Tag: Yavapai County

Big Bug Arizona

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Tucked into the rugged folds of the Bradshaw Mountains in Yavapai County, Arizona, approximately 12 miles southeast of Prescott, lies the ghost town of Big Bug—a relic of the frontier era named for the walnut-sized beetles that swarmed its namesake creek. Established in 1862, Big Bug emerged during the American Civil War as a mining camp spurred by the discovery of gold along Big Bug Creek. Its history is a tapestry of prospecting fervor, Apache conflicts, and the transient prosperity typical of Arizona’s mining boomtowns. This report chronicles Big Bug’s rise and fall, its interconnections with neighboring towns, its ties to regional train stops and mines, and the colorful figures who shaped its legacy, concluding with its current status as a faded vestige of Arizona’s past.

The mining smelters in Big Bug, Arizona, circa 1900 - E.M. Jenning - Sharlot Hall Museum Archives
The mining smelters in Big Bug, Arizona, circa 1900 – E.M. Jenning – Sharlot Hall Museum Archives

Founding and Early Development (1862–1870s)

Big Bug’s story begins with Theodore Boggs, a prospector whose lineage tied him to American pioneering royalty—his mother was a granddaughter of Daniel Boone, and his father, Lilburn Boggs, was a former Missouri governor infamous for his role in the Missouri Mormon War. At age 10, Boggs traveled west with the ill-fated Donner Party, later settling in California before arriving in Arizona in 1862. He staked a claim along Big Bug Creek, where gold deposits—both placer and lode—promised wealth. The creek, flowing through the foothills of the Bradshaw Mountains at elevations between 4,500 and 7,000 feet, was named for its abundant, large insects, a moniker that stuck as the settlement grew.

By late 1862, Boggs and three other miners were working the claim, constructing a rudimentary mine and a few essential buildings. The camp, initially a cluster of tents and dugouts, attracted prospectors drawn by tales of gold in the Agua Fria River basin, first discovered in 1863 by Joseph Walker’s party. Within months, Apache raids tested the fledgling settlement. In the “Battle of Big Bug,” a nighttime attack saw Apaches attempt to crush Boggs’ dugout with boulders rolled from the hills above. Alerted by their dog’s cries, Boggs and his companions fended off the assault with muskets fired through portholes, a skirmish emblematic of the region’s volatile early years.

The 1870s saw Big Bug coalesce into a proper town. By 1879, a post office was established, initially operating out of Boggs’ residence, with Miss Dawson, the assistant postmistress, delivering mail on horseback across the mining camp and surrounding areas. The population hovered around 100, supported by placer mining along the creek, where large boulders had preserved gold deposits inaccessible to early heavy machinery.

Boom Years and Community Life (1880s–1890s)

Big Bug reached its zenith in the 1880s and 1890s, with a peak population of 115 in 1890. The town buzzed with activity, its dirt streets lined with wooden structures: saloons run by proprietors like Kingsley and Oliver, Mead and McMahon, and Johnson and Trenberth; general stores owned by R.F. Burney, Garrett and Avery, and Mrs. Trenberth (assisted by her daughter, Fannie); and barbershops operated by Dan Reams and Mr. Vasser. A schoolhouse hosted community events, including a lively New Year’s Eve dance in 1898, as reported by the Arizona Journal-Miner, which described Big Bug as a “new and growing” camp with prospectors flocking to its developed mines.

The Big Bug Mining District, encompassing the town, was a hub of activity, producing gold, silver, copper, lead, and zinc. Key mines included the Boggs Mine (Cu-Zn-Au-Ag-Pb), reopened in 1943–1945, and the Big Bug Mine (also known as Burzog, Old Miner, or Black Hills Mine), a copper-gold-silver operation active from 1918 to 1944. The Big Bug Placers, alluvial deposits along the creek, yielded an estimated 50,000 troy ounces of gold, with 17,000 ounces recorded, particularly during dredging in the 1930s and 1940s. The district’s geology, featuring Yavapai schist intruded by diorite and granite, supported both placer and lode deposits, with production valued at $17 million (1901–1931 prices), including $4 million in gold.

