It is quite scary how everything came together!
I didn't mean it this way, but my original plan fell through just three days before I left so I replaced it with a drive through Skull Valley, ending at the abandoned mining town of Mercur. Many consider the Mercur cemetery to be the most haunted in Utah. It wasn't until the day before that I realized I would be there on Halloween.
Now, as I make my little drive, more “coincidences” fall into place. The first happens as I scan the channels above 69 on my car's Sirius XM station. To my delight—or to my horror—I learn that channel 107 is Scream Radio and plays nonstop haunted music and stories. Everything on this channel sounds creepy—nails scraping on glass, laughter of a child doll, the scream of a woman. The music they play sounds like it came from A Nightmare on Elm Street or The Exorcist.
And to top it all off, due to falling behind in my schedule, I arrive at the parking lot of the Mercur Cemetery right at dusk. I can't really say it's a parking lot, but rather a small half-circle space off the side of the road at the bottom of a hollow surrounded on all sides by sage and rabbit brush. The small cemetery is located on a small hilltop to the south.
The town of Mercur not only had three lives, cycling from boom to bust, but was also burned to the ground twice. It all began in 1869 when a prospector stumbled on placer gold in the gravel of a creek bed. Claims were filed and by 1870 a village was growing with all the hustle and bustle of a typical mining town. It reached its peak in 1873 when over $80,000 worth of gold was shipped out. But soon the rich ore began to fade and by 1880 the buildings were dismantled and taken away, and the town was dead.
Within a decade it was revived after a lone European prospector discovered cinnabar, the chief ore mineral of mercury. Gold was also found in the cinnabar. In addition to the new finds there was now new technology—cyanide. This chemical compound was used to more thoroughly extract the gold. Mercur flourished, and even though it burned down in 1896, it was quickly rebuilt and grew to a population of 6,000.
The town burned again in 1902 after a grease fire from a kitchen spewed flames that spread and consumed the entire lower town, which included every business. Again it was rebuilt and grew to a population of 12,000 people. But by 1913 the mines stopped making a profit, and by 1917 the town was again deserted.
Merucur had one more life, which began in the 1930's. This one wasn't as lively as by now transportation improved so that no one had to live there. Instead, most commuted from Stockton or Tooele. Then, during World War Two, the government temporarily banned all gold mining, putting the final nail in the coffin. Since that time there has been virtually no trace of the old mining town of Mercur. That is, except the old cemetery.
As I walk up the short but steep trail that leads to the burial ground I feel sorry for the pallbearers who once had to haul a wooden box on their shoulders. As I get closer I can discern the distinct scent of smoke. Is it coming from somewhere else, or somewhere near the cemetery? There are no other cars down by the road and I am confident I am the only one here.
Upon cresting the hill I observe the tiny cemetery. White picket fences surround most of the graves. Most are the same size and clustered together. I notice that none of them have headstones and several are adorned with dolls or stuffed animals.
And then, on the far side of the graves, I find the remnants of a smoldering fire. A faint wisp of smoke slowly lifts to the sky. No one else is here. The sight of the smoke emits an eerie feeling. I remember that the Mercur fire of 1902 claimed the lives of several people. Perhaps the two smoldering heaps have a connection.
Mercur Cemetery has had many claims of paranormal activity. Especially at night there have been claims of phantasmal apparitions. An Italian miner has been said to chat with investigators through an electromagnetic field meter. Others have heard voices say, “You don't belong here.” Many guests of the cemetery suddenly experience a drain on their electronic devices. And then there's the young girl who likes it when visitors place dolls upon her grave. (How people know this, I am not sure.)
Death years of those buried range from 1895 to 1912. The vast majority are children, anywhere from newborn to a few years old. Although many of the graves are protected by wooden slats, others are marked only by a ring of rocks. Many, I'm sure, are not marked at all and are completely lost to time.
One of the graves in particular stands out from the others. The fence around it is smaller than the others and nearly the entire inside is covered with dolls, stuffed animals and other toys for children. I'm quite confident that this is the young girl who likes it when people put dolls on her grave.
But the dolls don't seem to invoke the same kind of loving response that one might normally associate with a cute baby toy. These dolls seem to be more sinister. Imagine them more like Chucky in the movie Child's Play or Megan in the more recent horror flick of the same name. These playthings appear to be stirring the dead or conjuring evil spirits.
