Chloride, New Mexico
by Bob Hazlett
The store began serving the Chloride mining community in 1880. In 1923, it closed and was boarded up with everything inside. In 1988, when the boards came off, they found a building filled with bats and rats, 75 years of excrement, and underneath it all, the makings of the Pioneer Store Museum.
Chloride, NM was a silver mining town. Silver Chloride was the form of silver ore being mined, hence the town name.
James Dalglish, a Canadian, came to Chloride seeking a better climate for his ill health, arriving just as the Silver Boom was starting. He erected a building that was to be the Pioneer Store.
The building was constructed of hand-hewn Ponderosa Pine logs harvested from the mountains west of Chloride. The timber area is about eight miles west of present day Chloride and was the stronghold of Victorio, Chief of the Warm Springs Apaches. Dalglish probably had guards ready to fight Indians if they appeared. Several skirmishes had been fought there in preceding years.
His building was approximately 60 feet long and filled the entire lot width of 25 feet.
In 1880, the store opened. It stocked everything miners and their families needed. Merchandise included mining tools and equipment, ranch supplies, clothes for the entire family, and all manner of foodstuff. Records suggest the store also served as both a bank and a pawn shop.
In 1881, the Postal Service installed a Post Office in the front of the store and Dalglish became Postmaster.
By 1882, Chloride had a weekly newspaper. “Black Range” was published from the second floor of the Pioneer Store until the late 1890s.
Dalglish leased the store out for several years, and in 1908 sold it to the James Family who owned the U.S. Treasury Mining Company. They used the store as a commissary for their ranch and timber workers.
In 1923, they closed the store and sealed all the windows and doors with roofing tin and lumber with all furnishings, and merchandise still inside … and so it remained until 1988.
Enter Don and Dona (correctly spelled with one n) Edmund. Don worked for IBM installing computer systems for the military and the FAA. At this time, he was working at White Sands Missile Range. The Edmunds lived in Las Cruces and spent weekends in Chloride restoring a derelict house they had purchased.
One weekend, in the summer of 1978, they met Mr. Edward James, who had come from California to visit a relative in Chloride. Mr. James asked the Edmunds to join him in exploring the old store building. They entered through the back door by removing roofing tin and lumber and then taking out a bottom door panel. In his book, Don describes the sight they beheld inside this way:
“All the furnishings and merchandise were just as they were when they closed the building in 1923, except that everything was covered with bat guano. It was about two inches deep on everything. There were thousands of bats in the building. Many were flying about as we had disturbed them, but many more still clung in clusters on every exposed ceiling joist.”
After three more years finishing up existing projects and wondering how to do it, the Edmunds began restoring the Pioneer Store.
Then another treasure, another opportunity, another task:
“When the building was closed in 1923, the town folks had gathered up what there was of the town records from 1880 to 1923 and stored them in boxes stacked near the front of the building. Over the years, the boxes weakened and tipped over scattering documents the full length of the center aisle. Those had to be picked up first. We found that the bat guano could be brushed off, and the papers could be saved, but where the rats had nested, the papers were so soiled that they had to be trashed. We wound up with around 35 boxes of old town records.”
First came a photography marathon – taking pictures of all the inside shelves and storage bins so that items could be returned to their proper place after cleaning. Then everything was removed, cleaned, and stored. Next, shelving, counters, and bins were taken out so the interior could be cleaned.
Nearly all the glass in the large front windows had been broken, and the building had acquired a decided lean to the right. They pushed the logs back into shape, rebuilt the window frames, and installed new glass.
The walls, originally whitewashed, were cleaned and painted with one thin coat of cheap paint to let the stains come through.
Once the floor was cleaned, they found several black stains at various places. Mr. James reminded them that the Black Range newspaper had been printed upstairs, and he believed that ink pots spilled upstairs had seeped through cracks to the downstairs. Checking the black stains on the second floor confirmed that, so they left the stains downstairs.