Big Bug’s vibrancy was tempered by violence. In 1901, miner Bruce Profitt was fatally shot near his cabin, allegedly by Thomas Powias, in a crime that shocked the community. Profitt, described as a quiet, law-abiding father of two, was ambushed while walking to work, his death prompting a swift investigation by Sheriff Munds and deputies Lon Young and Jack Nelson. Such incidents underscored the rough edge of frontier life, where disputes over claims or personal grudges could turn deadly.

Relationships with Surrounding Towns and Train Stops

Big Bug was intricately linked to nearby towns and transportation networks. Mayer, 3 miles southwest, was a key neighbor, founded by Joe Mayer, who owned interests in mines like the Henrietta, Butternut, and French Lilly. Mayer served as a rail hub on the Santa Fe, Prescott, and Phoenix Railway, with a station facilitating ore transport and passenger travel, connecting Big Bug to broader markets. The Blue Bell Mine, near Mayer, was another significant producer in the Big Bug Mining District, extracting gold, silver, and copper.

Humboldt (now Dewey-Humboldt), 15 miles east of Prescott, was a smelting center founded in 1905, processing ores from Big Bug and other district mines via its Arizona Smelting Co. facility. Humboldt’s railroad depot on the Santa Fe line was crucial for shipping refined metals, and its population of 1,000 supported amenities like saloons, hotels, and an ice cream parlor, making it a regional hub. The Iron King Mine near Humboldt, a major lead and zinc producer during World War II, complemented Big Bug’s output, though it later became an EPA Superfund site due to environmental contamination.

Prescott, the county seat 12 miles northwest, was Big Bug’s legal and commercial anchor. Miners relied on Prescott’s lawyers, assay offices, and suppliers, though litigation, as seen in nearby Alexandra’s Peck Mine, often enriched attorneys more than prospectors. Stage routes, like the Prescott to Phoenix Black Canyon Stage, connected Big Bug to Prescott and stops like Goddard (a stage stop near Black Canyon City), enhancing regional mobility.

Alexandra, high in the Bradshaw Mountains, was a short-lived rival mining camp, named for Mrs. T.M. Alexander and home to the Peck Mine. Its isolation and legal disputes led to its demise by 1896, with remnants destroyed by the 2012 Gladiator Fire. Gillett, on the Black Canyon Stage route, survived longer due to its strategic location and association with figures like Jack Swilling, but it too faded, leaving only the ruins of the Burfind Hotel.

Train stops like Turkey Creek Station, 2 miles northeast of the French Lilly Mine, and Blaisdell Station, near Yuma, were vital for ore and passenger transport, though Blaisdell’s role was peripheral, notably linked to the tragic 1902 death of miner John Kelly, run over by the Sunset Freight Line. These connections tied Big Bug to Arizona’s burgeoning rail network, facilitating economic growth until the mines waned.

Notable Historic Citizens

  • Theodore Boggs: The town’s founder, Boggs was a quintessential frontiersman whose prospecting and resilience during Apache attacks defined Big Bug’s early years. His home served as the first post office, cementing his central role.
  • Miss Dawson: As assistant postmistress, she delivered mail on horseback, embodying the grit of Big Bug’s women.
  • Martha E. Whittaker/Martha E. Davidson: Postmistress in 1895, she served the town’s 100 residents, managing communications during its peak.
  • John Kelly: A prospector with claims like the American Flag and Silverton, Kelly’s death in 1902 under a freight train highlighted the perils of the era.
  • Joe Mayer: A miner and entrepreneur, Mayer founded the nearby town bearing his name and held interests in multiple Big Bug District mines, linking the two communities.
  • Bruce Profitt and Thomas Powias: Their 1901 murder case, with Profitt as victim and Powias as the accused, underscored the town’s lawlessness.

Decline and Legacy (1900s–Present)

Big Bug’s fortunes faded as high-grade ores dwindled. The post office closed in 1910, signaling the town’s decline. By the early 1900s, the population plummeted, and boarders at the Hitchcock Boarding House moved on. A brief revival in the 1930s saw 60 amateur miners work the Big Bug Placers, recovering up to $300 weekly, but this was a last gasp. The Boggs and Big Bug Mines saw minor activity in the 1940s, but by 2010, little remained of the town—only foundations mingled with modern residences.