But I'm not here to get sucked into any superstitious claims.
In addition to becoming acquainted with this old burial ground, I also have in mind to find the one grave that is marked. Although we have records of at least forty-six burials in the Mercur Cemetery, it is unclear as to who is buried where. That is with the exception of five-month old Annie Jones.
Annie died in the cold of January, probably under circumstances that were less than ideal. Her mother was an immigrant from Scotland who sang in the choir and her father was superintendent of the Sacramento Mine. Annie was the second child of a family that would eventually have eight kids, the rest of them growing to adulthood. From what I read, Annie was the only person in the cemetery to have a grave-marker.
The sun has set and the rosy glow of dusk has disappeared. I brought no flashlight nor phone, but I can still see with the faint light that is left in the sky. I go from grave to grave searching for any that have a headstone. I find nothing. I search beyond the obvious cluster of graves and find several rings of rocks and other odd configurations, but no headstone.
Finally I decide to give up and return to the car. My guess is that Annie is the “young girl who likes it when visitors place dolls on her grave.” I decide that when I get to the car I will get my phone and look up pictures of her grave on the internet (if I have service), then it would be confirmed whether or not I already saw it.
I stride down the hill to the car. To my surprise my phone has service and instantly I can pull up photos of the grave of Annie Calderwood Jones. And again to my surprise, the images on my phone do not match anything I saw. There is only one thing to do . . . and that is to return to the cemetery!
It is now becoming dark and cold. I don a jacket and bring a flashlight with a bright beam. I also bring my phone.
As I return to the cemetery, I notice the dying fire with embers now glowing red in the dark. I squat and hold my hands over the small source of heat.
Then I find the grave with all the dolls and systematically compare it with the picture from my phone. The fence is very similar, but the stone is definitely not the same. They are both square, but Annie's has a faint etching that reads: “Beloved Daughter.” I look at other rocks on the ground and they don't match either. The website includes a picture of the grave in context to the other graves with fences around them. That for sure doesn't match.
Then I return to every grave in the cemetery, and one by one shine my beam inside, and one by one I conclude that this is not the grave of Annie Jones. In fact, I go to every grave at least three times. There isn't a single grave I can line up in a way that matches any of the pictures.
It is now quite dark and becoming late. I am still very far from my final destination. But this little problem is driving me nuts! How can I not find a specific grave when there are only about twenty to choose from??!!
Not only do I search the main section of the cemetery, but also on the periphery, or in other words, out in the darkness of juniper trees that cover the hill. Now, if there is going to be a ghost or something else to scare me, this would be the place. As I roam the thought crosses my mind that I might get lost. I occasionally come across more rings of rocks which would indicate possible outlying graves. Who knows how many restless spirits are lurking here in the nethermost depths of darkness!
Luckily I do not get lost or killed and return to the main cluster of graves. Although now I notice another beam of light making its way toward me from the bottom of the hill. More than likely this is someone coming to visit on Halloween. But what if it isn't? What if it is a psycho-man coming up to murder me? What if they are coming to cause trouble? Or, what if it is a ghost?
Knowing that it is likely a kindly living human, I confidently meet the beam of light as it reaches the top of the hill. “Hello,” I say as I accost the couple. It appears to be a teenage boy and girl, both dressed in ridiculously silly Halloween costumes. “Do you two come up here often,” I ask, hoping they might know the location of Annie Jones' grave.
It turns out the boy has been here a couple of times, but isn't sure about the grave. (I suspect that he comes up once a year, and always after dark.) The two are very nice and for the next five minutes they help me search the cemetery one last time.
With no luck it is time for me to go for good. I thank them for their help and let them continue without my presence. My evening would have to end with the bitter taste of not getting everything I had hoped for. But still, it was a good experience.
Once again I return to my vehicle at the bottom of the now pitch-black hill. I start the engine and appreciate the invention of seat-warmers. Scream Radio once again surrounds the empty space inside my car and the thought crosses my mind that this is the perfect music to listen to after visiting the scariest cemetery in Utah.
And then another thought crosses my mind.
There is no doubt that Annie Jones was buried in the Mercur Cemetery. There is no doubt that her grave at one time had been documented to exist in the exact place I had just searched. Perhaps (and I know that I am inching closer to the crazy people who claim to see ghosts and hear voices) the grave has vanished and is gone forever, just like the old mining town of Mercur! ♠
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