back to Amargosa

Several things I want to mention before continuing:
Alex Gildzen has filmed Garold Gardner with Marta Beckett, for his Century Dimes series, here.

Marta’s real life audience, here.

Triple Play has a film about Marta and Amargosa. See the trailer here.

Before we found Richard, who took us on a tour of the hotel and Amargosa Opera House (originally called Corkhill Hall), we had strolled around a bit, and I think I mentioned that half the hotel had doors to the outside, and the other half had only windows. The place was very quiet, but we noticed that a lobby door was open, so we entered. Inside, there were two rather pale teenage girls wearing parkas (seemed rather warm for that!), and they told us that Richard could give us a tour.

We started out in the lobby, which is where we realized that the opera house was not the only place that had been painted by Marta.

Although I think that many of the frescos in the lobby and diningroom were meant to be cheery, in fact the two rooms felt pretty somber. (Is that an understatement, or what?) Marta had also painted faux lintels above the windows, which resulted in a tombstone effect, so different from the opera house paintings, where you could almost hear the bustle and hum of the audience.

At the end of the long hallway, there was a large mirror, around which Marta had painted a red velvet curtain. It was upon entering the hallway that Joselyn and I started to feel a bit…claustrophobic. The air seemed to thicken.

Richard showed us several of the apartments. They were actually pretty bare, but at first glance it didn’t look that way, because Marta had painted faux headboards above the beds, faux furniture, and even (in one case at least) a faux closet!

Because there had previously been a “house of ill repute” on the site, some of the rooms had a distinctly whorehouse feel to them, and Marta’s faux decor was somewhat tongue-in-cheek.

My flash lit up what were otherwise fairly dim rooms. Or did they just seem that way to our by then over-taxed imaginations?

Joselyn’s photograph, above, seems to more accurately portray how the rooms were feeling to us at that moment — oppressive. I could clearly understand why, as Richard noted, it wasn’t unusual for guests to suddenly bolt from the hotel in the dark of night. Strange things happen there, he said. Voices are heard. Furniture moves.

Richard continued his tale: once upon a time, there had been a house of prostitution on the site. But then, sodium borate (Borax) was discovered in the Valley; a mining company bought the land, and built a little company town there, complete with its own railroad depot, community hall and theater, hotel, hospital, and morgue. In fact, when Marta moved in many years later, she used the old morgue building for her apartment. It was next to the theater (strangely).

The doorless section of the hotel was explained: half the hotel, the end with the doors and the flowerboxes, was reserved for the people of means — those who were potential investors. The other half was reserved for the miners. There were no doors on their end, in order to discourage their fraternization with the investors.

By the way, the substance that was being mined, sodium borate, is somewhat toxic. it can cause skin irritation, gastrointestinal, and respiratory problems. I’m sure the hospital was much needed in that little community.

Richard said that the miner end of the hotel was most “active.” That is, there was a lot of ghostly energy in that area. He himself had seen things, not just there, but in other areas of the hotel, and especially in the rooms. There was poltergeist activity. His bed in one of the apartments had been shaken by unseen hands. But other people have seen things too. The audience had even collectively seen the ghost of Marta’s favorite cat one night, when it made an appearance and jumped up on the stage during one of her performances. Marta hadn’t seen it, herself, but she heard the audience’s reaction.

We were lucky to get a chance to see the opera house with its beautiful frescoes. As the tour came to an end, we all walked back towards the lobby. Richard told us that he was psychic, “sensitive.” An odd thing happened, then. We were suddenly beset by what we would later describe as a veritable plague of flies. Previously, we had stood in front of the lobby, and there were no flies. Now, we stood there, batting at them uncomfortably, while Richard continued to talk, seemingly oblivious to the little buggers. We were ready to leave!

Richard had given us a great tour, and an appropriately spooky one.

Just before we left, we decided to snoop around by the pond behind the old railroad depot, since we were told by more than one person that wild mustangs frequented the pond as their water hole. There were no wild horses to be found.

However, we did unexpectedly find two poems, spray-painted on the interior walls of an abandoned building. And I’ll end the Amargosa ghost story with them:

A final note: while this has ended up being a ghost story, Marta Beckett is still very much alive, and her now sit-down perfomances are still well-attended every Saturday evening at the Amargosa Opera House. Marta is in her late eighties. If you are ever down in Death Valley Junction, do catch her show and enjoy her presence while you can.

Marta Beckett’s set.

Leaving Death Valley Junction and Amargosa. Amargosa means “bitter water.”