It has come to my attention that they aren’t using stagecoaches to transport mail anymore; so all USPS timetables apply in Chloride.

They have gunfight shows in the street, shops to browse in and cafés to satiate your hunger. The locals are always willing to volunteer a little Old West charm, and highly interested in keeping Chloride a gem of Arizona’s history.  For the history buff, this burg is a must-see. The kids might like to do a little rockhounding in the area, as well.

Oh, for those of you who may need to check your email or have other modern technological needs, they do have Wi-Fi. Hey, historic towns like Chloride understand progress!

Main Street of Chloride – NOT A GHOST TOWN!

Some time ago I mentioned a ghost town called Canyon Diablo. I touched on its inception for the building of a railroad bridge and the outlaw element that frequented its saloons and gambling halls.

In doing a little research, I found that the region was well traveled by the Spanish as early as the 16^th century. Legend says that their mules were too overloaded with silver, and they dumped some in the vicinity. That gets the treasure hunters aroused. Sadly, it’s four hundred years later and not much of it has shown up.

Although you might not find silver in the canyon, you’ll see other treasures. There are hundreds of inscriptions on the stone walls from mountain men and explorers who passed through the area. One actually reads Kilroy was here (kidding).
When the railroad commissioned that a bridge be built across the canyon, a small town sprouted up. Canyon Diablo, as it was known, became a freighting hub and a veritable den of sin. Sporting fourteen saloons with colorful names like Road To Ruin and Name Your Pizen, one could find libations to sooth the weary soul. After that, if you were still in need of soothing, there was always Clabberfoot Annie’s house of ill-repute.

If any of you have watched the AMC television series Hell On Wheels, this is what I imagine Canyon Diablo may have been like. Maybe less puddles.

It was such a rough place that reputable lawmen didn’t last long. The first one pinned the badge on 3 o’clock, and five hours later they were burying him. It would appear that whenever the law became too annoying to the criminal enterprise, they would fit him with concrete shoes and make him sleep with the fishes. Okay…that last part was the New York in me.

After the bridge was completed, Canyon Diablo’s existence relied solely on freighting for a few years. With outlaws robbing them blind, the freighters pulled up stakes. Eventually, the 2,000 inhabitants moved on to greener pastures, leaving a cemetery and a few structures.

During the heyday of Route 66, an entrepreneur named Miller built a zoo and a few buildings at the site to lure in tourists. He named it Two Guns, and it was quite the roadside attraction. Sadly, Two guns is now a ghost town, on top of another ghost town. Ruins from both historic places are still there, and worth a visit. Make a point to swing by on your way to Flagstaff and visit one of the roughest, toughest towns of the American West.

If you would like to read an interesting story regarding Canyon Diablo’s past, click here.

Trading post ruins at Two Guns

It all began in 1860 when a prospector named Henry Clifton was hunting for gold, but found copper instead. Like most successful mining claims back then, word would get out and in would move the mass moneymakers. Soon it was a prospering town, and good old Henry was its founder.

Now, there is another theory that it was originally named Cliff Town, and was shortened to Clifton. That makes sense since the burg is nestled in a canyon. Either way it became a major mining hub in Arizona Territory and the Greenlee County seat.

In past entries, I’ve mentioned towns that didn’t have a jail. Some used rooms in courthouses, while others chained folks to a tree. But the town fathers of Clifton had to be different. In 1878, a jail was carved out of the side of a cliff face. Oh yes, solid rock. Stone worker Margarito Varela blasted out enough room for two cells. After completion, he was ready for a good time. Like many Old West party animals, Varela got drunk and shot up a saloon. Guess where they threw him? Yep.

To the locals, spending a night in the Cliff Jail was known as wasting away in Margaritoville. Sorry…I had to write it. It’s an illness, really. The jail is open for visitors today, and next to it sits a late 1800’s narrow gauge locomotive originally used to transport miners and ore carts.

In 1896, the Black Jack Christian Gang robbed a bank in Nogales and headed for New Mexico.  They took refuge at a cave near Clifton, but a posse soon cornered them. The reckless robbers decided to tempt fate and not go quietly.  A brief gun battle ensued, and Black Jack never made it to the stone jail.