With the walls straightened up, cleaned, painted, windows replaced, and items of merchandise cleaned and refurbished, it was time to put everything back in place. As the pieces went back on the shelves, they recognized what a treasure this truly was, a real ‘old time Mercantile’ right there in Chloride.
Returning the tools to the shelves, quickly showed the tools would not display well laying flat, so they left the rear shelving out, and hung the tools on the walls for a better view.
In 1997, the pioneer store opened to the public as the Pioneer Store Museum.
The museum is an accurate recollection of the store as it was at the turn of the 20th century, except that the tools are on walls instead of shelves and a small section has been set aside as a memorial to Cassie Hobbs and Raymond Schmidt. Cassie and Raymond were citizens of Chloride who … well, that’s another story.
Author’s Note: Everything I know about the Pioneer Store Museum I learned from Don Edmund – some from interviews, some from his unpublished book “THE STORIES THEY TOLD US: As told by the ‘Old Timers’ of Chloride.” With his permission, I quoted him, and I paraphrased many of his words, but the story is his and I thank him for it.
Albuquerque Hot Air Balloon Ride at Sunset
If You Go:
Location:
– N33o20’19.17″, W107o40’52.12″; elevation 6,186 feet
Distances:
– From the north: Albuquerque to Truth or Consequences – 143 miles
– From the south: Las Cruces to Truth or Consequences – 84 miles
– Truth or Consequences to Chloride – 43 miles
Directions:
– Leave I-25 at Exit 83 in Truth or Consequences, NM
– Travel north on Rt 181, then west on Rt 52 for 39 miles to Winston
– Turn left on Republic Rd and follow 4 miles to Chloride. Road ends in Chloride.
Time commitment:
– Allow 45 minutes for the trip from/to Truth or Consequences.
– Allow two hours for your guided visit to the Pioneer Store Museum and the Monte Cristo Saloon & Dance Hall Gift Shop & Gallery.
– Ask Don for a history tour of the town. That takes about an hour.
– Enjoy a meal or snack at the Chloride Bank Cafe.
– Outdoor enthusiasts can enjoy hiking trails in the adjacent Gila National Forest.
Accommodations:
Traveling in an RV:
– Apache Kid RV Park in Chloride is a small (5 sites) but very adequate facility with full hookups. Rate is very reasonable. Call 575-743-2736 for reservations.
Need a room:
– Several rental cabins are available in Chloride. Call 575-743-2736 for information and reservations.
Food Service:
– Lunch and dinner is available in the Chloride Bank Cafe. (Thu – Sun)
– Many restaurants in Truth or Consequences.
Bob Hazlett roams the US full-time in his RV, capturing his experiences and places in words and pictures. He maintains a travel blog and publishes articles in RV and Workamping related magazines and e-zines.
All photos by Bob Hazlett:
View of present day Chloride from the hill above town
Post Office occupied the front of the store
Store Display Case with original glass
Many of these brand names we still recognize today
A heaven for bottle collectors
Tools hung on the wall for better display
A local artisan created this piece of metal art work for Don Edmund
Schmidt & Hobbs Memorials hold a place of honor in the museum
When I arrived, I saw two large mud holes filled with children. And this was not some delicate, mash-the-mud-barefooted activity. This was full-contact mayhem, requiring everyone’s Outside Voice. Children were rolling in the red clay muck, happy as a butcher’s dog. Possibly, some of the more enthusiastic participants needed to be hosed off before their parents could even recognize them.
The July heat and humidity were brutal, but the fort’s blacksmith, Chilton, happily worked the furnace. Talking as he shaped glowing iron on his anvil, he was ready to answer an endless stream of questions, even giving visitors an up close look at his blazing forge.
This was not a place where a rope or a “stay back” sign separated you from the action. The Society volunteers let visitors pitch in as fully as safety allowed. A young girl shelled dry corn into a wooden bowl while another waited her turn to grind it with a large pestle. And three tomahawk targets, unmolested today, hinted at more fun that could be had some other time.
