IN A SCENE FROM THE 1985 western film parody Rustlers’ Rhapsody, cowboy protagonist Rex O’Herlihan claims to know the future of the town he’s just ridden into because all western towns are exactly alike. When the town drunk argues that the fictional town of Oakwood Estates is unique, O’Herlihan lists several traits he says are universal to all western towns, including a railroad stop and a “newspaper run by an idealistic young journalist who’s hawked everything to buy his press.” The drunk is flabbergasted when he realizes these are also true of Oakwood Estates.
The dialogue pokes fun at the predictable storylines of classic western films that express and perpetuate popular perceptions of the Old West. These homogenized perceptions carry over to the ghost town phenomenon, as evidenced by numerous online profiles and brochure spots. Nearly every ghost town—regardless of location or type—is touted by its respective enthusiasts as having been the most godless, lawless, wildest town in the west. Yet a deeper examination of any group of ghost towns reveals two immediate truths: that for all their commonalities, no two are quite the same and that, despite generations of lore, most of their true stories haven’t even begun to be told.
Assembling the jigsaw puzzle of a ghost town’s past is difficult—not because key pieces don’t exist, but because they’re often disparately scattered in semilegible journal entries, single lines of century-old government records, period newspaper articles, and artifacts yet to be unearthed. However, individuals and academic bodies alike continue to study ghost towns. Their efforts range from investigative research aimed at setting the record straight to archaeological studies that trace the evolution of a community’s cultural identity.
Historian Michael Piatt’s passion for Bodie, California, was kindled after visiting the ghost town in 1968 and during two subsequent seasons of employment there as a California Department of Parks and Recreation park aide. Haunted by the untold stories of Bodie’s mines, Piatt set out to document them as completely as possible. His decade-long effort resulted in the 2003 book Bodie: “The Mines Are Looking Well…”.
Among the insights Piatt’s continued research have brought to light is the confirmed identity of the town’s namesake, which has been a matter of confusion since its founding. Historians had always traced Bodie’s origins to a gold discovery made in 1859 by four prospectors, including one W. S. Body, who froze to death in a blizzard that winter. The town was named for Body, though its spelling changed after a painter misspelled it on a sign. But beyond the last name and a possible hometown of Poughkeepsie, New York, very little was recorded about the man. One former partner identified him as William S. Bodey, while an 1879 New York Times article spelled his first name “Waterman.”
Nearly a century would pass before a plausible connection would be made between the ill-fated prospector and a Wakeman S. Bodey from Poughkeepsie (“Body” and “Bodey” were used interchangeably). By then, however, history books had chosen their favorite of the various first-name guesses. The name remained uncertain until late 2010, when Piatt discovered an 1852 newspaper report linking Poughkeepsie’s Bodey to California and a handwritten U.S. Census Mortality Schedule for Dutchess County, New York, that lists a “Wakeman S. Body … 57m … Tinman … Frozen.”
All evidence in context, Piatt concluded that the town of Bodie was named for Wakeman S. Body, a tinsmith from Poughkeepsie, New York. The closure of this case illustrates the painstaking process of investigative research and the potential of individuals to assemble key pieces of the ghost town puzzle.
View of Virginia City, Nevada, from a nearby hillside, circa 1867–68. Many of the miners in Virginia City were of Cornish heritage. (National Archives)
Notable on the scientific level are the archaeological studies being conducted in Virginia City, Nevada, and Iosepa, Utah. The former is something of a living/preserved ghost hybrid with a 2010 population of 855. Virginia City was one of the earliest established settlements in Nevada and the capital of the immensely rich Comstock Mining District. Population estimates during its peak, circa 1880, range from twenty thousand to thirty thousand residents. Virginia City has been the subject of significant archaeological study by the University of Nevada, Reno (UNR) and the Nevada State Historic Preservation Office.
Most of the work in Virginia City has concentrated on commercial sites, especially saloons, which the studies concluded played a vital sociocultural role in everyday life. A 2010 UNR excavation of a series of house platforms once occupied by European immigrants is the first to focus on domestic life and relationships. The “Cornish Row” digs have unearthed low-density domestic scatter including glass bottles, ceramic tableware, clothing, and personal items. The results are preliminary as of 2011, but according to UNR Field Director Steven Holm, the artifacts should allow the team to trace the immigrants’ route to Virginia City and better assess the Cornish role in the larger mining frontier.
