Deadwood, South Dakota - is not dead

 

Welcome to Deadwood, South Dakota

On the afternoon of August 2nd, 1876, James Butler Hickok was playing poker at the Nuttal and Mann’s’ Saloon #10, in Deadwood, South Dakota. Suddenly he was shot in the back of the head and died on the floor of the saloon, without ever seeing the face of his killer.

The murderer, was Jack McCall, who claimed he shot Hickok in revenge for the killing of his brother, supposedly by Hickok in Abilene. Kansas.  

The big problem with McCall’s story was that he never had a brother. Ooops!

The killing of one of America’s most famous lawmen, gamblers, adventurers, scouts, and all the rest which made James Butler Hickok a household name, better known as Wild Bill Hickok, was headline news around the world.

James Butler Hickok - 'Wild Bill'

In fact, the poker hand he was holding when murdered has become known as the Dead Man’s hand – two pairs, black aces and eights.

The infamous 'Dead Man's hand'

Wild Bill Hickok was thirty-nine years old when murdered.

Research shows the truth was very far from Jack McCall’s mind when he related the incidents of the day. He was tried for the killing and found innocent by a group of miners, since they bought the idea of Hickok being guilty of killing McCall’s brother.

The murderer then moved on to Wyoming and bragged to anyone with an ear that he had shot down the famous Wild Bill Hickok in a fair fight. Turns out there were some US Marshalls who did not believe him and rearrested him. Since the first trial was deemed illegal, he was tried in Yankton, the capital of the Dakota Territory a second time.

The facts in the case were brought out. Turns out, McCall had played poker the day before with Hickok and couldn’t control his liquor nor his cards. He lost pretty much all he had, and Hickok told him to stop playing out of pity. Hickok even gave McCall money for food, from his own winnings.

McCall took this as being disrespected, and returned the next day for revenge.

The ungrateful gambler was hanged in the spring of 1877 for murder. 

As we were touring South Dakota, Laureen and I decided to stop in Deadwood and take a look around. 

“The town where Wild Bill was killed,” I said. “It’s got to be a place to stop.”

“I would say so,” Laureen replied.

And so we did.

Deadwood is more than just a destination to investigate a fateful afternoon a hundred and forty-five years in the past. It’s much more – it is beautiful.

Beautiful countryside in Deadwood

Located in Lawrence County in South Dakota – actually the county seat, Deadwood sits at a little over 4,500 in elevation which makes it a bit cooler during the summer. Tall mountains surround the town filled with towering trees and bubbling creeks.

And, the name of the town is easy to understand – the early miners, who found gold there in the 1870’s, found some dead trees in the wide gulch where Deadwood is located.

“Let’s name it after the dead trees,” one miner was rumored to have said.

“Sounds great, we’ll call it Deadtree,” a second miner is rumored to have stated.

“Deadtree! Who is going to visit a town called Deadtree?” 

“True, Deadwood sounds much more inviting. Perhaps somebody in the future will make a television series and release it on HBO?”

“What’s a television, or an HBO?”

The second miner shrugged. “Don’t know, but thar’s gold in them thar hills, I betcha.”

True enough, Deadwood turned out to be one of the biggest gold strikes in American history. 

In fact, the Homestake Mine, only three miles to the southwest of Deadwood, opened in October of 1877 and was in production for over a century. It is known as the longest continuous gold mine in the United States.

Unfortunately, the gold had been found in the Black Hills belonged to the Lakota people according to the 1858 Treaty of Fort Laramie.

But the miners believed treaties were to be broken when the yellow metal was in the ground. And, so they dug and dealt with the natives harshly, being backed up numerous times by the United States Military.

The town became so successful, that by 1876 there may have been as many as twenty-five thousand people occupying the Black Hills in and around Deadwood, including the small town of Lead a few miles away.

With the population explosion, there also came folks looking for easier money than spending days digging in the dirt.

Saloons, gambling halls, opium dens, and shall we just say – other adult entertainment venues opened for the public, and the town went from a simple mining camp to a full-fledged city.

