Big Bear, CA
I quiet mountain community full of back country adventure.
John H. Galey
John H. Galey (February 4, 1840 – April 12, 1918) was a pioneering American prospector, mineral developer, and oil industry innovator whose career spanned the Pennsylvania oil boom, various western mining ventures, and major contributions to early petroleum exploration across the United States.
Early Life and Oil Pioneering
Born in Armstrong County, Pennsylvania (some records specify near Clarion), Galey entered the emerging oil industry shortly after Edwin Drake’s famous 1859 well near Titusville revolutionized petroleum extraction. Described by contemporaries and later publications like The Oil and Gas Journal as one of the “boldest of the early prospectors,” Galey was a persistent, fearless, and original thinker who initiated numerous ventures.
He reportedly drilled one of the first successful oil wells in the Pennsylvania fields around 1865. His expertise in locating and developing oil properties grew through the Pennsylvania boom, where he identified productive wells near Titusville and other areas. Galey also ventured into California during the post-Civil War gold mining era, appearing in photographs from San Francisco in those years. By the late 19th century, he formed a long-term partnership with Colonel James M. Guffey under the firm Guffey & Galey (later expanded), focusing on oil fields in Pennsylvania, Kansas, and Texas. This partnership applied anticline theory practically to oil prospecting for the first time in many cases, leading to significant discoveries.
Galey’s most famous later achievement came in partnership with Guffey and others when they backed the drilling of the Spindletop gusher near Beaumont, Texas, in 1901. This massive blowout produced tens of thousands of barrels per day and laid the foundation for the modern Gulf Oil Corporation, marking one of the greatest oil strikes in history.
Role in Cochise County, Arizona
In the early 1880s, amid the silver mining frenzy sparked by the Tombstone strikes (discovered in 1877–1879), Galey shifted focus to Arizona Territory. Drawn by reports of rich mineral deposits in southeastern Arizona, he prospected in the Chiricahua Mountains of what became Cochise County (organized February 1, 1881, from eastern Pima County).
In 1880, Galey discovered promising silver-lead ore deposits on the eastern slopes of the Chiricahuas, near Turkey Creek. He acquired claims, including one he named the Texas Mine (possibly reflecting optimism, irony, or prior ties to Texas ventures). Securing financial backing, he developed the property and laid out a townsite to support mining operations. The settlement, named Galeyville in his honor, emerged as a boom camp with saloons, stores, boarding houses, and a post office established on January 6, 1881.
Galey organized the Texas Consolidated Mining and Smelting Company (or similar entity) to operate the Texas Mine and process ore. He reportedly sold at least one claim or interest for a substantial sum (accounts vary, with one citing $100,000 to a buyer named Wessels in October 1880). Infrastructure included a smelter, though ore proved limited in extent and richness.
Galeyville peaked briefly in 1881–1882 with several hundred residents and a rough reputation, partly due to its remote location attracting outlaws like Curly Bill Brocius and Johnny Ringo (associated with the “Cowboys” near Tombstone). Historical sources emphasize Galey’s primary interest was underground mineral wealth rather than surface lawlessness; he likely viewed the camp as a practical supply hub for his operations.
The venture proved short-lived. The high-grade silver veins depleted rapidly, profitability declined, and most residents departed by late 1882. The post office closed May 31, 1882, and Galeyville faded into a ghost town. Galey moved on, returning to oil pursuits with Guffey & Galey.
Later Life and Legacy
After Arizona, Galey continued oil development, including ventures in Oklahoma (early 1900s), Mexico (Tampico area around 1911), and New Mexico. He remained active into old age, respected for his role in America’s petroleum expansion.
Galey died in Joplin, Missouri, on April 12, 1918, at age 78. His legacy endures in oil history through Spindletop and early fields, and in Arizona lore via Galeyville—a classic example of a transient frontier mining camp. Though the town’s outlaw myths have overshadowed details, records portray Galey as a driven prospector who briefly transplanted his mineral expertise from eastern oil fields to the silver hills of Cochise County.
