The wind whispers through crumbling stone foundations and weathered wooden beams—all that remains of what was once a bustling mining community nestled in the rugged Arizona landscape. Here, in Bellevue, the desert has reclaimed what humanity built with such hope and determination in the 1880s. Located in what is now a remote corner of Arizona, accessible only by dirt roads that wind through sagebrush and cacti, Bellevue stands as a testament to the boom-and-bust cycle that defined so many Western frontier settlements. The scattered debris of collapsed buildings, rusted mining equipment, and two small cemeteries on opposite hillsides tell a story of ambition, community, hardship, and ultimately, abandonment. Through its weathered grave markers, newspaper fragments, and the ghost of a railroad that once connected it to the wider world, Bellevue offers us a window into Arizona’s pioneer past—a time when silver and copper promised fortune to those brave enough to stake their claim in this harsh but beautiful land.
Though only scattered ruins remain, including stone walls, foundations, and old mining debris, the site offers a captivating sense of isolation and mystery. Visitors can trace the layout of what was once a lively mining camp that included homes, boarding houses, a general store, and an ore-processing mill. The ghostly outlines of this infrastructure tell the story of a frontier town that lived and died by the rhythm of the copper industry.
Bellevue’s remote desert location, tucked between low hills and cactus-covered slopes, offers a peaceful backdrop for hiking and exploring. The site is quiet and sees few visitors, making it ideal for those seeking solitude and off-the-grid adventure. The surrounding terrain is a mix of Sonoran Desert scrub and rugged foothills, offering scenic vistas and wildlife viewing opportunities.
While Bellevue itself is largely uninhabited and unsignposted, it’s conveniently located near more active historic communities such as:
Miami, Arizona, known for its antique stores, art galleries, and rich copper mining heritage.
Globe, Arizona, which features museums, historic architecture, and excellent dining.
Pairing a visit to Bellevue with these towns creates a satisfying blend of ghost town exploration and small-town culture.
As part of the greater Globe-Miami mining district, Bellevue’s ruins help paint a broader picture of how small feeder towns supported larger operations. Exploring Bellevue alongside other nearby mining sites gives visitors a more complete understanding of the boom-and-bust cycle that shaped Arizona’s early economy and settlement patterns.
Among the graves in Bellevue’s pioneer cemetery lies Sarah Jenkins (1862-1890), whose weathered headstone bears the inscription “Beloved Teacher of Bellevue.” Historical records indicate she was the community’s first schoolteacher, arriving from Boston in 1886 to establish a one-room school for the miners’ children. Her diary, preserved in the Arizona Historical Society collections, describes the challenges of teaching in a frontier mining camp: “The children come to school with the dust of their fathers’ labor still on their clothes, yet they hunger for knowledge as surely as any child in the finest Boston academy.” Jenkins died of pneumonia after just four years in Bellevue, but her impact on the community was significant enough that miners reportedly carried her coffin nearly a mile uphill to the cemetery during a winter storm.
In the community cemetery, the grave of Daniel Rodriguez (1873-1925) tells another important story. Rodriguez rose from working as a simple miner to becoming a shift foreman, one of the few Mexican-Americans to achieve such a position in the ethnically stratified mining hierarchy of the time. His obituary in the Mining Journal noted that he was “respected by all men under his supervision” and that he had been instrumental in organizing safety improvements after a minor collapse in 1918. His large family plot, with space for twelve burials (though only five are occupied), suggests both his relative prosperity and his commitment to the community as a permanent home.
The newspapers reveal the story of Elizabeth Blackburn, wife of mining company founder Thomas Blackburn, who never lived in Bellevue but visited regularly from her home in San Francisco. According to surviving accounts in the Silver Standard, she funded the construction of a small library in 1897, shipping more than 500 books from California and establishing a scholarship fund to send one promising Bellevue student each year to college in the East. When the mines began to fail in the late 1920s, she reportedly offered financial assistance to several families to help them relocate and find new employment.
Samuel Watkins, the longest-serving railroad station agent, features prominently in community accounts. His daily telegraph reports on train movements became the rhythm by which the town operated. During a severe snowstorm in 1916 that blocked the rail line for nearly two weeks, Watkins reportedly hiked 18 miles through deep snow to reach the main line and arrange for emergency supplies to be brought in by pack mule to the stranded community. His small house near the depot became an unofficial community gathering place where residents would stop by to learn the latest news coming in on the telegraph.