There are communities in Arizona that are as vacant as ghost towns, yet people still live there. Up until recently, Clifton was one of those places. Its main street was run down, the buildings dilapidated. Now artists have moved in, renovating and restoring the historic district to its former glory. You can find galleries, antique stores, a marketplace, and the Greenlee County Museum. The town is definitely worth a visit if you are interested in Arizona’s mining history. Heck, I’m going just to see the jail!

Sure, I believe in ghosts. Since I am an aficionado of the Old West, it would be prudent for me to write about ghosts of frontier-era Arizona.

Now, I have never seen a ghost, but I have heard them. Their spectral voices whisper in the breezes passing through ghost towns. They try to communicate in old hotel rooms. It’s definitely creepy, and in some instances the urge to debunk shrouds your ability to believe.

This entry is not about proving ghosts exist, however.

Some predominant ideas of spirit activity is violent death can lead to not moving on or they don’t know they’re dead. The settling of Arizona Territory was tough and deadly. There were frequent gunfights, massacres, and a bunch of lethal illness. If there are ghosts, they’re going to be in our state.

Tombstone has the Birdcage Theatre and a dozen or so other haunts. One Victorian house in Tombstone is home to a spirit named Thomas Johnny Wilson (he went by Johnny). He moved from San Francisco in 1880, had a fight with his wife, Rosa, and killed her. Later that year Johnny was shot dead by a fellow named King over past differences. I think he’s buried in Boot Hill Cemetery. This home has a plethora of activity; everything from sheets moving on the bed to messages written on mirrors. The main thing is the electric voice phenomenon captured with Johnny Wilson verifying all his history. It would appear Johnny doesn’t want to harm anyone; he just wants folks to know he’s there.

Bisbee may be the haunted hotel capital of America. It seems every residence in the hospitality industry down there has a ghost. Maybe spirits like hotels because of the free shampoo. It’s places like these that my wife and I experience irritating ghosts. Pranksters, if you will. Setting off the smoke alarm at 2 a.m. or shutting off the AC. Whispering in your ear to get your attention when you are trying to sleep. I really think they do it because in every tintype you see of people in the 1800’s, they are not smiling. This activity is to let us all know they actually were “fun” people.

The joke’s on you when you realize you spent $100 for a night of interrupted sleep.

Halloween is the time of year to embrace the paranormal. Head to Old Tucson for Nightfall, and you might see an actual ghost. It would appear that there are phantoms wandering around the old movie set. Visit an old mining town and talk to the locals about their ghosts. You’ll find plenty. If you play your cards right, you’ll meet an entity and get a real dose of history!

Haunted Copper Queen Hotel in Bisbee

In 1885, farmer and entrepreneur William Henry Bartlett travelled to Arizona from Illinois. The Homestead Act granted him some free land, and his vision was to make a success in Arizona Territory.

A success he was. William chose an area where the Arizona Canal was completing construction, which would offer him a tremendous advantage in irrigation.

On the 640-acre ranch, he grew citrus, pecans, figs, olives and alfalfa. Now, William didn’t live here full time. I would hazard a guess that he may have only visited in the winter, making him Arizona’s original snowbird. Okay, that could be a reach.

There were superintendants that took care of the operation in William’s absence. To take care of his employees and his holdings, Bartlett had numerous buildings constructed, which still stand today. One building, the guest house, ended up being the home to his son who fell ill with tuberculosis. In the late 1800’s, moving to a dry climate was a way to keep consumption at bay.

About the same time all this was going on, the neighboring town of Glendale sprouted up, offering schools and stores, and a virtual oasis in the desert. Glendale is a charming town with a very nice historic district. Many of its old buildings house antique shops and restaurants.

Today, Sahuaro Ranch is open to the public and hosts many annual events. Folks can tour the well-constructed buildings of this farming mogul, and see the immaculately kept grounds. One can find peacocks and chickens running about. There is even a blacksmith giving demonstrations in the historic blacksmith shop. Oh, and rose bushes galore.

