The Vulture Mine Revisited

RICH, WILD & TRAGIC VULTURE MINE REVISITED

Nestled in a range of dry desert hills just 15 miles from Wickenburg, Arizona, is the ghost mining camp of Vulture and its fabled namesake, the Vulture Mine.

Once the site of one of the most fabulous gold strikes in Central Arizona, today its bones lie scattered and forelorn in the unyielding desert sun.

But like most good ghosts, the Vulture has all the ingredients for the making of a fascinating tale, from high drama to tragic death. Even its famous discoverer, Henry Wickenburg, became part of its legendary intrigue.

A native of Austria, where he had had a run-in with the law for illegally selling coal, young Henry fled to America and took his first job as a mule team driver. Though there are several versions of the Vulture's discovery, Henry relayed his personal report in an interview published in the Florida Press of Wickenburg and reprinted in the Arizona Miner, June 6, 1868.

In it he told how he and a companion made the lonely, frustrating search through the vast unexplored regions of the Territory. They spent months of endless walking and probing the hostile hills in hopes of finding their fortunes. Finally, the companion took ill and decided to remain in camp, leaving the young Austrian to scout alone. After another futile expedition, a dispirited and exhausted Henry stopped to rest. As he looked around he noticed an unusual outcropping caught by the rays of the sun. He continued studying the form until he realized it was streaked with pure gold! Overwhelmed, he raced back to camp. His skeptical partner listened to the outlandish tale and then announced, "As soon as I'm feelin' better, I'm gittin' out of this god-forsaken country."

Henry soon returned to the spot to post his claim. Knowing he would be unable to operate the mine by himself, he spread the word that anyone could work his claim as long as they paid him $15 for every ton of ore removed.

A poignant still life of a long ago yesterday, when the Vulture was hailed as the 'Comstock of Arizona.' Community room in the assay office building. Bob Bradshaw So the story of Henry Wickenburg and his fantastic discovery reverberated throughout the Territory. And the schemers and dreamers were on their way!

But the promise of instant riches was riddled with hazards. Miners were plagued by the scarcity of water, isolation from food and supply routes, marauding gangs who preyed on gold shipments, and Pinal and Tonto Apaches who raided camps and stole horses and livestock. An observer at the Vulture expressed his fears in a local paper: "No man feels safe half a mile outside the settlement. Twenty-three of my own personal acquaintances have been killed, stripped and mangled by the Indians during the past year."

At one point Apache harassment reached such proportions that guards were needed to protect the ore and supply teams using the lonely mine roads. A Vulture superintendent even wrote Gen. George H. Thomas pleading for protection. Men had been killed, he said, and if the government didn't help soon, the mine would be forced to close, a move that would severely jeopardize the economy of the area.

Even with protection at hand there would always be the problem of obtaining plentiful water and food supplies. Most of the goods were hauled in from Ehrenberg or Prescott, though Southern California was the main source of supply. Pima Indians on the Gila River raised a superior quality of wheat and they, too, often traded with miners and townsfolk.

As for water, the Hassayampa River provided the miners' lifeline. The Indians had called it "smooth running river" and each day Vulture pack mules, horses, or oxen would laboriously haul tons of rough ore ten miles east across the desert to the arrastras crude ore crushing devices on its banks. Each day they would return with barrels filled with thousands of gallons of water to be used for mine operations.

Despite the grinding labor and burdensome costs the Vulture began producing sizeable returns. By 1865 it had over 400 arrastras and was yielding $5000 weekly in gold. At the end of 1868 reports showed it had produced $254,110 in less than a year. By 1870 the Vulture employed over 150 men and was producing more than half of all the gold in Arizona.

During its high yield years, in the latter part of the 19th century, officials estimated that the Vulture returned between $6 and $16 million. It was no wonder that Territorial Governor Richard McCormick had so boldly declared, "It is one of the richest, most extensive and remarkable deposits of gold quartz upon the continent the Comstock of Arizona."

Unfortunately, Henry Wickenburg never did see much of that fortune. Through an ill-fated deal he sold four-fifths of his interest in the Vulture for $85,000 to Benjamin Phelps of New York City. Wickenburg received $20,000 down payment but spent that money in a futile attempt to collect the $65,000 still due. Disgusted with mining he turned to farming the fertile banks of the Hassayampa where an even worse fate awaited.

