Utah's Most Haunted Cemetery on Halloween?

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! ♠ 

 

 

Bradshaw Mountain and Cave Mine (Peak #12)

One night John Bradshaw dreamed he saw a white mule standing on a ridge north of Minersville, Utah. He then dreamed that he went to that ridge and near it he discovered a cave. He entered the cave and found rat nests and nuggets of gold. 

The dream was so vivid that the next day he went in search of the cave. He had never been there before, but knew exactly how to get there because of his dream. The scrub and thickets became so thick that he tied string onto branches so he could find his way back. At last he found the cave just as it was in his dream, including rat nests and nuggets of gold. Further inside he discovered stalactites covered with gold and silver. 

Later he came back with a friend to explore further. This happened in 1859. Eventually this area would become the Bradshaw Mining District. Even though it would produce a great amount of gold, silver and lead over the years, very little came during the lifetime of John Bradshaw. He would die destitute. 

One of many mine portals on Bradshaw Mountain.

Who was John White Bradshaw? 

He was born on February 12, 1819 in Ilkeston, Derbyshire, England. His family joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and in 1849 emigrated to Utah like thousands of others during the early days of the church. John married a widow, Harriet Burgess Moore, and together they had four children. Three of the children died and were buried at sea, while the other died two years later. They had no other children together. 

John and Harriet were called to settle what would become southern Utah, in the Parowan area. Minersville was settled in 1859, so this was likely when they moved there. John was a big believer in dreams, and I am sure that this is what gave him confidence to follow through and find the location. 

Unidentified building on Bradshaw Mountain.

In the beginning, not much ore was excavated from Cave Mine. It is said that a couple of men hauled ore from the mine and made gold and silver bars valuing $1,800 to $2,000. In 1879 the mine became property of the Fisco Mining & Smelting Company. 

With all this in mind I thought it would be a good idea to check out the place. The Bradshaw Mining District, which is no longer active, is only an hour from my house. It lies within the Mineral Mountains, a range I have never explored. And to boot, it lies at the feet of Bradshaw Mountain, another peak for me to climb. 

Many of the portals went nearly straight down into the ground.

It was another hot day in mid-June. Temperatures would be in the low to mid-nineties and I knew that soon I would need to start climbing the higher peaks. My plan was to hike up one ridge to the summit of Bradshaw Mountain and down another. Whatever I would find in the way of mining relics along the way, I would stop and explore. 

A cursory glance at the mountainside reveals a busy mining history with several colorful tailing slides. As I drove closer to my parking spot I found the faint foundations of buildings that once stood. I learned that at one time there was a little town within the mining district, but wasn't sure exactly where it was nor whether these foundations belonged to that town. 

I parked along the dirt road and within five minutes of walking through the trees I came across the portal of a mine at the bottom of a hillside. Interestingly, there was no framework or timbers to support the portal. Just a hole in the mountainside that resembled a little cave. I was quite confident that this was not the actual Cave Mine discovered by John Bradshaw, but it allowed me to more clearly imagine what the original cave may have looked like. 

I laid on my belly and peered inside with my flashlight. There was no way I was going inside this one. The tunnel reached beyond what my beam would allow. I was satisfied with that. 

It didn't take long before I was walking up the mountain slope. I noticed that my path was cleared of trees, wide enough for a road. Examining the ground below me it was obvious that there was no road now, but I suspected that at one time there was. 

This so-called path zigzagged up the mountain until it came to a tailings slide. Beyond that I found two good-sized portals, both of them supported by wooden framework. The thought came that there were probably miles and miles of tunnels all over beneath this mountain. I got as close to the portals as I dared. One of them went immediately downward and I was a little apprehensive because I didn't want my weight to cause a collapse. 

A hole in the cliff on the other side of the canyon.

I continued up the ridgeline. Although there was no trail, I was able to make the journey without any hardcore bush-whacking. After an hour and forty-five minutes of hiking I reached the summit. I had gained nearly 2,000 feet of elevation. 

The sight at the summit was pleasant. To the east I could see the snow-capped Tushar Mountains. There was a wildfire on the southern slopes of those mountains. To the west I could see Frisco Peak and faintly behind that the Snake Range. Below was Milford Valley and shades of green farms. 

