Amargosa Opera House

According to Fred Conboy, the Amargosa Opera House located in Death Valley Junction, there is a lot to see in this little berg besides open desert.

“When guests arrive to the opera house, they are amazed by the miracle of seeing Marta’s murals in the legendary Amargosa Opera House which took six years to paint. They were competed by Marta herself.”

I would say that endeavor took patience. Patience is not one of my best virtues. Even if patience is supposed to be a virtue. That concept was probably made up by someone with a lot of patience.

“Marta was a ceaseless fountain of creativity,” Conboy continued. “With her dancing, composing, and painting, which in itself was astonishing.”

Marta performing at the opera house - Getty Image

So, who is this Marta whom Conboy was speaking about with such reverence?

Well, just so happens Laureen and I met her in Death Valley Junction, in the very Amargosa Opera House nearly two decades ago.

Marta Becket was born in New York City in 1924, and at the age of fourteen began ballet lessons. In a documentary entitled, Dust Devil, Marta stated that even before that age, she wanted to dance. And dance she did.

Performing at the Radio City Music Hall and on Broadway, she soon found fame and fortune. She appeared in such famous plays and musicals as Show Boat, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and Wonderful Town.

She had it all in the Big Apple – but it was not what she wanted. She desired to do what she wanted to on stage without being directed about what she would do.

“I wanted the freedom to express myself,” Marta explained in Dust Devil.

Just one of many of Marta's dresses

If that wasn’t a direct quote, then I am blaming my editor – sorry, Jim.

Marta started touring the United States with her one-woman show. Performing all the great ballets in small theatres across this great country.

In 1962, she met the man who would become her husband, Thomas Williams. Five years later, on the way to a ballet gig, the travel trailer they were towing blew a tire out in Death Valley, and the only place where it could be repaired was in Death Valley Junction.

Turns out, while Thomas was seeing to the repair, Marta wandered – and don’t we love wandering – saw a bunch of buildings, which included a hotel built in the 1920s by the Pacific Coast Borax mining company, and a large structure which miners had used as a gathering place called Corkhill Hall.

It was love at first sight.

“By now I had forgotten the tire,” she wrote in her autobiography, To Dance on Sands: The Life and Art of Death Valley’s Marta Becket, published in 2006. “I walked over to the building, afraid to take my eyes off it, lest it should disappear.”

Marta working on her beloved Armargosa Opera house - Getty Image

It did not disappear. She and her husband bought the property and put the small community of Death Valley Junction on the map as a destination for those wanting to witness beautiful and creative performances delivered by a masterful ballerina.

John R Beyer in Death Valley Junction

Many years ago, when Laureen and I met Marta, we were cruising into Death Valley and stopped by the iconic Opera House for a looky-loo.

We like to do that – to see what we can see.

The doors to the Opera House were open and we took that as a sign we were supposed to enter. It was hot outside, the month of May can be like that so close to Death Valley, and we enjoyed the coolness of the interior.

When our eyes adjusted to the dimness inside, we were amazed by the marvelous murals on the interior walls. I mean all the interior walls of the theatre. Brightly colored creations of folks from the past looking down on us and toward the center stage at the front of the theatre.

“You folks traveling?” I recall this woman, who later introduced herself as Marta, asking. 

We explained our current journey and spent the next twenty minutes or so, visiting with Marta, as she told us of her past, her present, and her future.

She was graceful and polite. A few questions and a lot of interesting answers. What we took away from that brief encounter was she was one wonderfully strong woman who knew what she wanted out of life.

Simply, to perform her art without dictation by anyone but herself. She ruled in her Opera House. The plays, the music, the costumes, and the times of performances. She was in charge.

Museum across the street with some of Marta's costumes

Unfortunately, there were no shows for Laureen and me to witness that trip. Marta smiled and said perhaps the next time we drove through we could see her perform.

We smiled and said that would be great.

