Ghost Town, USA

I was doing a photo assignment on old mining towns in Colorado and, typical of me, I was lost. Convenient excuse, right? Make my story all the more believable by taking you to some out of the way spot no one could ever find and verify? I know, I know. Weak beginning. You’ll never believe me. But it’s true: I swear it on my grandmother’s Bible - and if you ever knew my grandmother, you’d know what a sacred oath that is.

Anyway, I’m somewhere in western Colorado, trying to find another of those ghost towns that are badly named for most of the time there are no ghosts and there are no towns either, just bare dirt with maybe a few weathered boards sticking out of the ground where the saloon used to be. So why don’t they call them “used-to-be ghost towns”, will you explain that to me? “Dancing Lady” used to be home of 20,000 people with 30 saloons, 150 brothels and an opera house. OK. Great. I see the entrance to a mine shaft and there’s the broken pieces of what had to have been a thunder mug. Show me the town.

Of course, there were old mining towns sprinkled all over the Rockies. Plenty of empty buildings, plenty of picturesque photo ops for my camera’s eye. But there are plenty of pictures of those places, too, and I was looking for the undiscovered ones, the out-of-the-way ones people don’t usually see. So I’d rented a jeep that could take the punishment of those mountain trails, and had bounced like a beach ball over the terrain and I was feeling cheated - deflated might be more appropriate - because all I was seeing was more piles of bare dirt, more scraps of splintered timber and more discarded chamber pots.

I was looking for “Excelsior”. I’d heard somewhere it was just what I was looking for. Buildings still standing, an old church with a leaning steeple that framed Watson’s Peak (“Never been climbed, too damn rugged!”) and one of the sweetest trout streams you’d ever hope to find with a triple waterfall and everything. I’d love it. Leastways that’s what I’d heard. And I’m sure I would, if I ever saw it in daylight. But that didn’t happen.. Instead I got stuck in a drenching rain storm complete with lightning bolts zinging all over the place and wind gusts that threatened to overturn my jeep. I don’t know if you ever tried to overturn a jeep, but let me tell you, that ain’t easy. When that wind scooped down out of nowhere and seemed to be taking my front wheels off the ground, I was scared. Fortunately there was an overhang of rock just ahead of me that promised some shelter and I managed to maneuver myself under it.

I hadn’t been there very long before I saw what looked like the beam from a tired old flashlight heading toward me. Before I could see who was there, it flickered and went out. I switched on my headlights to give who ever it was a chance to see me and sure enough a young man appeared out of the gloom and tapped at my window. I rolled the glass down and told him to climb in beside me and take shelter. He smiled gratefully and came around the other side of my jeep and opened the door.

I couldn’t see him real well but I could see he was thoroughly drenched, dripping from head to foot. He had an oilskin cape wrapped around him and a battered felt hat pulled down over his head protecting his face from the rain. His beard was black and scraggly, and his hair was long. He had something in his hands, I couldn’t make out at first what, then I realized it was an old, dirty kerosene lantern that looked like it had seen better days. He placed it on the floor of the jeep between his feet and said,

“Don’t worry, it’s pretty full but I’ll be careful not to let any of it spill on your car.”

“Where did you get that old thing?” I asked. “It looks like an antique.”

He laughed and said, “It is. And tonight I feel like one too.”

“You been out in this storm long?” I asked.

“Yeh, pretty long,” he replied, “wish I could go home and get warm and dry.”

“Wish you could go home? Why don’t you?”

“I gotta stay out here and warn people. It’s my job.”

“Warn people?” I said. “Jeez, who’s gonna be out in this storm?”

“Oh, you never know. You’re here, aren’t you.”

I had to agree with that.

“So, where’s home?” I asked.

“Excelsior.”

“Excelsior?” I said. “I didn’t know anybody still lived there.”

“Oh yeh, we do. Not like it used to be, I grant you, but there are a few of us.” Then he looked at me and said, “You wouldn’t happen to smoke would you?”

