Jen: Route 66 Kicks Holbrook

"Tell you what, Sue Ellen, I'm definitely in the mood for some company for a while longer and I'd be more than glad to share a room with you. One bed?"

"Most definitely!"

We chatted a bit more while I finished my sandwich and coffee. Sue Ellen also had coffee to finish. Our main topic was, as usual, history of the area.

"So, Jen, tell me about Kingman?"

"Yeah, I guess I know a little bit about Kingman that I can tell you."

"I'm all ears, Jen."

"October of 1857. That was the year that saw a Lieutenant Edward Fitzgerald Beale first explore the present site of Kingman. He and his team surveyed the 35th parallel in anticipation of building a wagon road. They were among the first to use camels in the southwest desert, but that particular practice never caught on."

"Did the Lieutenant finish his job?"

Yes, they did accomplish that task."

"Where did the road go or, for that matter, where did it come from?"

"The road ran from Fort Defiance in New Mexico to the Colorado River. It was named the "Beale Road" after the Lieutenant. The interesting thing is that when the railroad came along, the tracks closely paralleled Beale's old wagon road. Even when Route 66 came along, it closely followed the same path."

"Wow, a three time winner."

"I guess you could say that, Sue Ellen."

"Anyway, in 1882, a small, frontier settlement was established along the right of way that expanded fairly quickly. It was named Kingman after a railroad surveyor by the name of Lewis Kingman. Then, with the railroad, the town grew much like any other western town."

"That figures. Go on, Jen."

"1887 saw a big squabble develop when Kingman won the election for county seat of Mohave County, always a plum for any town, over nearby Mineral Park. That town had been acting in that capacity before the election and didn't want to give up such a plum."

"So, what happened?"

"When Mineral Park refused to surrender the county records, despite the conclusiveness of the polls, Kingman citizens subsequently raided the Mineral Park town hall and made off with said records, literally 'taking' the county seat."

"Was that the end of the affair?"

"Yes, except that Mineral Park never recovered or grew much and down the line, ended up a ghost town. The biggest critic of the move was the newspaper, the Mineral County Miner. When it gave in and moved to Kingman, it really hurt Mineral Park's chances of survival. "

"Too bad."

"Kingman had its ups and downs before, during, and after the mining activity in the area and the opening and closing of Route 66, but it would remain a viable existence and eventually stabilize around 40,000 population.

"Well, time to hit the road. Ready, Sue Ellen?"

We decamped to Miss Swifty and were off once again on the old Route 66.

"What's the next town?"

"Next up are the two old mining camps of Goldroad and Oatman and finally, Topock near the California state line. We'll be driving on the 1952 realignment of Route 66. The original route to Oatman travels through notorious Sitgreaves Pass, said to have been the most intimidating portion of old 66."

"Why?"

"Because of the twisting, narrow, road with its hairpin turns and very steep grades. What goes up, must come down, no matter how steep. No vehicles over forty feet in length were allowed on that section of road. Our route on this eleven year old alignment will eventually bring us into Oatman from the south."

"What's the matter, Jen, chicken to try the old route?"

"Me? Chicken? Ok, you asked for it, Sue Ellen."

When we reached it, we turned off on the old original route. Let me tell you, that was one hell of a ride. The old road was not in the best of repair and was just as narrow and wicked as advertised. And that climb up Gold Hill to Sitgreaves Pass was about as bad as the mule trip down into the Grand Canyon, maybe worse. Then we had to go down the other side.

Taking that old route took us past the ghost town of Goldroad or sometimes Gold Road. There we found lots of ruins and old mine shafts in which to poke around and we did take time to do some of that. The production of gold from those mines peaked in 1905-1906 and the rest was downhill going for the town. In 1942, a post office was built, but in 1949, the entire town was razed to save taxes.

We were both quite relieved to roll into Oatman at 1,902 miles past Go. We checked into the Oatman Hotel and then visited the bar. We saw a grizzled old man, the very picture of an old, crotchety prospector of old. He visibly brightened when two pretty girls stood before his table.

