Tuesday, November 10th, 2009
remains of the KOA campground at Two Guns, AZ
Two Guns, Arizona is a bizarre and fascinating place. This is a real, bonafide, empty ghost town right on the side of the Interstate. There is an exit on I-40 to Two Guns, but there’s nothing there except ruins. And Mike.
When you learn of the history of Two Guns, you think it must be jinxed. For starters, here is the home of the “Apache Death Cave”, where it’s said that 42 Apache men, women and children were massacred in the cave way back in 1878, after the Apaches had attacked a nearby Navajo settlement. In more recent history, according to David Wickline in his extremely useful “Images of 66”, Two Guns started catering to early Route 66 travelers back in 1924. Two men who built the place up, Earl Cundiff and Harry E. Miller (known as “Two Gun Miller”), apparently fought regularly until Miller shot and killed Cundiff in 1926. After 1948, Two Guns fell into a state of disrepair until Ben Dreher tried revitalizing the area in the 1960s – only to have the place go up in smoke during an explosion and fire in 1971. Later, a Shell station and KOA campground were built. Those two structures were also eventually abandoned. The ruins of all of these versions of Two Guns can be found here, making it a pretty unique site to explore.
graffiti in the empty gas station
I park the Jeep and trailer at the exit and make my way in to shoot some photos. The first thing I come upon is the abandoned Shell gas station. This is one of the more recent structures of Two Guns and is in pretty good shape still. It’s your standard empty gas station affair: broken glass, the odd chair here and there, and the inevitable graffiti tags, of course.
Farther up the road you find these two storage tanks that were painted back in the day with images of trappers and cowboys, and more modern decorations that have been added since (read: graffiti). Further along still come the remains of the old KOA campground. This is really interesting to me. There is a lot of miscellaneous debris around the place (stuff from the building’s interior, etc.), but the inside of the building is incredible. The amount of graffiti is intense, as is its subject matter (the series of naked women wearing stormtrooper masks while crawling on their knees particularly leaves an impression). It’s wild seeing the old bathrooms and showers so decimated. I keep thinking of all the youngsters who had experienced fun camping times there, sweet innocent memories formed while road tripping with their parents down Route 66 – and this location that had seemed so safe and pure to them is now covered with spray-painted skulls and penises. The sense of time passing and life changing is as vivid as the graffiti in places like this.
So I’m shooting away amongst the rubble and I start hearing all this noise – stuff crashing around a bit and things moving… I’m sure someone is here and I get scared. I duck behind a wall and scurry-while-crouched-Scully-from-X-Files-style across the building. I feel really stupid when after holding my breath for a few minutes and peeking around corners, I realize that it was just the strong wind kicking up the debris and making noise.
There’s so much to shoot, I actually run out of supplies and have to leave sooner than I want to. Silly me: I brought only the two camera bodies and left my tripod, extra battery and empty SD cards in the Jeep. I’m still a little jumpy from the noise scare when I start making my way back to the car.
I’m walking down the road toward the exit and what do I see coming up the path? A homeless guy. He’s walking toward me, with his long beard, trench coat and gnarly walking stick… he’s between me and my getaway vehicle… he’s seen my equipment in the car by now (if he hasn’t already unzipped the windows to help himself)… and there is NO ONE, anywhere, for miles. If this dude wants anything from me, I’m in trouble.
So I try to be cool.
“Hey.” I cautiously greet him as he approaches.
“Hey,” he replies… “That your Jeep down there?”
We exchange a few sentences about what we’re both doing here, and he informs me that he lives here, and that he just spent the afternoon walking about seven miles out here in the desert. He’s tired! I discover that like me, he is also between jobs. He needed somewhere to go, and he knew there was an old ghost town out here – so he figured he’d hang his hat here for awhile. When he needs to go into town, he hitchhikes into Flagstaff. Apparently the police know he’s out here and they don’t bother him. I learn his name is Mike. He seems harmless enough and I start to feel silly for being so worried and paranoid.