View from top of Bradshaw Mountain.

View from Bradshaw Mountain looking toward the Tushars.

On my way down looking toward Frisco Peak.

After a forty-minute break on top, I started down a different ridge. I got more than half way down and again arrived at some mines. The first was the most interesting. At first I saw only a large hole in the ground. This hole dropped into a cavern and I knew at once that I didn't want to be anywhere near the edge. The drop inside the hole wasn't terribly deep because I dropped a rock and could hear the thud after only a couple of seconds. 

When I continued just a little further down the hill I discovered a portal with a wooden frame. Beyond this frame was the cavern that I had seen from above. 

With hesitation I entered the cavern, which had plenty of light due to the hole at the top. The cavern appeared to be a large room or grotto. I didn't know if the size of it was artificial or natural. I could see a couple of tunnels on the backside of the cavern where the mine continued. On the wall were painted names and dates, the oldest being 1965. A wooden bench sat at the center with an army ammo can sitting on top. The place felt cold and damp, a welcoming feeling from the heat outside. 

Inside an interesting cavern.

1965 date on cavern wall.

Framework inside the cavern, probably leading to another tunnel.

Once outside I saw other mines from a distance. Along the face of a limestone wall I spotted a cave-like opening with no tailings below it, but it was too far away for my weary legs to travel. 

From this point I was almost back to the bottom and due to the steep terrain I rock-surfed down a slide of tailings. There was much more here left to explore, which I will do another day. 

I was satisfied with my day of exploration. Not only did I bag a peak, but I was able to find a lot of old mining structures. I saw no one else the entire time. 

Tailings coming down the hillside.

The life of John Bradshaw was a sad one. He lost all four of his children with Harriet and thus has no descendants. (Some of Harriet's children from her first marriage survived and have progeny.) As far as I know, there are no pictures of John. His wife, Harriet, died in 1877. At the cemetery he has no headstone. On one hand you could say that John Bradshaw's legacy is all but gone. 

But on the other hand his legacy lives on because of Cave Mine. Named after him are Bradshaw Mountain, Bradshaw Springs and the Bradshaw Mining District. Today the mines are all closed. According to family legend a curse was placed on the mine stating that it will never again produce gold and silver until a Bradshaw family member owns the mine. ♠
 

 

Bradshaw Mountain.

Bradshaw Mountain
 

Distance from car (one way): 1.7 miles
 

Elevation gain: 1,992 feet
 

Final elevation: 7,998 feet

Grave of Thomas J. Chase, located somewhere near the Bradshaw Mining District.

“A highly respected miner, formerly of New England, but for the last twenty-five years or more had been mining on the Pacific slope, by the name of Thomas J. Chase, died at Betenson House, on Tuesday the 16th, of dropsy, occasioned by a diseased state of the liver and spleen. By permission of his friends, Drs. George Wenceslaw, J.W. Christian and George Fennemore, performed a post mortem examination on the 17th which revealed the foregoing facts. According to his own request while living, he was taken to the Bradshaw Mining District for burial yesterday morning.”—Thomas J. Chase Death Notice Published in the Southern Utonian, 19 Dec. 1884, Beaver, Beaver, Utah Territory, United States

Ghosts of Silver City

Like father, like daughter. 

My second-youngest child spends a lot of her time as I do—on Google Maps. For the last couple years she's been eying a location 173 miles from our home. She couldn't tell what it was exactly, but a spattering of rectangular foundations and solitary walls suggested a place that now sat in ruins. “Dad,” she asked, “some day can we go to Silver City?” 

I knew exactly where it was and had wanted to go there myself. I wanted to go for the historical aspect. Silver City was part of the Tintic Mining District and a satellite town of Eureka. Like so many mining towns in Utah, it was given birth, but eventually passed away, giving up the ghost.

We found a couple of days when we both could get away, combining our trip with another appointment. That morning as we left my brother's house in Springville a fresh blanket of snow covered the ground and treetops. We drove west on Highway 6 and over the Tintic Mounains through the still-living town of Eureka. 

Ruins of the old Tintic Smelter in Silver City, Utah.