Downtown Deadwood, lots to do

Full-fledged meaning Deadwood became a pretty scary place with killings, thefts, and other crimes becoming rather rampant.

Not much law and order in many of the historical frontier towns at the time, and perhaps that is why so many people like to visit these places.

We do, but in full disclosure - we do not advocate for crime, of any nature. But, when it involves people we have read about from the past – it is rather cool to walk down the same streets that people like Wyatt and Morgan Earp, Seth Bullock, Calamity Jane, and of course, Wild Bill Hickok strolled.

A favorite haunt of Wild Bill's and others

They were entrepreneurs in a rough and tumble country. Most of the time, these folks were law abiding citizens, but sometimes they weren’t. Some were lawmen, turned cattle thieves, turned gamblers, and back to lawmen.

Laureen Beyer behind metal artwork of Wild Bill Hickok

Rather confusing really, but perhaps that is why it is called the Wild West.

Deadwood’s downtown looks pretty much like it did during its heyday. Which wasn’t an easy thing to accomplish since in August of 1876 smallpox ravaged the town, leaving many people very ill or dead.

Then on September 26th, 1879 a fire raged through the town destroying over three hundred buildings. It would take nearly a century to rebuild the area to what it once looked like.

Again, in September of 1959 another fire tore through the town. The folks were strong and rebuilt to the point that in 1961 the entire town was designated a National Historic Landmark, for ‘its well-preserved collection of late 19th-century frontier architecture’.

With the gold diminishing, and the opening of Interstate 90, which bypassed Deadwood, the population continued to dwindle.

Those darn interstates!

But, a few really ingenious organizers got together and proposed the Deadwood Experiment. Simple really, test and see if legalized gambling could spark interest in the town and keep it from further deterioration. 

A point of fact, only Nevada and Atlantic City had legalized gambling at this time. So, in 1989, the state legislature approved the experiment, making Deadwood the first small town in the United States to have gambling as a means of making revenue.

The experiment worked, and money was again flowing into the coffers of business owners of Deadwood.

In fact, actor Kevin Costner opened the Midnight Star Casino and Restaurant there in 1991, after starring in the film – Dances with Wolves in 1990. He held onto the business until selling it in 2020.

With added revenue, the town started to really rebuild and the tourists began flocking in like birds flying south for the winter.

In truth, I’m not entirely certain that really happens. I’ve seen flocks of birds doing donuts above my house in the middle of fall.

“The GPS is out again,” one duck was heard screaming at another duck.

According to, Lee Harstad, Executive Director of the Chamber of Commerce in Deadwood, “We see about two to three million visitors a year to Deadwood.”

That is a lot of tourists visiting a town of less than two thousand residents.

“We have so much to offer, all year long. I hate to say this, since it is said all the time, but we have something for everyone.”

I have heard that more than once, but Harstad is correct.

Deadwood has stuff for all ages to enjoy. There’s hiking, great restaurants, gambling, hotels, off road trails, museums, horseback riding, breweries, western re-enactment shows, and the list goes on and on. 

Stage Coach ride, anyone?

There are events planned all year round which would interest everyone. There’s the Sturgis Rally and Race, Octoberfest, Wild West Songwriter’s Festival, Wild Bill Days, Big Whiskey Festival, and my favorite, find the Sasquatch in the woods search - just to name a few.

Actually, according to Harstad, each month has multiple events for all age groups.

“The Black Hills are just beautiful, any time of the year and there is so much to do. We see our tourism picking up each and every season.”

Laureen and I sauntered through town. We do that, saunter when not in a hurry, and Deadwood is a town that needs to be sauntered.

We stopped in the saloon where James Butler Hickok was killed, and had an adult libation in his honor.

Laureen Beyer sitting at the bar in Saloon #10

The wild west was a time period in the United States that needs to be explored. 

And, Deadwood is one such place, but also a town to enjoy all it has to offer in the present.

Oro Grande, a great little town

Welcome to Oro Grande

A friend of ours, Kathleen, contacted me and said I needed to meet the mayor of Oro Grande. I didn’t even know there was a mayor.

“They have a mayor?”