“Sure,” I said, reaching into my pocket to grab my Marlboros. I offered them to him, but he shook his head.

“No, I don’t smoke, I was just hoping you did ‘cause you might have a match. I’ll need one to relight my lantern before I go.”

“Go? You’re not going back out in this rain are you? Let me take you to your house. I wanted to see Excelsior anyway.”

He shook his head no and said he was still working. “Mandy wouldn’t like it if I left my job.”

“Who’s Mandy?”

“My wife. Or leastways she will be next week. She finally set the day. Only she’d never do it if I didn’t keep my word and protect people on this road.”

He looked anxiously out into the black night and driving rain as if he expected a parade of cars to come by. It confused me. I hadn’t seen any other cars around all night. We were completely alone and not likely to be joined by anybody.

“You won’t have much to do in this storm except get even wetter.”

“Yeh, I know” he said, “It’s always like this. Every time we get close to tying the knot, I get the watch in a storm. I think I’m jinxed or something.” and he laughed ruefully. “But I try not to mind because they really do need me out here. There was a terrible landslide here once, took out half the town. Women and kids and everything. We promised that would never happen again.”

“We?”

“Yeh, the towns people you know. And they hired me on to do the job. Mandy was so proud of me then ‘My man’s guarding the whole damn town’ she said, like it was some great honor. And I suppose it is. But sometimes I wish I didn’t have to do it. Especially tonight. I wanted to take Mandy to the dance and I can’t. Charlie Riley’s going to.”

“You think they’ll have a dance on a night like this?”

“Oh yes, they never call ‘em off. They’ll be hopping to the fiddle for sure.”

And he fell silent, hearing the music and seeing the dancing feet and thinking about how wet and cold he was and how much wetter and colder he’d be while Charlie Riley and his girl Mandy would be warm and dry and happy inside.

The storm seemed to let up a bit and my visitor prepared to go back out into the night.

“I’d appreciate that light now, if you’ll let me have a match.”

“Sure,” I said, and added, “why do you need that lantern? Why don’t you use that flashlight I saw before?”

“Flashlight? I don’t have a flashlight. You must have seen my lantern. It went out just as I came up to your car.”

I could have sworn I’d seen a flashlight but it was clear he didn’t have one now, so I didn’t argue the point He lit his lantern and climbed out of the car. When he got out he turned around and put his head back into the car and said,

“You did say you were going to Excelsior didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“You could sure do me a favor, if you would. Look up Mandy and tell her I can’t make it in tonight. And tell her the road’s holding fine. Everything should be OK..”

I told him I would, if I could ever find Excelsior that is. He assured me I was going in the right direction and should be there in less than an hour - quicker if the storm stayed let up.

“Just look out for that wood bridge above triple falls. It gets kinda shaky when the rain’s been hard like this.”

He turned and started to trudge off in the rain and I had to shout after him, “What’s your name? What’ll I tell her?”

“Jeremiah,” he called back. “Jeremiah Styles”, and disappeared in the dark.

I didn’t much like going on in the storm like that. The dirt road was slick and rutted and I could scarcely see a hundred feet ahead of me, but I inched my way along, thankful that the rain seemed to have slowed down, and the wind too.

“I hope Jeremiah knew what he was talking about” I said to the empty space in my jeep. All those other ghost towns were little more than vacant spaces on bare ground, I didn’t expect any more than that from Excelsior, but he was so sure I took his word for it, and sure enough, off in the distance I saw the outlines of a wooden bridge and beyond that the flicker of some lights. Beyond the bridge I came into an honest-to-God frontier town straight out of a Hollywood movie complete with hitching posts and wooden sidewalks and false storefronts and all. Even the little wooden church with the crooked steeple stood at the end of the street. I couldn’t help speculating about what great pictures I might get in the morning.