In the meantime, extravagant predictions for Vulture wealth were beginning to pale in light of certain harsh realities: operating costs were rising dramatically. Hauling was now $8.00 a ton; wood for fuel delivered to the mine cost $8.00 a cord and milling was $2.12. Out of necessity, to keep profit margins high, officials decided that only top grade ore should be processed. Poorer grades were piled in a dump said to contain over 160,000 tons of gold quartz. During one period, Vulture managers even planned to import steam engines from Scotland to help reduce hauling costs.

Then in 1871 miners struck an extremely rich vein. By October 14, Vulture officials excitedly reported that the mine was producing from $2000 to $5000 in gold each day! With optimism high they began plans for a railroad to operate between the mine and mill. It was a short-lived dream. Soon after, miners hit water at the 310-foot level. The Vulture faced economic disaster.

With several others, Mine Superintendent B. Sexton sought new capital to solve the problems and to keep the Vulture solvent. But the effort was useless. With the national economy of 1873 in flux, the already heavily indebted mine was forced to close.

During the next five years the Vulture's fate would dip and soar at the same speed as its feathered namesake. On one occasion a group of English investors offered to purchase the mine and finance the railroad idea. Another group wanted to work the ore dumps. Most of the ingenious schemes never saw the light of day.

By 1878 George Treadwell, a mining broker and director of the Commercial Bank of San Francisco, had arranged to have Eastern investors purchase various Vulture claims. One of the principal investment firms was Seymour, Hunt and Company, a New York Stock Exchange member. Seymour formed a corporation named Central Arizona Mining Company and ballyhooed their glamorous new stock as a fantastic buy at $100 par value.

The Vulture, said Seymour, would bring in huge revenues, particularly now that the Southern Pacific Company was building a railroad across southern Arizona, just 50 miles from the mine. In addition, they promised an 80-stamp mill and 15 miles of brand new water pipe laid right to the Hassayampa. James Cusenberry was placed in charge as superintendent.

It was their first big mistake. Like so many of his free spending predecessors Cusenberry embarked on lavish construction and improvement projects. He built new living quarters and offices. He added new equipment. He ordered a "walking beam" engine and great quantities of other machinery. Apparently, he was quite unconcerned with the cost or labor involved in his schemes. The machinery, for example, had to be hauled piece by piece from California, first in deepwater vessels from San Francisco to the Gulf of Cali-fornia, then on sternwheelers up the Colorado River and, finally, on huge wagons 100 miles across the desert a journey of two months.

Although at the onset Central Arizona Company was realizing about $1000 a day, the nation's mining publications began to question the Vulture's business practices. With pressure mounting Cusenberry was fired, only to be replaced by others reportedly more incompetent.

After a series of drastic fluctuations, the mine faced serious trouble, again. Central Arizona Company directors tried to calm investors' nerves by explaining that the mine had suffered a five mile washout of pipe and a bad cave-in. But it was hopeless. By 1883 the Vulture saw its final year of high yields, and, though it produced some $210,000, backers got nothing.

"It is one of the richest, most extensive and remarkable deposits of gold quartz upon the continent - the Comstock of Arizona."

In 1887 Colorado's silver mining king H. A. W. Tabor, took an interest in the Vulture. An experienced investor and speculator, he sought to lure a group of European industrialists, known as the Kaiser Gold Mining Company, into putting the mine back on a paying basis. To obtain a professional on-site inspection, they sent their own engineer, James Morrish of Cornwall, England. After months of effort Morrish told the Kaiser people to save their money. "The Vulture," he said, "is ravaged by thievery, inefficiency, and a severe lack of reserves." Undoubtedly, he had observed not only the embezzling by upper level bosses, but the large scale pilfering by miners who took off with thousands of dollars worth of gold nuggets in pants legs, lunch buckets and saddlebags.

Faced once again with insolvency, Tabor leased the mine and was then relieved of it by the Territory of Arizona for nonpayment of taxes. Through clever maneuvering he regained title and in 1896 offered it for sale on the London market for $1,800,000. The Vulture had no takers and was sold at a sheriff's sale in 1897. When the mine recaptured some of its former glory it was for a brief period prior to World War I. After the war, United Verde Extension, Rawhide Douglas, and Ernest Dickie and John C. Lincoln would try their luck. But none was ever very successful. World War II intervened and Government Order L-208, fixing the price of gold, closed down the mine for good.