The rise of the Tintic Mining District began near the future site of Silver City. In 1869 a cowboy found a chunk of silver while herding cattle. This caused a frenzy of interest and subsequently other ores were found, giving rise to several mines in the area. 

Coincidentally, it was also around this same time when the mining towns of Park City and Alta began to spring up. The two mining areas would become competitors. 

In Silver City a small town began to blossom. Although hard to imagine now, it consisted of restaurants, hotels, saloons, a gambling hall, blacksmith shops, livery stables and two railroad depots.

Jenna and I continued past Eureka, driving four miles south to a graveled road that joined to the east. Snow still covered the hills, but now the sun crept high enough in the sky that the tops of trees began to lose their white coat. 

This smelter was built in 1908 by "Uncle" Jesse Knight.

Not too far off the road stood the remains of Silver City. The most prominent structure was the old Tintic Smelter built by Jesse Knight in 1908. Just a few years earlier he came in to give a boost to the fledgling town. He bought up several mines and then decided to build the smelter to offset the high cost of freighting. 

On July 24, 1908 the town celebrated “Smelter Day,” along with their usual Pioneer Day activities. Thousands of people showed up and celebrated by eating lots of free food, watching a baseball game and enjoying excursion rides on the train. 

As it turned out, the cost of freight dropped and the smelter could not compete with the Salt Lake smelters. Knight would eventually dismantle and move it to Murray where it operated for several years.

Jenna and I braved the cold and walked around the many ruins. In addition to the smelter there were several foundations from other buildings, but we had no idea what they were. All that remained now were crumbled cement walls and a splashing of colorful graffiti. 

Old Tintic Smelter.

After exploring around the ruins of the smelter we returned to our warm vehicle and drove up the road into Dragon Canyon where we found more ruined foundations. These buildings could have been anything from stores to housing. At its peak in 1908, Silver City boasted a population of 1,500 residents. 

On the north side of the road was a wide hole in the ground with concrete siding that appeared to be a holding tank at one time. On the far side against the hillside were piles of yellow tailings. Further up the road stood an old wooden shack. Beyond here it is private property, I believe owned by a modern mining company. 

Remains of what appear to be a holding tank.  Talings in the background.

Old wooden building up Dragon Canyon.

Who knew what else there was to explore. I was sure that we were just scratching the surface. We turned around and headed back toward the highway. There was one last place I wanted to visit. 

Roughly a mile south of the main ruins sits the Silver City Cemetery. To get there you can either stay on a dirt road or return to the highway and then turn off onto a shorter dirt road. We chose the latter, but still almost got bogged down in a quagmire of mud. By now the snow was melting fast. 

The cemetery is about what you'd expect from a ghost town. A chain-link fence surrounds it, but there is no landscaping and certainly no grass. Some of the individual graves have small fences while a more expansive fence surrounds some of the family plots. I could tell that the cemetery had been maintained from time to time. 

Silver City Cemetery.

According to my research there are roughly 68 graves in the cemetery, most of them with headstones. Death dates range from 1881 to 1937, with a few outliers of modern-day burials. 

There is very little information on several of the burials. Henry J. Smith, for example, died in 1890 at the age of fifteen. There are no other Smith's in the cemetery and I cannot find any record of family. His headstone is broken in half, the top part now leaning against the bottom half. I wonder if there's any distant family member that knows he is buried here?

Headstone for Henry J. Smith. Detail of handclasp and veil suggest he was of the Mormon faith.

I saw many headstones for the Haws family. Most of them died in infancy⸺ six to be exact. All of them were children of Annie and George Haws. The 1900 census shows the family living in Silver City and George working in a quartz mine. By 1910 they were living in the nearby town of Mammoth and George Jr. had now joined his father working in gold and silver mines. A daughter, Luella, worked as an assistant cook at a boarding house. 

In addition to losing nine of their fifteen children during infancy, Annie and George were well acquainted with other tragedy. Their son, Gilbert, had his foot amputated after having it badly injured in a mining accident. Then in 1918 he died from influenza pneumonia. Another son, Leon, was killed that same year in France while deployed to fight in World War I. 

Infant son of George and Annie Haws.

