Through boom and bust, the tiny town of Eureka, Utah, finds wealth in community. 

"Do you know what you're looking at?" he asked. I studied the structure. With its wooden framework, winch, rope and bucket, it looked to me like an old-fashioned well.

The problem is, we were standing inside an office building. My host was Nick Castleton and we were in the Gately Building in Eureka, Utah.

"A well?" I posited. "But there must be more to the story."

"Indeed there is," Castleton said. He then proceeded to explain how in the "old days," this side of the Gately building housed one of the many watering holes in town. After Prohibition outlawed the sale of alcoholic beverages, the proprietors found a workaround ahead of monthly inspections.

• EUREKA HISTORICAL SOCIETY
• The town of Eureka, Utah, located in the East Tintic Mountain Range, developed adjacent to mining operations in the late 1800s.

"With everybody knowing everybody else, the enforcement officers took to calling ahead before coming in," Castleton said. "The saloon staff would uncover the well—it was floor level in those days—bundle together all the liquor and lower it into the well. When inspectors arrived, all they would find were men sitting around, chatting, playing cards and drinking a cup of coffee or soda."

I first met Castleton via social media after posting general questions about Eureka on a community page. He suggested I come visit and even offered to be my tour guide.

As it turned out, Castleton is not new to playing host. Having grown up in Eureka, he later served on the City Council (2012 to 2014) and as the city's mayor (2014 to 2022). In these roles, he introduced countless visitors to the area.

My little group found him generous with his time and encyclopedic in his knowledge. We were schooled in mining procedures, outlaws and rogues, red-light districts, railroads, longhorn ranches, sledding trails and folklore.

• COURTESY PHOTO
• Former Eureka mayor—and occasional tour guide—Nick Castleton.

If you are familiar with Tintic, that's most likely due to its proximity to the Little Sahara Recreation area, with its sand dunes and ATV trails.

Or maybe you've been rockhounding and ended up in the ghost towns of Mammoth or Silver City.

And speaking of ghost towns, perhaps you caught a couple episodes of Ghost Adventures exploring the reported hauntings in Eureka itself?

But for the uninitiated, Eureka is located along Highway 6 in the East Tintic Mountain Range, approximately 75 miles southwest of Salt Lake City. The Tintics got their name from the Ute Indian Chief Tintick who, in the 1850s, eluded arrest by a U.S. posse by ensconcing his band in its canyons. He was never caught and, after a while, the posse searching for him disbanded. The Tintics, having been deemed unfit for farming, were left alone as well, and for many years lay undisturbed, except for seasonal cattle herds or pony express riders.

All this tranquility came to an end one day when a cowboy picked up a rock. For years, there'd been speculation that the Tintics were hiding mineral ore—perhaps even a lode rivaling that of the California gold strike of '49. So when word got out that this rock was rich in silver it resulted in a frenzy of activity.

Bonanza
Disregarding all caution, one wagon of local men started out in December of 1869, according to A History of Juab County (1999). It should have been no surprise that they were stopped by a quick-moving storm at that time of year, yet these men were unprepared. Making camp in a place called Ruby Hollow, they awoke to find everything shrouded under heavy snow drifts and with all visual markers unrecognizable.

The men concluded they had no option but to go back home. Return travel turned out to be slow and laborious and the trail difficult to find.

At midday, they stopped to eat and then noticed that along a nearby mountain ledge, the wind had blown clear an outcropping of rock and that the sunlight hitting it shone unusually bright. They climbed up to take a closer look.

click to enlarge

• EUREKA HISTORICAL SOCIETY
• Railroads accelerated the expansion of Tintic mines.

These outcroppings turned out to be high grade copper ore, and soon were part of the first mining claim in Tintic. They named it the Sunbeam.

Soon, the valleys and gulches of Tintic teemed with prospectors, assayers, teamsters, saloons and houses of prostitution. Each successful strike attracted more people—mining camps became boom towns, boom towns became cities and cities grew large with banks, hotels, boarding houses, variety stores, post offices and churches.

The arrival of the railroads in 1878 accelerated production. By then, the largest mines were owned and operated by conglomerates and the mining industry was so busy that jobs were going unfilled.

