William “Willie” “Billy” James Hawes
(1876-1968)
(excerpts of published works
mentioning Willie)
(Photo published above
article - caption reads "Left to live with nothing but his memories in a
city which once had a population of thousands is William Hawes 67, at left
above, sole remaining resident of Silver City.
Saying good bye to him is the second last resident of the famed old
mining camp, Carl Johnson, 71, who "pulled stakes" this week)
Only One Man Stays
Among Ruins Of Idaho's Famous Old Silver City
Bill Hawes Waits For
Day When Camp 'Revives'
Only one staunch-hearted
native son "held the fort" Tuesday to save once-proud Silver City
from the ghost town fate that has befallen countless others that flourished in
the old West when men lived and died by six-gun law.
Sole keeper-of-the-keys and
mayor and one-man "police force" for a city of empty homes that once
held a population of 10,000, is 67-year-old William Hawes.
Still confident that Silver
City will make a comeback when the war ends, Hawes is determined to "stick
it out until I die if necessary," and Sunday said good bye to his
long-time friend, 71 year-old Carl Johnson, for whom the combination of cold
winters and loneliness was too much.
"I'll still be here
when you and the others come back," he said to Johnson as the two parted
at the summit overlooking the city whose now-idle gold and silver mines were
credited in part with saving America from financial collapse after the Civil
war.
His food shelves are well
filled, and his winter supply of fuel is already in, Hawes said, and he saw no
reason for coming into civilization "except for a week or so at
Christmas." Proud of the physical
endurance that belies his years, he intends to make the Yuletide migration by
snowshoes and skiis to Murphy, a distance of 25 miles, and added: "If it
hasn't snowed by then, I'll walk."
Until next spring he will be
without means of communication at Silver City because telephone lines have
long-since been taken down, and the old "Sinker trail" road that once
was traversed by stage coaches is always blocked by deep snows.
All winter at Silver City he
will hear no voice except his own echo and an occasional conversation over a
"private telephone line" that he and a friend a few miles away, Fritz
Dorst, have rigged up between their desolate homes.
"No, there isn't much
to talk about after a few weeks because you sort of run out of
conversation," admitted Hawes, who was present soon after Silver City's
(page 6) Only One Man Now
Inhabits Famed Camp
birth and who is now keeping
the old city from death that seems crowding in on all sides.
In his "spare
time" he intends to continue work started seven years ago on a small
"runabout" automobile of his own design, although patterned somewhat
along the lines of racers of 1915, which is powered by a 16-horsepower
motorcycle engine. "I've never had
the car out of the garage but I will as soon as I get a brake on it this
winter," he said. "I've had
it going so fast in low gear in garage tests that you can't even see the spokes
of the wheels so I know it will be a success."
Hawes was born at Silver
City in 1876 and of course was a young man of 22 when Johnson, who left Sunday,
arrived there in 1898.
The city's colorful history
is always a current chapter with him, for he has been a part of it, being born
only 13 years after a party of 29, starting from Placerville to investigate
reports that early immigrants to Oregon had found gold nuggets so plentiful
around the Owyhee mountains that they had used them as sinkers for their
fishing lines, discovered rich gold deposits May 18, 1863, at Discovery Bar
near Booneville. "Dr. H. R. Wade,
one of the party of 29, a verdant emigrant not wanting to unpack his mule, took
his shovel, and, scooping up some of the loose gravel on the bank of the creek,
panned it out and obtained some 100 colors," an early account of the
discovery read.
Silver City, destined to
become the hub of that region, was laid out in 1864 at its present location in
a canyon on the headwaters of Jordan creek at an elevation of 6300 feet with
majestic War Eagle mountain on the east and Florida mountain on the west rising
to elevations of about 8000 feet.
"Silver City has six
general merchandise stores, two hardware stores, a tin shop, two meat markets,
two hotels (the Idaho and the War Eagle), four restaurants, eight saloons,
bakery, one shoe shop, a photograph gallery, a brewery, soda bottling works,
two livery stables, a feed store, three drug stores, a jeweler, three
blacksmith shops, a furniture store, two lumber yards, a tailor shop, three
barber shops, a newspaper four lawyers, two doctors, etc., (the latter including
an undertaker)," read a "city directory" in January, 1898.
"The social life of
Silver City is free from petty jealousies and heart-burnings that are so common
in small places where the 'upper ten' and 'codfish aristocracy' swell over
their inferiors," read the same account.