Horace Austin Warner Tabor
Horace Austin Warner Tabor (1830–1899), often called “Haw” Tabor or the “Silver King,” was one of the most iconic figures of Colorado’s mining era. His dramatic rise from a modest prospector and merchant to one of the wealthiest men in the state—and his eventual fall—epitomizes the boom-and-bust nature of the American West. Tabor’s greatest success and lasting legacy are tied to Leadville, Colorado, where his investments sparked the Colorado Silver Boom.
Born on November 26, 1830, in Holland, Vermont, to a family of stonecutters, Tabor learned the trade as a young man. In 1855, he moved to Kansas, where he farmed and briefly served in the Topeka legislature. He married Augusta Pierce in 1857, and in 1859, drawn by the Pike’s Peak Gold Rush, the couple (with their young son Maxey) headed to Colorado Territory. They prospected and ran supply stores in various camps, including areas near present-day Idaho Springs, Buckskin Joe, and California Gulch (near Oro City). Augusta often managed boarding houses or shops while Horace mined or traded goods.
After years of modest success in gold placer mining, the Tabors settled in the high-altitude area around California Gulch by the mid-1870s. In 1877, Horace became postmaster, and the family moved into Leadville (then still developing from Oro City). Tabor helped incorporate the town, served as its first mayor in 1878, and helped tame its rough reputation by hiring lawman Mart Duggan to curb violence. He also ran a general store and continued grubstaking (providing supplies to prospectors in exchange for a share of any future profits).
Tabor’s fortune changed dramatically in 1878. Two prospectors, August Rische and George Hook (sometimes described as German immigrants), approached him for credit on supplies. Tabor agreed, grubstaking them for about $54–$60 in goods in exchange for a one-third interest in their claim on Fryer Hill. On May 3, 1878, they struck a massive silver vein in the Little Pittsburg Mine. This discovery ignited the Leadville silver boom, transforming the area into a major mining center and making Tabor enormously wealthy almost overnight. His share from the Little Pittsburg alone brought him millions (equivalent to tens of millions today), and he quickly sold interests for substantial sums.
Tabor reinvested aggressively, acquiring stakes in other rich mines like the Chrysotile and the famous Matchless Mine (which became symbolic of his empire). He expanded into mines across Colorado (including Aspen, Cripple Creek, and the San Juan Mountains) and beyond. By the early 1880s, his wealth peaked at around $9 million or more. He moved his family to Denver, built the opulent Tabor Grand Opera House (opened in 1881), invested in railroads, banks, and real estate, and entered politics as Colorado’s lieutenant governor (1879–1883) and briefly as a U.S. Senator in 1883.
In Leadville, Tabor’s influence was profound: his bonanza mines fueled explosive growth, turning a rough camp into a bustling city with newspapers, banks, an opera house (the Tabor Opera House, which he funded), and infrastructure. He is credited with helping name the town “Leadville” due to its lead-silver carbonates.
Tabor’s personal life added scandal to his legend. In the early 1880s, he began a relationship with Elizabeth McCourt (known as “Baby Doe”), a beautiful divorcée. He divorced Augusta in 1882 (amid controversy) and married Baby Doe in a lavish Washington, D.C., ceremony attended by President Chester A. Arthur. The affair and divorce became tabloid sensations.
The end came with the repeal of the Sherman Silver Purchase Act in 1893, which crashed silver prices during the Panic of 1893. Tabor’s silver-based fortune evaporated. He lost most assets, including mines, and died in poverty on April 10, 1899, in Denver from appendicitis. On his deathbed, he reportedly urged Baby Doe to “hold on to the Matchless” mine, believing silver would rebound. Baby Doe lived reclusively at the Matchless until her death in 1935.
