Alice in Bisbeeland

There are moments for a new resident of this town to feel as if one has taken residence in a permanent "Burning Man" community, and last Saturday night was a hint of such a feeling. Alice in Bisbeeland is a sort of street party/community happening where everyone dresses as characters from Lewis Carroll's classic books. I had

been downtown earlier in the day and seen more than a few Mad Hatters, but once it got dark Jayne and I ventured out for a real nocturnal stroll through Brewery Gulch to observe the festivities. It was a light crowd, to be sure, gathering to dance to a DJ set up across from St. Elmo's bar, but they lacked nothing in enthusiasm. We sat on the porch of the Bisbee Brewery and watched for about an hour. The lights, the music, and entire ambiance was fun and made me wish I had the energy to stay awake past 9:30 pm. Alas, as an old Dormouse, I am one sleepy character and we tottered home at a reasonable hour. Last evening we entertained "friends of friends" who are planning to move from Montana to Bisbee. Lisa and Owen are delightful people, and we hope they are successful in their bid to become future citizens of "Bisbeeland."

The Hopes of Holes

There is something quite visceral in the feeling one gets living in a town that has had its bowels excavated for more than a century. My friends from Butte will understand this declaration since they, too, live with a giant man-made pit that swallowed sections of their city, but here in Bisbee

the evidence of forlorn prospector hopes pockmark the south mountain side of this canyon with dozens of abandoned “glory holes.” We live across the street from the Catholic cathedral, St. Patrick's, which was constructed in 1917 with the helpful donation of mine owner Thomas Higgins. A stipulation of his gift demanded the new church face the Higgins “diggins” which, of course, did not pay out

as well as Thomas might have hoped. His excavated dream joined dozens of others on that mountainside to bear testimony today to the optimism and folly of mining speculation in Bisbee. It is an interesting physical legacy that, while scarring the natural landscape, has become a natural a part of the view as all the brush that has grown up to replace the clear cutting done to provide fuel for nineteenth century smelting operations. Time may not heal all wounds, but it does lend a softening aspect to these mining scars.

Cut 'em off at the pass!

Although Bisbee remains the seat of Cochise County and supports an impressive array of county government buildings, the city itself is still a semi-ghost town. Not all of the homes are occupied, and probably less than half of the business locations are active. What homes that have been recently renovated seem more likely to be vacation rentals than residences. However, there is an interesting community here that we are slowly getting to know. The other day I applied for a library card and offered to volunteer in the local history museum archives, both places that hold promise to meet interesting people.

I begin each day with a walk that I am slowly lengthening. The last two mornings have been almost cold, requiring a sweatshirt as I pant my way up this canyon for a mile before starting back down. The road I follow snakes its way up Tombstone Canyon towards Mule Pass, the main entryway to this town from the west. I have noted a lot of interesting homes in these upper canyon reaches, but it was not until yesterday that I had the opportunity to follow the Divide Road all the way to the pass and beyond.

My friend Steve suggested we take a drive in his truck to follow that road up to the radio towers at the highest peaks of the Mule Mountains, about seven thousand feet. Not only was the drive spectacular, what Steve showed me next was quite interesting.

Near the top of the mountain we parked and hiked down a rocky road to a series of steps leading to a hermit’s home built from the opening of an abandoned mine. The front doors of this place were behind a wire cage, perhaps constructed to keep out wild animals or wilder humans bent on destruction.

Inside one could see a carefully constructed wooden floor and a wooden overhang with skylights! There was even a television mount on the roof of the mine's living room. To think the fellow who constructed this hideaway had to haul all the material by hand down to the mine adit is incredible, as was the evidence of the amenities the guy left behind.

After our inspection we drove back down, but not before I took a pretty good picture of our town from the mountaintop. The tunnel underneath the divide pass is visible in the lower right; Old Town Bisbee is in the center, and beyond the edge of the Lavender Pit in the upper left of the photo can be seen the neighborhood of Warren.