Mike doesn’t appear to be carrying much with him – his walking stick, a small bag, and whatever is in his pockets. So I’m pretty shocked when he pulls a large bundle of papers out from his bag and starts educating me on the history of Two Guns. He’s got a stack of articles and book pages that he’s photocopied at the library in Flagstaff. He gets all animated and starts rifling through his papers to prove facts, and he points out ruins of buildings off in the distance for reference. “Now, see that building over there, just beyond that rise? …wait, you better have a look at it through the binoculars…” – and he pulls a set of Bushnells out of his pocket. It was surreal. But I start to figure out that Mike has learned that travelers like me who pull over there are interested in the history of the place – or just wonder what the heck they’re looking at when they do pull over – and he was smart enough to equip himself as an ad hoc tour guide to serve. Pretty clever of him.
Whatever Mike’s plan or motivation is behind his educational services, he seems genuinely interested in his subject matter – and he never once asks me for money. In fact, when he walks with me back to the Jeep to hang out for a moment while I get a snack and he rolls himself a cigarette, I ask him how he was doing for food. “Oh, I’m OK, thanks.” I would gladly share what I’ve got with him so I try again, “you sure? I’m going to have a bite here before I leave – I’ve got some cheese and crackers and fruit here… you sure you don’t want anything?” “No, no, I’m fine. I’ve got me some smoked sausage here that I’m going to cook up… actually, I could invite you for dinner!” he says. “You want to stay for dinner?” I no longer know what to think or assume about this guy. Am I being insulting to assume that he would want to share my food? And would I insult him by turning down his generous offer?
Mike, Two Guns resident
Then he gets another idea. “Where are you going to camp tonight? You can stay here if you like. You can pull your camper up the road here… or if you want, there’s lots of space up in the building where I stay. You can drag your sleeping bag or whatever you’ve got up there – you can have a whole area to yourself, I won’t bother you at all.” Now, one could argue that the guy just wants to take advantage of a young female traveling alone, and that’s what all this gallantry is about. Maybe he has a weapon stashed up at the KOA and he’s trying to lure me up there with friendly banter and promises of safety. But I really don’t think so. I really think the guy just thought the company would be nice.
The scene gets even odder to me when I explain that I really want to find a cheap campground because I need to get a shower. Mike takes on helping me with that, too. He says he goes to the Mission in Flagstaff sometimes – it’s for men only, but if I go there, they can tell me where women can go for a shower and stuff. Of course, it had never occurred to me to seek out the support systems for those living on the street. At any rate, although I’m currently jobless, I’m not homeless, and I’m not about to use up services offered to those in straits more dire than mine.
What’s more, there is another bizarre element to this situation: I am scheduled to be interviewed by phone on channel 12 news in Phoenix the next morning at 6am, and I need to be sure I have a clear cell signal. The juxtaposition of that reality in my head with this conversation I’m having with Mike about where to sleep and shower that night is truly, truly strange.
Nevertheless, it amazes me that I’ve found some common ground with a homeless guy on an empty path in a ghost town. We’re both between jobs, trying to find our way, and here we are both offering support to each other. Once again I find we really are all the same, and we just want to connect with others. But in spite of what we share, the fact remains that Mike and I are living in very different universes. I don’t know what circumstances brought him to squatting in a decaying KOA in the middle of the desert, but I count my blessings that allow me to take this trip. It’s all relative, right? Being let go from my job sucked and I’ll probably have to sell my house when I get back, but I’m looking at Mike and I’m thinking that things could be so much worse.
Or could they? Come to think of it, Mike seems like a pretty darn contented man, living out there in the middle of nowhere. Maybe he’s onto something…
Tags: apache death cave, graffiti, homeless, koa, mike, phoenix news, two guns
November 11th, 2009 at 5:09 am
Fantastic tale Sandi. Glad you were safe after all. Have fun at the pier!
November 11th, 2009 at 10:39 am
A really amazing experience. Hanging out in nature is really the only way one finds out about oneself and others. You had me shaking in my boots when the noises began. I love the picture of Mike. He’s a beautiful character.
There are many homeless camps these days–people who have lost their jobs and homes because of the economy. I’m wondering what the story of the large buses in the Venice parking lot is. Obviously they are homes. Do they pay rent of $6.00 per day to park in the Venice parking lot? That would be ‘rent’ of approximately $180.00 per month–not that bad, especially if the lot could be a mailing address and whatever income they might receive by check could be sent there.
