Searching for Ghosts in the Dark of Night

mining settlement, several of which serve as bleak backdrops to the ghosts said to roam about. One tragic tale chronicles a young Mexican girl who arrived at Vulture City with her father, Pedro Lucero, and her brothers in the late 1870s. Protective and fearful for his 14-year-old Sabrina, Pedro Lucero kept his daughter close, but unfortunately he wasn't able to keep her close enough.

One day Charles Stanton, the mine's former assayer, left a saloon drunk and came upon the girl as she made her way home after delivering dinner to family members working at the mine. No one knows exactly what happened, but there's no doubt that Stanton scared her with rude or indecent remarks.

Frightened, Sabrina fled to the safety of her father. But by the time the miners had assembled to exact revenge, the unruly Stanton had fled town. Eager to retaliate, Sabrina's 17-yearold brother, Vicente, pursued the man and shot him in the earlobe.

Although Sabrina survived that encounter with the wild side of the rough-and-tumble mining camp, she ended up one of its victims less than a year later.

Sabrina reportedly turned down 19-yearold Juan Ramos' proposal of marriage when he called on her at home. Infuriated by her rejection, he attacked her. She fought back, and in the struggle he ended up killing her with her father's hunting rifle.

Juan fled Vulture City, but was eventually tracked down and brought back to face frontier justice. Unwilling to wait for a trial, the Lucero men and their friends hanged the killer and buried him in a shallow unmarked grave on the outskirts of town. Sabrina was laid to rest in the town cemetery, but some say her spirit is just one of many that wander the desolate streets.

Henry Wickenburg's cabin stands near the Vulture's Roost as a testament to the feisty German immigrant who first discovered the rich quartz outcropping that led to the development of Wickenburg. The Vulture Mine, which became known as the richest gold claim in the Arizona Territory, changed hands several times due to theft (better known as "highgrading" or "Sunday mining"), the lack of a reliable water supply, and a series of financial scandals and setbacks before shutting down for good in 1942.

After Wickenburg sold four-fifths of the Vulture claim to Eastern

investors in 1865, his old stone and timber cabin was transformed into the city jailhouse. An old gnarled ironwood, known as The Hanging Tree, still stands in front of the cabin ruins. At least 18 former residents of Vulture City-including the love-struck Juan Ramos-met swift justice from the limbs of this tree, the only remaining one of its size to be found for miles.

Lost in my own musings, I leaned against the rough bark of the gray tree and gazed up at the late afternoon sky, wondering if this was the last view seen by murderers and rapists who were hanged from the sturdy limbs. Wispy clouds drifted overhead. Several branches, broken and bowed from their own weight, sagged toward the ground, split wood seamed with a spider's delicate web.

Unsettled, I took a few steps and walked under the wooden lintel of Wickenburg's cabin. Strangely, even though the frames of both doors remain, the stone walls and the roof have crumbled, littering the ground with stones and debris. After walking through this doorway of the dead, I stood and shivered, feeling uneasy and longing for the company of my living companions.

A short walk south of Wickenburg's homestead and The Hanging Tree, the road leads through downtown Vulture City where an odd assortment of buildings once accommodated the town's peak population of 5,000 residents. The wood-and-brick structures range from the late 1800s to the early 1900s and include bunkhouses, a jail, a few brothels, hotels, apartments and an old mess hall.

Both the former caretakers of the mine, Marge Osborne and her late husband, John, and the current custodians, Chris and Jackie Anderson, have reported ghostly activity in the old mess hall. With its original cast-iron stove, a wooden ice chest and clutter of old pans, plates and canisters, any former cooks would feel right at home. Perhaps that's why so many visitors have claimed to smell cake baking in the ancient kitchen, even though the stove hasn't been fired up for more than 60 years.

Several of us tramping around the ghost town on that wintry afternoon were sure we smelled a vanilla cake. Our invisible chef seemed to be having a good day.

After the sun dipped behind the horizon, we ambled back up to the ball mill, where steel balls were used to crush low-grade ore for the cyanide leaching process used in the mine's later years. The mill looms over the city on a small hill near the head frame, a wooden structure that provides access into the mine. Debe Branning, Maddie Herrick and Shiela McCurdy from MVD Ghostchasers claim to have recorded "otherwordly" activity in the ball mill during past excursions. Their research has led them to believe that a young boy working with heavy machinery had an accident and was decapitated by one of the engine's belts.

We wandered into the building, and immediately the ghost chasers' hand-held instruments-measuring things such as temperature, electronic fields and radiation-all began to indicate the presence of something. But not long after the "ghost" was pinpointed, it moved forcing the crew

to chase the unseen entity in a playful rendition of hide-and-seek. It seemed fun until our little imp decided to switch to tag.

Shiela, who was walking along the upper railing of the large machinery in search of unusual readings, suddenly stiffened and gasped. In a shaky voice, she shared her experience-a feeling that our mischievous ghostly acquaintance had passed through her. It didn't take us long to decide to move to another building.

John and Marge Osborne, caretakers of the property for 30 years, always shied away from telling ghost tales. But occasionally they could be persuaded to share some of their peculiar encounters-strange knockings and a few ghostly visitations.

Russ Hunting, another resident of the ghost town, helped the couple out in the early years by cleaning some of the buildings. Hunting reportedly heard voices from the past and made friends with Vulture City's ethereal inhabitants. When he passed away, his ashes were scattered near the assay office so that he could join his friends after death.

Perhaps Hunting's presence is why the assay office is known as a favored haunt of Vulture City's eerie residents. The assay office also happens to be one of the most intact of the old buildings in town. The ground floor of the manager's living headquarters still contains remnants from long ago. I lingered over an old Brunswick turn-table, a Singer sewing machine and tattered clothes hanging on the wall.

Finally, we braved the steep, rickety flight of stairs to the upstairs bedroom, where we stood listening to the night sounds of the deserted city. I'm in agreement with photographer Maack. Ghost stories always seem more powerful in the dark of the night-especially when your only company is creaking floorboards, slamming doors and whispers on the wind. Al

ARIZONA HIGHWAYS PHOTO WORKSHOPS: For ghost town photography buffs, Richard Maack, the magazine's photography editor, will lead two three-day photo workshops to ghost towns in March and October. For details and prices, call toll-free (888) 7907042, or see friendsofazhighways.com.

Biking to the Grand Canyon Starting Near Flagstaff, Modern Cyclists Retrace a Scenic 1897 Club Excursion

The announcement took up an entire page of the magazine: 4th Annual Run of the Coconino Cycling Club from Flagstaff, Arizona, to the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, September 7-11, '97.

Distance: the distance to the hotel at the canyon is about seventy miles. . . . Any good amateur rider can make the ride in from ten to twelve hours.

The The notice ran in the magof women than anything else in the world." year azine Land of Sunshine. A year later, a photograph of the Coconino was A biking craze swept Cycling Club shows 29 cyclists, 10 of whom 1897. through America in the are women in long skirts. late 1880s with the introAnother photograph, this one taken in duction of the "safety May 2003, shows six cyclists ready to ride. bicycle." With its smaller, equal-sized The design of bicycles has changed little wheels, the new bike replaced the tall in 100 years, though they now feature penny farthing from which riders found gears and onboard computers. But no long it all too easy to "take a header." skirts here. We three women are in shiny Safety bikes also allowed women to ride Lycra, the men in baggy shorts, and all of more easily while remaining modest, and us wear helmets. in 1896, Susan B. Anthony proclaimed the Our group will follow much of the same bicycle "has done more for the emancipation Flagstaff-Grand Canyon Stage Route.