I am a non-fiction writer, researcher and photographer. Quite often all three of my passions are combined together in one project. Sometimes my research or photography takes me down some dark and twisted roads. The small desert town of Trona, California was one such dark journey that would embroil me in a two-week long Apocalypse where I would be branded The Wicked Witch of the Mojave and the Anti-Christ of the Desert Dunes. The villagers had sharpened their verbal pitchforks and freshly tarred their torches in anticipation of slaying me with hate mail, one-star reviews and threats of saying really mean things about my parentage. Fortunately I wear strong armor, carry a sharp sword and have a file full of documentation for beating back the sun-addled hordes.
It all started out innocently enough when my husband and I headed to the Mojave area in Kern and San Bernardino Counties for our annual Desert Rat Week. We looked forward to our leisurely wanders in search of little known and forgotten places in this vast, scorching wasteland of sand, wind and desert scrub. Before heading out to explore we spent a day visiting with friends in Ridgecrest and Randsburg. Knowing of my fondness for desolate and decrepit locations many of them suggested a visit to Trona. A brief Google search was all it took to grab our full attention. It was decided that we would hit the road early and head to Trona.
Trona actually has a long and interesting history in the settlement of the western desert. In the 1860's a man named John Searles arrived in the area looking for the same thing as everyone else during those mining boom years... gold and silver. He would be disappointed and unsuccessful in his search for precious metals, but he soon stumbled upon another money maker... Borax! This chemical became so important that in 1910 The Potash Wars broke out over it. A group was formed back in Los Angeles with the intent to go to the area and use force to take over the claims. Included in this group were about 20 armed men under the command of Wyatt Earp of Tombstone fame. During one encounter Earp was arrested for claim jumping. By the year 1913 the town of Trona was officially established as a company town. Employees lived in company owned homes and bought their goods at company operated stores. They were paid in company script instead of US dollars, which was a fairly common thing in those days. During the town's boom days the population was anywhere from 5000 to 7000, depending on which statistics you read. For over 60 years the American Potash Company kept the town going by providing steady employment. But, this all changed in 1974 when Kerr-McGee Chemical Corporation purchased the company, and along with it, the town. Huge layoffs came down the line, forcing people to move away, leaving abandoned homes that would never shelter a family again.
Today Trona has a population hovering around 1900 people, more if you count the junkies, meth manufactures and ex-convicts squatting in the vacant houses that prolifically dot the town. Its one real claim to fame these days? Being the only school, outside of Alaska, that plays on an all-dirt football field. Trona still has some good, decent people living there who are trying to hold on, but the fact is that for such a small population they have a very high crime rate that tops both the State and National averages. As of January 2020 there are 7 registered sex offenders in the town. As a consequence the people who live there also try to play down the negative, and would prefer everyone to think that it is an absolutely wonderful place to live.
In a nutshell, Trona is a town filled with hundreds of vacant houses that have become mere shells of their former selves. Two things prevent the selling of most of these houses... asbestos and/or meth labs. Either way you gotta tear the walls, ceilings and floors out.
I've digressed enough with the history of Trona.
We arrived in Trona feeling hot, dirty and gritty. We had battled through a fierce wind and dirt storm for the last five miles of our drive. Trona doesn't have much in the way of amenities, but at least they have a gas station with a small convenience store, and lots of cold water. Being unfamiliar with the town we asked the young woman working behind the counter where we would find the abandoned houses. With a sweep of her arm she said..."Just start drivin' and you'll see them every which way you turn your head." She wasn't wrong! For some this would be a short pit-stop in Hell before heading back on the road. For me it was Heaven. There is a certain beauty in the desolation of abandonment and I intended to get my fill of it. My camera was locked, loaded, and ready to shoot.
I took a lot of photos that day, explored many abandoned homes, but of them all there was one in particular that caught and kept my attention. I couldn't put a finger on it exactly, but I was compelled to go to it and spend even more time photographing it than other houses. I sat on the hard-packed dirt looking at the house in quiet contemplation, trying to picture it as it was before being left to decay in the desert sun. The wind began to pick up. The ratty old curtain hanging in one of the windows began to flutter. The rusted metal gate behind me sang out a solemn and sorrowful creaking sound as it labored on rusty brown hinges. I took a video.
Night would be falling soon and we had no desire to be chasing shadows in the desert darkness, so we packed up our camera gear, climbed in the car, and headed back to our comfortable air conditioned hotel room in Ridgecrest.
We spent the rest of our vacation relaxing, visiting other locations, and again meeting up with friends before heading home. People were curious about my photos of Trona. When I showed them half a dozen people all said the same thing about the house with the creaky gate... it was known as The Murder House. I was intrigued, because surely if any house in Trona was haunted it was this one that drew me so strongly to its aura. The story, as it was told to me by multiple people, including a former old-timer of Trona, was that a man's beheaded body had been found there. The years of this supposed incident varied from sometime in the 1940's up to the 1970's, but other than that the beheading story stayed the same.
When we returned home I was curious to research a little further into the Murder House. I wasn't finding anything with surface searches, but during this time my health took a serious and dangerous turn, which would eventually leave me almost permanently crippled for nearly five years and also cause traumatic brain injury. In-depth research was just not possible, so instead I opted to just post some images of the house on my paranormal team blog, along with the story of The Murder House how it had been relayed to me. This story sat on my blog for a number of years without any problem, and then, suddenly out of left field... BOOM! Overnight I was flooded with some of the most vulgar and insulting hate messages and emails I had ever experienced! My photography page was trolled and numerous one-star ratings with rude comments were made.
Why? Because one young woman in the town of Trona saw my article and took so much offense that she started a campaign of hate against me. I was even threatened that if I ever stepped foot back in Trona I might not leave alive. All because of a LEGEND! My attackers insisted that it was all bullshit and lies. My stance was that 99% of legends have some basis in fact. It was time to delve into that more in-depth research. I found the source of the legend. I was able to provide a valid genesis for how this story started, and over time, transformed. For some reason being presented with the evidence made them even more rabid. I could literally see in my mind's eye the white foam forming on their lips and dripping down their chins, eyes wild with an unholy glow of hatred, their hair standing on end and blowing crazily in the wind as they howled their displeasure at the moon. It was pretty intense! LOL! Then, out of the crowd of heat-deranged villagers came two slightly grimy Knights in Tarnished Armor, willing to step into the fray and protect my honor against the wrath of their fellow villagers. Just like that, after two weeks of being under siege, it was over. All it took was for two residents of Trona with common sense to shame their community into silence.
Writing non-fiction can get pretty hairy at times, but at least it never gets boring! LOL! If you'd like to see the articles about The Murder House, please feel welcome to read them Here (Part 1) and Here (Part 2).
