Mining Landscapes: Ghosts of Technology Past

by Gary B. Peterson

Mining landscapes are perceived in radically different ways-from "so what" to "visual jewel." These sites are much more than just old buildings. Places have their times and seasons too, and we can learn much about ourselves through our predecessors.

Look at the Tintic Mining District. Eureka, the heart of the district, is nestled in a mountain valley surrounded by mine tailings, railroad grades, retaining walls, and mining and processing structures. Most visible perhaps are the mine head frames, soaring skyward with timbers so large the contemporary mind ponders how their size can be: "This must be steel," we think. These carefully engineered structures tagged the Montana two post, the A-frame, the four post and the inclined head frame-were once used to hoist men and material in and out of mine shafts many times deeper than a local skyscraper's elevators. They still exude a power and grace in the landscape beyond what their builders probably intended for such utilitarian structures. As symbols of the accomplishments of an age of builders before the internal combustion engine, they are both remarkable and useful points of perspective.

Active mining districts such as Bingham, with its space-visible pit, are in constant flux. The towns of Bingham, Lark, and others have been consumed, and the mountain itself moved elsewhere for processing. Each day the hole spirals wider and deeper, etching a seemingly indelible imprint into the Oquirrh Mountains.

The mines of Park City, once dominant on the landscape, have proved to be more ephemeral. In its "gentrification" to ski resort town, Park City has not only lost most of its mining structures but also has seen unimaginable numbers of new buildings constructed. In changing from silver to snow, the structures and technology of Park City's boom days can teach us about our past as far downslope as Brigham Street in Salt Lake City, where the mine owners built their mansions. one hopes some interpretive features will remain for our appreciation and education.

Utah also has a number of unique mining landscapes of which only fragments remain. The amazing tales and sites of the 1950s uranium boom remain seldom told, and unpreserved. The gilsonite veins of the far eastern Uinta Basin are rare occurrences on an international scale. Our coal mining landscapes have been ravaged with both time and intent. Pity, for the little that remains leaves an increasingly difficult-to-read surface story of ethnic diversity and consummate skill as well as an underlying imprint of initial Mormon agrarian settlement.

After mining districts extract their ores and people leave, the veneer of mining landscapes starts to disappear through time or salvage or tax or hazard liability or something else. New uses, whether for art or retreat or tourism or etcetera, may be sensitive to the historic resources or not. In many cases, however, the material resource is invaluable and becoming more so with its rapid disappearance.

No need to obliterate. No need to save everything. What is needed is some sensitivity, some perspective and some educated preservation of past places that will remain to enrich us all.

Gary B. Peterson, geographer, photographer, sometime designer and publisher, is currently building an energy-efficient, site-sensitive house and studio overlooking Hobble Creek Canyon in Mapleton. Awards include the J.B. Jackson Prize for 'Best Popular Geography in North American for his 1987 book Sanpete Scenes: A Guide to Utah's Heart and an award of merit from the American Association for State and Local History in 1989.

1. Ore-loading structures and headframe at the Eagle & Bluebell Mine, Tintic Mining District (April 1982).

2. Gilsonite vein near Bonanza, Uintah County. Gilsonite, an asphalt-based substance, was extracted from "trenches" that stretch for miles across the landscape.

3.1975 view of Bingham Copper Mine (southwest of Salt Lake City), reputedly the largest open-pit mine in the world. The still-active mine was designated a National Historic Landmarkin 1966.

4 & 5. Mining landscapes can disappear quickly. The town of Castlegate and Its adjacent mining structures, including the office Butch Cassidy robbed, vanished between 1971 and 1981.

6. A c.1869 beehive-shaped charcoal kiln at old Irontown, west of Cedar City (June 1972). Only a handful of these structures remain in scattered locations throughout Utah.

7. The "A-frame" Bullion Beck Headframe is one of several types of headframes constructed in the Tintic Mining District. In 1986 it was "accident-proofed" by removing dangerous elements and covering the shaft with heavy gaugechain-linkfencing. Unfortunately, the headframe was damaged in the process. Though still standing, its historic integrity has been unnecessarily compromised (April 1986).

8. The 1877 Wells Fargo Building in Silver Reef (Washington County) was restored several years after this 1980 photograph was taken. Though it is the only original building from the town's mining boom period, other more subtle structures survived, including remains of Chinese dugout dwellings in nearby ravines.

9. Park City's mining-town character is one of its attractions. Though a city ordinance helps protect its original character, development pressures are intense in this popular ski town. New construction and demolition have taken their toll. The four-story Coalition Building and ramp in the foreground of this 1975 photograph are no longer standing.

10. Sunbeam Mine, Tintic Mining District (April 1982). This 1869- 70 mine was the "discovery claim" in the mining district, leading to numerous, full-scale mining operations in the years that followed. The cedar support timbers shown here are one of the few remnants of Utah's early mining activities.