 “Well, he’s the honorary mayor. Joe Manners is nothing but a fount of knowledge where it concerns Oro Grande. You’ll find him very interesting; and he’s the caretaker of the cemetery.”

The proverbial cat was out of the bag, I found cemeteries interesting. But don’t all taphophiles? Still can’t get used to that term – sounds really creepy.

“So, I should meet this Joe Manners?”

“Yes, you should,” Kathleen replied.

And met him I did, on a lovely but very warm morning at his office away from home, the Cross Eyed Cow Pizza restaurant along the National Trails Highway, in Oro Grande. 

Why the name cross eyed cow? Wondering if there are such things or was it just a made-up term for the pizza joint. The name was kind of catchy, though. Something a person would likely not forget. But, was there such a thing as cross eyed cows?

I googled this cross eyed cow thing, and sure enough, there are lot of cross eyed cows roaming the countryside of the United States. Of course, I mean no disrespect for these cows, but I was just curious.

Curiosity satisfied.

Joe Manners, like his last name indicated, was very cordial and polite, and most importantly, on time. And as Kathleen had indicated, a virtual cornucopia of knowledge when it came to Oro Grande.

Honoree Mayor Joe Manners

“Joe, before we start going through all the history stuff, why do they refer you to as the mayor?” 

“Because I’m very involved with the community, and one day years ago somebody called me the mayor. It’s stuck ever since.”

Good enough for me.  

Mayor Joe had brought about a million file folders with photographs showing Oro Grande from its earliest days and we went through them one at a time. He sipped a cup of coffee and told me stories about Oro Grande, and the seventy-four years he has lived there. 

The file folders were full of black and white photographs, color prints, newspaper articles, and an assortment of other items which were treasures on their own. Each had its own story to tell, describing a bit of the history of this little town just north west of Victorville.

One photo from the fifties showed a bunch of smiling young school children, and he named each and every child. Another photograph was of the opening day in April of 1961 of the Griffith Henshaw Memorial Park, and Mayor Joe could recall the name of everyone in the picture. Yet another photograph depicted some cave-men riding dinosaurs, and he could name everyone in the shot, including the dinosaurs. Okay, I made that up. He had forgotten the dinosaur names.

I marveled at this man’s memory. I was just hoping I could remember where I had parked my car before the meeting. 

For nearly an hour I was taken on a journey back in time to when Oro Grande was first developed as a mining community through to the present day. It is a lot to take in. I mean a lot of history here detailing the strong men and women who came to the Victor Valley and settled here in the earliest days.

 “Why isn’t there a museum here?”

“Not much interest and we’d need a building and a lot of donations,” Mayor Joe responded.

It seemed every town in the High Desert had a museum, large or small. Shouldn’t Oro Grande have one, depicting its special history? 

“You know, we were the first settlement in the High Desert,” Mayor Joe said.

“So, you are like the original O.G.? Get it, Oro Grande, O.G.”

Mayor Joe ignored me. Wisdom along with a good memory.

Another photograph really got my attention. The photograph showed two train robbers on horseback who had held up a train coming into Oro Grande on April 20, 1898. In the ensuing robbery, two men were killed, the train engineer, Clifford, and one of the robbers, Jones.

“What’s really interesting is the young woman standing in the white dress,” Mayor Joe said.

“Why?”

“That’s the lady in white. She haunts the town.”

Interest piqued. “Really?”

“We have quite a few, shall we say strange sightings in town,” Mayor Joe informed me. “Especially at the cemetery.” 

The cemetery!

“We even had ghost hunters out there. You can see their videos on YouTube.”

Fifteen minutes later I was following Mayor Joe in my vehicle, to the Oro Grande cemetery. I found it parked right where I had left it earlier in the morning. My memory wasn’t as bad as I’d feared.

Not only is Joe Manners the honorary mayor of the town, but he has also, by his own choice, taken on the responsibility to be the caretaker of the town’s boot hill.

Most cemeteries, not that I’m an expert, are quiet and reverent places. This one was no different. Very neat and clean.