Throughout its existence the Vulture had captured the imagination - and dollars of free wheeling speculators and fast dealing businessmen hoping for a quick profit. But it was really the hundreds of common laborers who were the backbone of the mine's fantastic wealth.

The Mexican miners-men like Ortiz, Gonzales, Arriola - comprised the bulk of the labor force for mines in this area. Often looked upon as the odd strangers with swarthy complexions and unintelligible language, they were relegated to the most menial chores, such as coal stoking and wood cutting. At the Vulture one diarist noted, "Mexican miners can be had from $30 to $50 per month with room and board; American miners command from $40 to $60 with board. Naturally, as the fortunes of the mine diminished, many of these lower echelon workers looked for jobs elsewhere. Some became hay cutters to supply the needs of hundreds of dray animals. A few, like Miguel Peralta, fared better. He operated a freight company out of Wickenburg and later became a prospering Phoenix businessman. In spite of discrimination which forbade their owning or developing properties, the Mexican left his mark. Wickenburg newspapers of the day often commented on the noticeable Mexican atmosphere of the town and told of the many baptisms, weddings, picnics and dias de santos or saints days, as they were called.

Chinese coolie labor also was part of the Vulture mining camp scene. The Chinese most often did domestic chores and served miners' meals, although they too performed much of the backbreaking digging and building.

In 1890 dozens of nameless Chinese laborers drowned when the Walnut Grove dam burst and the waters it had held raged through river camps and fertile farmlands along the Hassayampa. It was this terrible disaster that not only destroyed more than 90 lives and countless homes and animals but dealt a cruel blow to old Henry Wickenburg. The farm and pasturelands he had so patiently cultivated were inundated with rock and debris. Wickenburg never fully recovered from the shock of that flood and in 1905, at the age of 85, he put a gun to his head.

Despite the hardships and staggering problems that beset the small mining community, many individuals fought the odds and went on to become some of Arizona's leading personalities. Michael and Joseph Goldwater had operated a store, hotel and feedlot in the area. They were instrumental in saving the Vulture from default by supplying much needed credit.

Jack Swilling, a partner of Henry Wickenburg, had developed the Swilling Irrigation Canal Company, which was one of the prime factors in the founding of Phoenix. Swilling had early recognized the need for hay at the mine and surrounding military posts and had collected $10,000 and 15 men to explore the valley to the southeast. Swilling's exploitation of ancient Indian canals paid off handsomely and made Valley agriculture viable.

Bryan P. D. “Darrell” Duppa, another Vulture emigre, made his name famous by baptizing the little farm community “Phoenix.” George H. N. Luhrs was a blacksmith and wheelwright who later moved his trade to the Valley and became a leading citizen of Phoenix.

Socially, life at the Vulture during the 1920s and '30s was very much patterned after any small town: picnics, weddings, special neighborhood gettogethers. The mess hall offered meals to the men on shifts and also served the community as a small general store. A one-room cabin was schoolhouse and an 87,000 gallon water tank became the town swimming hole for miners' children. Medical care had to be obtained in the big city of Wickenburg, as were supplies and a Sunday brand of religion. Most Vulture residents lived in simple frame dwellings, and many raised small animals or tended gardens to supplement their needs.

It wasn't until the Great Depression that the character of the community noticeably changed. People recall hundreds of transient individuals and families who put up temporary shelters and tents along roadways waiting, hoping that some type of work would become available. Others just staked a claim and waited patiently for their luck to turn.

But they were left with only the brilliant Arizona sunset about all the gold that's left at the old Vulture.

Editor's Note: Vulture Mine is about a 1/2 hour drive from Phoenix. Take either U.S. 60 (Grand Ave.) or Interstate 17 to Bell Road. Sign for the Vulture is on the main road about 4 miles from the center of Wickenburg. Open Sept. 15-May 11, 9 to 5 p.m. 7 days a week; May 16-Sept. 14, 9 to 5 p.m., Thursday thru Sunday. Picnic tables, barbecue, camping, trailer parking available. Inquire about gold panning. Admission.