Mining persists in the Big Bug District, with modern operations like those of Neal S. White, Overlook Mining Co., and Mayer Mining & Materials recorded in 1986, though on a smaller scale. The region’s 1,270 USGS-documented mines, 798 listing gold as a primary commodity, underscore its enduring mineral potential. Recent events, like the November 2025 flooding along Big Bug Creek that claimed the life of David Otero, highlight the area’s environmental challenges, with flash floods reshaping the landscape where miners once toiled.

Current Status

Big Bug is a ghost town, its original structures largely gone, overtaken by time and modern development. Scattered foundations and tailings piles along Big Bug Creek hint at its mining past, but the site is not a preserved historic landmark like nearby Jerome. Located within the Mayer 7.5-minute USGS quadrangle, it remains accessible via roads from Prescott or Mayer, though much of the land is private, requiring permission for exploration. The area’s historical significance is preserved in archives like the Sharlot Hall Museum in Prescott, which documents figures like Boggs and events like the Profitt murder.

Big Bug’s legacy endures in its contribution to Yavapai County’s mining heritage, its role in the Bradshaw Mountains’ gold rush, and its connections to towns like Mayer and Humboldt, which continue to anchor the region. For those seeking to explore, resources from the Arizona Geological Survey or local historical societies offer insights into its storied past, while the creek itself—still prone to flooding—whispers of the beetles and dreamers who once called it home.

Cordes Arizona

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Tucked into the rolling hills and arid mesas of central Yavapai County, Arizona—approximately 60 miles north of Phoenix and 8 miles southeast of Mayer—lies the quiet remnants of Cordes, a once-modest stage stop that evolved into a vital rural outpost before fading into ghost town status. Established in 1883 by German immigrant John Henry Cordes, the settlement was born at the dusty crossroads of territorial travel routes, serving stagecoaches, miners, ranchers, and sheepherders amid the stark beauty of the Agua Fria River watershed and the shadow of the Bradshaw Mountains. Unlike the raucous boomtowns fueled by gold or copper frenzies, Cordes grew steadily through hardscrabble persistence, its story one of family legacy, livestock trails, and the inexorable shift of modern highways. Today, the original site stands as a privately held relic, distinct from the bustling travel hub of Cordes Junction on Interstate 17 and the residential community of Cordes Lakes nearby.

Founding and Early Years (1880s–1900s)

The origins of Cordes trace to the rugged frontier of the Arizona Territory, where overland travel demanded reliable waystations amid vast stretches of desert and mountain. In 1883, John Henry Cordes—a Prussian-born adventurer who had wandered from New York to Prescott, working odd jobs including brick-making for the Yavapai County Courthouse—purchased a small adobe stage stop known as Antelope Station for $769.43. Accompanied by his wife Lizzie (also a German immigrant) and their infant son Charles, Cordes envisioned a permanent home along the California and Arizona Stage Company route.

When his application for a post office under “Antelope Station” was rejected due to confusion with another similarly named stop (later Stanton), he simply chose the family surname. Cordes became the first postmaster, and the settlement quickly expanded beyond a mere relay point. The adobe building housed a store, saloon, and living quarters, its thick walls offering respite from scorching summers and chilly high-desert nights. Water from nearby springs and wells sustained a modest ranch, while the surrounding grasslands proved ideal for cattle and sheep.

By the late 1880s, nearby mining activity in the Bradshaw Mountains and Poland area transformed Cordes into a supply depot. Prospectors banked their earnings here, stocked up on provisions, and shipped ore via wagon. The family diversified: John Henry ranched cattle, while the operation served as an informal bank and freight hub. The air carried the scent of sagebrush, woodsmoke from the forge, and the lowing of livestock, with stagecoaches thundering in under clouds of dust, their drivers swapping tales of Apache raids or flash floods.

Growth and Family Legacy (1900s–1940s)

The early 20th century marked Cordes’ peak as a ranching and waystation community. Son Charles Henry Cordes took over management, expanding into sheepherding—a venture that briefly flourished before he returned to the family store after earning bookkeeping credentials. The settlement never ballooned into a large town; instead, it remained a tight-knit cluster of adobe and frame buildings, including a barn built in 1912, a gas station, and the family home.

Cordes became integral to Arizona’s wool and mutton industry. Vast sheep drives trailed through the area, with herders camping nearby and trading at the store. The Cordes family—now into the third generation with Henry E. Cordes—navigated economic shifts, including the Taylor Grazing Act of 1934, which regulated public lands and marked the sheep business’s zenith. Daily life revolved around the rhythms of ranch work: branding cattle under cottonwood trees, shearing sheep amid bleating flocks, and welcoming travelers with hearty meals of beans, biscuits, and coffee brewed over open fires.