There was only one building big enough to have a dance floor in it, and it was the one most lit up; with candles and lanterns I noticed. It looked like electricity was one luxury Excelsior did not have. I parked my jeep in front of the hall and climbed the steps up to the wooden walkway. When I stepped through the door I was surprised to see how much light could be generated with candles and lanterns. The place was ablaze. The fiddle playing was tolerable, and somebody knew what a banjo was for. I never knew a banjo could produce that much sound.

People gave me a funny look when I walked in, but they made room for me and one man in particular guided me over to a makeshift bar where I was served a generous shot of whiskey. I appreciated the warmth and thanked the fellow for his hospitality.

“Glad to oblige” he said, “what are you doing here in Excelsior?”

“I’m a photographer taking pictures of old ghost towns, and somebody told me I needed to see Excelsior.”

“Called us a ghost town, did he? That’d be news to us. We may be small in number but we sure ain’t dead.”

“I can see that, but I’d still like to see what you have here. Sounded like I could get some nice shots, especially of an old church.”

“You could do that.”

“Have you got a place I could stay for the night?”

“Maybe. There’s a bunk house out back. Not exactly a hotel, but the beds are clean and the toilet’s indoors. Most folks appreciate that.”

“Great. I’ll take it. Who do I see to check in?”

“You’re talking to him. But you don’t want to go to bed right now. Place is too noisy. It’ll quiet down in a little bit. Some folks are already tuckered out.”

“I wasn’t planning on going to bed, not right away. First I have an errand to run. I need to find a girl named Mandy.”

He raised his eyebrows at that and said,

“Mandy? Now what would you want with her?”

“I got a message for her.”

“Really? What would a stranger be doing with a message for Mandy?”

The look on his face was more puzzled than hostile so I told him my story. He nodded his head thoughtfully and said, “So you ran into Jeremiah, did you? What did he say?”

“Not much. Just that he wouldn’t be getting in tonight and not to look for him.”

The man looked at me thoughtfully and then picked up his jacket that had been lying on the bar and threw it over his shoulder.

“That’s all he said? Nothing about Mandy.”

“Nothing, only that they were going to get married next week. He seemed pretty happy about that.”

The man nodded his head and said, “I’ll bet. He was real talkative, wasn’t he. He say anything more? About Charlie Riley maybe?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, he did mention someone with that name. Thought he would be here at the dance with Mandy.”

The man nodded his head again. “Yep, I’ll bet he did.” Then turning away he said, “I better check about that bed. It’ll only take me a minute.”

It took him longer than that, and by the time he finally came back many of the people in the hall had gone.

“It looks like you’re out of luck.” he said. “I’m sorry. Couldn’t find a bed for you anywhere. Town’s kind of crowded tonight, because of the dance. But I tell you what to do. If you keep on this road another thirty miles, you’ll come to Goshen. It’s a sweet little town, a lot like Excelsior, and they have two hotels. There’s sure to be a room there you can have.”

“You’re kidding? Isn’t there anything in town? Hell, I could even bed down here for that matter. I don’t want to go back out in that storm.”

“Yeh, I know. I hate to disappoint you, but that’s not an option.”

Ordinarily I’d have argued some more. It was so damn wet and muddy with all that wind howling outside, I couldn’t see how he’d run me off like that, but there was something about him - his expression, the tone of his voice, I knew there was no changing his mind. But it still ticked me off.

“Well, sure. I understand. I wouldn’t want to put anybody out!” There was no mistaking the sarcasm in my voice, but it didn’t phase him a bit. “Can you tell me which girl is Mandy? I haven’t given her my message yet.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said, taking my arm and walking me to the door, “I’ll see that she gets it.”

“You will? I wanted to meet her.” I protested.

“I’m sorry. You can’t see her right now.”

“Say’s who?” I’m not normally a fighting man, but I was getting more and more riled by this guy.

The man stopped and, still holding his hand on my arm, said, “Look mister. I don’t want to be impolite or anything, but it’s late and I don’t want to bother Mandy. She’s not going to be very happy hearing Jeremiah can’t make it back tonight. Let’s spare her that, shall we? She’ll know soon enough when it’s daylight.”

