Aftrer my exploration of Cactus City, Desert Steve’s writing cabin and unused grave, the possible locations of the original Desert Center, and General Patton’s airfield, I headed my Jeep back across the sands to the ghost town of Desert Center.
A reader, Sam, had reached out to me on social media to say that she has explored Desert Center and the surrounding areas a good bit. She told me where Lydia Ragsdale’s house was located—deserted and ransacked, but still filled with belongings—and some of the other places around. She also knew some historical details that were new to me.
She and her boyfriend, Matt, offered to meet me there and show me some of the things they found. I arrived at the house first. It was still intact, though some broken windows and the screen porch on the roof was open to the elements, The house sits in the middle of a vast sand lot of old junk—mostly vehicle parts, but also an old schoolbus, RV, and other vehicles, as well as bicycles, televisions, and just about anything else you can imagine.
I walked around a bit, looked at an old shed near the house, and peered in a window. Piles of stuff in the house, strewn everywhere. Sam and Matt showed up, and we went inside.
We could not walk without stepped on junk. It is as if the people just one day picked up and left without taking most of their belongings.
We found stacks of magazines and newspapers, some dating back to the 1940s. Bank records, bills, greeting cards, with Lydia Ragsdales name on them. Cans of soup, bottle of spices and other kitchen items still sat on shelves. Upstairs, a child’s folder with schoolwork, beds, blankets, clothes, a stuffed cat, bedsheets folded and sitting on a dresser waiting.
We looked through a lot of papers and items, then left and explored the junkyard. I believe the abandoned school bus was the bus that took the Ragsdale children to school. A little ways away was a shack with a large antenna next to it, a table outside filled with electronic equipment. Is it all been sitting there a very long time, but it looked like someone lived in the little shack, which had an air conditioner attached to it, and was some sort of mechanic.
Next, Sam led us down what used to be a dirt road where there were a row of abandoned houses. She believes these were the houses of some of the grown children of Steve and Lydia Ragsdale. More of the same, although less belongings inside. Farther down another café, and the architecture showed that the origin building was pretty old, but a newer section had been added in the last decades.that the origin building was pretty old, but a newer section had been added in the last decades.
Inside were boxes and boxes of business records, mostly from the café, but also some from the nearby car yard. The roof of the café itself was collapsed.
We explored some more of the surrounding areas but the sun was going down. I knew I would have to come back again, and I also want to explor nearby Corn Springs where Desert Steve’s good friend, Gus Lederer, lived.
I thanked Sam and Matt and then headed back towards Indio, Palm Desert, and Palm Springs.
Coming in 2024
Desert. Sun. Sand. And no roads or human settlements within 50 miles in any direction. The perfect place to found a town?
That’s what Steve Ragsdale believed. So he and his wife bundled up their four kids in their 1915 Ford Model T, bought a local prospector’s shack and well, and built a fuel station (a 50-gallon drum), a repair garage, and café. He advertised “Free food on days the sun doesn’t shine” and “No drunks, no dogs—we prefer dogs.” He was the mayor, sheriff, rockhound, author, naturalist, desert guide, and Santa Claus at Christmastime. He became one of the local “Desert Rats” and earned the moniker “Desert Steve.” Along the way, he became part of history: the construction of the first State and National highways, the invention of prepaid healthcare, General Patton and World War II, the largest iron mine in the United States, flying saucer sightings, and much more.
Based on a true story, this is the tale of a quirky, clever, and bold man who pursued a dream, wrote bad poetry, and found ways to survive when many would have perished or packed it in.