Hawes, of course, and
Johnson, too, can vouch for the town's size, but Hawes' accounts of the city's
early days implied that the social life might not have been entirely free from
trouble.
In fact, he said, "When
I was a boy we'd sometimes have to duck when gun fights started in the
streets." Miners and cowboys from
Nearby Jordan Valley,, he explained, would "shoot up the town" more
often as not on Saturday nights, and "hard characters" and even
"road agents," who often looted outbound and incoming stages, tried
their luck with the others at the faro(? J.R.) and poker gaming tables which
flourished.
The undertaker was
apparently busy, too because cemeteries and "boothills" abound -
three at Silver City in addition to others at such nearby and now ghost towns
of Dewey, Black Jack, De Lamar, Reynolds Creek and Ruby Creek.
Indicative of the early-day
strife in the days when the frenzied cry of "silver strike" echoed
across the Great Plains and into the financial canyons as far back as Wall
Street, where they reached the interested ears of Andrew Mellon, financier and
aluminum tycoon, was the incident known as "the Marion Moore
tragedy."
"My father told me all
about it," said Hawes, whose father, Dickie Hawes, was one of Silver
City's "fathers" and real pioneers.
During the winter of
1867-1868, he said, a dispute arose between the celebrated "Ida
Elmore" and "Golden Chariot" mining companies as to the
respective boundaries of their claims.
The incident derived its
name from the ambush shooting of Marion Moore, early-day Idaho City miner and
one of those who developed the "Ida Elmore" property at Silver City.
Here is the manner in which
the event is described in part by an early-day publication: "Each side secured
the services of well known fighters, heavily armed, to protect their
interests. March 1868 found both sides
sternly fortified . . . and hostilities commenced March 25 with the Golden
Chariot party storming the works of their opponents."
John C. Holgate, an owner in
the Golden Chariot, was one of the first killed and casualties the next day
included several of the Ida Elmore contingent.
"One side, and I forget
which, had a brass cannon used in the Civil War which they fired across the
gulch at the other forces," said Hawes.
Troops from Fort Boise
restored order, on a proclamation by the then Governor Ballard but hostilities
flared anew in April with gun play on the main streets.
"Several arrests were
made but proceedings were afterwards quashed and peace and quietness again
reigned in the town of Silver City," said the early-day account of the
incident.
Such events as the
"first and only legal hanging in Owyhee county" - although there were
a number of lynchings - and the Baldwin affair, in which a mine executive was
held hostage for 21 days after the collapse of a bank in San Francisco, are
well remembered by Hawes because he was there when they took place.
He also remembers the Silver
City battles against Indians in the early days, such as the engagement June 7,
1878 when volunteers went out to face a hostile band of Bannocks led by Chief
Buffalo Horn. The engagement took place
near O'Keefe's ranch, an early-day landmark, and O. H. Purdy, a member of the
original party of 29, met his death there although he is credited with having
killed Chief Buffalo Horn. Hawes still
has Purdy's saber, and it is one of his prize relics of bygone days.
The "only legal
hanging" he can remember occurred Oct. 15, 1881, when Henry McDonald, who
Hawes recalls, killed a freighter marched to the scaffold before 300 witnesses.
"The affair took place
right next to the Ruby cemetery so they didn't have far to carry him to his
grave," Hawes said.
The Baldwin affair, he said,
was precipitated by the failure of the Bank of California in 1875, as miners
left their jobs because of the fear of no pay.
The Golden Chariot allowed
two months to elapse without a pay day, he recalled, and when promised action
did not materialize the miners took Superintendent M. A. Baldwin to a house at
Fairview, placed him under guard June 30, 1876 and held him until the following
June (? J.R.) 21 when the San Francisco officials of the company assured that
pay would be immediately forthcoming.
Hawes makes regular rounds
of the old city, and every building and the ruins of some have a place in his
memory.
The fire-scarred door of the
old jail brought to his mind the time when a man jailed on drunkenness found a
Chinese in his cell with him, and burned up the jail with himself and the
Chinese in it before the frantic sheriff could get back from down town.
He points out the old
building and tells the history of each . . .mentioning such structures as the
Idaho hotel, the old War Eagle hotel, now torn down; the Masonic temple, one of
the first in Idaho; the old school house, built in 1893, the Catholic church on
the hill and the old home of Jack Stoddard, retired veteran of the Indian wars,
which still stands in perfect condition on the sidehill overlooking the now
silent boom town and the diggings where men once worked like ants.