One of the decorated graves at the cemetery

“San Bernardino County helps out a bit, and just a couple of days ago, Captain Bryan Schultz, brought his county work crew up here and cleared all the weeds away. There were a lot of them, but they did a great job. Helped me out a lot.”

Mayor Joe pointed to a tall flag pole in the cemetery. “Osborne Pipe and Supply installed the flag pole and base. They help the town a lot, too.”

Oro Grande cemetery

The pole, with the stars and stripes waving in the slight breeze over where not a weed could be seen, nor any ghosts dancing amid the wooden crosses or tombstones either.

“Mayor Joe, the ghosts or orbs?”

He smiled and led me on a tour through the graveyard – telling me the history of nearly every person laid to rest here. It was touching, as was the pride of loving attention Mayor Joe showed to every site which was plainly evident.

“I give tours you know. If anyone wants to have a history lesson in the cemetery, all they have to do is contact me. Usually the folks at the Cross Eyed Cow know where to find me.”

“The town is a great place to visit,” Mayor Joe stated.

The Iron Hog restaurant and saloon

I would heartily agree.

Lucerne Valley is worth a thorough visit

 Many from the High Desert of Southern California, have driven through Lucerne Valley a number of times. Perhaps on the way to Big Bear. Perhaps on the way to Joshua Tree National Park. Perhaps on the way to Landers to experience the Giant Rock. Or perhaps just to stop in Lucerne Valley for breakfast or lunch, on the way for some heavy duty four-wheeling in Johnson Valley.

And perhaps, according to imdb.com, to film some of the following movies – Valkyrie (2008), Green Lantern (2011), and Alpha II (2918). 

There are so many more films, television series, and commercials that have been shot in Lucerne Valley – but, I just got lazy, and decided mentioning the three most popular films was enough to make my point.

But, Don Henry, owner and awesome artist, of ‘Art by Henry’, had something to add to those few I mentioned.

Some of Don's art work - there's plenty more

Laureen and I had stopped by Henry’s studio years ago, at the corner of Highway 18 and Trade Post Road, on our way to Big Bear. Bought a couple of pieces of art from the gentleman and then left. 

While I was back in town, I stopped by his business again.

“Didn’t you stop by here years ago?” Don asked.

“Yes, of course. You recognize me, since I don’t age,” I responded.

“What do you want?”

Did I mention Don is a pretty straight shooting kind of guy? 

Of course, being the social butterfly I am, Don and I hit it off immediately again.

“You know, I was in a music video, here in Lucerne Valley.” He told me. “The Hollywood types always use this part of the desert for commercials, music videos, and the like. We’re remote, and I guess viewers like remoteness.”

“I like remoteness,” I replied.

He just looked at me.

Turns out that Don Henry, was one of the actors in the music video by Kranium, filmed in Lucerne Valley in 2015. Kranium’s Kemar Donaldson, is a Jamaican reggae star. The video shot in Lucerne Valley was for his 2013 hit single, ‘Nobody Has To Know’.

He played his role down though. “I was the guy in the video cooking and waving at the crew when they left. Not much of a part, but nice folks and very professional.” 

Well, that part was more than I had in my bag of memorable moments with reggae singers. I listen to Bob Marley on Sirius – that’s all I have. 

But, I wasn’t in Lucerne Valley to discuss stardom with Don Henry. Nope, a reader had written to ask if I had ever heard of Chimney Rock, just west of the town limits of Lucerne Valley.

I know what a chimney is. I have plenty of fires during the winter, but no – not a chimney rock in Lucerne Valley.

Research, Watson, research.

Turns out that Chimney Rock is an important part of the history of the Mojave Desert.

Plaque located near Chimney Rock

On February 16th, 1867, a group of Native Americans found themselves fighting for their lives against a posse of settlers at Chimney Rock.

It is historically known as the last battle between immigrant settlers and Native Americans in the Mojave Desert.

As with all history, there are two perspectives.

Pioneers in the valley and up in the mountains near modern day Big Bear, had had enough of some of the local tribe members stealing their cattle, stealing their horses, burning down saw mills, burning down houses, killing a settler here and there, and just overall being aggressive.

