On a gentle hill just outside of town, in the center of a time-worn cemetery where no self-respecting grass would dare to grow, lies a plot outlined with gray cinder blocks. A large, plastic swan overlooks a collection of plants and plastic flowers. And at the back, stenciled in big white letters on a rough, wooden cross, are the words: Big Deal.
A name? A nickname? An editorial comment on either this life or the next? There is no further explanation, so the casual visitor is left to wonder. But whatever else it means, the grave marker is a sign that this is not an ordinary place.The cemetery lies outside of Eureka (pronounced u-RIK-a, if you're a native), which - with a population of 700 - cannot be considered a ghost town. But given the fact that in its heyday more than 8,000 people lived there and in surrounding towns, it's safe to say that it is not as robust as it once was.
Incorporated in 1892, the town was a child of the late 19th century mining boom. At the center of what came to be known as the Tintic Mining District, it - along with Park City and Bingham Canyon - was one of the Big Three in the days when it was cost-effective, even fortune-making, to pull silver and other precious metals out of the ground.
Those days are long gone, but remnants remain. Eureka is full of reminders that this once was a mining town. Whether it's the old railroad cars and weathered wooden miners' homes along Main Street, the 65-foot head frame of the Bullion-Beck mine at the edge of town, the head frame on the slope across the valley, the dumps of refuse on the hillside, or the quaint old churches, it's almost as if the whole area is a historic district, said Coleen McNulty, president of the Tintic Historical Society.
And everywhere, too, there is an air of resilience, of determination to keep going. After all, she said, Eureka has survived two floods, a fire, plagues and epidemics, a record snowfall and the declining price of silver - so there's not much the residents don't feel inclined to take on with both grit and humor. As a sign at the edge of town proclaims, this place "is not just another hole in the ground."
The Tintic Historical Society has received national attention as one of the best local historical groups around. Their pride and joy is the museum located in a 1925 railroad depot building and on the top floor of the 1899 City Hall. And well it should be, for among the cases and in the nooks and crannies a visitor can find just about one of everything, a delightful window to the past.
A fashion boutique shows off stylish wear from the 1890s and later. A corner honoring the Taylor Bros. Store features dry goods for the home - everything from irons and sewing machines to cups and saucers and sheet music. A long, narrow glass case holds an extensive collection of minerals gathered by a geologist in Maine who donated it the museum when he retired. "We get a lot of rock hounders and geology students that come just for that," McNulty said.
There's a shoe shop, a mini-saloon, a row of fireman's hats, a schoolroom, a general store, a granny's attic, a harness shop. Cubbyholes are filled with a potpourri from the past, including veterinary tools, old cameras and an ancient typewriter.
A glass model shows a geologist's view of the whole district, and there's a three-dimensional model of one of the mines. Another small diorama shows the buildings along Main Street. There's a courtroom corner, an original 1893-1899 arrest register (theft and prostitution were the big crimes), a replica of a mine office, a corner honoring mine entrepreneur Jesse Knight, and models of a kitchen and bedroom that show off life in the 1920s. Out back is a collection of mine equipment and machinery.
Most of it has been gathered from around the community, donated by friends and neighbors who want to see the past preserved. And it all has a loving, homespun air. "We learn as we go," McNulty said. They appreciate what people did back then, she said, and what they are doing now.
There is no charge for the museum; it lives by donation only, but donations are put to good use. Last summer the museum had to replace the roof on one of the buildings. Currently they are raising money to "adopt" a Gary Prazen sculpture showing a miner using a jack leg drill.
The museum has erratic hours, particularly during the off-season. But if it is closed, visitors can just call one of the posted numbers, and McNulty or another member of the Historic Society will come down and give a tour.
The society has also put together a 35-mile driving tour of the area that includes some of the important mining sites and ghost towns - places such as Silver City, Diamond, Homansville, Knightsville and Mammoth. Guidebooks are available (for 75 cents), along with T-shirts and a few other knickknacks, in the museum gift shop. (It's worth buying something just to see the old safe that is used as a cash register.)
During the booming days of the mines, more than $600 million worth of precious metals came out of the ground here. The last of the mines shut down in the '60s. Things are much quieter now.
Located in the Tintic Mountains 21 miles west of the Santaquin exit off I-15, Eureka today is mostly a community of commuters and retirees. But, they're hanging on, McNulty said. "We're an out-of-the-place. We're quiet, laid-back. And we have clear air."
They get a lot of people who go through on their way to the Jericho Sand Dunes, Delta or Great Basin National Park, and some stop for gas, a meal or a visit. They also get some school groups and have even had a busload or two of foreign visitors. And more and more people, she said, are coming just to see the town, to walk around the cemetery and poke around the museum. "I think there's more interest now in the past than there used to be," McNulty said.
And that, from the perspective of the president of the historical society, is indeed a big deal.