Lore - Legends 36: Strike it Rich
Episode Date: September 16, 2024Legends 36: Strike It Rich Few human characteristics generate more legends than our greed and corruption. So it should be no surprise that entire towns built on those principles are often filled with ...ghosts. Narrated and produced by Aaron Mahnke, with writing by Alex Robinson, and research by Alex Robinson and Cassandra de Alba. ————————— Sponsors: Quince: Premium European clothing and accessories for 50% to 80% less than similar brands, at Quince.com/LORE for free shipping on your order and 365-day returns. Acorns: Acorns helps you automatically save & invest for your future. Head to Acorns.com/LORE to sign up for Acorns to start saving and investing for your future today! ————————— Lore Resources: Episode Music: lorepodcast.com/music Episode Sources: lorepodcast.com/sources All the shows from Grim & Mild: www.grimandmild.com Â
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Welcome to Lore Legends, a subset of lore episodes that explore the strange tales we whisper in the dark, even if they can't always be proven by the history books.
So if you're ready, let's begin.
They were part of the California Gold Rush. Starting in 1849, pioneers from all
over the country picked up and moved out west. Just the hope of digging up a few nuggets was enough to convince them to upend their
entire lives.
In October of 1849, the San Joaquin Company made a dangerous decision on their way to
the promised land.
Instead of wintering in Salt Lake City, they would brave crossing the Sierra Nevada mountains
during the coming winter.
Except the peaks of the Sierra Nevada were not where you wanted to be when a blizzard
rolled in.
It went well at first, but it was slow going and everyone was getting frustrated.
That is until a young newcomer rode up, claiming to know a different, faster route.
The company's official guide said no.
The traveling had worn them down.
They were exhausted and, even more importantly, eager to make it to the gold-dusted hills
of California.
So in the end, 27 of the original 107 wagons hitched their hopes on this new path.
It was the worst mistake they could have ever made.
They ended up in a desert
valley and several men from their company died before ever making it out. Those who
survived were severely malnourished, including an eight-year-old boy who lost so much weight
that he left as light as a three-year-old. And their tragedy gave the location the name
that it has today. Death Valley. America loves a get rich quick scheme. It's what we were founded
on after all, discovering a faster trade route, finding a shortcut to wealth. Even today, most of
us want to get rich fast and we would do anything to make it happen. But history reminds us of what
happens when we make moves only motivated by our own gain. Some strike it rich, but even more go-home empty-handed, and a lot of folks end up getting
hurt along the way.
The trouble is, rot tends to spread throughout the foundations of any town established on
the basis of greed, and eventually, the ground gives way and everyone—the mine owner, the
miners, and innocent bystanders alike, all
fall through.
I'm Aaron Manke, and this is Lore Legends. Nestled in a canyon only eight miles outside of Mexico is the Arizona town of Bisbee.
Now like a lot of small towns, this one didn't start out that way.
While it was never the busiest slice of civilization out west, it still boasted a population of
25,000 inhabitants at its peak in 1910.
And for a town in Arizona, that was pretty good, about an eighth of the state's total
population at the time.
Silver and gold were both found in the surrounding hills, but the real gem of the valley was
copper.
Bisbee built itself on copper mining, and I mean that literally.
It's actually estimated that Bisbee sits on top of over 2,000 miles of mining tunnels.
Now, despite the town's prosperous growth, life out there wasn't peaceful.
Of course, it came with all the usual struggles of surviving in a new desert settlement with
limited resources.
But the biggest issue was that the riches buried deep in the canyons of the Mule Mountains
attracted all different kinds of people, and some of them had no problem making life harder for everyone else.
Over the years, Bisbee became a town defined by the struggle between the haves and the
have-nots.
Those with power used it absolutely, and those without it suffered because of it.
One example took place just after World War I, when police officers incited a riot when
they attacked a group
of visiting black servicemen.
One white witness said that the police intentionally antagonized the men so that they would have
an excuse to shoot.
In the end, five were injured, and Bisbee became known as one of the most discriminatory
settlements out west.
As late as 1929, the town was still being called the last stand of the white miner.
Amidst all the chaos, though, a new hotel opened in 1902.
But it was just a symptom of all of Bisbee's problems.
You see, the Copper Queen Hotel wasn't for your everyday miners, bartenders, and sex workers.