No saloons brawls or mining shootouts defined Cordes; its history was one of quiet endurance. The post office operated until 1944, a lifeline for mail and news in an isolated region where the nearest neighbors might be miles away across cactus-studded plains.

Decline and Abandonment (1950s Onward)

The death knell for old Cordes sounded with the construction of the Black Canyon Highway ( precursor to Interstate 17) in the 1950s. The new route bypassed the original settlement by several miles, redirecting traffic eastward. Travelers no longer detoured to the old stage stop; commerce dried up as quickly as a summer arroyo. By the mid-1950s, Cordes was effectively abandoned as a community, its post office long closed and residents scattering.

A new hub emerged at the highway interchange: Cordes Junction, featuring gas stations, diners, and motels catering to modern motorists speeding between Phoenix and Prescott or Flagstaff. The original site, however, slipped into obscurity, its buildings weathering the elements under relentless sun and occasional monsoons.

Current Status

As of late 2025, historic Cordes remains a true semi-ghost town on private property owned by descendants of the founding family, who continue to reside there—marking over 140 years of continuous Cordes family presence. The site is not open to the public and is accessible only via a dirt road off the path to Crown King, with “No Trespassing” signs deterring casual visitors. Standing structures include the old family home, the 1912 barn, and a derelict gas station that closed in 1973, its pumps frozen in time amid creosote bushes and prickly pear.

The surrounding landscape—elevated at about 3,800 feet—offers sweeping views of the Bradshaw foothills, with golden grasslands giving way to jagged peaks. Wildlife abounds: mule deer, javelina, and coyotes roam where sheep once grazed. Though faded, the site’s isolation preserves an authentic slice of territorial Arizona, evoking the creak of wagon wheels and the warmth of a frontier hearth.

Confusion often arises with nearby places: Cordes Junction (Exit 262 on I-17) is a lively travel plaza with fuel, food, and the prominent Arcosanti experimental town visible nearby. Cordes Lakes, a census-designated place to the east, is a modest residential community of about 2,600 residents in manufactured homes, born from mid-20th-century subdivisions. Neither is the historic Cordes.

For those seeking to glimpse this quiet legacy, respect private property boundaries; the true spirit of Cordes lives in photographs, family histories, and the enduring Arizona high desert that first drew John Henry Cordes westward in 1883.

John Henry Cordes

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John Henry Cordes (1853–1919) stands as a quintessential figure in the annals of Arizona’s territorial history—a German immigrant whose grit and vision transformed a remote stage stop into a enduring settlement amid the rugged Bradshaw Mountains. Born in Prussia on June 2, 1853, Cordes embodied the wave of European pioneers drawn to the American West by dreams of opportunity and reinvention. His life, spanning from the bustling ports of New York to the sun-baked trails of Yavapai County, wove together threads of mining, ranching, and frontier commerce, leaving an indelible mark on central Arizona. Through his establishment of Cordes and the Cordes Ranch, he not only facilitated the flow of people and goods across the territory but also laid the foundation for a family legacy that persists in the region’s landscape and lore.

Early Life and Immigration (1853–1875)

John Henry Cordes was born on June 2, 1853, in Prussia (modern-day Germany), during a period of political upheaval and economic strain that prompted waves of European emigration to the United States. Little is documented about his childhood or family origins, but like many young men of his era, Cordes sought opportunity across the Atlantic amid the promise of America’s expanding frontiers. He immigrated to the United States in his early twenties, settling initially in New York City, a bustling gateway for German immigrants. There, on an unspecified date in the mid-1870s, he met Elise “Lizzie” Schrimpf, another Prussian immigrant with whom he would forge a lifelong partnership.

In 1876, at the age of 23, Cordes formalized his commitment to his new homeland by becoming a naturalized U.S. citizen in New York, a rite of passage that symbolized his break from Old World ties and embrace of American possibility. Restless and drawn westward by tales of mineral riches and untamed lands, Cordes departed for Arizona Territory in 1875. His journey mirrored that of countless pioneers: a grueling trek by rail, steamer, and stagecoach through the Southwest’s harsh terrains, where Apache raids and lawless outposts tested the mettle of even the hardiest souls. Arriving in the Bradshaw Mountains—a jagged spine of quartzite and granite riddled with silver and gold veins—Cordes embodied the archetype of the European laborer turned prospector, his Teutonic precision ill-suited yet adaptable to the chaotic rhythm of the American West.

