TOURING THE VULTURE MINE

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Meet some ghosts and find out how risky striking it rich can be, even with a bonanza like the one discovered near Wickenburg.

Featured in the September 1999 Issue of Arizona Highways

The Hanging Tree at the Vulture Mine was used to execute 18 miners for stealing gold and other crimes.
The Hanging Tree at the Vulture Mine was used to execute 18 miners for stealing gold and other crimes.
BY: CARRIE M. MINER

THE GRIM COST OF STRIKING IT RICH Vulture Mine

The legendary Vulture Mine offers a glimpse of a vanished era, the chance to meet some ghosts, and an object lesson in the pitfalls of digging a fortune out of the ground. Sitting just outside Wickenburg, which is located 58 miles northwest of Phoenix, the mine was the center of a community that in its heyday reached a population of 5,000. Its ore first discovered in 1861, the Vulture became the highest-yielding gold mine in Arizona. But it never paid off for its investors or its discoverer, Henry Wickenburg, who ended his life on the bank of the Hassayampa River with a bullet in his head and pennies in his pocket.

The mine changed hands several times due to theft, the lack of reliable water, and a series of financial scandals and setbacks before closing for good in 1942. Now a popular tourist attraction, the mine lures visitors from nearby Wickenburg, which was named for the hapless Henry.

The mine's self-guided tour begins at the Vulture's Roost, a wood-framed building that houses a collection of mining memorabilia and ore samples from the Vulture and the surrounding area. Here, a visitor pays an admission fee and in return receives a “treasure map” of the town once known as Vulture City.

The first stop on the main street is the assay office and manager's headquarters, one of the town's most complete remaining buildings. The structure's walls were built using lowgrade ore and are said to contain an estimated $600,000 in gold and silver. Visitors can't enter the assay office itself but they can wander through other sections of the building, including the bullion storage room, where gold and silver bars once lay in an underground vault.

Remnants from long ago litter the ground floor of the building's living quarters: an old Brunswick turntable, a Singer sewing machine, a table and chairs, and even an assortment of tattered clothes and shoes. Sitting on the sill of an open window, antique bottles festooned with cobwebs glitter with reflected sunlight. Those who brave the steep flight of wooden stairs find themselves in the bedroom, where an old metal cot lies in need of a mattress. The eerie buckling of metal in the wind and the creaking of the floor make it easy to believe the ghost of one of the long-gone miners might creep up behind you at any moment.

The tour loops around to the stamp mill, where the ore was crushed, and to the head-frame, the tower above the mine shaft. Both loom over the remains of the white quartz butte that first attracted Henry Wickenburg to the area.

The tour continues past a pit that originated in 1923 when some miners chip-ping ore out of the rock walls cut into support pillars and brought down 100 feet of rock on their stunned heads. Other miners dubbed the resulting depression the Glory Hole because seven of their com-panions and 12 burros were "sent on to glory" in the incident.

Not far from the Glory Hole, the main shaft of the Vulture Mine drops to a depth of 2,100 feet at a perfect 35 percent incline. A concrete slab at the entrance marks the place where Henry Wickenburg first made his strike.

WHEN YOU GO

To reach the Vulture Mine from Wickenburg, take U.S. Route 60 west out of town 2.5 miles to Vulture Mine Road. Turn south and travel 12 miles to the mine property entrance on the right. The mine's hours are: spring and summer, Friday through Sunday, 8 A.M. to 4 P.M.; fall and winter, Thursday through Monday, 8 A.M. to 4 P.M. Admission is $5, adults; $4, ages six to 12. The tour is not recommended for children under six. For more information, write 36610 N. 355th Ave., Wickenburg, AZ 85390; call the cellular phone, 1-(602) 859-2743; or contact www.jpc-training.com/vulture.htm online. For general information, contact the Wickenburg Chamber of Commerce, (520) 684-5479.

Miners eventually removed $200 million in gold from the bonanza, and perhaps as much disappeared into the pockets of "high-grading" miners, supervisors, and freighters. Jacob Waltz, who supposedly found then misplaced the Lost Dutchman's mine, worked at the Vulture for several years. Some stories hold that his famous "find" actually originated from the common practice of stealing the Vulture's rich resources.

The wooden headframe rises over the entrance of the main shaft. Its opening is partially boarded to protect visitors, but one can still peer into the dark tunnel, where bats drop from the rafters to flutter uneasily at the echo of human voices. The blacksmith shop sits next to the main shaft, as if waiting for operations to resume.

South of the blacksmith shop, a road leads to the ball mill, where steel balls crushed rubble and low-grade ore for the cyanide-leaching process used in the later years of the mine's production. The cyanide storage room, with its heavily barred windows, and the ball mill sit at the far end of the town, overlooking the white-encrusted leaching pits.

From there the trail loops back to its beginning, past the mine's tailings, Henry Wickenburg's original home, and the in-famous Hanging Tree, where 18 miners lost their lives for the crimes of rape, mur-der, and theft.

Another group of buildings served as bunkhouses, a jail, hotels, and even apart-ments as the mining community's needs changed. Visitors also can tour the old mess hall with its cast-iron stove, wooden ice chest, and assortment of pans, dishes, and canisters.

Although it's not on the tour map, the original schoolhouse on the other side of the town is open to the public. A second schoolhouse, built later to accommodate the growing town, is now used for storage. Outside the schoolhouses, wooden picnic tables, the remains of two wooden teeter-totters, and a dilapidated slide and swing set provide mute evidence of a live-lier time.

Today Vulture City houses mainly rattle-snakes, lizards, and hints of an occasional ghost. But perhaps the Vulture's doors may once again open to the flow of gold, as local lore holds that most of the mine's rich resources still lie untouched. Overhead, vultures soar on the thermals as a reminder of the potential loss to those who seek them.