About 375 miles northeast of Virginia City in Utah’s remote Skull Valley lie the scant remains of the Old West’s only Hawaiian ghost town. Iosepa is unique to the ghost town phenomenon as it did not follow conventional settlement patterns or the classic boom-and-bust trajectory. Established by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1889, the town was settled en masse by Pacific Islander (mostly Hawaiian) converts who had migrated to Salt Lake City in prior years. The decision to relocate to Skull Valley was prompted by cultural circumstances, an outbreak of leprosy, and an overarching desire to settle together as a group. The town was built on a working livestock ranch purchased by the Church. The Hawaiians named their new home “Iosepa” in honor of Joseph F. Smith, one of the Mormon missionaries who had ministered to them in Hawaii.
Residents of Iosepa, Utah, celebrating Pioneer Day, circa 1914. (Used by permission, Utah State Historical Society, all rights reserved.)
Residents of Iosepa picking up goods at a Timpie rail station fifteen miles north of Iosepa, circa 1910. (Used by permission, Utah State Historical Society, all rights reserved.)
Iosepa enjoyed moderate agricultural success for twenty-eight years until 1917, when nearly all of its residents returned to Hawaii to help construct a new Mormon temple there. The abandoned town site was sold to a livestock company, and its buildings were eventually razed. In 1980, a group of families descended from Iosepa’s settlers began an annual gathering at the cemetery to beautify their ancestors’ graves. Their tradition continues as hundreds of Iosepa devotees celebrate the faith and fortitude of their forebears each spring at a modern pavilion adjacent to the cemetery.
Below the cemetery, the orphaned sidewalks and crumbling foundations that mark the old town site are overgrown and barely visible. Primary sources on Iosepa’s history are just as sparse. The clues to Iosepa’s true story lie beneath the ground and in the mountains above. An archaeological study led by Dr. Benjamin Pykles, assistant professor of anthropology at the State University of New York at Potsdam, began in 2007. Pykles sought to understand how Iosepa’s Hawaiian settlers negotiated their cultural identities in such a foreign landscape.
Petroglyph, possibly of whale, on “Story Rock” near Iosepa, Utah. Other marine animals represented on the rock include a shark, starfish, and jellyfish.
After resurveying the town, Pykles and a team of SUNY students focused their excavations on a subsurface anomaly detected by ground-penetrating radar, which turned out to be a domestic privy pit. Among the numerous artifacts recovered from the pit were food remains, ceramic vessels, and personal items. The material culture recovered indicated that Iosepa’s settlers had access to and used the same commercial products as the rest of America at the time. The team returned in 2010 to excavate a four-room dwelling on the same property. Findings there included a small, perforated cowry shell that may have been hung on a necklace. The excavations, in context with the town’s Mormon layout and Hawaiian place names, have yielded valuable insight into a community that adapted to an unfamiliar western environment by overlaying it with traditional Hawaiian culture.
Petroglyph of sea turtle on “Story Rock” near Iosepa, Utah. In Hawaiian culture, the sea turtle is a symbol of peace and longevity.
Petroglyph depicting a family circle on “Story Rock” near Iosepa, Utah. The circle may signify ohana, the Hawaiian concept of family.
These conclusions are further highlighted by rock art pecked into a limestone boulder high on a mountain near the town site. “Story Rock,” as it was called by the Iosepa descendent who found it, features twenty-six symbolically charged petroglyphs, including sea turtles (a symbol of peace, longevity, and humility), a shark (regarded as an ancestral guardian), and a circle of people (representing the Hawaiian concept of family). Initial analysis by SUNY undergraduate student Jonathan Reeves indicates that the petroglyphs on Story Rock are mostly consistent in both content and method with documented rock art in the Hawaiian Islands.
Petroglyph near Iosepa, Utah, depicting a person in a boat.
One compelling scene—an earth-like circle divided in two halves and marked by dots—may constitute a map showing the Hawaiian Islands and Iosepa. Celestial representations include a possible depiction of the constellation Ursa Major, a traditional navigational tool that also appears on the Mormon temple in Salt Lake City. The clues hidden above and below the town site may lend more insight into Iosepan cultural identity than a row of intact houses ever could.
Dr. Benjamin Pykles, assistant professor of anthropology at the State University of New York at Potsdam, with student Jasmine Johnson setting up a surveying instrument in Iosepa, Utah, in 2008. (Photo © Allen Clark)
An abandoned residence in Bannack, Montana. (Photo © Patty Pickett)