"Sir, may we join you for a little while? I'm Jen and this is my friend, Sue Ellen."

"You betcha girlie."

"It'll cost you."

"Eh, what's that, cost me? Cost me what?"

"We'd like you to tell us about the history of the Oatman area. If our guess is correct, you look as if you might know quite a lot. Are you or were you once a prospector?"

"Ok, sit down, and yes I was and still am 'an old prospector.' Say, you wouldn't stand me a beer, ah, or two, would you?"

I waved a waitress over and ordered a pitcher of his favorite beer and three glasses.

After a big slug from his filled mug of beer, Patch as he called himself, asked, "You wanted to know something about the history of Oatman?"

"Yes, please. How did it get started and what happened along the way. That kind of thing."

"Well, you see ladies, I don't reckon all there is to know about the earliest start of the town but I do know that gold was first discovered in 1902 by Ben Taddock. He was just ridin' along the trail and saw free gold glittering on the ground. He had sense enough to immediately file a claim."

"Then what happened?" chimed in Sue Ellen.

"A tent city quickly grew as others learned of the discovery and flocked into the region. That was how it started. In their heyday of 1902 through the 1940's, Gold Road and Oatman were the largest producers of gold in the whole danged state."

"Was the town named Oatman from the beginning?"

"No, the mining camp was known as Vivian after the Vivian Mining Company bought out two partners who'd bought the mine from Taddock. The town was renamed Oatman in 1909, in honor of Olive Oatman."

"What did she do that the town people would do that?" asked Sue Ellen.

"It wasn't what she did but what happened to her. Olive was captured by the Apache Indians when they wiped out her frontier family in the early 1850's. She was just a young girl at the time, thirteen or so, I think. The Apaches sold her to the Mojave Indians, whom she lived with for five years. She was rescued in 1857 near here. The poor girl was disfigured by blue tribal tattoos on her face. She suffered depression the rest of her life about those marks and how she looked to 'white' society."

"Ugh," was Sue Ellen's interjection at that point.

"So, Patch, how'd a little place like Oatman survive the inevitable declining mining activity?"

"Route 66"

"Oh, the usual story of that road, I guess."

"Yes. When Route 66 was being built, several supporters worked real hard to get the road through nearby Yucca. They lived in Yucca, of course. But Oatman was at the peak as a mining community at that time and had more clout. So, even though it made the drive more difficult on those old Model T's of the time, the road took the much more hazardous journey up Sitgreaves pass and bypassed Yucca altogether. That is, it was bypassed until the 1952 change in the route to eliminate the dangerous original route up the mountain and Sitgreaves Pass."

"I assume the change was because Oatman, with the mines shut down, no longer had the clout to keep the road, especially with the dangerous mountain road as the only access."

"That's right, Jen. Yucca had regained more clout than Oatman and that meant it was then Oatman's turn to be reduced to a near ghost town."

"Changing the topic, has this hotel been around long, or is it fairly new?" I asked.

Again, I knew most of the answers from my research, but I always like to get one of the locals talking. They can fill in the bits and pieces the reference books leave out. I've rarely been disappointed in the results.

"This hotel was built back in that first year of 1902 but was known as the Drulin Hotel back then. Business was very good as the owners rented to the miners and the eventual travelers."

"I've heard stories that some pretty famous people have stayed in the Oatman Hotel. Is that just myth or are those stories true?"

"I don't know if everything you heard is true, Jen, but some of the stories are true."

"For instance?"

"Well, the story about the Clark Gables is true."

"What's the sticky on them?" asked Sue Ellen.

"Old Clark and his new wife, Carole Lombard were married in Kingman earlier in the day on March 29. 1939. They had been driving, on their way back to California, but decided to stop here in Oatman for whatever reason and go on to California the next day. So, in effect, the couple spent their honeymoon night in this hotel."

"Did they ever come back?"