These individual stories, pieced together from grave markers, newspaper fragments, and historical records, humanize Bellevue beyond the anonymous rise and fall of a mining town. They reveal a community of real people who lived, worked, hoped, suffered, and built connections in this remote corner of Arizona.
Category | Details |
---|---|
Name | Bellevue, Arizona |
Type | Ghost town / Abandoned copper mining camp |
County | Pinal County |
Founded | 1906 (approximate) |
Status | Abandoned by the 1920s |
Population (Historic) | ~300 residents at its peak |
Population (Current) | None |
Historical Significance | Developed around the Bellevue Copper Mine during Arizona’s early mining boom |
Primary Economy | Copper mining |
Decline Factors | Mine closure, depletion of ore, and lack of supporting infrastructure |
Nearby Towns | Near Miami and Superior, Arizona |
Remnants Today | Mine shafts, rock foundations, and some scattered debris |
Access | Rough roads; high-clearance or 4WD vehicle recommended |
Elevation | ~3,500 feet (1,067 meters) |
Climate | Semi-arid – hot summers, cool winters |
Managed By | Located on public land; no formal oversight |
Best For | Ghost town explorers, mining history fans, off-road adventurers |
Bellevue was established in the early 1880s during Arizona’s silver mining boom. As prospectors discovered rich veins of silver in the surrounding mountains, entrepreneurs and miners flocked to the area, establishing claims and building the infrastructure needed to support extraction operations. The town’s name—”beautiful view” in French—was aptly chosen, as the settlement commanded a sweeping vista of the surrounding valleys and distant mountain ranges.
The town grew steadily throughout the 1880s and early 1890s as mining operations expanded. By 1925, Bellevue had reached its peak population of approximately 300 residents, a modest number compared to some of Arizona’s larger mining towns but significant enough to support various businesses and community institutions.
Bellevue’s fate was tied to the mining industry that brought it into existence. The town’s prosperity rose and fell with silver prices and the productivity of local mines. For several decades, it thrived as part of Arizona’s contribution to the nation’s westward expansion and industrial growth. However, the town’s fortunes changed dramatically in 1927 when several key mines closed, triggering a population exodus that would eventually lead to Bellevue’s status as a ghost town.
Today, visitors to Bellevue will find little more than scattered ruins marking what was once a vibrant community. Stone foundations outline the former business district, where a general store, assay office, and saloon once served the town’s residents. The most substantial remaining structure is a partial stone wall from what locals believe was the mining company office—its windows now empty sockets staring out over the valley below.
Rusted mining equipment lies half-buried in the soil—ore carts, pick axes, and the deteriorating frame of what was once a headframe for one of the smaller mines. The main street is still discernible as a wider path cutting through the town site, though nature has reclaimed much of it with desert vegetation.
A few hundred yards from the town center sits the remnants of what was once the Bellevue Mining Company’s processing facility, its concrete foundations cracked and weathered but still visible. Metal debris scattered nearby suggests the location of the company’s machine shop. While no complete buildings remain standing, careful observers can identify the foundations of approximately 20-25 structures throughout the site.
Bellevue remains largely unprotected and unpreserved, with no formal conservation efforts currently underway. The site is accessible via a moderately difficult dirt road requiring a high-clearance vehicle, approximately 15 miles from the nearest paved highway. Visitors should be prepared for rough terrain and bring plenty of water, as no facilities exist at the site.
Perched on a small rise overlooking the eastern edge of town lies Bellevue’s pioneer cemetery, established shortly after the town’s founding in the 1880s. This small, roughly rectangular plot of land, approximately half an acre in size, is enclosed by a crumbling stone wall that has partially collapsed in several places. The cemetery contains approximately 40 visible graves, though weathering and erosion suggest there may be more unmarked burials within its boundaries.
The grave markers range from ornate carved headstones for wealthier residents to simple wooden crosses and stone cairns marking the final resting places of miners and their families. The oldest identifiable grave dates to 1884, belonging to a “James McPherson, Age 32, Died in Mine Accident,” while the newest dates to 1930, suggesting the cemetery remained in use even as the town was declining.
Several markers bear the symbols of fraternal organizations popular among miners of the era—the square and compass of the Freemasons, the three-link chain of the Odd Fellows, and occasionally the miner’s crossed pick and shovel. These symbols speak to the social networks that helped mining communities survive in harsh frontier conditions.
The cemetery reveals the harsh realities of frontier life through its numerous child graves—nearly a quarter of the markers belong to children under the age of ten, many claimed by diseases like diphtheria and scarlet fever. A small cluster of graves from 1891-1892 suggests a possible epidemic that swept through the community during those years.
