Exploring a desert ghost town for my historical fiction novel about Desert Steve, Pt 1

Today, I took a long-planned trip to Desert Center, the primary location for my upcoming historical fiction novel about Desert Steve Ragsdale. I have explored some of this ghost town a few times in the past, but recent research has led me to explore some other places.

Desert Steve was a tough and clever character: a preacher in Missouri, a cotton farmer in the Palo Verdes Valley, and finally the founder of Desert Center in 1921 when there was nothing for 100 miles (ca. 161 km) in either direction except sand. The town waxed and waned through the ensuing decades. Though a small out-of-the-way town, a number of important historical events took place in and around there and Desert Center played a role in each. The Arizona-California aqueduct project, the construction of Highway 60 and then Highway 10, General Patton’s training airbase for World War II, the largest iron mine in the United States, a flying saucer cult, and a murder. By the end of his life, he had established a number of other little towns in the desert, became a well-known “desert rat,” wrote bad poetry, articles, and books about the desert and politics, and had homes in Desert Center, Pinyon Flats, and on top of Santa Rosa Mountain. He was tough, stubborn, quirky, and flawed—and one of the crucial figures of the California desert and American history.

On my way, I stopped briefly at a little town Steve founded called Cactus City (he founded about four or five other towns in the area). It looks like it’s only a rest stop now.

I drove the rest of the way to Desert Center. My first stop was south of the town on the opposite side of the freeway, at a large rock formation called The Alligator. In the 1930s, Steve built a little cabin there for him to retreat and write and think. Only the foundation survives today.

In 1939, Steve decided that, when he died, he wanted to be “planted in Desert Center.” He had a few of his employees from the town dig a grave just up the slope from his cabin. A gentleman’s agreement with the county allowed that he could be buried there. When he died in 1972, however, the officials refused to allow the burial. Desert Steve is buried at the Coachella Public Cemetery (interestingly, the same place that my parents are buried).

He also fashioned a metal plaque with an epitaph, and affixed it to a nearby boulder.

It reads:

Desert Steve
Born June 16, 1882.
Founded DC September 21, 1921. Worked like hell to be an honest American citizen. Love his fellow men and served them.
Hated booze guzzling.
Hated war.
Hated dirty deal damn fool politicians.
Hopes a guy named Ragsdale will ever serve humanity at Desert center.
He dug his own grave. Here are his bones. I put this damn thing up before I kicked off.
Nuff Sed. Steve.

The next part of my exploration was more difficult. Originally, Steve founded his little rest stop 50 miles (ca. 80 km) from any other civilization. He bought out a prospector’s well and set up a lean-to mechanical garage, a little cabin for he and his family, 50 gallon drums with a hand pump of fuel , and a place for his wife, Lydia, to sell refreshments.

At that time, the path through the desert between Phoenix and Los Angeles when was Highway 60 paved was merely two rough ruts in the sand, known as the Blythe-Mecca Road. In 1920, a rough road was paved through the area, as part of an extension of the famous cross-country US 60. But the new road was 6 miles (ca. 10 km) south of Steve’s place. Rather than complain, he helped survey the land, then he moved his entire operation to the south. Highway 60 ran right through the middle of the town where he built a café, a garage, and gas station, a market, a post office, and more as the years went on.

I wanted to find the original location, the prospector’s well, but but no one is sure exactly where it is. After researching historical records and old maps, I had an idea of a possible location. This required driving through the sands in my Jeep, just like those people of old before the roads were paved. I’m not sure how they did that in their old Model T’s because there are places where the sand is quite soft, and I had to use four-wheel-drive. At one point I had to switch into manual 4WD to climb an embankment of sand.

Eventually, I came to the coordinates where I thought the old place might be. I found a metal pipe which is heavily rusted and welded shut. I believe this might be the old well which taps into the aquifer below. Around it, two or three rough concrete pads were situated. There was another pad that appeared newer, along with a concrete block. I explored the area around it but did not find anything else. My guess is this is the place, but I don’t have any way of verifying that for sure.

My next stop was the airfield that General Patton had built as a training center for World War II’s African battles. Then back to Desert Center to look at Steve’s wife’s house, as well as some other homes that I believe may have been their children’s and grandchildren’s. There, I would meet a couple of recent acquaintances who are familiar with the area and Desert Steve, Sam and Matt.

I’ll expand on those in part two of this post.