He also knows all the old
mines, such as the Black Jack, the Trade Dollar, which produced something like
$63,000,000. the Morning Star, the Cumberland, of which Stanley Easton, now of
Bunker Hill and Sullivan was then the young superintendent.
He points out such other
structures as the Mint Bar, which still has a "Free Beer Tomorrow"
sign over the bar, and the brothels where 50 and 60 girls welcomed the miners.
"Every one of saloons
had a dance pavilion in the back," said Hawes, "but most of the nicer
people went to the dances in the Masonic hall."
Like all the old timers who
have gone on before him, Hawes speaks of legendary wealth which may still lie
beneath the cemeteries, which are still untouched by gold seekers, although
tunnels run elsewhere under the town.
And he know many of those
now in the cemeteries, too like "Idaho Maud," the young wife of
Silver City's first postmaster, Meserve M. Getchell, who died Aug. 7, 1897 at
the age of 27 years. "Farewell but
farewell: when you have come where I have stopped you will wonder why you
went," read the epitaph on her tombstone.
Silver City , both Hawes and
Johnson agree, started to hit the skids when the Trade Dollar property closed
down in 1909. But the final stroke,
they added, was when the county seat was moved to Murphy, 25 miles away over
treacherous mountain road, in 1934.
But both old timers believe
in the future of Silver City. They
believe men will come back to dig again for gold and silver "that's still
here" when the war ends, and that's why they are somewhat disgruntled that
several old buildings have been torn down lately for scrap lumber.
They want Silver City
standing intact and waiting for rough and ready miners when they return to
bring back to life the echoes of the glorious past that was the "whisky
drinking, pistol packin' old west."
And William "Bill"
Hawes, the keeper-of-the-keys, is going to wait like Old Father Time, until
that day dawns.
"Historic Silver
City - The Story of the Owyhees"
by Mildretta Adams c. 1960
pp 14-15
(Silver
City lost the County Seat position in 1934) "Silver City was temporarily
licked. The town died by inches as the
county officials moved away. In the
'40's and during World War II, many of the buildings were torn down and moved
away to be rebuilt as homes in the valley.
Treasures of the glorious past were hauled out and sold for a song. As word spread that Silver City had become a
'ghost', buildings were ransacked and much valuable property was
destroyed. The power company removed
its lines from the area and Silver City was in darkness, after having been one
of the first towns in Southwest Idaho to have power.
Only
one man kept the faith. Willie Hawes,
who had been born in Silver City in 1876, 'lowed as how there was no better
place for him to live, and elected to remain there. This self-styled keeper of the keys is, in a large measure,
responsible for the town being preserved as well as it is, and for this Owyhee
County owes him a debt of gratitude.
Silver City was much publicized in the '40's as a Ghost town, and Will
Hawes as a year round resident came in for his share of glory. Probably the most photographed man in Idaho,
Will Hawes at 85 lends a colorful air to the old town. In the winter time he is content to keep the
bean pot boiling and the sour dough crock in order. He keeps 'in touch' with the outside world by telephone and
radio. When spring 'breaks', and the
roads are open Willie emerges forth with an amazing energy to 'make law and
order prevail.'"
"Owyhee Trails, The
West's Forgotten Corner." by
Mike Hanley
"A few old-timers
remained after the mines closed down for the last time, partly from loyalty to
the past and partly because there seemed no other place to go. It was cheap if not progressive living in
this backwash of the West, but at least things weren't crowded, and there
wasn't any traffic or smog problem.
Last of these old-timer permanent residents was Willie Hawes who died in
1967. Hawes was for years the self-appointed
guardian of Silver City, adding to the color of the proud old camp with lively
tales of its boom town days.
The Idaho Sunday
Statesman: Sunday July 11, 1948
(Photo published with text
is captioned "Two wizened and skeptical natives of Silver City eye the
Statesman camera with misgivings publicity brings tourists and tourists have
caused W. J. (Billy) Hawes, self-annointed deputy sheriff, left, and John
Grete, Jr. son of an original settler, no end in grief on their Sunday
rubberneck tours")
Silver City's Census Shows
Camp Revival By Bill A. Wheeler
SILVER CITY (Special) -
Green shoots of life springing up through the bleached bones of this grand old
silver camp are revived the timeless hope of sons of the pioneers that the
city's death some day would be vanquished by a new prosperity, perhaps even a
boom.