This is my favorite tale so far, and except for you, Sandi, Mike is my favorite character.
November 11th, 2009 at 6:37 pm
Wonderful ruminations on life and the pursuit of happiness (or maybe just contentedness) in this post! And the photos really extend the feeling. I particularly love the last one, with that distant blue mountain framed in the open doorway. And what a desert original that Mike is!
November 12th, 2009 at 10:10 am
this blog was profoundly moving to read, these tears may stay in my eyes for a while. How seperated my daily life is from so much of life, that I consider to be a threat (and it very well may be a threat as you wisely mused off and on). one finds out during and for sure afterwords if it was a real threat or not.
I am glad you shared this. Really great and moving conclusions and observtions.
November 13th, 2009 at 8:34 pm
While reading your blog and viewing the KOA campground photograph this song popped into my head…and I couldn’t get it out. So I’m passing it on to you.
Ghost Town
This town (town) is coming like a ghost town
All the clubs have been closed down
This place (town) is coming like a ghost town
Bands won’t play no more
Too much fighting on the dance floor
(A-la-la …)
Do you remember the good old days before the ghost town?
We danced and sang as the music played in any boomtown
This town (town) is coming like a ghost town
Why must the youth fight against themselves?
Government leaving the youth on the shelf
This place (town) is coming like a ghost town
No job to be found in this country
Can’t go on no more
The people getting angry
(A-la-la …)
This town is coming like a ghost town
This town is coming like a ghost town
This town is coming like a ghost town
This town is coming like a ghost town
The Specials – 1981
Written by Jerry Dammers
I’m glad Two Gun Mike turned out to be alright because when I first saw his photograph…I first thought of Charles Manson and then settled on the old character actor Jack Elam.
Stay well and stay safe.
November 13th, 2009 at 10:50 pm
Thanks for the song, TSB. Did you find one for wet ass yet?
Meeting Mike was a moving and humbling experience. I’m glad people are enjoying this post.
Rick, I didn’t make it back to the pier!
Going to write about that next.
November 15th, 2009 at 12:36 am
No I have not found a song to cover your “Wet Ass” yet. For some reason I’m thinking it is something by Frank Zappa. It had the humor of Zappa’s “Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow,” which is why its racking my brain and as you know there is not much to rack.
Saw the pictures from the pier, shortened your locks, eh? Looking good. You are wearing the road well.
Be well and stay safe.
November 15th, 2009 at 7:30 pm
Did you take any photos of the Apache cave? We will be doing Route 66 over Thanksgiving weekend (and the week after) and I wanted to see where it was in relation to the Mountain Lions gateway.
November 15th, 2009 at 10:51 pm
James: no, I didn’t even get to the cave. There was so much to see there and after I left Mike, it was time to leave. I’m sure if Mike is around when you go, he’ll point it out to you!
November 15th, 2009 at 11:23 pm
I just can NOT imagine myself (all alone) bumping into Mike the Homeless guy! I think I would be scared out of my mind. But then I guess you had to be there eh?
By the way…I LOVE YOUR HAIR!!!! It’s about time you did that!
November 17th, 2009 at 8:35 am
Spelling “camp” with a “K” eh? ….smells like socialism to me….comrade…
Sorry couldn’t help it.
November 19th, 2009 at 9:18 pm
How did I not find your blog sooner? Awesome! We run across lots of “scary” looking people in our travels but most of them turn out to be amazing people that have found happiness in a simpler existence. For example, we ran into Steve “life life” Fugate in Hill City, SD and it turned out that he was from a town VERY close to where we both grew up! Small world!
http://www.lovelifefilm.com/
We’re currently traveling around in our popup trailer, hope to see you on the road one day!
November 20th, 2009 at 12:54 pm
What a fantastic, moving, incredibly humane story Sandi!!! I’ve always believed that one of the best things of traveling is that sometimes it is the only way to connect with people, cultures, languages, etc. that otherwise you won’t now you are related to.
Mike is one of my favorite characters, too. Loved his photograph!!
