Tag: Mono County

The Fire of June 23, 1932, stands as one of the most devastating events in the history of Bodie, California, the once-thriving gold-mining boomtown in the eastern Sierra Nevada mountains. By the early 1930s, Bodie had long passed its peak; what had been a bustling community of nearly 10,000 people in the late 1870s had dwindled to just a few hundred residents amid declining mining operations, economic hardship during the Great Depression, and earlier damage from a major fire in 1892. The town retained only a fraction of its original approximately 2,000 structures, but it still featured a Main Street lined with wooden buildings, saloons, hotels, stores, a bank, and a schoolhouse.

The Outbreak of the Fire

On June 23, 1932—the last day of school for the remaining children in Bodie—a small but fateful act ignited catastrophe. Nearly 3-year-old Bill Godward (often called “Billy” or later nicknamed “Bodie Bill”), the son of local residents, was disappointed after a school party served only red Jell-O instead of the ice cream he craved. In a moment of childish frustration and mischief, he left the school, went home (while his parents were away at work), obtained matches, and proceeded to a vacant wooden building or shed behind the Sawdust Corner saloon.

There, Bill started a small fire—likely out of boredom or play—that quickly spread due to the dry conditions, high winds typical of the high-desert environment, and the abundance of wooden structures packed closely together. The blaze erupted in the afternoon, with the camp fire bell soon ringing out an alarm across the town.

Resident accounts, such as one from Margaret Bennett in a surviving letter, describe the chaos: she had just hosted a birthday party for her daughter at the schoolhouse when the alarm sounded. She rushed to help salvage valuables (including moving important papers to a bank vault), loaded cars with belongings, and drove them to safety along Main Street as flames raged. Firefighting efforts were severely hampered; water pipes from the reservoir on Bodie Bluff were clogged with sediment, forcing residents to form bucket brigades from a nearby creek. Assistance arrived from about 40 men of the Bridgeport fire department, but the wind-driven fire spread rapidly.

Destruction and Immediate Aftermath

The fire consumed a massive portion of what remained of Bodie—estimates range from about 70 percent to as high as 95 percent of the standing buildings. It destroyed most of Main Street, including key commercial structures such as the bank, hotels, stores, and saloons. Only a small core of buildings survived, largely because the wind eventually shifted direction, sparing sections on the outskirts.

The loss was catastrophic for the already struggling community. With mining long in decline (and officially ending a decade later in 1942), the fire removed much of the remaining infrastructure and economic viability. Few residents stayed long-term afterward; many left, accelerating Bodie’s transition into a near-ghost town. Salvage efforts focused on saving personal belongings and whatever could be carried away, but the town never rebuilt significantly.

Long-Term Consequences and Legacy

The 1932 fire was the final major blow that defined Bodie’s appearance today. It left roughly 5–10 percent of the original structures standing—about 100 or so buildings, including the schoolhouse, Methodist church, firehouse, and various homes and businesses—frozen in a state of abandonment.

By the 1940s, Bodie was essentially deserted. In 1962, the California State Parks system acquired the site, designating it a State Historic Park and National Historic Landmark. It is preserved in a policy of “arrested decay,” meaning structures are stabilized but not restored, maintaining the authentic, weathered look left by the fire and decades of exposure. Today, Bodie attracts visitors as one of America’s best-preserved ghost towns, with the ruins serving as a poignant reminder of the boom-and-bust cycles of the American West.

The 1932 fire, sparked by a toddler’s innocent (if reckless) play, sealed the fate of a town already fading into history, ensuring that what visitors see now is a direct legacy of that June day.

Bodie, California, was a booming gold mining town in Mono County during the late 1870s and early 1880s, with a population peaking around 8,000-10,000 residents. Known for its rough frontier atmosphere, the town was rife with saloons, gambling, and violence, earning it a reputation as one of the Wild West’s most lawless settlements. While official law enforcement existed, including sheriffs and deputies, the remote location and frequent crimes often led to extrajudicial actions by vigilante groups. One such group was the Bodie 601, a secretive vigilance committee formed around 1880-1881, whose name reportedly stood for “6 feet under, 0 trials, 1 rope.” The murder of miner Thomas H. Treloar by Joseph DeRoche (also spelled Deroche or Daroche) in January 1881 became the catalyst for the 601’s most infamous act, highlighting the town’s precarious balance between formal justice and mob rule. This incident, rooted in jealousy and infidelity, underscored the dangers of personal disputes in a volatile mining camp and contributed to Bodie’s enduring lore as a “bad man’s” paradise.

Background: The Key Figures and Rising Tensions

Thomas H. Treloar, born around 1850 in England (possibly as Thomas Henry Treloar to parents John Treloar and Eliza Batten), was a Cornish hard-rock miner who immigrated to the United States. He worked in Virginia City’s Comstock Lode before arriving in Bodie during its gold rush boom in the late 1870s. Treloar was known for his resilience; he survived a dramatic 225-foot fall down a mine shaft in Virginia City, which left him with injuries described by the Daily Free Press (January 18, 1881) as rendering him “little more than half witted.” Despite this, he continued mining and married Johanna Londrigan (also spelled Lonahan) on January 2, 1879, in Bodie. The 1880 census listed him as a 30-year-old miner born in England, living with his 28-year-old wife Johanna, who was born in Rhode Island to Irish parents. Treloar had taken out a $1,000 life insurance policy with the New England Life Insurance Company, set to mature in 1881 (equivalent to over $100,000 in modern value), which Johanna allegedly married him to claim, as she reportedly told auction house owner John Brophy: “Oh, I married him for that endowment policy on his life, which will be due in a couple of years; and then I will have the money.”