A July Fourth census
reckoned by two of its native sons, ventures that 40 persons have returned to
the haunted castles of rough cedar which once housed 10,000 gold-hungry
prospectors and their reluctant families.
Some of those 40 persons, scattered through the frightening, nearly
treeless Owyhee mountains around Silver are the aging sons and grandsons of the
few who dared diphtheria, rattlesnakes, Indians and each other to survive the
hazards of pioneering nearly 100 years ago.
These 40 persons represent
something nigh to a population boom, for they have increased the census during
the last five years by 4000 percent. In
the fall of 1943, Silver's last dogged native was left alone with the ghosts of
his father and of others who had given their lives to the soil in payment for
the millions in precious metal they had removed
Properties Closed
World War II forced the
closure of gold and silver properties so that everyone had to look for beans
elsewhere; everyone, that is except Old W. J. (Billy) Hawes who thought he'd
better stick around to look after things and finish building his autymobeel out
of wood scraps and a washing machine motor.
Old Billy bid goodbye to the
last departure, Carl Johnson who packed his duffle and struck out in the fall
of 1943. He put on an old deputy
sheriff's cap with a silver-plated badge and went to work on his
automobile. He had to tear the car
apart to get it out of his house and he hadn't got it back together again when
he heard real voices early in the spring of '46 and the folks were coming home
again.
. . . . . . . In the winter
the road is impassable, and in the summer, taking a literal point of view, it
is impossible, although 75 carloads of tourists were counted by
"Sheriff" Billy Hawes the Sunday before July Fourth. Billy carefully takes down each license
number and totals the passengers, just in case any buildings or their contents
are missing.
Idahoans, not to mention
thrillseekers from Waukegan, Peoria and Azusa, are starved for pages out of the
past not yet exploited by neon lights.
It is partly the road,
partly the lack of good historical information and partly due to Billy Hawes'
.38 revolver and loud voice that Silver City is not a tourist Mecca. When Hawes was left alone during the war,
Writer Ernie Hood did a piece on the desertion of Silver and soon after
everyone who could get a gas coupon chugged over here on Sundays to loot and
gawk. It was the looting that set Hawes
on his ear and he got deputized by the sheriff at Murphy so he could put a stop
to that. Someone had taken crucifixes
and other valuables from the historic old Catholic mission; others desecrated
the second Masonic lodge in Idaho. They
walked off with bar glasses, porcelain pitchers and basins, and carved their
initials on hallowed ground. Hawes and Grete sit on their porches these Sundays
and holler threats at sight seers.
Their voices can carry 1000 yards in any direction about the town. Padlocks on every unoccupied building are a
great help.
"True West"
Magazine "Bill Hawes" featured in July-August 1958 edition of pp15, 34, 35 'Ghost Town Guardian' by Norman
B. Wiltsey. Caption by photos reads:
Left: "Sheriff"
Billy Hawes and beer vat where he fashioned a miniature "tavern."
There is a tiny bar with a barkeep and a little table. Below: Silver City in
its heyday.
Some men yearn for fame,
others want to be millionaires; all Bill Hawes craves is his job as a
Ever get fed up with
punching a time clock every day, struggling to pay the monthly bills, battling
this tough modern world? Ever become so weary and frustrated that you wished to
Heaven you were the only resident of a ghost town somewhere, anywhere, with
only coyotes for neighbors and a pack rat for your best friend? If the answer
is a heartfelt yes, consider th ideal set up of Bill Hawes, of Silver City,
Idaho.
William J. Hawes, to give
him his full legal handle, is pushing eighty but you'd never suspect it to look
at him. Bill claims that peace and solitude keep him young and sprightly and it
sure looks that way. He is the self appointed mayor, councilman, police chief,
fireman, postman, dog catcher and general handyman of Silver City, once a
thriving metropolis of the Old West. He holds all these titles because he is
the only bonafide year-around resident of Silver City, and he gets a wry kick
out of awarding himself these mythical posts at no salary per annum.
Naturally, Silver City
wasn't always a ghost town, Silver got her start in 1863, and for twelve years
boomed in spectacular fashion. In that halcyon period $30,000,000 in gold was
taken from one shaft and the Poorman Mine yielded a 500 pound chunk of ore made
up of solid ruby-silver crystals. Specimans were selected and sent to the Paris
Exposition in 1866, where they won a gold medal. The city - nobody dared call
it a mere town in those hectic days - boasted the first daily newspaper in the
state - The Owyhee Avalanche - and offered its proud residents the first
telegraphic wire service in Idaho.