The corporations turned to immigration. Families were encouraged to send for relatives and companies placed "want ads" in foreign-market newspapers. Eureka's newspapers boasted that the only English an immigrant needed to know were the words "Eureka Utah," "Tintic" or "Shea Hotel," and the authorities at Ellis Island could give them correct directions. Tintic was a polyglot of language, customs and cultures.

A letter dated 1947 between the Eureka City mayor and the Utah Centennial Committee states that during the most active years of production (1869-1947), Tintic's total yield of hard rock mining—gold, silver, copper, lead and zinc—was more than 2 billion tons.

This equates to some $9 billion in 2024 dollars. In addition, Halloysite clay and lead were also produced, with the latter playing a vital role in the war efforts of World War II.

The wealth of Utah mining, especially when including the output from other mines throughout the state, was staggering. Because of the pivotal role Eureka played in the West, the entire city was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1979.

Mining profits impacted the state of Utah in more ways than personal wealth or lowered joblessness. As Brigham Young University's Gary Fuller Reese has pointed out in his 1961 thesis about Eureka mine owner Jesse Knight, Tintic monies paid for state-wide building projects like offices, libraries, churches and schools. At one point Knight also donated the seed money for BYU and saved the Latter-day Saint church from insolvency. Similar claims can be made about mine owners John Beck and Walter Fitch.

Drop into the Utah State Capitol some time and check out the Reception Room (also known as the Gold Room). Funding for this space was donated by the McIntyre brothers, Texans who had come through Utah on a cattle drive to Montana. While in Utah, they met Charles Crismon, controlling partner of the then-struggling Mammoth mine.

• EUREKA HISTORICAL SOCIETY
• Between 1869 and 1947, mines in the Tintic area produced more than 2 billion tons of gold, copper, lead and zinc.

As Castleton tells the story: "Crismon had always wanted to own a cattle ranch and the McIntyres were interested in mining. At some point—and some say that alcohol was involved—they brokered a trade."

Tailings
So what remains of Tintic today? While many of the district's towns have followed a predictable boom-and-bust cycle, the city of Eureka remains alive and kicking. It is small (population 740) but still has a fully functioning mayor's office and City Council.

In keeping with its history, Eureka has top-notch schools, youth sports programs, several religious denominations and various civic clubs—including the oldest continual-use Elks club building west of the Mississippi.

But like its fortunes, this seemingly good luck has been neither steady nor was it achieved without great cost.

The last of the historic mines—the Trixie—closed in 2002. That same year, after completing a health study, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) determined that lead levels in the soil were too high and Eureka was declared a Superfund site. Their $78.5 million cleanup was completed in 2010.

But with Tintic, what comes around goes around.

In 2022 Osisko Development Corporation, a gold development company out of Canada, began exploration and development. Osisko focuses on past-producing camps that have district scale potential. In a recent press release, Osisko president Chris Lodder said early results from the Trixie area are pointing the company toward cooperation-rich areas in Tintic's polymetallic historical zones. Osisko is currently advancing its exploration and operating permit progress.

As one would expect after enduring the EPA cleanup and then the COVID-19 pandemic, local businesses have struggled. Those that were able to hang on have been joined by new start-ups, so a glimmer of hope is shining through.

I asked Castleton how he accounts for Eureka's longevity. Sounding like the mayor he once was, he said it was simply its proximity to larger cities and the ease of the commute.

"In the old days, people had to live near their jobs because not everyone drove and the roads weren't as nice," he observed. "Now, people can live anywhere."

He makes a good point, but perhaps something less practical is going on here as well.

Historically, the citizens of Tintic survived fires, flash floods, labor unrest, dangerous work and even cave-ins. By all accounts, they typically responded with creativity, industry, generosity and a sense of humor.

In 1892—as writer Beth Kay Harris described in The Towns of Tintic (1961)—labor unrest shut down production and one mine owner shipped in strikebreakers. The local women subsequently banded together and, led by a woman called "Boxcar" Annie Kelly, marched to the train station and blocked the strikebreakers from getting off the train.