Another person who caught my attention was Marion Elliot Tinder. He died at age 41 and left behind a wife and three kids. It appears his entire life was spent in small mining towns in Utah. He was born in Ophir, thirty miles to the north, a town named after the biblical Ophir where King Soloman brought gold back to Israel. But what really captivated me was the picture I found of him. He looks smooth-faced in the picture and very innocent, especially for someone growing up in a mining town. I thought it sad he died so young. 

Grave of Marion Elliot Tinder.

Marion Elliot Tinder.

On the west side of the cemetery there is a family plot surrounded by a picket fence with peeling white paint. This belongs to the Poynter family and as I researched who they were it became apparent that they revolved around the matriarch of the family, Alice Caunt Poynter. 

Alice was born in England, but immigrated to Utah when her parents joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. While still a teenager Alice chose to marry a “Gentile,” a name given to those outside the church. What makes this Gentile fascinating to me is that he was a member of Johnston's Army, the group that marched to Salt Lake to squash the “Mormon Rebellion.” Alice and Charles Green had two daughters, Elizabeth Ann and Sarah Jane. While the girls were still young, Charles deserted them, leaving Alice a single mother. 

Alice Caunt Poynter.

Shortly after that Alice married William Baxter. Records show that they operated a boarding house in Eureka. They had a son together, but unfortunately this marriage didn't last either. William was shot in a card game in a mining town northeast of Eureka. The man who shot him was charged for murder and killed by firing squad at the Provo jail. It was the first execution in Utah County. 

At last Alice would find a loving and lasting spouse when she married Charles Poynter, a fellow Brit who was trying to make ends meet in a mining town. There are no records of them living in Silver City, but rather in the “foothills of Eureka.” Together they had a daughter, Myrtle. 

Charles Poynter (driver) in the Eureka Hills.

Charles was a good provider for the family and owned a butcher shop. They belonged to the Episcopalian Church in Eureka. 

Alice worked hard to make a comfortable home. She would sing as she performed her household duties. Alice was an excellent cook and skilled seamstress. Myrtle remembers that she made her dresses by hand.

One of the stories told of Charles Poynter took place in the Gibbln's Saloon in Eureka. As the story goes, Josiah Williams walked in with his boy and ordered a whiskey. Subsequently his boy also ordered a whiskey, but the bartender refused it because . . . well, he was just a boy. Poynter, who was also sitting at the bar, made a remark that the bartender made the right decision. 

Williams didn't like that. He shot back that his boy had “just as much right as any son of a bitch in the saloon” if he paid for it. Then the boy joined in and called Poynter a “gray-haired son of a bitch.” At this, Poynter slapped the father in the face, and the father and son left the saloon. 

Sometime later, when Poynter left the saloon, Williams came toward him and gave him a blow to the left side. At first he thought it was just a fist, but then felt a trickle of blood and learned that Josiah Williams had stabbed him with a knife. Poynter survived the ordeal and the incident went to trial, and I'm sure that Williams went to jail. 

Communal plot of the Poynter family.

Funeral of Charles Poynter in 1909.

Alice Poynter died in 1893 at the young age of 52. Charles lived another sixteen years, but spent the last nine as an invalid. Although they lived in Eureka, they are buried in Silver City. Along with other family members they are buried in a family plot surrounded by a picket fence with white peeling paint. 

Next to the Poynter plot is a smaller plot with a chain-link fence. It belongs to Alice's daughter, Elizabeth, from her first marriage. Elizabeth's headstone was broken in half, but someone had carefully fastened it back into place. The inscription tells a brief, but sad story: 

In Memory of
Elizabeth A.,
wife of Wm W.
Mathews.
Born April 10, 1864.
Died July 10, 1889.

Aged 25 yrs 3 mo. 

Also

her infant daughter 

Died July 20, 1889. 

Aged 18 days. 

Headstone of Elizabeth Green Matthews.

It was time for Jenna and I to head out. Silver City was now more than just a pattern of rectangles and lines on Google Maps. It was a place that had come to life with real people who had real stories. 

As we returned to the highway I noted that we didn't pass too many vehicles. This corner of the state didn't get a lot of visitors. This pleased me. As we passed a field with irrigation sprinklers we spotted a coyote plodding through the snow, and then above him a hawk whizzed past. ♠ 

 

Coyote in a field just south of Silver City.