It catered to the upper crust.
Only tourists, investors, and those with deep pockets were permitted to have a room there.
It all seems a bit counterintuitive in a town like Bisbee, where most of the residents had
more dust in their pockets than dollars.
But the town wanted a new attraction to draw in the big spenders.
And it worked.
Throughout its lifetime, the four-story mission-style hotel hosted some of the most well-known names
in American history.
Celebrities from the likes of Harry Houdini to Julia Roberts have checked into the Copper
Queen.
And rumor has it John Wayne once even threw Lee Marvin out one of the hotel's windows.
All of those guests eventually checked out, whether or not they left the hotel a little
worse for wear.
But there are some guests who were never able to leave.
And if you visit the Copper Queen Hotel today, you might just get a chance to meet them.
You see, for over 50 years now, the hotel has kept a guest log at the front desk.
And for just as long, its guests have been filling up that book with their paranormal
experiences.
People have seen doors and windows open on their own, felt mysterious cold spots, and
heard footsteps walking up and down the hallways.
Some have even heard voices from unseen mouths calling their names.
But what the Copper Queen is best known for is full-body apparitions.
That is, ghost sightings.
Some of these ghosts have been identified as past employees.
Rose sits in the lobby and watches guests go in and out,
while Howard, said to be a front desk clerk from the 1910s,
likes to make sure the current front desk clerks
are doing their jobs up to his standards.
Many others, though, never worked in the hotel.
Room 315, for example, is called the Julia Room,
named after its permanent resident, Julia Lowell.
The most popular version of her tragic tale is that she was a sex worker back in the 1920s,
although there is some dispute about whether that's truth or legend.
Another version of Julia's story claims that she was actually the daughter of the hotel's
owner.
But downtrodden sex worker or princess of the Copper Queen, her story has the same ending.
She is said to have taken her own life in that very room that she now haunts.
In the cause of her suicide, she had fallen in love with a man who rejected her, and unable
to stand the heartache, she ended everything.
It's said that her ghost only appears to men.
She has been seen sitting at the foot of their beds or even whispering into their ears.
Men who have stayed in room 315 have had their blankets ripped off them in the middle of
the night, while others have reported seeing her dancing provocatively, taking off her
ghostly clothes.
Guests have reported smelling cheap perfume, and some employees have reported hearing a
female voice whisper, don't trust men.
And to be honest, if the ghost known as Julia had been traumatized by men in her life, then
her message is a wise one.
But it's also safe to say that many of the women in Brisbane were preyed upon by men
while they lived there.
The town, after all, did not attract the most upstanding people.
Wealthy men took advantage of the miners in their quest for riches.
Law enforcement kept everyone under their heel, and women
were a commodity to be used and discarded until all that was left of them was a whisper.
Don't trust men, their voices say.
Don't trust any of the men.
In Brisbane. They were there to renovate.
In 1996, a crew came in to do some work in the infamous Palace Saloon in Prescott, Arizona.
It had long since fallen into disrepair, but at one point it was the beating heart of Arizona's
very first capital.
The Palace Saloon is actually the oldest bar in the state.
Well, technically the territory.
That's because Arizona wasn't even a state when the saloon opened its classic swinging
doors.
There are some debates over when it was constructed.
Most historians agree that it opened in 1883, but the Palace Saloon itself disagrees, touting
its motto, serving Arizona's toughest customers since 1877.
Now, toughest customers may be a bit of a stretch, but there's no denying that some rough folks made
their way through town. Like most early Arizona settlements, Prescott was a mining town, and that
attracted a colorful crew. Cowboys, miners, and sex workers
all converged at the bar after a hard day's work. Even some of the biggest names in the Wild West
like Doc Holliday and Big Nose Kate all drank at the palace. It was certainly a popular watering
hole, but nothing can stay shiny forever even if it's built on top of gold mines. You see, one of the many hazards of living in a hastily built town made entirely out
of wood was, you guessed it, fire.
Soon after opening, the palace saloon burned down, twice in fact, and they rebuilt it each
time.
In fact, there's a legend that during the second fire, the saloon's patrons physically
picked up the 24-foot-long bar and moved it
across the street, where they sat and drank while the flames engulfed the building.
The saloon was rebuilt for the last time in 1901, joining Prescott's famous Whiskey Row,
and apparently that iteration of the bar was a stunning piece of architecture, a standout
amongst the more rundown buildings on the same streets.