There was no anger in the man’s voice, no threat, only genuine concern. But there was also determination. He wanted me out of town.

So I said, “All right. I’ll go. If you’re so sure I can find a room in Goshen. But I’ll come back tomorrow. I still want to meet Mandy.”

“All right.” he agreed.

“Just tell me one thing: what’s your name?”

“Bill.” He said.

“Just Bill?”

“Yeh, Bill.” And with those words, he all but pushed me back into my jeep and waved me off.

My mind was spinning after that. I plugged along down that dirt road, half blinded by the rain and wondering if I was crazy or that guy was. What was he thinking of, sending me out in this deluge? Me a stranger, scarcely able to see ten feet in front of my jeep because of the rain, unsure of the road beneath me. How did I expect to find Goshen in these conditions? I should have refused to leave. I should have insisted on staying right there. In my jeep if I couldn’t stay anywhere else. At least I’d have known where I was, and there’d have been help around somewhere.

But there had been no choice. Staying was no option. “Bill” had made that very clear. And that was another thing that bugged me, who the hell was this Bill anyway? Where did he come off ordering me around like that? What gave him the right to decide who could talk to Mandy and who couldn’t? He was some kind of a jerk, that was for sure.

The more I thought about it, the madder I got, and the madder I got, the worse the storm got. It got so I couldn’t see anything in front of me or behind. The road was a blur of falling water and churning mud and I was just thankful that I hadn’t gotten stuck in a hole or something. There were a few jolts that knocked me all over the road. Eventually it got so bad I pulled up against another bluff, turned off the motor and the headlights and made myself as comfortable as I could waiting for daylight.

I must have been tireder than I realized because I fell asleep almost immediately. I’d come to enough to hear the wind blowing and the rain beating on the window, but that gradually let up and the next thing I knew, there was daylight and sunshine breaking through what was left of the clouds.

I got out of the jeep and stretched my legs a bit. I’d picked a good spot for sheltering. I hadn’t known it when I pulled into it in the rain. It had an overhang almost as good as a carport. I sloshed around in the mud a bit, got the kinks out of my body and was coming back to the jeep when I saw something that looked very much like an old flashlight in the mud. I picked it up and tested it, to see if it had any juice left in it. Amazingly, it winked at me faintly, before it went dead. At least I thought it did. I shook and pounded it to try and coax more light out of it, but to no avail. I started to throw it off to the side of the road, but changed my mind. I hate road litter. It’s a big thing with me. I tossed the flashlight into the back of the Jeep and headed off down the road.

I don’t know how anyone could say a road looked familiar when he hadn’t really seen it before. As near as I could figure, I’d never been on this road in my life. Yet it felt familiar, like the nerves in my hands and arms recognized the feel of the road as it jerked the steering wheel back and forth. The feeling was so real I began to trust it rather than my eyes. It was like I knew where the ruts would jolt the tires.

And then I came to the boulder.

It was not familiar, and it wasn’t letting me pass. The road was blocked, and when I got out of the jeep and looked around the boulder, I found what roadbed had been there was now washed out. There was no going ahead. A portion of the mountain had slid down taking trees and rock and road with it. I searched and searched for some way to continue, but there was no going forward. I finally had to give it up.

It took some doing but I got my jeep turned around and was soon making remarkably good time heading in the other direction. I was so turned around by now it didn’t really matter much where I was going: I figured I’d end up somewhere sooner or later. The fact was, the road actually seemed to be improving the further I went. With each mile, more sunshine splashed down on the landscape and I was actually enjoying the ride. Finally, when I rounded a bend I saw some buildings ahead.

Thinking it was Excelsior, I hurried on into what was obviously an old mining town. It was inhabited and even had some paving, which I was glad to see. Fortunately there was a gas station (my jeep was not going to go much further on what was left in its gas tank!) and a little cafe next to the station which showed promise of providing me a warm breakfast.

