Beyer's Byways: Seeking ghosts in Bodie's arrested decay

According to Ranger Jake, the ghost town of Bodie is truly haunted.

“Well, I’ve never had an encounter with any real ghosts or stuff like that,” he said, “but the state rangers who reside in the town itself say there are some really strange things that go on after dark.”

“With the staff, or the ghosts?” I asked.

Being a ranger, Ranger Jake didn’t see the humor in my question. “No, with things they cannot explain,” he said.

Bodie, which is part of the California State Historic Park system, was known for all sorts of things in its heyday —mining, violence, drinking, violence, gambling, violence, and more of the same.

The state park is located about 20 miles southeast of the town of Bridgeport. It’s an easy drive, suitable for any vehicle.

Just east of the tall and beautiful Sierra Nevada Mountain range, the drive to Bodie is beautiful any time of the year. Highway 395 is always a great route to take, and the 13-mile easterly drive along Highway 270 to Bodie is paved — except for the final three miles. That said, those three miles are hard-packed and make for a relatively easy journey.

Bodie is a great destination any time of the year — except, perhaps, in winter when a snowmobile or a sled pulled by a bunch of Huskies are the preferred modes of travel (they get a lot of snow in this part of California).

In fact, one of the original discoverers of the gold in the area was W.S. Bodey, who perished in a fierce snowstorm in November 1859 while bringing supplies back to the small mining camp from nearby Monoville.

His friends decided to name the town after him, but the name was misspelled when a sign painter in Aurora, another mining town mistakenly painted “Bodie Stables” over a horse stable. The spelling stuck.

Though gold had been discovered in Bodie in 1859, years passed before the settlement transformed from a few tough-and-stubborn miners into a boomtown.

It wasn’t until 1876 that the Standard Company found a large, rich vein of gold-bearing ore. Almost overnight, sleepy little Bodie suddenly found itself on the verge of becoming one of the largest towns in California.

By 1879, the population had soared to nearly 10,000, while buildings totaled roughly 2,000. They consisted of houses, saloons, hotels, meeting halls for the miners, fire stations, schools, and so much more that makes a town a town.

According to my research, Bodie at its peak had 65 saloons on the mile-long Main Street alone. That equals many places to wet one’s whistle, and they were all within stumbling distance.

But as I stood overlooking what was left of Bodie, it didn’t seem that large. Sure, there were two to three streets with homes, businesses, a church, and a school, but not much more to hint that 10,000 people resided here at one time.

“You have to understand that Bodie, like many frontier towns, experienced numerous fires,” Ranger Jake said. “It was like a plague for these places built out of wood.”

In fact, so many fires occurred in this town that just 5% of the structures remain today. The last major fire broke out in 1932 and pretty much wiped out Bodie’s downtown district.

As I wandered through the town, I wondered what it would have been like to live here during the great mining days. 

Bodie was a 24/7 sort of town. Nine large stamp mills crushed the ore dug up from the ground around the clock in the 30 mines scattered about the area. The echoes from the machinery must have been loud in this valley-built town. The gold bullion was shipped to Carson City, Nevada. Each shipment came equipped with armed guards since robberies were common.

With mining booms, no matter the location, lower social elements usually arrived to take advantage. Bodie was no exception. Robberies, gun fights, stabbings, opium dens, gambling halls, brothels, were an integral part of life here. In this example, “integral” should be read as a brutal fact of life rather than anything positive.

Every mining district saw a promising start and a pitiful end. Bodie’s population began to dwindle in 1880 when reports of other “promising” booms came out of places like Butte, Montana and Tombstone, Arizona.

With miners leaving, so did much of the rougher crowds, which meant Bodie’s remaining citizens were families. In 1882, the Methodist church was built. It still stands today. Then a Roman Catholic church arrived, followed by a schoolhouse and more properties suited for a more genteel populace.

The ore was no longer great, but it wasn’t bad either, and families were able to make a living in Bodie. By the 1890s, though, more ore could be found using a cyanide process, which allowed miners a chance to go through the old mill tailings and extract the gold and silver just lying there.

At any rate, things eventually turned south for Bodie. According to the 1920 U.S. Census, only 120 people resided there — 41 years after the boom. The post office officially closed in 1942. A year later, only three people were on hand to protect the town from looting and vandalism.

Bodie earned its designation as a National Historic Landmark in 1961, becoming the Bodie State Historic Park in 1962. With nearly 170 buildings still standing, the town has become known as California’s official state gold rush ghost town.

On the day I visited, I wanted the place for myself so I arrived early enough to be the first snooping tourist. The park closes at 6 p.m. in summer, and though I had planned to spend the night there to see if any ghosts or goblins walked the streets, no overnight stays are allowed — unless you are one of the ranger residents.

As I wandered through the dusty streets, I could almost hear the mills thumping away in the nearby hills. The sounds of people laughing seemed to be floating on the slight breeze that blew east along Main Street.

Bodie is said to be in a state of arrested decay. The houses, businesses, and all the rest that remain have heavy metal screens over the windows and doorways for good reason. Looking in through those windows gives one a strange sensation. Dinner tables with dishes, utensils and drinking glasses have been set around empty chairs. In an accountant’s office, ledgers, ink pens and a pair of reading glasses sit on a desk. In the schoolhouse, textbooks rest on desks as if the children are only out for recess.

It’s a haunting experience to walk the streets of Bodie as a result.

Before the anti-theft measures put up by the state, visitors often took relics home as “souvenirs” when they left the town. So much so that an enterprising ranger invented what’s called the Bodie Curse. Legend has it that if an article is taken from Bodie, then bad luck will surely befall the thief and their family.

When news of this was made public, all sorts of things were mailed back to the park with notes such as, “Hey, didn’t mean to steal the shoes from the schoolhouse, but now I have two noses.”

I met up with Ranger Jake during a tour of the Standard Mill. After a great and interesting hour-long tour, I asked him more about the paranormal sightings in the park.

“Like I said,” he responded, “I have never experienced anything out of the ordinary, but those rangers who live here say they see shadows going across doorways. Perhaps voices where no one should be. It seems that the evening is when spirits, if there are any, tend to come out.”

According to some other ghostly research, a woman in a white hood and a black-and-white dress holds a large basket in her hand when she comes out at midnight and walks a bit before vanishing. Another tale involves a tall figure carrying a light. It purportedly enters the mines and wanders them until dawn.

Just before the last folks left Bodie, a man murdered his wife. A trio of men then killed him for the murder. Later, he returned and yelled at his killers, and those three men soon died of diseases. Now these four souls apparently visit the town or cemetery from time to time.

So is Bodie haunted? I don’t know. But walking those lonely streets and peering into houses, businesses and other establishments that give off the feeling that residents abruptly stood up, walked away and left it all behind is creepy enough.

It’s as if — at any moment — a door will open and a family will descend onto the street. I didn’t see anything like that, but in Bodie, it seems anything could happen.

Contact John R. Beyer at BeyersByways@gmail.com.