Arrival in Arizona: Labor, Marriage, and the Mining Frontier (1875–1883)

Cordes’s first foothold in Arizona was in Prescott, the territorial capital founded just a decade prior in 1864 as a bulwark against Native American resistance. Here, amid the ponderosa pines and bustling saloons of Whiskey Row, he took up manual labor, contributing to the construction of the Yavapai County Courthouse by crafting bricks from local clay—a foundational task that literally built the infrastructure of emerging Anglo settlement. Prescott in the 1870s was a microcosm of frontier flux: a mix of soldiers from Fort Whipple, miners from the nearby Walker district, and merchants hawking everything from Levi’s to laudanum. Cordes’s brick-making stint, though unglamorous, honed his entrepreneurial instincts and connected him to the territory’s mining elite.

By 1878, Cordes had ventured deeper into the Bradshaws, securing work at the Tip Top Mine near the ghost town of Gillett—a silver boomtown named for its superintendent, Dan B. Gillett, and plagued by Apache depredations that culminated in its abandonment in 1884. The Tip Top, one of the district’s richest strikes, yielded over $2 million in silver by the early 1880s, its ore processed at a bustling stamp mill where Cordes toiled on night shifts, tending machinery that pulverized rock into gleaming bullion. To supplement his wages, he moonlighted as a bartender at local saloons, navigating the rowdy milieu of Cornish miners, Mexican laborers, and claim-jumpers fueled by Agavero and tall tales of lost ledges.

It was in Gillett that Cordes’s personal life took root. In 1880, he married Lizzie Schrimpf in Prescott, a union arranged through transatlantic correspondence—Cordes had “sent for” her from New York, where she had immigrated separately. Lizzie, born Elise in Prussia, adopted her nickname upon arrival in Arizona, stepping off the stage from Maricopa Wells into the dust-choked heat of Phoenix before the arduous wagon ride north. Their first child, Charles Henry, arrived on February 11, 1882, amid the mill’s ceaseless clamor—a harbinger of the large family they would raise in the shadow of the Bradshaws. These early years tested the couple: Gillett’s isolation, coupled with the 1882 lynching of a local rancher by vigilantes, underscored the territory’s volatility, yet Cordes’s frugality—saving from double shifts—laid the groundwork for his next venture.

Founding Cordes: From Stage Stop to Community Anchor (1883–1900)

By 1883, with savings of $769.43 and a young family in tow, Cordes purchased Antelope Station, a modest adobe waystation along the Black Canyon Stage Route—a vital north-south artery connecting Prescott to Phoenix via the California and Arizona Stage Company. Situated in Steer Creek Canyon at the Agua Fria River’s watershed, the station—15 miles south of Mayer and 60 miles north of Phoenix—offered scant amenities: a single-room adobe, a corral for weary horses, and a well amid creosote and mesquite. Cordes transformed it into a thriving outpost, serving freighters hauling ore from the Bradshaws, prospectors bound for Poland Basin strikes, and ranchers driving cattle to market.

The Black Canyon Route, prior to the 1887 arrival of the Santa Fe, Prescott and Phoenix Railway, was Arizona’s busiest overland corridor, ferrying passengers, mail, and gold dust through Apache-haunted canyons. Cordes’s station became a nexus: he dispensed provisions, stabled teams of 20-mule hitches, and even moonlighted as an informal banker, safeguarding miners’ poke sacks against highwaymen. Lizzie managed the household with Teutonic efficiency, cooking sauerkraut suppers and birthing five more children—three daughters and two sons—while tending a burgeoning garden against the alkaline soil.

In 1886, seeking permanence, Cordes petitioned for a post office under “Antelope,” honoring the station’s name and the pronghorn that grazed the valley. Postal authorities, citing confusion with Antelope Valley near the Bradshaws, denied it; undeterred, he reapplied as “Cordes,” etching his name into Arizona’s gazetteer. The post office opened that year, cementing the settlement’s identity. By the late 1880s, mining booms in nearby districts—silver from Big Bug Creek, gold from Rich Hill—swelled traffic, turning Cordes into a supply depot where prospectors traded dust for beans and blasting powder. Cordes diversified into cattle ranching, his herds lowing across the mesa, while the family home expanded with frame additions, a testament to their growing prosperity.