Horace Tabor’s story—rags to riches to rags—lives on through historic sites in Leadville (the Tabor Home, Tabor Opera House, and Matchless Mine), literature, and the opera The Ballad of Baby Doe. He remains a symbol of the wild optimism, risk, and volatility of Colorado’s silver mining frontier.
Bodie Fire June 23, 1932
The Fire of June 23, 1932, stands as one of the most devastating events in the history of Bodie, California, the once-thriving gold-mining boomtown in the eastern Sierra Nevada mountains. By the early 1930s, Bodie had long passed its peak; what had been a bustling community of nearly 10,000 people in the late 1870s had dwindled to just a few hundred residents amid declining mining operations, economic hardship during the Great Depression, and earlier damage from a major fire in 1892. The town retained only a fraction of its original approximately 2,000 structures, but it still featured a Main Street lined with wooden buildings, saloons, hotels, stores, a bank, and a schoolhouse.
The Outbreak of the Fire
On June 23, 1932—the last day of school for the remaining children in Bodie—a small but fateful act ignited catastrophe. Nearly 3-year-old Bill Godward (often called “Billy” or later nicknamed “Bodie Bill”), the son of local residents, was disappointed after a school party served only red Jell-O instead of the ice cream he craved. In a moment of childish frustration and mischief, he left the school, went home (while his parents were away at work), obtained matches, and proceeded to a vacant wooden building or shed behind the Sawdust Corner saloon.
There, Bill started a small fire—likely out of boredom or play—that quickly spread due to the dry conditions, high winds typical of the high-desert environment, and the abundance of wooden structures packed closely together. The blaze erupted in the afternoon, with the camp fire bell soon ringing out an alarm across the town.
Resident accounts, such as one from Margaret Bennett in a surviving letter, describe the chaos: she had just hosted a birthday party for her daughter at the schoolhouse when the alarm sounded. She rushed to help salvage valuables (including moving important papers to a bank vault), loaded cars with belongings, and drove them to safety along Main Street as flames raged. Firefighting efforts were severely hampered; water pipes from the reservoir on Bodie Bluff were clogged with sediment, forcing residents to form bucket brigades from a nearby creek. Assistance arrived from about 40 men of the Bridgeport fire department, but the wind-driven fire spread rapidly.
Destruction and Immediate Aftermath
The fire consumed a massive portion of what remained of Bodie—estimates range from about 70 percent to as high as 95 percent of the standing buildings. It destroyed most of Main Street, including key commercial structures such as the bank, hotels, stores, and saloons. Only a small core of buildings survived, largely because the wind eventually shifted direction, sparing sections on the outskirts.
The loss was catastrophic for the already struggling community. With mining long in decline (and officially ending a decade later in 1942), the fire removed much of the remaining infrastructure and economic viability. Few residents stayed long-term afterward; many left, accelerating Bodie’s transition into a near-ghost town. Salvage efforts focused on saving personal belongings and whatever could be carried away, but the town never rebuilt significantly.
Long-Term Consequences and Legacy
The 1932 fire was the final major blow that defined Bodie’s appearance today. It left roughly 5–10 percent of the original structures standing—about 100 or so buildings, including the schoolhouse, Methodist church, firehouse, and various homes and businesses—frozen in a state of abandonment.
By the 1940s, Bodie was essentially deserted. In 1962, the California State Parks system acquired the site, designating it a State Historic Park and National Historic Landmark. It is preserved in a policy of “arrested decay,” meaning structures are stabilized but not restored, maintaining the authentic, weathered look left by the fire and decades of exposure. Today, Bodie attracts visitors as one of America’s best-preserved ghost towns, with the ruins serving as a poignant reminder of the boom-and-bust cycles of the American West.
The 1932 fire, sparked by a toddler’s innocent (if reckless) play, sealed the fate of a town already fading into history, ensuring that what visitors see now is a direct legacy of that June day.