Then, on the other side of the proverbial coin, the Native Americans didn’t like the settlers coming into the area carving up large amounts of territory for themselves. Erecting fences, constructing houses, creating more roads for more settlers, building towns, and having the overall effect of destroying their hunting grounds.

Not a positive situation for anyone concerned.

The matter was settled at Chimney Rock. This was the final camp of the natives, and they were surprised by a posse who had been following them for months.

There was a shootout, and the natives retreated to the desert areas. People of both parties were wounded and killed, and that was the last violent resistance in the Mojave Desert, according to historical sources. 

I had driven to Lucerne Valley to investigate the site of Chimney Rock. It was easy to find. At the junction of Highway 18 and Rabbit Springs Road, there are two stone markers indicating the site of the last struggle between natives and settlers.

“That was easy to find,” I said, as I pulled over and saw the markers. “Now what?”

I took some photos of the hills northwest of the markers and peered through a metal tube on the marker on the right. Looking through the tube, a person has a perfect sight to where chimney rock is.

The tube to see Chimney Rock

“Hey, that looks like a chimney,” I stated, wishing Laureen was there to respond – instead of sounding like an idiot talking to myself. “Wish Laureen was here.”

“Stop talking to yourself.” I said.

I had brought a metal detector for some searching around Chimney Rock. Never know what a person may find at the site of the last struggle between Native Americans and settlers. Bullet casings, belt buckles, or even a bucket of gold.

It was windy, chilly, and the hike would be well over a mile from where I was parked. And, there probably would be no pot of gold, so I decided to drive into Lucerne Valley and have a look around. When in doubt, take the easy route – another great motto.

Entering the town, I passed another place we had driven by many times in the past but never explored. ‘Nelson Studios’.

The location is easy to pinpoint on the north side of Highway 18, and the water tower with the name of the studio emblazoned on it, was a dead giveaway. The entrance is guarded by beautifully decorated stone walls with two ornate iron gates.

Very impressive, but there is no film studio. 

Why was this place deserted? I took out my phone, and asked Mr. Google. 

A little research led me to an article from the Daily Press, published on September 22, 2016. It was written by none other than Matthew Cabe.

His piece, This Desert Life: My Nelson Studios Obsession, is a must read. Fascinating, and full of research on how this place came about and the demise.

Detailed and precise. That’s his style – facts matter.

My take: he got it wrong.

As I walked through the deserted grounds of the Nelson Studios, what I experienced was tumbled down Roman columns, Roman tubs, Roman walkways, Roman benches with all those fancy curly kind of designs they were known for.

“What do you want on that fountain?”

“Some curly rock carved things. What do you think?

“I like curly fries.”

“Sorry, we’re two thousand years before they are invented.”

It was eerie, each step I took around the grounds I expected a Roman Centurion to come at me asking my business.

“Draw your sword,” he would demand.

 “I have a camera with a flash,” I would threaten.

And, where was Matt wrong?

I’ve traveled a lot in the desert over my years. Met great people from all the places I never knew existed.

So, in those travels and listening to what I’ve listened too, perhaps there is another reason for all the Roman stuff laying around the Nelson Studios.

Could Julius Caesar have stopped by Lucerne Valley to build a new empire?

He was powerful, egoistical and had desired world domination.

“What do you think, Crassus? Should Lucerne Valley be our next conquest?”

“I don’t think that’s how it happened,” Don Henry told me. “What I understand is that the studio was actually manufacturing things for Hollywood films. Like you saw as you walked around today.”

That meant Cabe’s research was more accurate than mine! Foiled again.

The day was spent, and so was I. Lucerne Valley is not a place to drive through from here to there. It is a place to stop. There is so much history, that it would take hours, if not days to take it all in.

Businesses are open, so take a moment and spend some time. Perhaps, like me, you may see the ghost of Gaius Julius Caesar hanging around, near Nelson Studios.

If not, how about a burger at Café 247? They are real. And tasty.

Café 247 is open for business

Oh, also stop by and chit-chat with Don Henry at his art studio. He has some real interesting items there, and is a local history book on legs.

The art and the artist is worth the stop