Kelly—apparently a rather large and strong woman—reportedly suspended one of the men upside-down over the railroad trestle and threatened to drop him if he didn't back off.

When Spanish flu hit the district and the hospital in Mammoth was filled to capacity, the local LDS and Catholic churches combined resources, opened their buildings and created makeshift care units.

During the Depression of the 1930s— and prior to the institution of any federal programs—the community at large set up work units to gather firewood outside of town, with the proceeds going to families in need. At Christmas, civic clubs sponsored free movies and candy for the local children.

Confronting modern-day challenges, the all-volunteer Eureka Historic Society organized itself in 1973 and only 10 years later won the Albert B. Corey Award from the American Association of State and Local History for its creation of both the Tintic Mining Museum and the publication of a history of the area.

This museum has only improved with time and, as far as I am concerned, should be on every must-see list.

Jubilee
Just as in the old days, Eureka likes its celebrations. Topmost is the Silver Festival. Modeled after the Silver Jubilee of 1929, it is held every August. Typical of small town celebrations, it includes a parade, 5K race, car show, cornhole contest, raffle and photo contest, plus vendors, fireworks and a live concert.

Other events held throughout the year are fundraisers with proceeds going to children in need. Retired KSL newsman Doug Wright (a Eureka resident) has hosted the "Ride to Light Up Eureka'' motorcycle rally from Salt Lake to Eureka, as well as the "Cool Summer Nights' Poker Run," an ATV course where riders collect cards at various stops with the goal being to build the best poker hand.

Many businesses in town reflect this inherent can-do attitude as well. I found the business district quirky and fun, with things like a coffee apothecary and a motorcycle museum. The restaurants, while not many, are varied and truly delicious.

click to enlarge

• COURTESY PHOTO
• Mary Crank, owner of Crazy Mary’s rock shop.

Crazy Mary's rock shop and antique store occupies a portion of the old Gately building (which also houses the well that Castleton showed me). Its owner, Mary Crank, is proud that her business, as well as her living quarters, sit in the only topless bar in town—topless because the building lacks its top floor (get your minds out of the gutter).

An Iowan transplant, Crank reports that she came to Eureka because of the history but stays for the people. "There's so much diversity here," she told me. "People do crazy things and so do I.''

Crank told me that more than once she has awakened in the night to find local teens sitting in her entry room, waiting to see the ghosts that are rumored to haunt the building.

Fourth grader Chase Norman—this year's winner of the Utah League of Cities and Towns Essay Contest—probably speaks for many when he writes that the people in Eureka "are the best" and the surrounding nature is "calming."

"The community is very small, which means that almost everybody knows everybody. Almost everyone is trusted!" he wrote in his essay. "If you want a great place to stay, come straight to the fun and nice place Eureka, Utah!"

After visiting the area myself, I am inclined to agree.

click to enlarge

Did You Know?
• Frank Zamboni, inventor of the zamboni ice resurfacing machine, was born in Eureka.

• The first religious denomination in Tintic was Catholic, with the first conversions performed by Father Lawrence Scanlan, who later was appointed the first Catholic bishop in Utah.

• Orrin Porter Rockwell, famous/infamous bodyguard to LDS leaders Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, owned a ranch and lived for a time just west of Eureka. His cabin has been relocated onto Main Street.

• "Tommyknockers" are little demons or ghosts, Welsh in origin, that were believed to create knocking sounds deep in the mines, sometimes meant to warn miners of dangers and other times just to toy with them.

• "Buzzie" is mining slang for a hand-held pneumatic drill.

• Aviator Amelia Earhart once crash-landed near Eureka. While awaiting repairs, she stayed with mine owner Cecil Fitch and consequently became lifelong friends with Fitch's sister Maud. Maud Fitch, a semi-celebrity in her own right, was an ambulance driver during WWI, where she earned the French Croix de Guerre and the Bronze star for her efforts.

• Little Pony Chesbro, one of outlaw Butch Cassidy's Wild Bunch, was known to have lived in Eureka off and on.

• Humorous names were often given to local mines. My favorite? "Damfino." The name came about because when the filing clerk asked the miner what it should be called, he said: "Damn-if-I-Know."