Historic Oatman, Arizona

Just before Halloween, my family and I decided to take a drive to historic Oatman, an old mining town located in the Black Mountains of Arizona. Since it was October and because I heard it was haunted, I thought it would be an appropriate place to go for a taste of history and perhaps, to spot a wandering spirit or two that are said to be found in the Old Oatman Hotel. Oatman is only about an hour away southeast of Laughlin, Nevada. In its prime, the town had about 30 mines in the area which lured as much as 10,000 people to live and work there. Today, Oatman has only about 200 residents who mostly work in the town, catering to the tourists. These locals keep what's left of the town from turning into one of many true ghost towns found around the southwest. Some call it a ghost town while others call it a tourist attraction. I would say that this is a ghost town that refuses to die.

The west can be intriguing with it rich history and folklore that is perpetuated by the many movies we have all seen. Ghost towns remind us of those times long ago when many of us weren't even born. And so my folks, husband and I got into our car and drove the Boundary Cone Road to Old 66, for a day trip to Oatman. As a passenger, I leaned back in my seat and studied the dry, seemingly barren, desert landscape. My imagination kicked in and soon I began to see ghostly visions of pioneers, wagon trains, Butterfield stage coaches, indians on horseback and especially, the hard-driven prospectors dotting the rocky hillsides - one at time - while our modern day vehicle trespassed their territory. I could only imagine what it was like to ride the rocky, dusty desert by wagon or horse. My eyes scanned the hillsides looking for old abandoned mines, imagining miners pulling their pack mules or burros up to mining sites in search of gold or silver.

Oatman started out as small tent town over a hundred years ago called Vivian, after the Vivian Mining Company. The name was later changed in 1910 to Oatman in honor of Olive Oatman, a young girl who was kidnapped by Apache indians. The story about the Oatman family massacre and kidnappings is well known in this area. Thanks to books and the Internet, we can learn about some of the people that lived on this land as early as 1850. And towns like Oatman help to immortalize their stories of disasters, struggles, triumphs, and other historical contributions to our western heritage. I have included a few of the websites I used for this travelogue.

Upon arriving to Oatman, parking became a slight problem. It seemed October was a good time of year for many to get out while the temperatures were down from the blistering 100's we endured all summer long. Cars, buses, and RV's lined the outskirts of town at both ends of the main street. Visitors flocked aimlessly from one store to another in search of a good souvenir. Cameras captured images of the worn down structures in and around the town. This is no ghost town by a long shot. I saw homes on the hillside and a thriving community of stores and eateries. There is even a post office and a volunteer fire department. The chill in the air felt good as we meandered passed several burros who looked hungry and bored. I grinned immediately, fascinated at the way they roamed the street, among the tourists, looking for food. One baby burro napped by his mother while adoring crowds petted them and took pictures. The burros took the attention in stride as they are now accustomed to the daily routine.

I watched some tourists as they fed carrots to one of the burros, and realized they were Germans. It dawned on me just how popular this small town has become when it has international visitors here to get a taste of the old west. I looked around and saw many other foreigners delight in the simple pleasures of shopping, photography and sight-seeing. I also saw that Oatman now has stables for those that would enjoy a horse ride around in the scenic area. Shops filled with crafts, souvenirs, and refreshments awaited the throngs of curious visitors who wanted to learn about this old mining town. After a bit of shopping, we ate at one of the restaurants. I wasn't impressed with the food I ate there but perhaps I was just unlucky for there are several places that offer cold drinks and simple fare like hamburgers, hot dogs and sandwiches. Sometimes there is live country music but not today, least not while we were there.

After we ate, we walked over to the Oatman Hotel's bar and restaurant that's always full of hungry customers. Inside this popular establishment, I saw many tourists gazing at the multitude of autographed one dollar bills covering the walls and ceiling. I walked around the public areas of the hotel to look for any ghosts that are rumored to be there but did not see or hear anything of the paranormal. I had read accounts of the room where Clark Gable and Carole Lombard stayed and how their spirits are still heard whispering and laughing even today. According to my web sources, there is a ghost called "Oatie", often referred to as a friendly poltergeist who gets blamed for many unexplained occurrences have been witnessed by the hotel's employees and guests. I regretted not seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary while I was there. The most I experienced was a mild case of the shivers. No one can stay at the Oatman Hotel anymore, but it still well worth a visit.

Before leaving town, we stopped long enough to witness a "Wild West" shootout in the middle of the Old 66 main street. There was plenty of action, laughs and gun-shooting to entertain everyone there. We cheered and clapped as outlaws tried to rob the local Wells Fargo office. Dressed in period costumes, the entertainment was provided by local re-enactment groups such as the Oatman Ghostriders (gunfighters) and the Jezebels (saloon girls) who added much to the charm of this historical town. They perform often and even pose for photographs for a small donation that goes to local charities.

As a finale to a great day trip, the drive home through the desert was picturesque as the sun began to set. The sunset sky was painted by hues of red, yellow, purple, and blue. The jagged Nevada mountains turned black against the horizon as we made our way back toward the casino lights of Laughlin, where my folks live. We are blessed to witness such celestial beauty here in the southwest.

As my family chatted while we traveled, thoughts of yesteryear still lingered in my mind. I thought about sexy saloon girls dancing and honky tonk piano playing in one of Oatman's many saloons of long ago. I imagined the miners brawling and gambling after a long day of hard monotonous labor at the mine. Looking out at the darkening desert landscape, I envisioned settlers moving to the area accompanied by families, hoping to eek out a better life after a long arduous wagon trip across the country. The Old West. What a time that must have been. My mind yearned to learn more of what took place back then. Oatman must have been an exciting town in it's day. Now it is known for its friendly burros. I smiled and made it point to return again one day to Oatman, the not-so-ghost town.

Perhaps next time, I may get to witness Oatie's ghostly antics at the Oatman Hotel.