As time went on, though, its beauty faded and things started to fall apart.
So in 1996, the bar was sold to new management.
They gave it a facelift and returned it to its former glory.
They left a few things alone, though, like the bullet holes in the tin ceiling and that
original 24-foot-long bar.
But the construction also rustled up something new, ghosts.
It would seem that before they were disturbed,
the spirits of the palace saloon
were happy to remain a peaceful memory.
But now, there was so much paranormal activity
that the bar is considered
to be the most haunted building in town.
Liquor bottles, condiments, and even chairs
have been known to fly across the room as
if thrown by invisible hands.
Sometimes glasses will topple onto the floor from shelves only to land in one piece, and
conversely, sometimes patrons will report hearing shattering glass when nothing has
broken at all.
And employees say that the basement, which once served as both an opium den and a temporary
jail while the local prison was being renovated, has an oppressive energy that almost makes
it impossible to breathe.
One woman was even attacked while she was down there, coming back upstairs covered in
scratches left by unseen fingernails.
No one knows which spirit was the culprit for that incident, but even so, not all of
the ghosts haunting the Palace saloon are nameless, and one in particular has a tragic tale behind her haunting.
Local newspapers report that at 3 or 4 a.m. on August 28th of 1884, two lovers named Fred
and Jenny were drinking together at the Palace Saloon bar.
Jenny was a sex worker and Fred was a voracious gambler and opium addict.
Their professions and vices were quite common for Prescott, but what was about to happen
was not.
Some reports claim that on that night, Fred didn't defend Jenny from his friend's lewd
romantic advances, making her furious.
Others say that Jenny refused to lend Fred $100.
Whatever the reason, the result was the same.
Fred and Jenny started fighting in the middle
of the saloon, and Fred knocked Jenny down. She quickly scrambled behind the bar, throwing a
soda bottle at Fred to defend herself, but Fred started throwing glasses at her in return, hitting
her in the head. Jenny tried to flee, but Fred was too fast for her. One report wrote that he chased her to the door, tackling her and shouting,
Damn you.
Let's see you faint now and do it pretty.
There were plenty of patrons watching, but no one stepped in to help.
They all watched as Fred took his anger out on Jenny, kicking and beating her to death.
Fred was immediately arrested, and during the lead up to his trial, the media called
wildly for his lynching.
But Fred wasn't killed by the community.
After a day and a half trial, he was convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to hang.
Justice though was elusive.
His sentence was soon reduced to just 10 years of incarceration.
And then, only six years after killing Jenny, Fred was granted a pardon.
He left prison and was never heard from again.
Back in the saloon, it's said that Jenny's spirit still lingers on,
incensed by her ex-lover's escape from justice.
Patrons have seen her ghostly form standing on the staircase looking down at the bar.
In fact, many believe that she is the main ghost
responsible for throwing items all around the saloon.
Maybe just a way to express her anger, or perhaps a way to relive that deadly night,
looking for one more thing to throw at Fred.
The Palace Saloon has seen a lot of tragedy over the years, but the greatest tragedy will
always be the fact that life in Prescott was so harsh that the Palace Saloon's patrons preferred letting
another ghost be added to the place than to step in and save a life.
They called it the wickedest town in America, and it earned that title quickly, too.
Jerome, Arizona had only been around for about 20 years when that claim was seen in publications
all across the country in 1903.
Now, to be honest, it was a bit dramatic.
Jerome was a mining town, after all, and a lot like all the other mining towns in Arizona.
Men pulled long, hard shifts in one of the world's largest copper mines, and then they
spent their wages at the local bars.
You know the drill.
But its residents definitely leaned into the work hard, play hard philosophy.
Compared to a lot of other miners, they had relatively large paychecks, and they spent
them liberally on gambling, alcohol, and women.
Heck, there were more brothels than churches in town.
But it was the best escapism that most of them could find.
They were all worked to the point of bone-deep exhaustion, and oftentimes to the point of
death.
The miners were treated as expendable.
They were underappreciated, overworked, and surrounded by misery at every turn.
So they lost themselves in whatever coping mechanisms they could find.
And yet, despite its party town reputation, Jerome was still a difficult place to live,
and it was an even harder place to stay alive.
In the late 19th century, four major fires hit the town.