"I'll take Manhattan . . . " Observations of a Miniature City

New York City is actually a conglomeration of five “boroughs” that collectively make up the urban landscape: Manhattan, Queens, Brooklyn, Staten Island, and the Bronx. Over the years the residents of each borough have identified their own as the most desirable and semi-seriously denigrated the amenities of the other four. One thing every New Yorker can agree on, though, is that Manhattan is the most expensive and lively of the five, with its skyscrapers, Broadway theater area, financial district and, of course, beautiful Central Park.

Bisbee, too, is a city made up of five boroughs: Old Bisbee, Lowell, Warren, San Jose, and Naco. Technically, Naco is a separate town, but it comes down at the end of the long, drawn out sprawl that starts at the top of the Mule Mountain Pass, flows past the giant Lavender Pit, and down to the border with Mexico. We live in Old Bisbee, the Manhattan of this miniature Gotham, where the major commercial development occurred in the early twentieth century and peaked around the 1920s.

This is the main tourist draw, with the colorful storefronts and a winding main street. Jewelry stores, art studios, antique shops, and other businesses are positioned between restaurants and bars, all of which spring to life on the weekends when the tourists plan their visits. We will in future posts elaborate on how this section of the town strikes us.

Lowell is Staten Island, a strange isolated single street of mostly abandoned businesses just on the other side of the Pit. It is mostly owned by one person, and its most famous destination is the Bisbee Breakfast Club.

Next comes Warren, the Brooklyn section of Bisbee where most working people live and the location of a vintage baseball park, a lumber/hardware store, the Dairy Queen, and the little Copper Queen Hospital which advertises it is certified “stroke ready.” (I hope I never have to test that boast.)

San Jose is the Queens section, a sprawling area of older homes interspersed with a couple of small strip malls, a fairly modern Safeway store, and the Ace Hardware franchise.

The Bronx, which has a reputation of being somewhat rough among New Yorkers, finds its parallel with Naco, a small community that straddles the border and looks like the gateway to a concentration camp thanks to the razor-wire decorations mandated by our insane president.

New Beginnings

This blog originally began as a record of our trips to Australia, but I quickly added other countries as we had the opportunity to visit them during my career at Montana State University. Now the direction of these entries will change again as I attempt to describe our retirement and decision to move from Bozeman to Bisbee, Arizona.

I have been unemployed since February 28, my last day as the University Archivist for MSU. I spent the waning hours of my last day at a local pub where I was joined by my co-workers Gary and Heather, friends, and well wishers. It was a delightful exit from my job.

My withdrawal from academic life coincided with some of the worst winter weather we have had the misfortune to endure during our near twenty-five year residence in Montana. From what we have heard, it was bad in Arizona, too, but I spent the first few days of my retirement scarcely leaving our little Bozeman cottage as the snow piled up more than three feet. Since we had put the cottage on the market, we were extremely worried about roof collapses and massive ice dams that would lead to water damage to the inside walls. This meant getting up on the roof with snow shovel in hand to risk life and limb to protect property.

If the weather made our decision to leave easier, the kind and loving gestures of our good friends during our last days in Bozeman made us question our resolution to relocate. We were the guests of so many farewell dinners and get-togethers that I shall not attempt to list everyone, lest anyone be accidentally omitted. Suffice to say the many farewells we were offered were heartfelt and appreciated, and a few photographs illustrate the many festivities.

We rented a truck with an automobile trailer on March 22 and began our drive south. Aside from a little rain in Salt Lake City the drive was uneventful, primarily because we had planned on driving through the Utah megalopolis on Sunday morning to avoid the worst of that area’s notorious traffic jams. We arrived in Bisbee on March 25 and immediately took residence, unloading the truck the following day with the help of local hired labor. Now we slowly unpack and plan for the future, which will include periodic updates on this blog. Stay tuned!