November 21st, 2009 at 3:32 pm
Jessica, how did I not see your blog sooner? Good for you two. And Steve’s story is amazing. I hope our paths cross on the road sometime!
About this whole encounter with Mike… I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how interacting with people while on the road differs from our “normal” way of interacting. The way I approached people while on this trip became so very different than what I was used to – and the connections seemed so much more instant and free. It’s hard to describe, but those of you who travel a lot know what I mean. There are all of these other worlds and realities out there that are so far out of our little bubble… before this trip, I never would have stayed at strangers’ houses, or chatted up a homeless guy, or gone naked into a hot spring, or… etc. etc. So much of what we think is a big deal is really nothing, when you really get out there and open yourself to experience life.
For the love of god, go travel!!
November 21st, 2009 at 7:34 pm
Which leads me to what came to me today while I was hanging wet laundry on the clothesline, Sandi:
Where will you be heading for your next travel adventure?
Are you open to suggestions?
November 22nd, 2009 at 12:18 pm
Jane – open to suggestions, sure. Actually on the way home I took a different route through Texas to avoid the cold snap and snow farther north, and found a lot of empty towns along the way. I want to research to find out what the heck happened down there. Intriguing.
There are just so many interesting places in the world to explore – and you don’t even have to go far!
November 22nd, 2009 at 2:48 pm
Sounds as though you may have found your new adventure, there in Texas. I’m curious! I want to know!
If the weather there is right, could there be a resurgence, a new community?
There are lots of people now with no particular place to go.
December 24th, 2009 at 1:30 am
Sandi, Great story!!! I had a very similar experience recently. I just came off the road too and found my way in Two Guns looking for shots and talked to Mike. Yeah, he really knows his history on the place for only being there a few months. I still need to process my film from this trip but I’m pretty excited to see how the Two Guns photos come out. Thanks for sharing!
My best,
Nick
http://www.flickr.com/photos/nsyracuse/
http://www.roadphoto.com
January 20th, 2010 at 12:55 am
Finally have a shot to share!
January 20th, 2010 at 1:06 am
OK, one more try
http://i82.photobucket.com/albums/j266/photonix_photos/02-1-1-1.jpg
[IMG]http://i82.photobucket.com/albums/j266/photonix_photos/02-1-1-1.jpg[/IMG]
January 20th, 2010 at 11:19 am
Nicholas, what a great shot of Mike! I’m so glad you got to meet him and experience what I did. Love the photo, nice work!
January 26th, 2010 at 10:23 pm
Sandi:
When traveling Route 66 in California, did you go through Newberry Springs? Did you visit the Baghdad Cafe?
I saw Huell Howser’s visit to that area on PBS last night. I thought of you.
January 27th, 2010 at 3:20 pm
Jane: oh yeah, I’ve been to Bagdad Cafe a few times. You should check it out.
(speaking of, did you ever get to Green Peas?)
January 28th, 2010 at 10:25 am
I got to Green Peas on Sunday when it was closed. Took a couple bad photos through the window, and never got back there. It’s still on my agenda, but I have been busy wrapping up final tutoring with my first 5 students. I’ll have to go back, maybe today or tomorrow. Thanks for reminding me. I wonder if your work is still on display.
January 29th, 2010 at 6:48 pm
Jane: as far as I know, the work is still up, yes. Thanks!
January 30th, 2010 at 10:29 am
I wonder what time they open. I have a student at noon today, but I would love to go have breakfast. Guess I should put in a call.
March 8th, 2010 at 8:52 pm
Quote: “Paul Steinberg Says:
November 17th, 2009 at 8:35 am
Spelling “camp” with a “K” eh? ….smells like socialism to me….comrade…
Sorry couldn’t help it.”
“OK” paul. KOA stands for Kampgrounds of America. We are a franchised campground chain of 475.
The reason for the “K” is that the US Trademark office wouldn’t copyright “Campgrounds of America” because it was to general, so the “K” was adopted.
Since 1962 there where over 900 A-frames built, today around 400 are still in the chain. 500 are out there in the US, either in Two Guns condition, alternative use, demolished or burned down.
I am on a hunt for photos of other A-frames, in any condition or use, that were KOAs, but now out of the system.
Bill Olendorf
pskoa@hargray.com