Colonel Sherman Stevens
Colonel Sherman Stevens (1810–1887) was a prominent 19th-century American entrepreneur, miner, and businessman whose ventures significantly supported the booming silver mining operations at Cerro Gordo, one of California’s most productive silver-lead mining districts in the Inyo Mountains during the 1870s.
https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/236034222/sherman-stevens/
Born in New York and raised in Michigan, Stevens initially built wealth through banking, mining, and other enterprises in the Midwest. He later ventured westward, drawn by opportunities in California’s mining frontiers. Often addressed as “Colonel” (a title likely honorary or militia-related, common in the era for prominent figures), he became known for his resourceful and ambitious character.
In the early 1870s, the Cerro Gordo Mines—discovered in 1865 and peaking in production after 1869 under figures like Victor Beaudry and Mortimer Belshaw—faced a critical challenge. The surrounding region had been stripped of local timber and wood resources, which were essential for two main purposes: structural timbers to shore up mine shafts and tunnels, and charcoal to fuel smelters that refined silver-lead ores. Without affordable fuel and supports, operations risked slowing or halting, threatening the prosperity of Cerro Gordo, nearby Swansea, and Darwin.
Recognizing a lucrative niche, Stevens saw greater profit in supplying the mines rather than mining silver directly. In June 1873, he founded the Inyo Lumber & Coal Company and established a major operation in Cottonwood Canyon (Creek) high in the Sierra Nevada Mountains (around 9,500 feet elevation), west of Owens Lake. He constructed a sawmill there to harvest pine timber. A sophisticated flume system transported the cut lumber down to the valley floor, connecting to the Los Angeles bullion road.
The wood served dual roles:
- Much became mine timbers and building materials hauled to Cerro Gordo.
- The remainder was processed into charcoal in large adobe Cottonwood Charcoal Kilns (near present-day Cartago, California). These kilns, now a California Historical Landmark (#537), converted the wood efficiently for smelter use.
The charcoal was transported to Stevens’ Wharf on Owens Lake, loaded onto the steamer Bessie Brady (one of the lake’s iconic vessels), ferried across the water, and then wagon-freighted up the steep haul road to Cerro Gordo. This supply chain kept the mines operational during their peak years, when Cerro Gordo produced immense wealth (contributing to the growth of Los Angeles as a shipping and commercial hub).
Stevens invested heavily—by 1877, he had spent around $64,500 (a substantial sum)—building infrastructure including the mill, flume, kilns, and transport network. His enterprise supplied fuel and timber to Cerro Gordo’s smelters and shafts, sustaining production when local resources were exhausted.
His success was tied to the mining boom’s duration. When Cerro Gordo and Darwin declined sharply by around 1878 (due to falling ore grades, water issues, and market shifts), demand collapsed. Stevens lost nearly his entire fortune in the bust.
He passed away in 1887. Today, remnants like the Cottonwood Charcoal Kilns preserve his legacy, commemorating how entrepreneurs like Stevens enabled remote mining camps to thrive in the harsh desert environment of the Owens Valley and Inyo Mountains.
Stevens exemplified the opportunistic spirit of the American West—shifting from direct mining to infrastructure support for greater stability and profit, while ultimately sharing the risks of boom-and-bust cycles.
Panamint City California – Inyo County Ghost Town
Panamint City is one of the most legendary ghost towns in the Panamint Range of Death Valley National Park, California. Perched high in Surprise Canyon at an elevation of around 6,000–6,500 feet (about 1,800–2,000 m), it was once a notorious silver boomtown known for its lawlessness, rapid rise, and swift decline. Today, the site lies in a remote, rugged wilderness area within the park (though some remnants are on private inholdings or patented claims).
Historical Background and Founding (1872–1873)
The story of Panamint City begins in late 1872 amid the chaotic aftermath of earlier California gold and silver rushes. Prospectors William L. Kennedy, Robert Polk Stewart, and Richard C. Jacobs (some accounts name them as William Ledlie Kennedy et al.) were searching for the fabled Lost Gunsight Mine (a legendary lost gold deposit tied to early Death Valley lore) when they stumbled upon rich silver outcrops in Surprise Canyon. The canyon’s isolation had long made it a favorite hideout for outlaws evading law enforcement after stagecoach robberies and other crimes.