Epidemics of typhoid fever, smallpox, and the Spanish flu all decimated its population,
and the miners were also prone to lung cancer, tuberculosis, and silicosis after years of
breathing dust underground, day after day.
But if, by chance, the fires or fever didn't put you into an early grave, the town had
other ways of getting to you.
Jerome's medical records show that a significant portion of deaths were caused by murders and
mining accidents, and most tragically of all, a high number of suicides.
And the numbers tell a horrifying story.
The United Verde Hospital is estimated to have lost about 9,000 patients in the 24 years
it was in operation, from 1927 to 1950.
That number is still debated by some, but if it's close to the truth, then for a town
that never exceeded 15,000 people, that is a lot of death.
After the mines were shut down, the population declined rapidly, and soon there was no one
left in Jerome for the hospital to take care of.
Then again, plenty of the patients never truly checked out.
In 1994, after decades of lying empty, the hospital was converted into a hotel.
To this day, the Jerome Grand Hotel looms over the town, hosting people from all across
America who want to see what's left of the wild, wild west.
And of course, the ghosts that come along with it.
When the hotel first opened with a limited number of room, guests heard disembodied voices
and what they believed to be a hospital gurney
rattling up and down the hallway. And as it expanded, paranormal incidents just became more
and more frequent in the place. The third floor gets the most reports of ghostly activity. Guests
and employees alike have seen and heard a young boy running and giggling through the hall. And
terrifyingly, he will sometimes appear at the foot of guests' beds. But most people can deal with a kid, even a creepy uninvited one. Fewer
folks, though, have been as okay with the bearded man who coughs and wheezes his way around their
bedrooms. Throughout the rest of the hotel, old hospital personnel have been spotted wandering
about. A spirit in a nurse's uniform,
as well as a man in a long lab coat with a clipboard,
have both regularly appeared.
One spectral woman in a white gown
frequently appears at the foot of some beds,
wagging her finger at them.
And the former patients are active too.
Some of the most widely reported sounds
are coughing, sneezing, and heavy breathing.
And a few of the hallways still smell exactly like a hospital, a scent which is often accompanied
by that rattling gurney sound.
But the single most haunted room in the Jerome Grand Hotel is room 32.
It's believed to be the location of not one, but two suicides.
The first was a minor who had been confined to a wheelchair after a terrible
accident. It was seen as a death sentence in a town like Jerome because he could never
work in the mines again to support himself or his family, and it would be next to impossible
for him to transport himself across the dusty desert ground. Seeing no other option, he
took himself out onto the balcony and he was gone.
The second man, though, wasn't a miner.
He was a mining executive.
After years of suffering through health issues, the news that he may need more surgeries apparently
broke him.
He ended up putting a gun to his head, and just like that, he too was gone, although
his lingering spirit has been seen by many guests who have found his appearance to be
too gruesome to describe.
Tragedy, it seems, could come for anyone in Jerome, a patient or a doctor, a miner or an executive. But whether killed by illness, accident, or dark despair, one thing was certain.
In the end, Jerome would always have the final word.
They paid a heavy price for their ambition.
Arizona's mining towns were not kind to their residents, and the residents weren't particularly nice to each other. Although Jerome wasn't
unique in that way, it was just another town full of desperate people who had
found more suffering than gold. But no matter how hard life got in Jerome, they
all still searched for that elusive wealth hiding somewhere deep underground,
and those who found it didn't use it for good.
The mining executives of Jerome, you see, were the ones who really struck it rich.
And as long as their pockets stayed lined with gold, they were more than happy to keep
everyone else down.
In 1902, a newspaper reported,
"...there is an undercurrent of discontent at Jerome.
Between employer and employee, it is an open secret there.
And it's not surprising. They constantly laid workers off, deported hardworking immigrants,
and perhaps worst of all, did absolutely nothing to protect their workers. In fact, Jerome's
mine had one of the highest mortality rates in all of Arizona. And that was intentional.
The higher-ups realized paying for the long-term care of injured minors cut into their profits,
which to them was unacceptable.
And so their severely injured employees rarely got to stay in the hospital as long as they
needed.
More often than not, they were thrown back out onto the street before fully recovering
and died there of neglect.
Human lives meant very little in the wake of money.
While the Jerome Grand Hotel is not the only part of town that's haunted, it's believed
to host more spirits than any other building in town.
