Only a small part of the town survives, preserved in a state of "arrested decay." Interiors remain as they were left and stocked with goods. Designated as a National Historic Site and a State Historic Park in 1962, the remains of Bodie are being preserved in a state of "arrested decay". Today this once thriving mining camp is visited by tourists, howling winds and an occasional ghost.
This history intrigued us, and we really wanted to visit Bodie, but weather kept throwing roadblocks in our way: when we first arrived, the road to Bodie had still been closed for snow. It finally opened yesterday, but it was snowing and blowing so badly, we decided not to make the trek. Today the weather was better - no precipitation, but cold and still somewhat windy. What the heck, let's go! As you can see in the photo below, we had to dress warmly:
But we get ahead of ourselves. The road to Bodie heads east off of US395, north of Lee Vining where we are camped. Our drive up US395 gave us spectacular views of Lake Mono and the eastern Sierra to the south:
After almost an hour's drive, we finally arrived at the ghost town, and were amazed at how many buildings are still standing - 170 buildings in all, although what remain comprise only 10% of the number of buildings that made up the town before its demise and two great fires earlier in the 20th Century.
Spread across the landscape of a high, remote valley at an elevation of 8,379 feet in the Bodie Hills, the historic gold mining town of Bodie — one of the richest gold strikes in California — was once known as the most lawless, wild, and tough mining camp in the West. Now, it has been designated as a National Historic Landmark. To walk the streets of this ghost town and peer into sites or the windows of the remaining homes and businesses is to be transported back to the days when Bodie was a thriving mining town.
One of the first buildings we encountered was the residence of J.S. Cain, who was eventually the town’s principal property owner:
Cain moved to Bodie when he was 25 and built an empire. He began building his empire by putting lumber barges on Mono Lake and transporting timber for Bodie. Cain and a business partner had leased a block of land from the Standard Consolidated Mining Company and eventually took $90,000 in gold out of that claim in just 90 days! When they tried to renew the lease, the Standard said no, but Cain later took control of the mill though court action and went on to become one of the richest men in town.
The residence still stands in relatively good condition, and someone has decorated its front sunporch with a beautiful collection of glass bottles collected from around the ghost town:
Some of the buildings are open and can be entered and inspects - and even sat in! That's not to say one would want to inhabit them in their present condition:
The schoolhouse is one of the better looking buildings in town. It was originally the Bon Ton Lodging House in 1879, but was later converted to the school house, after the first school burned down. The town was abandoned so abruptly, that thousands and thousands of artifacts were simply left behind because they were too heavy, or too much to haul from one place to another.
Of the many books, desks and toys left behind, only a portion are on display inside the school. Hundreds more are archived in a back room of the school. Although we couldn't enter the school, we could see the interior through the windows, and it is presented just as it must have been when it was in use. However, as with all the other buildings in Bodie, the interiors have been allowed to gather the dust of time, which accentuates the feeling that you are wandering through some London of Christmas Past, just as old Mr. Scrooge did in Charles Dickens's, "A Christmas Carol."
Many of the buildings were not so kindly treated by time, such as this one, which we believe was the Swazey Hotel:
We're not sure the Swazey Hotel would still be standing, if not for the timber propping up its left side in the photo above.
This was the local sawmill. It looks like it's in need of a little additional lumber itself:
Kathy found an old well, which has since caved in or been filled in:
This is a view through the main part of town, toward the old mill:
The Standard mill processed ore from the Standard Mine (originally named the Bunker Hill mine in 1861 when it was first registered.) Most of the inner workings are still intact. Rangers run guided mill tours during the summer months. We thought the mill was almost as impressive, in its own way, as the Kennecott Mill in Kennecott, Alaska, which also is intact and can be toured by the public, but has been established as a National Historic Site.
In its 25 years of primary operation, the mill processed more than $14 million worth of gold and silver. In 1898 the original wooden mill burned down, but was rebuilt the following year and, while still framed in wood, was mostly covered with sheets of corrugated steel. The owners built an ingenious gondola system from the top of the hill behind the mill, which was used to carry ore from the mine to the mill. This saved dozens of horses and men literally hours worth of work for each load of ore that was to be delivered to the mill for processing. Gondolas would be loaded at the top of the hill, and run down a “never ending cable” to the mill, where the bottom would automatically opened to drop the ore out.
One of the most interesting buildings in Bodie is the bank. J. S. Cain bought The Bodie Bank in 1890. The bank was burned in the town's second fire in 1932. During the fire, Cain was optimistic that the building would again escape destruction (as it had in the first town fire), but unfortunately he was wrong. Before the fire got to the bank, Cain’s grand-daughters got the key to the bank from their grandfather, so they could save some of their favorite items. Cain was sure the bank would be fine, but let them get their things to make them feel better. Despite his hope and judgement, the bank was completely destroyed, except for the brick shell of the vault, and the contents of the safe.