For example, we were discussing the small sheds near the fort. When I asked if you could take a regular shed and add fake woodwork to make it look authentic, Darrell, the volunteer Sergeant of Arms who diplomatically refrained from thumping me on the forehead, was very definite in his response.
The Society is not about making things LOOK authentic. They want things to BE authentic. From the trees felled with an ax to the logs shaped with traditional tools to the dovetails carefully chiseled to fit without nails, this group is united in their collective calling to present the truth of those distant times. As the sun set and the cook fire sizzled, Eddie said he was sure that the old fort was haunted. Wearing a tricorn hat and green breeches with horn buttons, he recounted several compelling stories of his experiences as he turned his steak on the heavy iron grill. Doll, another volunteer, agreed. One night, someone kept pulling her blanket over her feet as she slept inside the fort. The consensus is that this ghost might be a kindly woman who was concerned about Doll’s cold toes.
All photos are by Michael Kulp:
On the first Friday of December the whole town comes together for the annual Christmas tree lighting. The streets are lined with trees lit up in bright white lights. Every shop window is fully decorated with beautiful holiday displays. The streets are closed down for this special event as community members are encouraged to stroll from store to store and vote for their favorite display. Store owners welcome familiar faces into their shops and spoil them with treats and beverages.
10, 9, 8 – children are shouting! 7, 6, 5 – their voices getting louder in anticipation. 4, 3, 2 – everyone is buzzing, ONE! The cheers erupt as the beautiful tree is lit up and on display for the whole world to see.
The tree has many other elements that make it extra special. Local community groups including the Boys’ and Girls’ Club decorated floats that went around the tree like garland. The high-school arts class made beautiful foam starfish that donned the boughs of the tree. Even the tree topper was special this year, with an Angel holding a starfish high over her head.
About the author:
Andersonville was originally named Camp Sumter. It was built in early 1864, as Confederate officials wanted a larger space to house thousands of federal prisoners from Virginia and Georgia. In its short life, the camp confined 45,000 soldiers. Over 13,000 died from starvation, disease, overcrowding and poor sanitation. Half of all Union prisoner deaths occurred at this horrific site. From February, four hundred Union soldiers arrived every day and by the end of June, 26,000 men occupied a space that was originally designed for 10,000. One of the first stops was the entrance to the North gate. You can walk up the hill and follow the footsteps of where Union soldiers entered the prison for the first time. This was an incredibly powerful experience. One soldier exclaimed on his arrival, “is this hell?” I stood there for a while, trying to imagine the sights and smells those soldiers faced. Of course, nothing I could imagine would come close: people complained about the stench of the prison ten miles away. At its height, 130 prisoners died every single day. It was such a high rate that coffins could not be built fast enough. Instead, bodies were dumped in mass graves. Opposite the North gate, there stands a large empty field, originally the place where the prison hospital stood. Many soldiers refused to go, knowing they would never come out. Now all you can hear is the wind rustling through the tall grass.
As the circular loop goes round, the last stop informs the visitor about sheltering the prisoners. The Confederate army could not supply adequate food or clothing, and soldiers were expected to make their own tents out of any material they could find, a small sheet or ripped trousers which was meant to protect them through rain or shine. Many had no shelter at all. Unsurprisingly, it was a “hell on earth.”
A national cemetery was established at Andersonville in the summer of 1865. During the Camp’s operation, prisoner Dorence Atwater was assigned the task of recording the soldiers who died for the Confederate officials, but unbeknownst to them, Atwater kept a second copy for himself. After the War, Atwater wanted to give the Union prisoners a proper burial, and when the federal government spurned him, he enlisted the help of Clara Barton. A heroine of mine, Barton founded the American Red Cross and nursed thousands of men during the War. Atwater and Barton identified over 12,000 soldiers buried at Andersonville. There are over 500 unknown soldiers buried in the cemetery, something I have always thought of as a cruel twist of fate since visiting the First World War battlefields of France. Today, Andersonville is still an active cemetery (active in the sense that soldiers can choose to be buried there) and the roll call presently stands at 18,000.
