Shaniko, Oregon: A Bit of Ghost Town History

Several years ago, before I had a digital camera (or a blog)  Cary and I visited the ghost town of Shaniko one day.  I have been itching to get back there and take pictures, and on the way home from Washington on Tuesday, we stopped and walked around.  I took nearly 100 photos, and plan on divvying them up into several posts.

Shaniko is located on the high desert off of HWY 97 in Central Oregon.  Though it used to be called Cross Hollows, it is named after an early German settler who had come to the area in the 1870's.  The nearby Warm Springs Indian neighbors couldn't easily pronounce his name, which was August Scherneckau, so they called him Shaniko.  That is the name that stuck for the town.  

By 1900, ranchers and homesteaders flocked to the area after the railroad was completed from Biggs Junction on the Columbia River to Shaniko.  The town was to be the next big thing, but it never really panned out, after a huge fire in 1911 burned down nearly all the buildings.  They rebuilt, but it stayed a small town after that and eventually died out.  There is still a post office, a couple of small stores, a fire department and an ice cream shop and a few people who live there.  Here is the Wikipedia link, if you want to know a little bit more of the history of the town.

Though the whole town is a living museum, there is a small official one nestled among the old buildings.  Many of the buildings are now used as seasonal shops that stay open until the end of September.

Lucky for us, I found this book by Helen Guyton Rees (c. 1983) at a used book sale several years ago.  There is so much inside information about Shaniko contained within its covers.  

On pages 110, 111 and 112, there is a poem written by Mary Ada "Pat" Rose that describes living in Shaniko.  Here is the abridged version (as noted in the book):

GHOST TOWN 1960

Shaniko is a ghost town?  You might say so --

But my mind is aglow

With Recollections borrowed and abridged,

That still cause the heart of the

Town to beat a lively pace.

There are the near-armies:

Groups, crews, gangs,

Scottish, Irish, Swedish, English and Jew.

Cowboys thundering their mounts in street races,

Sheepherders and homesteaders scraping

The bar rails with boots and high-top shoes.

(Where are those bar rails, now?)

Shots rang out often -- smacked flesh seldom.

Curses split the air -- shoulders hit the dust.

Blacksmiths had a busy time of it

Fitting rosy hot shoes to hooves.

Springing the new bands on wheels.

Creating parts for broken plows.

Stables were crowded with tired horseflesh.

Some had labored all the way from John Day.

Others, highly groomed, awaited a weekly foray.

The streets were peopled with drummers and dreamers.

Some found their hopes, others lost all.

If you were thirsty and broke, you could unload a dray.

A foaming mug would be your pay!

The festive time was wool auction day.

Much harder to take was the screech and grind

of the bailer.

The bell rope hangs untouched by the hand

of a school marm for many years;

And the cool dark hall no more contains the tread and dash of children's feet.

Still, I hear them.

Lined up for a drink of water after recess;

Puffing as they pulled on galoshes

To trudge out across the knolls,

Past juniper, sage and gooseberry --

To their country homes, where evening chores awaited.

Jail cell doors have not clanged shut 

On the vagrant, drunk or horse thief for four decades.

The fire bell rings louder in my mind than in reality;

When many saw the "handwriting on the wall,"

Had fires --

Collected their insurance,

And struck off for greener climes.

And the wheels!  Could you count them?

Dray wheels, freight wagon wheels,

Buggy, stagecoach, spring wagon, and surrey wheels;

Churning up the mud or dust --

Carrying in the product of the land;

Wool, Hides, Barley, Oats and Wheat.

Carrying out the needs of the scattered settlers;

Flour, Sugar, Whiskey, Gingham, Coffee and Tea.

I can hear them.  Have you counted them?

Greater still than all of these are the sounds

That no longer carry on the prairie breeze.

Like the whistle at the trestle

North of town.  You'll hear it no more.

Tracks, Trestle, Depot, Round House -- all gone.

Hissing steam no longer escapes as when

The black monsters halted at the station.

Blatting of sheep and bawling of calves is now silenced --

Once carried on a could of dust from the stockyards.

(They're gone, too.)

 Graveyard?  Well, I tell you

There isn't one.

Bed rock is four inches down

And dynamite wasn't that plentiful.

Where were they buried?

Imposed on their neighbors and laid to rest

In Antelope, or Bakeoven, where the ground is more welcoming,

No church or graveyard, but plenty of ghosts.

"How could you live in such a Godforsaken place?"

(a phrase that often fell on my ears)

Though their concern is a welcome thing,

I pitied them that they could never see

Through the veil that Time concealed,

The quick hot flash -- like a prairie fire --

That was Shaniko.

Don't miss these other Oregon Gifts Articles about Shaniko:

History of The Shaniko Hotel in Shaniko, Oregon

The Shaniko Car Museum, Reed Mission and "The Barn"

I am going to go ahead and submit this to Sepia Saturday, because I know that some of my friends from there will also enjoy this post.  Though this week's prompt is of some young men about to play football (or soccer?) and not about ghost towns, I am squeezing in the theme of a couple of pictures of my Dad playing football in high school. 

They didn't live in Shaniko, but they did live in Junction City, Oregon.  These were taken in the mid-1950's.  My Dad, Ralph, is #80, the first one on the left in the bottom row.

In the photo below, #38 (back row, middle) sure does look like my Uncle Kenny, and #33 (back row, end) sure does look like Dad:

I hope that you enjoyed this little journey into the past.  There are many more Shankio pieces about to come your way, so please keep checking back in.

Thanks so much for your visit!

~ Kathy M.

So, there you are, my friends.  If you enjoyed this story, please visit my Sepia Saturday friends by "CLICKING HERE" to find other neat photos and stories.  To read more about my family and other stories featuring old photos, memories and more, please look for this picture of me and my dad on the left-hand sidebar and read whatever else catches your fancy.  Thanks so much for visiting!

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