“I should write a story about her,” I told Laureen, as we left Death Valley Junction and headed into Death Valley.

“Perhaps you should in the future,” Laureen replied.

Marta passed away at the age of ninety-two, on January thirtieth, 2017.

We never did see her perform.

Death Valley Junction came into being in 1907, when the Tonopah and Tidewater Railroad was built through the Amargosa Valley. The rails were used to transport borax from nearby mines.

Originally owned by Robert Tubb, the town boasted a saloon, a store and one of those adult entertainment centers. The local miners loved the place, and it grew.

In 1914, the Death Valley Railroad started using the spot to move borax from the valley up into Amargosa Valley for shipment. Business was booming, to the point that a few years later the Pacific Coast Borax Company constructed Spanish Colonial Revival buildings in the town.

I am not sure exactly what that is, but the architect Alexander Hamilton McCulloch did and that is what Marta Becket fell in love with.

The motel and opera house are beautiful. 

The opera house and adjoining hotel

A year after Marta and her husband bought the property, the name of the locale was changed to Death Valley Junction.

In 1980, the town was placed on the National Register of Historic Places, as the Death Valley Junction Historic District.

Though, Marta is no longer with us, thousands of visitors still visit Death Valley Junction yearly.

According to Conboy, “We get at least one hundred and fifty to two hundred people per week stopping by. Many spend a night or two in the motel.”

Since there are no longer performances, the opera house is used for special events or for private venues, then what would make someone want to stop at this path to Death Valley?

“Guests frequently say they love stepping back in time by spending time walking around the historical complex, staying in the hotel and enjoying Marta’s painted guest rooms, or enjoying her tromp l’oeil painting in the dining room or lobby.”

I had no idea what a l’oeil painting is, I could have asked Laureen but didn’t want to sound ignorant in front of my wife.

“We have no TVs or phones in the motel rooms. In this stillness, you can hear your own heartbeat, and be awed by the total silence which the desert has to offer.”

No internet to check emails, Instagram, Facebook, play video games or listen to the latest music on Spotify. How gauche!

Conboy was not done. “Many of our guests remark how much they enjoy spending time having conversations and interactions with the children, their spouse, or friends instead of sitting together in isolation staring at their devices. Imagine that humans having interpersonal communication with each other.”

Was this guy from the twenty-first century?

Guests are often greeted by wild horses who scamper, if horses scamper, into their own personal bar behind the hotel, where hay and water are available year-round.

“I’ll take a bale of hay and a glass of cool water, if you don’t mind,” one wild Mustang was once heard ordering at the horse bar.

“Why certainly, Mr. Ed,” replied the horse bartender.

Death Valley Junction is also known for its dark skies. That is scientific lingo which means at night there are billions and billions of stars to take a gander at instead of the three which lurk about in a city. And one of those is probably a streetlamp.

Is there a lot to see at Death Valley Junction? Yes, there is. It is not a place to drive through on the way to some other place, but a locale to stop, breathe the clean air, and marvel at what one person can do who had the gumption to do it.

That was who Marta Becket was.

We only wish we could have seen her perform on stage, just once.

For further information: http://amargosaoperahouse.org/

Route 66 at the Smithsonian

Laureen Beyer pointing out where she is in Washington D.C.

A piece of Route 66 history is located 697 miles southeast from where this iconic roadway began back in 1926 in downtown Chicago.

“But I thought the Mother Road went from Chicago to Santa Monica?” little Jimmy may ask.

Well, that is correct but when my lovely wife, Laureen, and I returned to Washington D.C. recently, we were thrilled to see a beautiful exhibit about Route 66 at the National Museum of American History.

Towns along Route 66 from Chicago to Santa Monica

“Are you thrilled?” Laureen asked.

“Thrilled to be thrilled.”

It is not a large exhibit, but all the information a person visiting this Smithsonian Museum is there to garner a taste of how important Route 66 was for early travelers across the United States.