Maturity and Expansion: Ranching, Family, and Frontier Resilience (1900–1919)

As the 20th century dawned, Cordes evolved from transient stop to rural hub. The arrival of the railroad in 1887 siphoned some stage traffic, but it bolstered mining: ore wagons rumbled to railheads at Agua Fria, and Cordes’s station adapted, shipping wool and hides southward. Son Charles, the eldest, assumed management by 1900, earning bookkeeping credentials before pivoting to sheepherding—a lucrative trade in Yavapai’s grassy valleys, peaking under the 1934 Taylor Grazing Act. John Henry, ever the patriarch, oversaw the general store—a treasure trove of calico, canned peaches, and Levi’s—while Lizzie wove the social fabric, hosting quilting bees and school lessons in their adobe.

The family’s resilience shone through adversity. Fires razed nearby Gillett in 1884, and droughts parched the ranges in the 1890s, yet Cordes endured. World War I brought bittersweet notes: son Fred served overseas, returning in 1919 just as influenza stalked the West. John Henry’s health, weathered by decades of desert toil, faltered that winter. After a brief illness—pneumonia, compounded by age—he succumbed on March 26, 1919, at 65, in Prescott’s Consolidated Hospital. His obituary in the Weekly Journal-Miner lauded him as “a fine type of gentleman, kind and considerate to all,” a pioneer whose “substantial interests” spanned over a third of a century. He was interred at Mountain View Cemetery in Prescott, his grave a quiet sentinel amid the pines.

Lizzie outlived him by decades, passing in 1944 as the post office shuttered, but not before seeing their progeny—six children, dozens of grandchildren—scatter across Arizona, from Mayer’s schools to Phoenix’s boardrooms. Grandson Henry E. Cordes carried the sheep legacy into the 1930s, appointed guardian of grazing lands by the Arizona Wool Growers’ Association.

Legacy: A Name Etched in Desert Stone

John Henry Cordes’s imprint on Arizona transcends biography; it is geography itself. The ghost town of Cordes, bypassed by Interstate 17 in the 1950s, endures as a cluster of ruins—a 1912 barn, a shuttered 1973 gas station, the family home—on private land where descendants still reside. Cordes Junction, Exit 262 on I-17, hums with truckers and tourists, a neon-lit echo of the stage stop’s heyday. Henry Cordes Park in Steer Creek Canyon honors grandson Henry, a nod to the family’s stewardship.

As a fourth-generation descendant, Kelly Cordes, noted in 2021, many kin became educators, shaping Prescott’s classrooms just as John Henry built its courthouse. Six generations later, the Cordes saga—from Prussian émigré to wool baron—embodies Arizona’s alchemy: turning immigrant grit into enduring legacy amid the saguaro and stone. In the Bradshaw’s whisper, John Henry Cordes remains the quiet architect of a corner of the West.

Tip Top Arizona

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Founded in 1876, Tip Top Arizona is a old Silver Mining town and ghost town located in Yavapai County, Arizona. The town site is located west of Black Canyon City, in the southern foothills of the Bradshaw Mountains.

Northern end of Tip Top, circa 1888. Visible are the stamp mill (1), assay office (2), brewery (3), beer hall (4), restaurant (5), saloon (6), hotel (7), and mine workings (8).
Northern end of Tip Top, circa 1888. Visible are the stamp mill (1), assay office (2), brewery (3), beer hall (4), restaurant (5), saloon (6), hotel (7), and mine workings (8).

In the late 1870s, gold and silver were discovered in the Bradshaw Mountains, attracting prospectors and miners seeking their fortune. In 1876, the Tip Top Mining District was established by two men, Jack Moore and Bill Corning, and the town of Tip Top sprung up around it. Initially, nearby Gillett served as the milling town.