There are no Old West shootouts in this entry. I could tell you about a gunfighting peacock that was partial to pecans, but it would be a lie. Maybe an idea for a Pixar movie.

October 19^th -21^st, Sahuaro Ranch will host the Wild Western Festival, a weekend of western entertainment, train rides, food, and a fast draw competition. In March, the ranch is home to the annual Glendale Folk and Heritage Festival.

So if you’re out shopping for antiques in Glendale, swing by the Sahuaro Ranch. They’ve got something to interest the whole family. You’ll get a good dose of the agricultural side of Arizona’s heritage, and the Bartletts who got it all started.

Sahuaro Ranch

As trains rattled along the tracks carrying people and merchandise all over the country, towns sprouted up to take advantage of the economy the railroad provided.

One such town, Holbrook, was founded in 1882. Before the railroad swung through, it was the small community of Horsehead Crossing. I’m looking into whether this has anything to do with the famous Godfather scene, but it can probably be ruled out.

Named after the first chief engineer of the Atlantic & Pacific Railroad, Holbrook can be found northwest of Snowflake and southeast of Winslow. Historic buildings are pretty common in the town. One can find the train depot, the Blevins House, the Navajo County Courthouse, Wattron’s Store, and the Bucket of Blood Saloon.

Ooooo, what’s that last one all about?

Oh, it’s a saloon that was originally named the Cottage until famous outlaw Grat Dalton ventilated a couple of men over a game of cards. Apparently there was so much blood on the floor…well you get the idea. Six months later Grat and the rest of the Dalton Gang would meet their end in Coffeyville trying to rob two banks simultaneously. Karma is no joke.

Speaking of Holbrook gunfights, check out this next one. At the height of the Pleasant Valley War, Sheriff Commodore Perry Owens (there’s a fun name) arrived in Holbrook to serve a warrant to a rustler named Andy Cooper. Andy was staying at his mother’s house with other never-do-wells, not far from the train depot. Owens knew he was up against a stacked deck, but the brave Sheriff trudged on with guns loaded. Upon serving the warrant, a door was slammed in his face and the fireworks began. The play-by-play can be found all over the Internet and in history books, and it’s the stuff of legends. To summarize, Owens single-handedly brought down the entire crew, killing three and wounding one. I bet nobody made fun of the Sheriff’s name after that day.

Today the Blevins house contains a much calmer clientele. It is a senior citizens center.

The area around Holbrook is rich with stuff to explore. The Petrified Forest, Canyon de Chelly, and the Homolovi Ruins are quite popular locations where one can experience beautiful scenery and a noggin full of history. Events to consider are Old West Days in August, and the Bucket of Blood Race in July. For the Old West history buff, Holbrook is one town on Route 66 where you’ll get your kicks.

Holbrook in 1888. The Bucket of Blood Saloon is on the far left.

I received an email the other day about a western film completed here in Southern Arizona. I believe the title is Renegade, and it is out on DVD this month.  Looking back over the last few years, I’ve noticed there are quite a few independent films, commercials and music videos being made out here. There’s even a couple of web series that are entirely produced in our neck of the woods. Places like Old Tucson Studios and Gammons Gulch paint the backdrops for many of these moving pictures.

I’ve heard of Old Tucson, but what’s a Gammons Gulch?

Why, it’s a western town/movie set created by Jay Gammons located not far from Benson. The Gammons’ family worked in the film industry during the heyday of westerns. His father was John Wayne’s bodyguard when filming down here, and Jay himself can be seen in movies like Rio Bravo and McClintock.

Like most kids during that era, he was a western nut. Dressing up to watch Wagon Train, then running outside to protect Dodge City from imaginary outlaws was the typical Saturday for children in the 1950’s and 60’s. What made Jay different is that he was actually on the set with his heroes.

About 39 years ago while working as an actor at Old Tucson Studios, Jay decided to fulfill his lifelong dream and build a town. He named it Gammons Gulch, and opened it to the public. Jay stocked it with antiques, including a bar from an historic saloon in Jerome. Walls and flooring are salvaged from some of Arizona Territory’s 1890’s structures. One entire building comes from Safford where it was a flourmill in 1882. Gammons Gulch is a complete western town. It sports a saloon, bank, jail, livery, blacksmith shop, mercantile, town hall, and antique cars.