Today, the pioneer cemetery suffers from neglect. Desert plants grow between the graves, headstones lean at precarious angles, and many wooden markers have rotted away entirely. However, the relative isolation of Bellevue has protected the cemetery from vandalism, leaving it as an authentic, if deteriorating, record of the community’s earliest residents.
Approximately half a mile from the pioneer cemetery, on the opposite side of town, lies what was known as the Bellevue Community Cemetery. Established around 1900 as the town grew beyond its initial mining camp origins, this second burial ground reflects the evolution of Bellevue into a more established community.
Larger than the pioneer cemetery at approximately two acres, the community cemetery features more organized rows of plots and a greater variety of headstone styles. The graves here reflect a more diverse population than the pioneer cemetery, with sections that appear to have been designated for different ethnic and religious groups. Several markers bear Hispanic surnames, indicating the significant role Mexican and Mexican-American miners played in Bellevue’s development. A small section with crosses of a distinctive Orthodox design suggests the presence of Eastern European immigrants who came to work in the mines.
The community cemetery also reflects evolving burial practices of the early 20th century. While the pioneer cemetery features primarily simple markers and few family plots, the community cemetery contains several family enclosures surrounded by small iron fences, more elaborate monuments, and evidence of the Victorian-era mourning customs that had reached even remote mining towns by this time.
Notable among the graves is a large granite monument for Thomas Blackburn (1858-1926), identified as “Founder of the Bellevue Mining Co.” and “Benefactor of the Town,” suggesting his importance to the community. Nearby lie several graves of what appear to be company officials and their families, their headstones more elaborate than those of the miners buried elsewhere in the cemetery.
Unlike the pioneer cemetery, which seems to have been used primarily during Bellevue’s early years, the community cemetery contains graves spanning from 1900 to as late as 1945, well after the town’s decline began, indicating that former residents may have continued to bury their dead here even after moving away.
While no complete issues survive, historical records indicate that Bellevue supported two newspapers during its heyday: the weekly Bellevue Silver Standard, established in 1887, and its competitor, the Bellevue Mining Journal, which began publication in 1896. These papers served not only as sources of news but as the voice of the community, documenting everything from mining developments to social events.
The Silver Standard was reportedly aligned with Democratic politics and frequently advocated for silver monetization policies that would benefit mining communities. Its founder and editor, William Harrison, was known for his fiery editorials promoting miners’ rights and criticizing what he saw as eastern financial interests working against western mining communities.
The Mining Journal, established later and with stronger ties to the Bellevue Mining Company, took a more conservative stance politically and focused more extensively on technical developments in mining. Its offices were located on Main Street in a small wooden structure that also housed the town’s printing press, which produced not only the newspaper but also various pamphlets, business cards, and official notices for the community.
Both papers documented the rhythms of community life—births, deaths, marriages, social gatherings, church events, and school activities. They also recorded the challenges facing this isolated community, from labor disputes to disease outbreaks to the harsh weather conditions that sometimes left Bellevue cut off from the outside world.
Publication of both newspapers ceased in the late 1920s as the town’s population dwindled following the mine closures. The final issue of the Silver Standard is believed to have been printed in October 1927, while the Mining Journal continued for several more months before shutting down in early 1928.
Few copies of either paper have survived, though fragmentary collections exist in the Arizona Historical Society archives in Tucson and in the Special Collections department of the University of Arizona Library. These surviving pages provide valuable glimpses into daily life in Bellevue during its productive years.
Bellevue’s development was significantly enhanced by the arrival of a narrow-gauge spur line connecting it to the regional rail network in 1904. This spur, built and operated by the Arizona & Southeastern Railroad Company, branched off from the main line approximately 18 miles away, climbing into the mountains to reach Bellevue and its mines.
The railroad transformed Bellevue from an isolated mining camp accessible only by wagon road to a community connected to the wider economy and society. The line primarily served to transport ore from the mines to smelters in larger towns, but it also brought in machinery, supplies, and occasional passengers.
Bellevue’s small depot, located at the western edge of town, became an important community hub. Twice-weekly freight service was supplemented by a single weekly passenger train that brought mail, newspapers from larger cities, and visitors. The depot building, constructed of wood with a small waiting room and freight storage area, also housed the telegraph office that provided Bellevue with its most immediate connection to the outside world.