The district quickly gained a reputation for its rich ore deposits and attracted significant investment and development. The first mining claims were staked, and a stamp mill was constructed to process the ores. With the arrival of the railroad in nearby Phoenix, Tip Top saw an influx of miners, merchants, and entrepreneurs, leading to its rapid growth. A Post Office is established on August 12, 1880

During the boom times, Tip Top boasted six saloons, a brewery, two restaurants, a Chinese laundry, a feed yard, a blacksmith shop, a shoe store, and many residences. The Post Office is closed February 14, 1895.

Southern part of Tip Top, circa 1888. Visible are the stamp mill (1) and the mine office (2).
Southern part of Tip Top, circa 1888. Visible are the stamp mill (1) and the mine office (2).

During is heyday, the silver mines of Tip Top produced over $4,000,000 from its ore deposits.

Town Summary

NameTip Top, Arizona
LocationYavapai County, Arizona
Latitude, Longitude34.0508662, -112.2468296
Elevation765 meters / 2510 feet
GNIS1669455
Population1200
Post OfficeAugust 12, 1880 – February 14, 1895

Trail Map

According to Dangerous Roads the trail into Tip Top Arizona is closed and and the area is undergoing land changes. Other resources state that the road was closed in 2009.

References

Johnny Behan

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John H. Behan - Sheriff of Cochise County in the Arizona Territory
John H. Behan – Sheriff of Cochise County in the Arizona Territory

Johnny Behan was a notable figure in the American Old West, best known for his role as sheriff of Cochise County, Arizona, during the turbulent era of the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. Born in 1844 in Missouri, Behan moved to Arizona in the early 1870s and quickly became involved in politics and law enforcement. As sheriff, he was a controversial character, often criticized for his alleged connections with the outlaw Cowboys and his rivalry with the Earp brothers. Behan’s tenure was marked by accusations of corruption and inefficiency, culminating in his failure to control the lawlessness that plagued Tombstone. Despite his tarnished reputation, he continued to serve in various public roles until his death in 1912.

John Harris “Johnny” Behan
Birth: October 24, 1844, Westport, Missouri, USA
Death: June 7, 1912, Tucson, Arizona, USA

Early Life and Career:

John Harris Behan, commonly known as Johnny Behan, was born on October 24, 1844, in Westport, Missouri. Behan moved with his family to California in the mid-1850s during the Gold Rush era. He later relocated to Prescott, Arizona, where he began his career in law enforcement and politics.

Law Enforcement and Political Career:

Behan’s entry into law enforcement began in 1866 when he became the Sheriff of Yavapai County, Arizona Territory. His reputation as a capable lawman grew, and he soon entered politics, serving as a member of the Arizona Territorial Legislature.

In 1880, Behan moved to Tombstone, Arizona, a booming silver-mining town. He was appointed Sheriff of Cochise County in 1881, a position that put him at the center of one of the most famous episodes in the American Wild West—the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.

Gunfight at the O.K. Corral

As Sheriff of Cochise County, Behan was involved in the conflict between the Earp brothers—Wyatt, Virgil, and Morgan—and the Clanton-McLaury gang. The feud culminated in the legendary gunfight on October 26, 1881. Behan, who had a contentious relationship with the Earps, was accused of favoring the Clantons and McLaurys. Despite his attempts to maintain order, the shootout resulted in the deaths of three members of the Clanton-McLaury gang.

Following the gunfight, Behan’s reputation suffered due to his perceived partiality and his inability to prevent the violence. His popularity waned, and he lost the re-election for sheriff to Wyatt Earp’s ally, Johnny Ringo, in 1882.

Later Life

After his tenure as sheriff, Behan continued to work in various law enforcement roles, including as a U.S. Customs Inspector in Nogales, Arizona. He also served as a police officer and later as a night watchman in Tucson.

Behan married Victoria Zaff in 1869, and the couple had one son, Albert. However, the marriage ended in divorce in 1880. Behan later married Josephine Sadie Marcus, although this union was also short-lived.

Death

Johnny Behan passed away on June 7, 1912, in Tucson, Arizona, at the age of 67. He was buried in the city’s Evergreen Cemetery.

Legacy

Johnny Behan remains a controversial figure in the history of the American West. While he was a dedicated lawman and politician, his involvement in the events leading up to and following the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral has cast a long shadow over his legacy. Behan’s life and career continue to be a subject of fascination for historians and Wild West enthusiasts, reflecting the complex and often tumultuous nature of frontier justice and law enforcement in the late 19th century.