A Brief History: Summarized from
the Full and Accurate Account
Bodie: "The Mines Are Looking
Well ..." By Michael H. Piatt
Bodie consisted of scattered placer diggings, prospect
holes, and cabins when J. Ross Browne sketched the
district in 1864. Not until the Bunker Hill Mine caved
and exposed valuable ore would industrial-scale mining,
begun in 1876, spawn bullion shipments and stock dividends
that turned Bodie into a gold mining sensation. (The
Bodie Bluff Mines. Courtesy, American Antiquarian
Society)
In 1859 four
prospectors
discovered gold in a shallow California valley north
of Mono Lake, where tales of riches had drawn them from
their homes in the Mother Lode region. Joined by other gold
hunters they mined briefly, until an unexpected November
blizzard overtook the remote mining outpost and killed one
of the discoverers. W.S. Body's wintry death gave the diggings
its name. The spelling changed when a painter in the nearest
town lettered a sign "Bodie Stables," and area
residents thought it looked so much better than other phonetic
variations that by 1862 "Bodie" had become the
district's accepted name.1
Several financially backed companies acquired claims at
Bodie, but by 1868 they had abandoned their mines along
with the district's first two stamp mills.
Bleak terrain and meager returns prevented even the glimmer
of gold from attracting much interest, and Bodie District
languished for the next seven years, yielding only enough
yellow metal to tempt a few hopeful prospectors and sustain
a scattering of destitute miners. Some steadfast inhabitants
washed placer gravel, while the most hearty drove tunnels
or sunk shafts to follow low-grade quartz veins into the
earth. Then in 1875, a mine called the Bunker Hill caved,
exposing an ore body that attracted San Francisco speculators.
One group of capitalists purchased the claim and organized
a company that set up industrial-scale mining. Their gamble
paid off. The Standard Company produced $784,523 in gold
and silver bullion during 1877 and rewarded stockholders
with four consecutive monthly dividends.
Fantastic yields prompted the Standard Company to
build this 20-stamp mill in mid-1877. Cordwood stacked
at right produced steam that powered the mill's ore-crushing
machinery. Sixteen years later, fuel costs and declining
ore values inspired the Standard to convert its mill
to electric power. The mill burned down in 1898, but
was replaced by the Standard mill that survives as
a prominent feature at Bodie SHP. (Harry M. Gorham
collection. Courtesy, California Historical Society,
San Francisco)
The company's good luck sent shock waves through the mining
world and attracted hundreds of fortune seekers. The newcomers
built a scruffy, ramshackle town while distant speculators
organized companies and sold stock to eager investors. Two
bonanza veins in the Bodie Mine, followed by the discovery
of the incredibly rich Fortuna Lode and the vast Main Standard
Ledge, convinced stockholders and hopeful arrivals that
opportunity awaited. Based on overoptimistic reporting,
everybody believed that Bodie's ore sprang from a colossal
vein, similar to the Comstock's Big Bonanza. This lode,
experts theorized, stretched two miles from Bodie Bluff,
passed through High Peak and Silver Hill, then pinched out
somewhere below Queen Bee Hill. Although most Bodie mines
had yet to produce profitable ore, investors from San Francisco
to New York City poured money into companies that spent
with abandon to reach greater depths. By late 1878, twenty-two
mines sported expensive steam-powered hoisting machinery
to bring riches to the surface, and the booming town's startup
newspaper cried: "Ho for Bodie!"2
The Syndicate mill crushed 1,000 tons of bonanza ore
from the Bodie Mine in 1878, yielding an incredible
$601,103 in one month. The results sent a thrill through
the mining world. The 20-stamp Syndicate mill, first
of Bodie's nine original stamp mills, is seen in 1903
with owner Warren Loose and wife. (Courtesy, Robert
T. Bell)
Brash, Bold, Godless, Gold Town
People
of all descriptions poured in to Bodie, each hoping to find
a fortune. Their excitement gave rise to one of the West's
wildest boomtowns, earning the nascent community a reputation
for frontier violence that rivaled Tombstone, Deadwood,
and Dodge City. "Saloons and gambling hells abound,"
reported San Francisco's Daily Alta California in
June 1879. "There are at least sixty saloons in the
place and not a single church."3
Two
crowded stagecoaches halt on boomtown Bodie's bustling
Main Street in 1880. "The
stages come in loaded with passengers and go out loaded
with bullion," reported the Daily Bodie Standard
in February 1880. At the height of excitement in July,
the Bodie Standard-News remarked, "the
population, although estimated, is about 8,000."
(Courtesy, California State Library)
Tall tales about "The Bad Man
from Bodie" entertained readers nationwide, while seemingly
daily stories of stagecoach holdups, shootouts, saloon brawls
and other forms of deadly mayhem almost eclipsed reports
of developments in the mines. "Goodbye, God; we are
going to Bodie ..." was the bedtime prayer of a sweet
little San Jose 3-year-old after she learned her family
was moving to Bodie. An annoyed Bodie editor retorted that
the girl had been misquoted. What she really said was "GOOD.
By God we are going to Bodie ..."4 Miners,
tradesmen, businessmen, wives and others, some desperate,
all hopeful, flooded into the booming town until mid-1880,
when residents estimated the population had grown to 7,000
or 8,000 and Main Street stretched more than a mile.5
Bodie also boasted a brass band, two banks, a Chinatown
and a red-light district.
The Founder
Has His Day
Bodie's
confirmed status as a gold-producing community inspired its
historically-minded citizens to wonder about the unfortunate
prospector who had succumbed in a snowstorm some 20 years
earlier and become the town's namesake. They located his shallow
grave and dug up his bones. One area pioneer said the remains
were those of W.S. Body from Poughkeepsie, N.Y., but a former partner said he was William S. Bodey. The New York Times printed "Waterman." Historic records, however, say his name was really WAKEMAN S. BODY (sometimes spelled "Bodey").
Despite
uncertainty, citizens organized
a grand funeral procession and formally interred the bones
in the town cemetery. But they failed to mark the new grave
and quickly forgot its location.