Cool! Wait…antique cars?

Yeah, Jay is also a bit of an antique car aficionado. He’s got cars from the 1920’s and 30’s that he has restored. They, as well as all his collectibles, are part of what you experience on the guided tour. Tours run September through May. He’ll do them in the summer, but with the frequency of filming going on there, you should call for an appointment. Information can be found at http://www.gammonsgulch.com

Through collecting and donations, Jay has built not only a film locale, but also a museum. He calls himself a “Salvage Engineer”, which I think is fitting. Jay Gammons, through hard work and perseverance, created the 1880’s town he always wanted, and is revisiting Arizona’s Old West every day.

Earlier this year Kevin Costner starred in the TV movie Hatfields & McCoys, based on the famous feud that took place in the mountains of Kentucky and West Virginia. You may have heard that we had our own feud out here in Arizona. It was commonly called the Pleasant Valley War, the Tonto Basin War, or the Graham-Tewksbury Feud. I think producers haven’t made a TV movie about it because nobody can decide which name should be the title.

The family squabble started around 1882 up in the vicinity of Young, Arizona. Originally this was thought to be a war about sheep being brought in to cattle country, but that was just some fuel for the fire that was already burning. It came down to some racial prejudice (The Tewksburys were half Indian) and accusations of cattle rustling by both parties. Eventually there was a gunfight, and the feud was officially on.

In the interest of keeping this entry a quick read, I’ve decided to leave out the many events that took place.  I will summarize the conflict by saying that by 1892 pretty much all the players perished from lead poisoning. In 1904, the last Tewksbury died of natural causes, only because there wasn’t anyone else left alive to shoot him. Thus endeth the war with three names.

Some notable western folks participated in this 10-year feud. Tom Horn, Commodore Perry Owens, and Frederick Russell Burnham were all involved and escaped unscathed. However, records indicate as many as 34 others didn’t. Although it didn’t get the national recognition that the great Hatfield-McCoy feud did, the results were sadly the same.

Every July, the town of Young celebrates Pleasant Valley Days with a parade, reenactments, and tours of the battle sites. One gunfight took place at the Perkins Store, now a museum. Although I haven’t been up in that neck of the woods, I am told this small town is a throwback to the 1880’s. The photographs and research I’ve seen indicate a community dedicated to its history, but not cashing in on it. Even the Perkins Store museum is only open for the July event. The next time you head up that way, swing by Young and grab a bite to eat. Jaw with the locals about the history of the bloody feud. Maybe even stop by the old cemetery and pay tribute to the victims. Oh, and don’t fight with your neighbors.

Grave of John Tewksbury

Douglas, Arizona, a sleepy little border town close to Bisbee, has quite an interesting history.

The Spanish first settled the area in the 1600’s. Around the time of the American Revolution, a fort named Presidio de San Bernadino was built in not far from the present townsite. Even though it was abandoned shortly after, it helped to establish a small community that continued to survive. The late 19^th century spurred a re-building of a fort in the vicinity, aptly named Camp Douglas.

When Bisbee became a mining star, Douglas was its smelter town. In 1901 the town was named after a pioneer in the industry, James Douglas, and four years later it was incorporated. The mining companies employed hundreds of workers, which helped the town thrive.

Not only did it cater to the miners, there were ranches around the area that called Douglas their town. Sheriff John Slaughter, who helped clean up Cochise County’s lawless element in the late 1800’s, owned the San Bernadino Ranch, not far from the city. As mentioned in an earlier entry, Douglas is the home of an exquisite hotel named the Gadsden. Sporting an ornate lobby with Italian marble and Tiffany stained glass, it was all the rage in Southern Arizona Territory.

Okay, what of the shootouts and Old West lore we’ve come to expect from your blog?