The original safe is still inside what is left of the vault. You can still see the beautifully decorated safe through a hole cut in the large metal door. According to stories, none of the valuables inside the safe were damaged in the fire.
The stories of murder and mayhem in Bodie are innumerable, but here is one of the more colorful. It concerns the “601 vigilante group”. The notation of “601” is commonly known to mean “6 feet under, 0 trials, 1 rope”.
It’s not clear how that meaning came to be, but the history of Bodie is sometimes difficult to “prove” and is more often “interpreted” rather than “reported”. There were many papers in Bodie and “creative journalism” was sometimes practiced in order to sell papers. Sadly, most of those “records” have been lost to history.
It was reported that during a ball at the Miner’s Union Hall on Saturday, January 15, 1881, Joseph DeRoche danced with the wife of Thomas Treloar, even though Treloar asked his wife not to. It’s unknown if words were exchanged or if some other argument took place, but DeRoche left the event before most of the other attendees.
When Treloar and his wife left the Hall, they walked down Main Street. At the corner of Main & Lowe Streets, DeRoche jumped from the darkness and shot Treloar in the head. DeRoche was immediately arrested, but was handed over to Deputy Farnsworth, who was drunk at the time. DeRoche quickly escaped.
DeRoche made a run for it down Goat Ranch Road, but was caught about eight miles away and returned to Bodie. He was hanged by the Bodie 601 vigilante group on Monday, January 24, 1881. Below is an article that was printed by The Bodie Free Press newspaper:
Judge Lynch held his first court session in Bodie early on Monday morning and passed iudgment on a criminal whose crime is already recorded and impressed on every mind in this community. The tragic end of DeRoche, the murderer, was at once awful and impressive.
The lesson to be learned from it is easily read and the simplest mind can fully comprehend it. That a cruel murder had been committed no one can deny; that the swift retribution was expected every observing citizen could predict with safety. The excitement of the Sabbath did not die away and the wrath of the people did not go out with the setting of the sun. As the shades of darkness enveloped the town, the spirit of revenge increased in intensity and developed into a blazing column of fire. It was burning in its intensity and fearful in its results. After the adjournment of the court and DeRoche was token back to his narrow cell, a mysterious committee was organized, the like of which has existed in many towns on this Coast since ’46, and whose work has been quick and thorough. The Committee, it is reported, held a long session and discussed the matter in hand. The session was long and deliberate, and its conclusions resulted in the lynching of DeRoche.
Between 1:30 and 2 o’clock Monday morning, a long line of masked and unmasked men were seen to file out of a side street into Bonanza Avenue. There must have been two hundred of them and as the march progressed to the jail the column increased. In front were the shotguns carried by determined men. They were backed up by a company which evidently meant business, and no ordinary force could foil them in their progress. When the jail was reached it was surrounded and the leader made a loud knock at the door. All was dark and quiet within. The call had the effect of producing a dim light in the office, and amid loud cries of “DeRoche,” “Bring him out,” “Open the door,” “Hurry up,” etc. Jailer Kirgan appeared, and responded by saying: “All right boys; wait a minute; give me a little time.” In a moment the outside door was opened slowly and four or five men entered. Under instructions the door of the cell in which the condemned prisoner lay was swung open. The poor wretch knew what this untimely visit meant, and prepared for the trying and humiliating death. It was some moments before he was brought out, and the crowd began to grow impatient. Some imagined the prisoner had been taken away by the officers – If this had been the case what would have followed can only be imagined. All these doubts were put at rest by the presence of the man.
He wore light-colored pants, a colored calico shirt, and over his shoulders was hung a canvas coat buttoned around the neck. His head was bare, and as the bright rays of the moon glanced upon his face, there was a picture of horror visible. It was a look of dogged and defiant submission. With a firm step he descended the steps and came out upon the street in a hurried manner, closely guarded by shotguns and revolvers. The order to fall in was given, and all persons not members of the mysterious committee to stand back. The march up Bonanza Street was rapid. Not a word was said by the condemned man, and his gaze was fixed upon the ground. He was hurried up a back street to Fuller. The corner of Green was turned, and when Webber’s blacksmith shop was reached, a halt was made. In front of this place was a huge gallows frame, used for raising wagons, etc., while being repaired. Now it was to be used for quite a different purpose. “Move it over to the spot where the murder was committed,” was the order, and immediately it was picked up by a dozen men and was carried to the corner of Main and Lowe streets. The condemned man glanced at it for a moment and an apparent shudder came over him, but he uttered not a word. From an eye witness we learn that the scene which followed was awful in its impressiveness. The snow had just begun to fall, and the moon, which had shone so brightly during the early part of the night, shed but a pale light on the assembled company. When the corner was reached, the heavy gallows frame was placed upon the ground, and the prisoner led under it. The prisoner’s demeanor still remained passive, and his hands, encased in irons, were clasped.