When the prospectors returned to stake formal claims, a gang of six bandits (who had followed them) forced a partnership to share in the profits—despite the outlaws being wanted for crimes like robbing a Wells Fargo stage of $12,000. This unlikely alliance marked the birth of the Panamint Mining District, officially formed in February 1873. Ore samples sent to Los Angeles attracted attention, and word spread quickly.
Boom Period (1873–1875)
The real boom ignited when Nevada’s “Silver Senators”—John P. Jones and William M. Stewart (prominent Comstock Lode investors)—learned of the discoveries. They organized the Panamint Mining Company with $2 million in capital stock and bought up major claims, injecting serious investment. By late 1874, Panamint City exploded into a full-fledged town:
- Population peaked at around 1,500–2,000 residents, including miners, merchants, saloonkeepers, prostitutes, gamblers, and outlaws.
- The main street stretched nearly one mile up the narrow canyon, lined with wooden buildings: hotels, restaurants, stores, assay offices, two banks, a post office, and the Panamint News newspaper.
- Saloons and a red-light district thrived, contributing to the town’s reputation as one of the “toughest, rawest, most hard-boiled little hellholes” in the West.
- Lawlessness was rampant—reports claim over 50 murders in the first few years, with shootouts, claim-jumping, and vigilante justice common. Wells Fargo refused to operate a stage line due to the banditry; instead, bullion was cast into heavy 400-pound cubes to deter theft during transport.
- Key mines included the Wyoming Mine, Wonder Mine, and others producing high-grade silver ore (some assays showed values in the thousands of dollars per ton), along with copper and lesser gold.
The town even inspired ambitious infrastructure plans, such as Senator Jones’ short-lived railroad project from Santa Monica (which never fully materialized beyond initial segments).
Decline and Abandonment (1875–1877)
The bust came as quickly as the boom. By late 1875, the richest surface and near-surface ore bodies in the major mines began depleting rapidly. Veins pinched out or became too low-grade to process profitably with 1870s technology. Investors pulled out, and production plummeted.
A catastrophic flash flood in 1876 roared down Surprise Canyon, washing away much of the lower town, destroying buildings, roads, and equipment. This disaster accelerated the exodus. By 1877, major operations shut down entirely, and Panamint City was largely abandoned. Scavengers and a few holdouts lingered briefly, but the population evaporated within months.
Later History and Remnants
The site is protected; visitors must hike and plan trips carefully (flash flood risk remains high). Sporadic small-scale prospecting occurred in the early 20th century, but nothing revived the town. The area saw renewed minor activity during later Panamint Range booms (e.g., gold at nearby Skidoo in 1905–1917), but Panamint City itself remained a ghost town.
In the mid-20th century, some structures were salvaged or burned; flash floods continued to erode the site.
Today, within Death Valley National Park (established 1994, expanded to include the Panamint Range), remnants include:
- Foundation stones and walls of former buildings.
- Mine adits, shafts, and tailings piles.
- The old smelter stack base and scattered artifacts.
Panamint City exemplifies the classic Western mining boom-bust cycle: fueled by rich silver discoveries, hyped by big investors, plagued by lawlessness and isolation, and doomed by ore depletion and natural disaster. Its brief, violent heyday left an enduring legend in Death Valley lore—one of outlaws turning prospectors, senators chasing silver, and a canyon that swallowed a town almost as fast as it rose.
Panamint Town Summary
| Name | Panamint |
| Location | Inyo County |
| Latitude, Longitude | 36.1182827, -117.0953327 |
| GNIS | 1661185 |
| Elevation | 6,300 Feet |
| Newspaper | Panamint News ( 1874-1875 ) |