A land of contrasts

Most ghost towns in the west have similar comparisons as to how or why they became deserted. In many cases, the mines played out or there was a bigger boom elsewhere. Maybe the climate was too extreme, or water was too hard to find. Almost all of them were mining towns and fell victim to the volatile nature of the industry. Some lasted decades and others lasted weeks.

Dixie Valley, on the other hand, was a ranching community. Located in Nevada’s Churchill County, the area has a good climate with free-flowing artesian wells in abundance, creating lush meadows with trees and ponds. Families that came here stayed, in some cases for 70 years or more. They lived good clean lives in this isolated slice of Eden.

The difference is, unlike the average ghost town, Dixie Valley was not deserted by choice, but rather by force. A government take-over to be exact. In this post I will examine what happened at Dixie Valley.

Today, the town site of Dixie Valley presents a compelling contrast. Peaceful meadows, abandoned homesteads, armored military vehicles and cows are intermixed. Large toads surface from natural green pools as a pair of F-18’s roar overhead.  Located some 30 plus miles from The Loneliest Road in America; Highway 50, the state in which Dixie Valley now exists is a contrast in its own right as to how it existed in the past.

Peace in the valley

Photo curtesy of Dixie Mckay. Taken by her mother, Wanda Hill.

Bracketed by the Stillwater Mountains on the west and the Clan Alpine Range on the east, Dixie Valley contains some 100 artesian wells. This made it prime land for hunting and camping for Native Americans for hundreds of years. White settlers first came to the area about 1860, mining silver in the surrounding mountains and salt from parts of the valley. The community of Dixie Valley did not form until the first ranching families arrived around 1914. Other families followed suit and within a few years a thriving farming and ranching settlement was established. There would remain an undisturbed and tranquil quality of life for the inhabitants for more than 70 years.

Dixie Mckay, a native of Dixie Valley, who was named after her birthplace, tells of a serene life growing up there, “The children of Dixie Valley had to create things to do by using their minds. They didn’t have a movie theater, a local hamburger joint or a bowling alley to occupy their time. Instead, they took hikes, had picnics, went horseback riding, had mud fights, fished, caught bull frogs and had races, played with snakes, lizards and horned toads.”

Living in such an isolated settlement had challenges. It was 75 miles from Fallon, the nearest town with shopping, a hospital and other services. It was, and still is, a desolate stretch of road.  Families would stock up on supplies for months at a time. Dixie Valley did have a schoolhouse, which was discontinued in 1970. Afterwards, children were bused to Fallon, making for a 150-mile round trip and the longest school bus route in the country. The Fallon Eagle-Standard carried a column, “Dixie Valley News,” to keep people informed on the happenings in that far off land. There was also a Post Office there from 1918 to 1933.

Dozens of families called it home. In a seclusion that many people today would shun, these hardy people celebrated with gatherings, camping trips, fishing, and square dances. For added entertainment they would gather with guitars, mandolins, banjos and harmonicas, playing music into the night. It was a hard-working, but peaceful life.

Dixie Valley had its share of natural disasters. Over the year’s floods, fires, earthquakes, droughts, wind and dust storms all took turns ravaging the valley. But it would take the worst disaster of all, the man-made kind, to drive the residents away.

 

Enter the Navy

As a veteran, I am proud of our military and its personnel. But, as a historian, truth and accuracy are vital to my work. The following are the facts as I know them.

During World War Two, the Navy constructed a base at Fallon. Over the years the base continued to expand, developing bombing ranges and facilities in parts of Dixie Valley. By the 1980’s the Navy was seeking a major expansion of its MOA (Military Operations Area.) Most of this was for airspace, to create a military centroid facility and electronic warfare training space. Smack dab in the middle of all this was the settlement of Dixie Valley.

Negotiations began in 1984 to buy out the residents, and very few in Dixie Valley were having any of it.There was confusion and dismay as to what was being offered. Prices did not coincide with what land was developed and what land was not. However, the offers were a non-negotiable take it or leave it. Residents also had trouble understanding why they had to leave if the Navy only wanted the airspace above.  The latter was slowly remedied by a growing number of low flying jets and sonic booms, as many as 100 in a day sometimes, which knocked pictures off walls, broke vases and dishes and even shattered older windows.

This continued form of harassment caused some to give in and take what was being offered. Others, who were not yet deterred, were threatened with Imminent Domain if they could not be bought out.

The fight ended for most in 1987. The Navy took control of 5,500 square miles of central Nevada. The people of Dixie Valley were given 90 days and would soon flee to Fallon, Reno and other parts of the state. But before this hearty collection of families disbanded, there was one thing left to do.

 

A very different kind of funeral

The Dixie Valley Cemetery is small. It is so small, in fact, that only a few residents are buried there. There is one remarkably interesting grave. Interesting because it does not contain a body, although it does contain a lot of heart and soul.

Inside the child-sized coffin below are an assortment of poems and symbolic items. Dixie Mckay recalls a moving funeral for Dixie Valley, in which the coffin was carried from town to the cemetery by horse drawn buggy. “Each resident placed mementos of their beloved valley into the coffin, each speaking their final peace over the death of Dixie Valley, with tears and forlorn faces, remembering the trials, tribulations and the many joys experienced there.”

Among other things placed in the coffin, were articles from the United States Constitution, because, “they no longer applied,” a bottle of Dixie valley water, to represent the good water there that won’t be found anywhere else, an empty bag as a symbol of how empty their lives would be when they were gone, a bird nest, a guitar pic and a death certificate. A wake followed the funeral.

In the coming weeks, family after family headed out for a new and unsure life. The homes did not stand empty for long. After acquiring full control, most homesteads were burned or bulldozed by the Navy. Only a few scattered structures escaped this fate. You can still see these places today, as they are slowly reclaimed by the valley. These partially collapsed homes and outbuildings remain as a testament of the hard work and determination that existed in this valley.

The artesian wells remain, of course, and the ponds and marshes still play host to cows, frogs, waterfowl and the Golden Eagle. Dixie Valley is still abundant with life!

Then there is the aforementioned cemetery a few miles to the south. Its few graves are still visible, including that very different one. The epitaph sums up the plight of the people of Dixie Valley. It reads: “In memory of Dixie Valley and its people, 5-22-87. Here lies their hopes and dreams, and their right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”