"Oh, yes, they certainly did. They must of liked their stay because they returned many times. Oatman, to them, was a respite of peace and quiet from the Hollywood scene, or so the Gables were said to have given as their reason for coming back. Clark was known to spend many a night playing poker with some of the miners. The Gable's stayin' here is the biggest reason for the popularity of the hotel and thus the town with tourists. Course, the naughty ghost stories help too."

"Oh no, not ghosts again! i cried.

"You betcha, ladies. Course, the Gables are the most talked about of the ghost stories."

"Tell us about it, please!" chorused Sue Ellen and I.

"It seams, ladies, that the Gables had so many good memories of their stay here that they simply refuse to leave."

"What da you be by that, Patch, the Gables are long dead," said Sue Ellen."

"They wouldn't be ghosts if they were still alive, Sue Ellen, Duh!"

"Oh yeah, silly me."

"Go on Patch." I conjoled.

"Guests and staff members have claimed to hear the Gables continuing to celebrate. They report hearing the pair whispering and laughing in the room they normally occupied when they were in residence. The room was supposedly empty each time voices were heard."

"Gable did have a rather distinctive voice," I added.

Patch continued, "There's even the story of a photographer who took a picture of the empty room, only to have a ghostly figure of a man appear on the developed print."

"No kidding," Sue Ellen uttered.

"That's not all Ladies."

"What more is there," I asked.

"Apparently the Gables weren't alone. There are reports of other spirits that haunt this old Hotel."

"Such as?" I again asked.

"It seems that imprints or outlines of sleeping human bodies have been found, from time to time, in the dust of unused beds. Upon very close inspection, none of the other areas or items of the room appear to have been disturbed. Staff suspect that the sleeping spirit is that of a former chambermaid who has often been spotted in that room."

"Good heavens," Sue Ellen commented.

"There's still more, ladies!"

"More? My God, just how haunted is this place anyway?" asked Sue Ellen.

"A different guest room is also said to be haunted by the spirit of an Irish miner who once lived there. Distraught over the loss of his family on the way across the Atlantic to America, this miner had a habit of very hard drinking after his shift in the mine ended. The story is, one night he got falling down drunk and passed out behind the hotel. He never woke up. It's said that he's haunted his old room ever since."

"What kind of haunting does he do, just appearances or something more?" I asked.

"The staff refer to him as 'Oatie' and they say he can often be heard playing his bagpipe around the hotel. Other common pranks attributed to him are things like opening a window in his former room or pulling the covers off the bed. Some have even reported the room as being very cold--in the midst of a hot desert day."

Golly, that's a lot of ghosts," Sue Ellen commented again.

"Oh, there's still more yet, ladies."

"Jeeze, Louise, just how much more can there be for one place?" Me again.

"Downstairs in the saloon, it seems there are several playful spirits at work. They're said to lift money off the bar or raise glasses in the air. Other strange happenings include lights turning off and on by themselves, sounds of erie voices, toilets that flush in empty bathrooms, and footprints that appear from nowhere on recently cleaned floors."

"Do we really want to stay here tonight, Jen?"

"Now who's chicken, Sue Ellen?"

"Oh, Alright, but I don't have to like it."

"Maybe I can think of a way to distract you, Sue Ellen."

"That sounds like a very good idea, Jen."

"I will say this," said Patch, "our bevy of ghosts here appear (pun intended) to be the playful, friendly types and don't make a habit of scaring away the guests."

"Well, that's some consolation," said Sue Ellen

Our conversation with Patch ended a short time later. We thanked him with a big kiss from each of us. He really seemed to enjoy that. Later that night, Sue Ellen and I renewed our sexual acquaintance. Boy did we ever. I guess I'm just going to have to accept the fact that I'm bi-sexual. The night was a near duplicate of our first night together, times of lustful passion interspersed with TLC gentleness.

The time was well after midnight, hell, I think is was closer to three thirty in the morning when Sue Ellen shook me so hard my neck snapped some. Sleep didn't overtake us 'til just an hour earlier, or so I saw on the clock before nodding off.