His eyes occasionally were turned upward and his lips were seen to move once or twice. On each end of the frame were windlasses and large ropes attached. The rope placed around the prisoner’s neck was a small one; when the knot was made it was tested against the left ear. This did not suit DeRoche particularly, and he changed it so that it was in the rear. Someone suggested that his legs and hands should be tied. This was immediately done. The large iron hooks of the frame dangled near the prisoner and the grating sound produced a peculiar feeling. It was at least three minutes before everything was ready DeRoche was asked by the leader if he had anything to say. He replied, “No nothing.” In a moment he was again asked the same question and a French-speaking bystander was requested to receive his answer. The reply this time was: “I have nothing to say only O God.” “Pull him,” was the order, and in a twinkling the body rose three feet from the ground. Previous to putting on the rope, the overcoat was removed. A second after the body was elevated a sudden twitch of the legs was observed, but with that exception, not a muscle moved while the body hung on the crossbeam. His death took place without a particle of pain. The face was placid, and the eyes closed and never were reopened. Strangulation must have been immediate. While the body swung to and fro, like a pendulum of a clock, the crowd remained perfectly quiet. After a lapse of two or three minutes a voice, sharp and clear, was heard in the background: “I will give $100 if twenty men connected with this affair will publish their names in the paper tomorrow morning.” The voice was immediately recognized as that of a leading attorney. (Only Pat Reddy would have had the courage to face the mob, and a yell went up from the crowd.) “Give him the rope,” “Put him out,” and similar sentences drowned out the man and his voice. His retreat was as dignified as the exigencies of the case would admit of. While the body was still hanging a paper was pinned onto his breast bearing the following inscription: “All others take warning. Let no one cut him down. Bodie 601.”
In fact, Bodie acquired a reputation as one of the most lawless towns in the country. In 1881 the Reverend F.M. Warrington called Bodie "a sea of sin, lashed by the tempests of lust and passion". Bodie was a rough and rowdy town. Its streets were lined with saloons, gambling dens, and brothels, as it was populated by mostly young males.
The brothels acquired a fame of their own. They were concentrated on one ill-famed thoroughfare known variously as "Bonanza Street," or "Maiden Lane & Virgin Alley." All that remains of that colorful neighborhood is this sign, which is of doubtful historic authenticity:
One sometime resident of Bonanza Street was Rosa Elizabeth White, known as Rosa May. She was a prostitute who lived in Virginia City and Bodie. A local legend states that she selflessly nursed sick miners during an epidemic and succumbed to the illness herself. Because of this she has been referred to as the “hooker with a heart of gold." However, available historic evidence appears to refute this. From 1888 to the early 1890s, she traveled to and from Bodie, and eventually settled there in 1893. Land records show that Rosa purchased a house in Bodie’s “Red Light District” for $175 in 1902. There are no records of Rosa May living in Bodie after the 1910 census. Bodie was declining rapidly during the period that Rosa May disappeared, and it may be that she left the area in search of greener pastures. Nevertheless, we found a gravestone bearing her name, located outside the perimeter of the main cemetery. According to information about the park, deceased who the townsfolk deemed of "ill repute" were not allowed to be buried inside the formal cemetery, but in unmarked graves outside the cemetery fence. So we guess that, despite the many good deeds Rosa did for the menfolk of Bodie, she couldn't attain the necessary level of respectability for a proper burial.
Others did, however, and some of the graves are quite beautiful and touching. This one, for example, is the gravestone for Evelyn Myers, who died at almost 3 years of age. She was known as the "Angel of Bodie." She died after she was accidentally struck in the head by a pick axe during the digging of a drainage ditch around her house:
This is another striking gravestone in the cemetery. It belongs to James B. Perry, a native of Ireland, who eventually became a Mono County Supervisor and died in 1896 at age 63. The first Bodie fire, in 1892, started in the restaurant operated by his wife.
The cemetery contains 80 marked graves, but it is believed that many hundreds of graves are not identified because they were either unmarked, or their only markers were wooden and deteriorated over time.
Park rangers and visitors have experienced several ghosts at the cemetery, including the following:
- A woman in a white dress has been seen sitting serenely by her loved-one's grave, knitting.
- Little 3-year-old Evelyn Myers apparently likes to appear to young children and tries to play with them in the graveyard near her resting place. A family was visiting the Bodie Cemetery, when their youngest preschooler was sitting by the young spirit girl's grave, she began laughing and giggling with someone her parents couldn't see. When asked by her father, she told him that she was playing with another little girl, that had a hole in her head. This same little spirit girl, Evelyn, is looking for her family. A male tourist was standing by the Miner's Union Hall, and heard a plaintive, hopeful little cry from an unseen, young female child presence, "Daddy?"
Maybe we'll come back on our next visit and spend some time in the cemetery on a still, moonless night. We'll let you know what happens.
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