I asked the woman who brought me my coffee where I was and she told me “Goshen”.

“Really?” I replied. “I was trying to find this place last night, but the storm was so bad I finally gave up and spent the night in my car.”

“I’m not surprised. We’re off the beaten track up here and don’t see too many strangers.”

“I gathered as much. But they told me up in Excelsior that you have two hotels here.”

“Had, you mean. That’s been years ago. Who told you that?”

“A fellow named Bill. He wouldn’t give me his last name”

“Really? Did he give you a reason?”

“No. Just said that was enough. He seemed anxious to get me out of town. It kind of made me mad, if you want to know the truth. I’d a slept on the floor if I had to, just to get out of that storm, but he just kept pushing me out of the door saying there was no room there and that I’d be fine here in Goshen.”

“Where did you say your were? Excelsior?”

“Yes. It looked like a pretty nice little town, what I could see of it from the light of my headlights. The people seemed friendly enough, even that Bill guy at first. But when I mentioned I needed to see a girl named Mandy to give her a message, everything changed. He couldn’t wait to get me out of town.”

The startled look on her face told me more than her words could.

“Did you say ‘Mandy’?”

“Yes. Do you know her?”

“No, but I’ve heard her name.”

And without saying more, she went back to the kitchen to refill her coffee pot. A moment later a man came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron, and he came up to me at the counter. He stuck out his hand and said, “Ken Graton’s my name. Jennie says you talked to Bill Riley recently?”

“Riley? Is that who he was. Yes. I saw him in Excelsior last night. So you know him?”

The man looked steadily at me, as if trying to determine if I was speaking the truth or not. Then he replied,

“I don’t know. I guess it sorta depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you call knowing. I know about him but I never knew him personally. You see, he died when I was only twelve years old.”

“Died? Oh that must have been somebody else. I just talked to this guy last night. In Excelsior. At the dance.”

“That’s what Jennie said. Kinda surprised her. What were you doing in Excelsior?”

“I’m a photographer, taking pictures of old mining towns. Someone said I ought to look up Excelsior. I couldn’t find it on the map, but some folks told me to look around up here. They thought they remembered stories about the place. I really didn’t expect to find much - most of the ghost towns I’ve visited are nothing more than bare ground. That’s why I was surprised to find a real town there, with buildings and a church and people and everything.”

“You saw all that?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

The man shook his head a little and then sat down at the counter next to me and asked Jennie to get him a cup of coffee.

“This is quite a surprise. My Dad told me stories like this once, but he said they were just stories and not to believe ‘em. I wonder .... “ and his voice trailed off. He stirred his coffee for a few moments, his eyes looking off into the distance as if he were seeing pictures I couldn’t see. Then he took a deep breath and turned to me and said,

“I don’t expect you to believe this. I don’t know why anybody would. But I’ll tell you just what my dad told me. It seems Excelsior was quite a thriving town at one time, and people made out all right up there. But it was pretty hard to get to and while the ore they pulled out of it was pretty good, people got tired of being so far from civilization. A lot left, but there was always a few that believed in the town and stayed on. My granddad was one of ‘em, and so was his wife.

“He had a brother who worked the mines too, and was all set to get married, when he was lost in a storm up on the mountain. His girlfriend was pretty broken up about it and almost died from grief they said. But there was another boy in town who’d always wanted to marry her, and finally she agreed. They had three children before he got killed in a mine accident. One was a girl who died from scarlet fever when she was four. The second was a boy who was killed when he was seventeen. Fell off his horse. The youngest stayed on to take care of his mother.

“My grandparents had left Excelsior by then and were running this café, which they left to my father, who left it to me. We rarely went back to Excelsior. The town sort of declined when the ore played out. The landslide in 1907 pretty much finished it off. A few people stayed on. Mandy Riley was one, her son Bill was another.”

“Good Lord! Are you telling me Mandy was your great aunt, and that man I saw last night her son? That’s impossible."

“No, we were no relation.”