That hospital-turned hotel is where the consequences of extreme greed played out and lives were
lost.
Still, the Jerome Grand Hotel may play host to some of the town's most tragic stories,
but it also provides a home for small moments of goodness.
You see, one of the hotel's most active ghosts isn't a mining executive or a murdered employee.
No, it's actually a cat.
This ghost cat has been heard meowing and scratching at doors all up and down the third
floor.
Guests have reported feeling its ghostly fur brush
against their legs as the cat rubs against them.
And even more remarkably,
some have reported feeling it snuggle up to them in bed
as they sleep.
No one knows who the cat was or who it belonged to,
but it's nice to think that it's the ghost of a cat
who purposely visited dying patients in the hospital.
Maybe it brought comfort to scared children and grieving widows.
Or perhaps it delivered a brief moment of joy to those who needed it most. The mining that took place in the Wild West has gifted us with a number of powerful images.
Those dusty saloons, deadly mines, and dangerous communities have become part of our pop culture,
from Tombstone and the Wild Bunch to Blazing Saddles and Back to the Future 3.
So I hope our tour through Arizona today helped us see these popular ideas come to life.
But don't worry, we have one last story to share with you.
Stick around through this brief sponsor break to hear all about it.
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On the morning of March 9th of 1888, Cy Gribble stepped out of the mill office clutching a
heavy black satchel.
Cy was the superintendent of the Tabor Mill at the Vulture Mine, which was no small feat.
After all, Vulture was one of Arizona's most successful gold mines.
In its 80 years of operation, the mine generated upwards of $300 million, and Cy Gribble here
was one of the few who ran the day-to-day operations.
But Cy wasn't just a superintendent.
That day, he was also an errand boy.
And this wasn't going to be some quick trip down to the market either.
No, it was going to be much riskier than that.
You see, Vulture Mine and its nearest town, Wickenburg, were considered under threat of
attack by the local Apache tribe, who, for good reason, were considered under threat of attack by the local Apache
tribe who, for good reason, weren't too fond of the white intruders.
If you were alone out in the desert, you were as good as a sitting duck.
And if you were carrying gold with you, then you were also at risk of another kind of danger.
The Highwaymen.
And unfortunately for Cy that day, there was a 40-pound gold bar in his satchel, which
meant that he was a walking target.
He knew this, of course.
For decades, anyone transporting goods or gold to and from town had been accompanied
by other men for protection.
It was just common sense.
So to transport that gold bar to the Phoenix Wells Fargo, he took a coach with two others.
A man named Johnny Johnson drove the coach and Charlie Doolittle rode beside them
on his horse and all three of the men were heavily armed.
It wouldn't be enough though.
Partway through their trip,
they were ambushed by highway robbers.
It was sudden too, hidden in the dense underbrush,
the bandits shot at the travelers
before they could even be spotted.
Johnny was killed instantly.
Charlie was knocked off his horse
but managed to get off a couple of shots before he died, and Cy was shot five times,
leaving him dead, like the others. Afterward, the three robbers searched the dead bodies,
took the gold, and then fled the scene. What followed next was a chase straight out of an
old western film. Other travelers soon found the corpses, and that set the local sheriff onto the murderer's
trail.
Meanwhile, the thieves tried to chop the heavy gold bar into three pieces, but they failed.
After it became clear that they would have to kill each other if they wanted the gold,
two of the men ran off into the desert, never to be heard from again.
But the last robber, a man named Valenzuela, took off with the gold, determined to outrun
the law.
Valenzuela probably could have made it too, but he steered his horse through a patch of
quicksand.
The poor animal wasn't able to escape, so he was forced to flee on foot after that.
The delay gave law enforcement enough time to catch up with him, but his trail went cold
at a construction camp.
The sheriff asked the camp if they had seen a shifty-looking man come through, and suddenly one of the workers took off like a shot, running for
the edge of the camp. It was Valenzuela. Before he could get too far, though, he was taken
down. Reports say that he was struck by no fewer than 20 bullets. The gold was recovered,
and justice, or rather what passed as justice in the Wild West, was finally served.
This episode of Lord Legends was produced by me, Aaron Manke, with writing by Alex Robinson
and research by Alex Robinson and research by Alex
Robinson and Cassandra de Alba.
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