Railroad employees, including the station agent, telegraph operator, and maintenance workers, became important members of the community. The most prominent was Station Agent Thomas Wilkins, who served in that position from 1905 until 1925 and was known for his detailed knowledge of railroad schedules throughout the territory.
The importance of the railroad to Bellevue’s economy cannot be overstated. Without it, the mines would have struggled to transport sufficient ore to remain profitable. When mining activity began to decline in the mid-1920s, railroad service was correspondingly reduced. By 1928, service had been cut to a single weekly freight run, and in 1930, the line was officially abandoned, with crews removing the rails and ties for salvage.
Today, the railroad grade remains visible as a level path cutting through the landscape, with occasional stone culverts marking where it crossed small drainages. The depot’s foundation and a rusted water tower base are the only remaining infrastructure marking what was once Bellevue’s lifeline to the wider world.
Bellevue’s decline began in earnest in 1927 when several mines closed after silver prices fell and extraction costs rose as the most accessible ore bodies were depleted. The Bellevue Mining Company, which operated the largest mines in the area, announced in September 1927 that it would cease operations, immediately idling nearly two-thirds of the town’s workforce.
The closure set off a chain reaction through the community. Within weeks, the Silver Standard newspaper published its final edition, and several merchants began liquidation sales. By early 1928, the population had reportedly dropped from around 300 to fewer than 150 residents. The railroad reduced service to a single weekly freight run, making it more difficult for remaining residents to receive supplies or ship goods.
Unlike some mining towns that experienced sudden abandonment following disasters or market crashes, Bellevue’s decline was relatively gradual, stretching over approximately five years. Some miners found work in smaller operations that continued on a reduced scale, while others took jobs maintaining company equipment in hopes that operations might eventually resume. The Mining Journal continued publishing through early 1928 on a reduced schedule before finally closing.
The school remained open until 1929, though with dwindling enrollment. Church services reportedly continued in private homes after the small church building was sold and dismantled in 1928. The post office, an important community institution, closed in late 1930, forcing remaining residents to travel to larger towns for mail service.
Railroad service was formally discontinued in 1930, with crews arriving to remove rails, ties, and other salvageable equipment. This effectively sealed Bellevue’s fate, as the town was now accessible only by an increasingly neglected wagon road. The telegraph office closed with the railroad, cutting the town’s most direct communication link.
By 1932, fewer than 50 people reportedly remained in Bellevue, primarily elderly residents unable or unwilling to relocate and a few prospectors still working small claims independently. The last business, a combined general store and saloon, closed in 1934. By 1940, Bellevue was essentially abandoned, though census records indicate that three individuals—all elderly men—still claimed residence there as late as 1945.
Most former residents relocated to larger mining communities or regional cities like Tucson, Phoenix, or Los Angeles. Some miners found work in other mining operations throughout the West, while others left the industry entirely as the Great Depression reduced employment opportunities across all sectors.
Interestingly, both cemeteries continued to see occasional use even after the town was largely abandoned. The community cemetery records show burials as late as 1945, suggesting that former residents maintained connections to the town even after moving away, bringing their deceased back to Bellevue for burial alongside earlier generations.
Today, Bellevue stands as a representative example of the hundreds of mining communities that rose and fell across Arizona during the territorial and early statehood periods. While not as well-known as Jerome or Tombstone, Bellevue offers historians and archaeologists a relatively undisturbed site to study the development, operation, and abandonment of a typical mining community.
The site has been surveyed by archaeologists from the University of Arizona in the 1980s and again in the early 2000s, though no extensive excavations have been conducted. These surveys have documented the town layout, identified key structures, and collected surface artifacts that help illuminate daily life in the community.
Bellevue does not currently hold any official designation on the National Register of Historic Places or Arizona Register of Historic Places, though some preservation advocates have suggested it would qualify for such listing. The site falls within Bureau of Land Management territory, giving it some protection from development but little active conservation.
For descendants of Bellevue residents, the town and especially its cemeteries hold significant personal importance. Several family associations maintain connections to the site, occasionally organizing small gatherings to clean the cemeteries or document grave markers before they deteriorate further. The “Descendants of Bellevue Miners Association,” formed in 1978, maintains a small collection of photographs, documents, and oral histories related to the town.
The town’s newspaper history, though fragmentary, provides valuable insights into the role of local press in creating community identity in isolated mining towns. Media historians have noted that the competing Bellevue newspapers represented different visions for the community’s development and different political alignments that mirrored larger national debates about mining, monetary policy, and labor relations.