Joseph DeRoche, a French-Canadian in his late 40s or early 50s (born around 1831), owned the Booker Flat brickyard and a two-story brick house in Bodie. He had a wife and three children in Chicago but had known Johanna for about 12 years, first meeting her in Chicago in the late 1860s. Rumors of an affair between Johanna and DeRoche circulated widely in Bodie, fueling Treloar’s jealousy. The couple’s marriage was troubled; Treloar once punched Johanna, leading to his conviction for battery in June 1879. Tensions escalated as Treloar quarreled with both his wife and DeRoche over the suspected infidelity.

The Incident: The Shooting at the Miners’ Union Hall Ball

The fatal confrontation unfolded on the night of January 13, 1881, during a social society ball at the Miners’ Union Hall on Main Street in Bodie. Treloar, dressed in denim work clothes, arrived around 11:00 p.m. and confronted Johanna. By 12:30 a.m., he saw her dancing with DeRoche, despite having explicitly told her not to. Enraged, Treloar confided to the doorman, “I told my wife not to dance with that man, and she said she wouldn’t,” and expressed to George Morgan his intent to kill DeRoche. Warned of the threat, DeRoche stepped outside and exchanged heated words with Treloar, later claiming he had “run Treloar off with a gun.”

After the ball ended around 2:00 a.m. on January 14, 1881, Treloar and Johanna left the hall and walked down Main Street. DeRoche, who had left earlier, ambushed them at the corner of Main and Lowe Streets, emerging from the darkness. He pulled a .38 caliber double-action Forehand and Wadsworth revolver (sometimes described as a British Bulldog revolver) and shot Treloar in the back of the head, with the bullet entering just below the left ear, killing him instantly. Witnesses G.W. Alexander and E.S. Butler, who were nearby, heard the shot and saw DeRoche fire without provocation. Butler grabbed DeRoche’s gun and asked, “What did you shoot that man for?” DeRoche falsely claimed, “Because he jumped me — see where he scratched me,” but no scratches were found. Deputy James Monahan arrested DeRoche on the spot. Johanna, informed by DeRoche with the words “Mrs. Treloar, I have killed your husband!” rushed to the scene, finding Treloar dead in a pool of blood.

Immediate Aftermath: Arrest, Escape, and Recapture

DeRoche was charged with murder and jailed in Bodie around 2:00 a.m. on January 14. However, Deputy Joe Farnsworth, who was intoxicated, suggested moving him to Farnsworth’s room at the Standard boarding house for safety from a potential lynch mob. Constable John Kirgan and Deputy Constable Sam Williamson agreed, and Farnsworth shackled DeRoche there before falling into a drunken sleep, described by the Daily Free Press (January 15, 1881) as “the profound sleep of the inebriated.” By 8:00 a.m., DeRoche had escaped, possibly after Farnsworth was bribed with $1,000 (though Farnsworth denied it). DeRoche fled down Goat Ranch Road to a wood ranch about eight miles away.

A coroner’s inquest began shortly after noon on January 14, with Alexander and Butler testifying to the unprovoked shooting. On January 16, the jury ruled it a “willful and premeditated murder,” criticizing Kirgan for “gross neglect of duty” and Farnsworth for being “criminally careless.” Public outrage boiled over, with the Daily Free Press warning that Farnsworth “must produce the murderer or suffer the consequences.” The Bodie 601, comprising about 200 organized men, searched Bodie and interrogated DeRoche’s French-Canadian associates, including one named DeGerro, who revealed his hiding spot. On January 17, 1881, vigilantes captured DeRoche at the ranch, where he claimed the gun discharged accidentally during a struggle with Treloar and that Farnsworth had advised him to flee.

The Lynching: Vigilante Justice by the Bodie 601

DeRoche was returned to Bodie jail, but the 601 acted swiftly. Between 1:30 and 2:00 a.m. on January 24, 1881, about 200 masked and unmasked men, armed with shotguns, marched to the jail and demanded his release. Jailer Kirgan complied, and the mob removed DeRoche. They marched him to Webber’s blacksmith shop, relocating a gallows frame (used for raising wagons) to the corner of Main and Lowe Streets—the exact site of the murder. Dressed in light-colored pants, a colored calico shirt, and a canvas coat, DeRoche had his hands and legs tied. Asked if he had anything to say, he replied, “I have nothing to say only O God.” He was hanged, dying immediately from strangulation. A note pinned to his body read: “All others take warning. Let no one cut him down. Bodie 601.” The lynching was described in The Bodie Free Press as “awful and impressive,” with attorney Pat Reddy unsuccessfully offering $100 for participants to reveal their names.

Impact on Bodie and Legacy

The Treloar shooting and DeRoche’s lynching reinforced Bodie’s image as a town where justice was often swift and unofficial, especially amid perceived failures in law enforcement like Farnsworth’s negligence. It deterred potential criminals, as the 601’s actions served as a stark warning, and highlighted social tensions in mining camps, including infidelity and ethnic divisions (e.g., targeting French-Canadians). Treloar was buried on January 13 or shortly after by the fire department and miners’ union, though exact dates vary slightly in accounts. Johanna likely claimed the insurance policy, but her fate is unclear. The event faded as Bodie declined in the 1880s due to depleting gold, but it endures in ghost town lore, preserved at Bodie State Historic Park. Today, the site of the shooting and lynching remains a point of interest, symbolizing the Wild West’s brutal frontier justice.