“No, of course not. What was I thinking? What you’re telling me must have happened a long time ago and I was told to take a message to her last night.”

“I know. That’s what my wife was telling me. You met Jeremiah Stiles, and he told you he wouldn’t make it in last night? He was the sweetheart Mandy Carson lost before she married Charles Riley. Jeremiah Stiles was my great uncle and he was lost in 1887.”

I heard the words, I saw the man’s face. There was no mistaking his earnestness. He was speaking the truth. I remembered Jeremiah’s words, his mentioning how part of the town had been washed away in a landslide. But that would have happened long before Mandy and Charlie Riley married. These stories didn’t match.

“I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense. Jeremiah told me about a landslide, and how he was out there to warn the town if any more danger was on the way. He said half the town had been wiped out. But it wasn’t. I was there. I saw it.”

Ken Stiles nodded his head in agreement.

“I know. I’m as puzzled as your are.”

“Well, let’s just drive up to Excelsior and find Bill Riley and get to the bottom of this.”

Ken Stiles shook his head.

“No, it won’t be that easy. That slide in 1907 wasn’t the only one to hit the town. There was another, in 1923, and that just about wiped out the rest of the town. I’d be surprised if you could find anything there now. As for Bill Riley, he and Mandy are long gone.”

“They can’t be. I saw him, I tell you. I saw him and Jeremiah both.”

“I know. I don’t understand that either. All I can tell you is my father said Bill Riley used to take good care of his mother. She’d lost so much, you see. First her sweetheart, then two of her three children. And there were those repeated rumors that people had run into Jeremiah Stiles somewhere out on the road. That he was trying to reach her. Trying to get a message to her. My father told me Bill Riley did his best to keep her from finding out about those messages. He was trying to protect her, you see. In fact, one time it happened, he got so angry, he tore out into the night and went up the mountain trying to find who was pretending to be my great uncle and get him to stop. He got caught in a down pour, lost his flashlight, and just barely made it back to Goshen alive.”

“Dropped his flashlight? Did you say, his flashlight?

“That’s what my Dad said.”

I grabbed his arm and said,

“Come on, I’ve got to show you something.” I took him out to my jeep and pulled out the rusty, battered flashlight I’d found on the road in the mud.

“When I first saw Jeremiah last night, I thought he was carrying a flashlight, but when he got into my jeep he was carrying a kerosene lantern instead. He didn’t know what I was talking about. This morning, I found this on the ground. I don’t know why I picked it up. I guess I was thinking of last night, but I forgot I’d already driven to Excelsior by then, and only found it the next morning. I must have been sheltering in the same place I was when Jeremiah came up to me. Only, he wasn’t carrying a flashlight. This proves it. This is Bill Riley’s flashlight.”

Ken looked at the flashlight skeptically.

“Where did you find it?”

“In the mud, alongside where I’d parked my jeep last night. Under an overhang. Of rock.”

He nodded his head, as if he was agreeing with me, but I could tell he still wasn’t convinced.

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“I know. But it still isn’t possible. There’s no one up there in Excelsior any more, there hasn’t been in ages.”

“But I saw it. I swear I did.”

“Sure. I know you did.”

“All right, let me ask you just one question: if I’m lying, how did I know your great-uncle’s name? How did I know about Jeremiah? And Mandy? And Charlie Riley? Even if that wasn’t Bill Riley up there, it sure fits what I saw.”

Ken shook his head and started back into the café.

“I don’t know. I can’t answer that. All I know is it’s impossible because there’s nothing there anymore. Go look if you like, but I’m telling you you won’t find anything there. There’s nothing there, not even a site where the town used to be. It’s all gone.”

And he disappeared into the café.

Well, I did go back. Or at least I tried to. But I never found it. The road was so messed up I couldn’t tell what direction I was going. I couldn’t even be sure of that overhang I’d parked beside in the night. Everything looked different.

I told you, you’d never believe me.

But I still have the flashlight!