I thought you’d never ask. Yes, Douglas had its share of the rough frontier. On February 8, 1903, two Arizona Rangers, William W. Webb, and J. Porter MacDonald walked into the Cowboys Home Saloon. One owner, Lorenzo “Lon” Bass, did not like having lawmen in his place, and had a particular beef with Ranger Webb. The words “I’ll kill him if he comes in here” were thrown about to warn the Rangers. Well, the Arizona Rangers were a tough lot. They did not threaten easily. They also weren’t keen on being banned from saloons.

So, in moseyed Webb and MacDonald and brazenly ordered drinks. Bass ran over and hit Ranger Webb in the face with the butt of his pistol. Now, what lamebrain Lon should have done was use the other end of his gun to follow through on his threat.

Webb, being trained in the correct use of firearms, pulled his Peacemaker and added a peephole to Bass’ torso.  Unfortunately, that same bullet, after passing through Lon, entered Ranger J. Porter MacDonald. Old MacDonald wasn’t wounded fatally (he also didn’t have a farm), but Lorenzo Bass had seen his last sunrise.

Douglas was pretty quiet after that incident. Apparently, Pancho VIlla threatened to attack it in 1916, but that never came to pass.

Today Douglas is definitely worth a visit, if you want to explore another tidbit of Cochise County history. Tour the Southern Pacific Railroad Museum and the Slaughter Ranch. Stay overnight in the Gadsden Hotel and get the feel of the grandest comforts the ranchers of the area experienced. Unfortunately, the Cowboys Home Saloon was lost to a fire. It is said the owner was able to rescue all the liquor and cigars, though. Phew!

The drifter enters the lobby and walks directly to the front desk, leaving a path of trail dust that discolors the elaborate designs on the rug. The rhythmic ticking of the wall clock is drowned out by the jingle of his spurs. He drops his worn saddlebags on the counter next to a dog-eared register, looks straight into the eyes of the concerned clerk and utters one word: “Room.”

Don’t we all want to do that? Nowadays the car full of luggage is running out front and we are fishing out a credit card to put down for incidentals, making us wonder, Why? We already gave Travelocity the card number to book the room. Damn that little gnome! Even though hospitality has changed since then, the same basic idea of the “overnight stay” has endured for centuries.

Hotels in the Old West Arizona were definitely moneymakers. Many had adjoining restaurants or saloons to enhance their income. Just like today, there were hotels for the wealthy, and hotels for the…uh..not so wealthy. The one part that stands out in all these establishments is the lobby. Usually very ornate, giving one the feel of quality and extravagance. In early mining camps where hotels weren’t a necessity, saloons would rent out their floor space at closing time.  I can just see nudging the inebriated miner next to you, “Excuse me, sir, I would like a wake up call at 6:00 a.m.”

Luxury was important to bring in the high dollar customers. The Grand Hotel, in Tombstone, was described by a reporter in 1880: “On down through the main corridor peeping now and then into the bedrooms, sixteen in number, each of them fitted with walnut furniture and carpeted to match: spring mattresses that would tempt even a sybarite, toilet stands and fixtures of the most approved pattern, the walls papered, and to crown all, each room having windows.”

So, where’s the ice machine? I didn’t see mention of the ice machine! Honey, let’s go somewhere else.

Sorry, folks. In 1880 Arizona, ice was not easy to find. Oh, and I looked up sybarite. The definition is: one who is a pleasure-seeker. Yeah, I missed that one on the SAT for sure.

The Connor Hotel in Jerome, built in 1898 charged the hefty price of $1.00 a night. You can still stay in it today, but be prepared to spend more than a buck. The Copper Queen in Bisbee has done an amazing job of keeping the Victorian feel. Other notables are the St. Michaels and the Hotel Vendome in Prescott, the Gadsden Hotel in Douglas, and the El Tovar at the Grand Canyon.

If you are able to stay in one of these places, I urge you to do so. Be prepared for small rooms, where a section has been converted to a bathroom. The squeaky wooden floors may not be level in all areas, and the original glass in the windows may warp the view to the outside a bit. Oh, and most have ghosts. All of this is the charm, and in my opinion the reason to go. You won’t experience history in the Holiday Inn Express.

The Connor Hotel in Jerome