Stretching an impressive 2,448 miles through Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and finally arriving in California.

It took six years to build this road, from 1926 until 1932, but it was not fully paved until 12 years later in 1938.

Cyrus Avery, a businessman in Tulsa, Oklahoma stated, “I challenge anyone to show a road of equal length that traverses more scenery, more agricultural wealth, and more mineral wealth than does U.S. 66.”

Avery founded the U.S. 66 Highway Association and first called Route 66 the ‘Main Street of America.’

I have traveled quite a bit along Route 66 getting research for this or that story and I never tire of driving the long stretches of usually empty roadway. Passing through towns that are still here like Newberry Springs, Ludlow, Seligman, Winslow, and towns that are simply ghosts of what they once were, Bagdad, Siberia, Two Guns, and many more that dot the long stretches of roadway.

Each time I stop, it’s hard not to imagine hearing the voices, the laughter, the tears, that once could be heard in these once vibrant spots.

What were the hopes of dreams of these folks along Route 66

It’s not a quick trip taking the byways, but that is the reason - to enjoy and understand the history of this wonderful highway that stretches for so many miles.

The Smithsonian’s were something that was top on our list as we landed at the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport.

Actually, making sure our bags arrived on the same plane as we did, getting to our hotel and having an adult libation were my top priorities. 

But during our trip to the city planned by George Washington, we hoofed it to some of the most famous museums in the world.

The Smithsonian’s.

I had only traveled to our nation’s capital once before and knew there was so much to see that numerous trips may not cover all it had to offer. 

I learned there was a lot this large berg had to show a visitor - and one previous trip was not enough.

We like getting up early, having a sip of coffee and hitting places before the crowds show up - and in Washington D.C. the crowds were always present, especially during the 4th of July week.

And as usual, we headed out before most people had tumbled from their beds to a place which was on both of our radars.

The Route 66 experience at the National Museum of American History.

The exhibit is inundated with memorabilia commemorating this masterpiece of a highway.

Some travelers provisions on display

Four outstanding women who braved early Route 66

There are some of the original vehicles on display which drove across Route 66. Along with those displays there are sculptures of men and women standing or sitting in those very same vehicles - it was rather surreal since the area the exhibit is located is rather dark and lights shine on each exhibit.

Often, Route 66 was not for the weak of heart

“Rather ghostly,” Laureen said.

“Yes, it's as though the mannequins may turn and talk to us,” I replied.

“Wonder what they would say?”

I shrugged. “Hey, I get tired standing on my feet twenty-four-seven. But then again, perhaps all these inanimate objects come alive once the museum closes at night and have a monster gala.”

Laureen ignored me, she’s good at that.

An open aired two seat car from 1903 is on display showing two men and a dog trying to pull it out of a sandy patch using block and tackle.

Another shows a family sedan loaded down with everything they would need while crossing the nation along Route 66. Spare tires, spare water, sleeping bags, lanterns, tents, and the like.

Everything a family may need during the Route 66 journey

Stories of folks who made the adventure are there for visitors to read. Stories about the Hamons, the Shorts, the Haggards, and four young women who ventured out on their own in 1947 from New York to Los Angeles, utilizing Route 66 once they reached Chicago.

In fact, in 1946, an up-and-coming musician, Bobby Troup, drove the route from Pennsylvania to Los Angeles. During the trip his wife suggested he write a song about it - the rest is history. Nat King Cole took the song and made it a gigantic hit, ‘Get Your Kicks on Route 66’.

There is a lot to see and experience at the Route 66 exhibit, but there is a lot more to see while taking the time and wandering at this and the other Smithsonian Museums in Washington D.C.

Actually, visiting our nation’s capital should be on any traveler's ultimate destination list.

Though I would suggest Fall or Spring, summer is brutal with the humidity hitting at least 1,000 percent.

For further information: https://www.si.edu/object/route-66-pavement-1932%3Anmah_1276320