"Jen, Jen, for God's sake, Jen, WAKE UP!"

"Jesus, Sue Ellen what the hell is it you want now?"

"Just listen."

"LIsten to what?"

"Just shut up and listen, Jen, God damn it."

I did. Then I heard it. Voices. A male and a female voice. Then the unmistakable tone and timber of Clark Gable's voice soaked into my head. I suppose the female was Carole Lombard but I didn't know as I'd never heard her voice before. Shit! My ghost experiences were back. But this time, Sue Ellen is involved as well.

"What should we do, Jen?"

"Not a damned thing. Go back to sleep."

Instead, Sue Ellen slipped out of bed, bare ass naked and went to the door. I guess she forgot she didn't have anything on.

Shit, now I've got to go after her.

I was bare assed naked as well and didn't take time to put anything on as Sue Ellen was already out the door. I charged after her. She was headed straight for the old honeymoon room of the Gables. She didn't even knock! She just turned the handle and swung open the door before she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks so quickly that I bumped into her and forced her further into the room. Sue Ellen squealed.

Sitting on the bed were two wispy apparitions that looked enough like Gable and his wife to satisfy me and apparently, Sue Ellen as well. I swear, Gable turned toward our intrusion, arched his left eyebrow, and gave us his beautific smile. Carole looked at Clark and then at us. They both extended an arm and beckoned us in.

"Shit! A real, 'live, fucking ghost? Ah, two of them.?" exclaimed Sue Ellen in an interrogative tone of voice.

The room was suddenly split by shrill female laughter and the deep guffaw of a male. Sue Ellen had all but reached the pair, apparently unafraid. The apparitions dissolved before she could quite touch them.

Sue Ellen exhaled a very disappointed, "Awwww hell"

There was a third, different pitched laugh than the first two, somewhere down the hall. Then silence.

"Did we really just see the ghosts of Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, Jen?"

"That's sure what I thought I saw, Sue Ellen."

We stood there rigid and silent for a number of minutes, but nothing further occurred, at least of the supernatural nature.

"Let's get back to bed, Sue Ellen, daylight's bearin' down hard on us. Besides, I'm getting damned cold in my birthday suit."

"Oh, you are naked, aren't you?"

"Me? take a look at yourself, girl."

"OH. OH, MY!"

Our room was about five rooms away. We didn't run, but we didn't walk either. Just before we got to our room, a middle aged couple peeked out their door into the hall and saw us The man whistled a wolf whistle at us and asked, "What kind of fun am I missing out here, ladies?"

He must of forgot his wife was right behind him. She cracked him upside of his head right smart and yanked him back into their room.

I called out to his retreating face as his wife yanked him backwards, "not the kind of fun you're likely to get permission to join, fella. Too bad."

Needless to say, Sue Ellen and I didn't get much more sleep, just fitful little dozes for the next several hours until we finally gave it up and got up. We each took our time, bathing separately and then dressing. Course, my outfit was the same, skimpy top, shorts and sandals, nothing else. Sue Ellen dressed more conservatively; tan walking shorts, pale green blouse with short sleeves, and sandals sans socks. She also wore a bra and panties.

We had a leisurely breakfast, idly chatting from time to time.

"Jen, tell me something."

"Tell you what, Sue Ellen?"

"Did we really see and hear the ghosts of Clark Gable and Carole Lombard? Or was it just a self-fulfilling prophecy or illusion becasue we heard the stories first?"

"What do you think?"

Silence was my only answer to that one.

I paid the bill and we trekked out to Miss Swifty. Topock lay a short twenty-seven mile ahead at 1,929 miles past Go. When we got there, little remained of the community that had been vibrant for a very short time. seventy to eighty years earlier. I slowed Miss Swifty down, but Sue Ellen and I could observe, there was very little left to see. We didn't stop, we just sped up and kept going. The state line with California was just ahead with Needles, California just past the line. The last leg of my trip was in sight!

Yahoo! Go, Swifty, go!

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Finis

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