Similarly, Bellevue’s railroad connection exemplifies how transportation infrastructure shaped settlement patterns and economic development throughout the West. The narrow-gauge spur line that served Bellevue was typical of many such investments made during the mining boom years, representing both the economic optimism of the period and the practical challenges of building transportation networks in mountainous terrain.
The two cemeteries of Bellevue present contrasting cases in preservation. The pioneer cemetery, while neglected, has remained relatively intact due to its isolated location and the durability of many of its stone markers. The community cemetery, more accessible and with more elaborate monuments that attracted the attention of looters and vandals, has suffered greater damage over the decades.
Since the 1990s, sporadic volunteer efforts have sought to document and stabilize both burial grounds. The most significant of these occurred in 2008, when the Arizona Pioneer Cemetery Research Project cataloged all visible graves, photographed remaining markers, and created a digital database of burial information. This project recorded 37 identifiable graves in the pioneer cemetery and 112 in the community cemetery, though project leaders estimated that the actual number of burials might be significantly higher due to unmarked graves and deteriorated markers.
Maintenance efforts have been minimal and entirely volunteer-based. Occasionally, descendants’ groups organize cleanup days to remove invasive vegetation and reset fallen headstones, but no regular maintenance schedule exists for either cemetery. The remote location and difficult access have complicated conservation efforts, as has the lack of official historic designation that might qualify the sites for preservation funding.
In a touching continuation of connection to place, a small memorial gathering reportedly still occurs at the community cemetery each November 2 (All Souls’ Day), when descendants of some of the Hispanic miners buried there return to place flowers and small mementos on graves. This practice, documented by oral historians in the 1990s, represents one of the few continuing traditions connecting present-day Arizonans to Bellevue’s past.
Those wishing to visit Bellevue should approach the site with respect for both its historical significance and its natural environment. The town site and cemeteries are located on public land managed by the Bureau of Land Management, and no permits are required for casual visitation, though metal detecting and artifact collection are prohibited by federal law.
Visitors should be prepared for challenging conditions. The site is accessible only by high-clearance vehicles via unmarked dirt roads, and no facilities or services are available. Summer temperatures regularly exceed 100 degrees Fahrenheit, making winter and spring the safest seasons for exploration. Visitors should bring ample water, sun protection, and navigation equipment, as cell phone service is nonexistent in the area.
The cemeteries deserve particular respect as the final resting places of Bellevue’s residents. Visitors should not disturb grave markers, remove objects, or attempt rubbings of headstones, many of which are already fragile. Photography for personal or educational purposes is acceptable, but should be conducted respectfully.
Those interested in learning more about Bellevue before visiting can consult resources at the Arizona Historical Society in Tucson, which maintains the most substantial collection of documents related to the town, including fragmentary newspaper collections, mining company records, and several oral histories recorded with former residents in the 1950s and 1960s.
As the sun sets over the crumbling remains of Bellevue, long shadows stretch across foundations where homes and businesses once stood. The weathered headstones in both cemeteries catch the golden light, their inscriptions—those that remain legible—offering brief glimpses into lives spent building a community in this harsh but beautiful landscape. The ghosts of Bellevue—the miners, teachers, merchants, railroad workers, and their families—speak to us through what they left behind: tools abandoned mid-task, graves dug with care, newspaper fragments describing their hopes and concerns, the very path of the railroad that connected them to a wider world.
Bellevue reminds us of the impermanence of human endeavors and the cyclical nature of boom-and-bust economies that have shaped much of Western American history. Yet it also testifies to the resilience and adaptability of those who came seeking opportunity in Arizona’s mountains. They built not just mines and railroads but a community with schools, churches, newspapers, and cemeteries—all the institutions that transformed a mining camp into a home.
Today, as Arizona continues to evolve and grow, places like Bellevue offer important connections to our pioneer past. They remind us that the story of this land involves not just the triumphant narratives of successful cities and industries, but also the quieter stories of places where dreams faded and communities dispersed. In its abandonment, Bellevue achieves a kind of immortality—a snapshot of a particular moment in Arizona’s development, preserved by the very isolation that ultimately contributed to its decline.
The wind continues to blow through the empty window frames and doorways of Bellevue, carrying the whispers of those who lived, worked, celebrated, mourned, and hoped in this place. Their stories, partially told through crumbling grave markers and foundations returning to the earth, invite us to remember and respect the complex history written on this landscape—a history that, like the desert itself, contains both harshness and beauty, both life and death, both remembering and forgetting.