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A shimmering mirage on the desert horizon, the remnants of Silverbell, Arizona stand as silent sentinels to a bygone era. Weathered adobe walls cast long shadows across the Sonoran Desert floor as the afternoon sun descends behind the Silver Bell Mountains. Here, among the saguaros and ocotillos that reclaim the dusty streets, lie the scattered memories of a once-vibrant mining community. Just beyond the town’s faded boundaries, the Silverbell Cemetery rests on a gentle slope, its weathered markers tilting at odd angles like tired miners leaning on their shovels at day’s end.
Situated in the arid expanses of Pima County, approximately 40 miles northwest of Tucson, Silverbell emerged from the rugged landscape in the late 19th century when copper deposits promised prosperity to those willing to endure frontier hardships. Today, the town’s abandoned buildings, its lonesome cemetery, and the faint traces of railroad beds that once connected it to distant markets tell a story of human tenacity and the ephemeral nature of resource-dependent communities. In these forgotten corners of Arizona, where the desert wind carries whispers of the past, we find not just a record of economic boom and bust, but a deeply human narrative about those who sought to carve civilization from the wilderness—and whose final resting places now stand as the most enduring monuments to their efforts.
Once a bustling copper mining town, Silverbell is now a ghost town with scattered ruins that speak to its past. You can walk among old mining equipment, foundations of buildings, and weathered cemeteries—offering a haunting yet fascinating glimpse into Arizona’s frontier history.
The Silverbell Mine, still active in some areas, has been a significant source of copper and silver since the 1800s. While access to active mines is restricted, you can explore surrounding public lands that show remnants of mining activity, including tailings, shafts, and old structures.
Silverbell is part of Arizona’s mineral-rich region, making it a hotspot for rockhounds and amateur geologists. You may find chalcopyrite, malachite, and other copper-based minerals. Be sure to follow BLM regulations on public land collection.
The rugged desert terrain and network of dirt roads make Silverbell an excellent destination for off-road vehicles. Bring your ATV or 4×4 and explore miles of scenic desert trails, old mining paths, and remote canyons.
Located just southeast of Silverbell, this protected area features impressive stands of Ironwood trees, rugged mountains, and rich archaeological history. It’s ideal for hiking, wildlife photography, and exploring undisturbed desert ecosystems.
Silverbell’s stark beauty offers stunning opportunities for landscape and sunset photography. Capture wide desert vistas, cacti silhouettes, and eerie ghost town remains in golden hour light.
The Sonoran Desert environment surrounding Silverbell is home to a diverse range of desert wildlife. You might spot roadrunners, hawks, desert mule deer, and even javelina, especially in the cooler morning or evening hours.
Primitive camping is allowed on BLM land near Silverbell. Enjoy the solitude, breathtaking desert sunsets, and clear star-filled skies far away from city lights. Be prepared for dry camping—bring all necessary water and supplies.
Behind the physical remains of Silverbell lie the human stories that give meaning to this abandoned place. The cemetery and newspaper fragments preserve glimpses of individual lives that collectively create a portrait of this mining community.
Perhaps no grave in the Silverbell Cemetery tells a more poignant story than that of Elena and Miguel Vasquez, marked by a simple stone cross inscribed in Spanish. According to an account in the Silverbell Nugget from June 1911, the young couple had been married only two months when the flash flood swept through town. Miguel, a mine carpenter, reportedly died while attempting to rescue his bride from their collapsing home. Their joint funeral drew over 200 mourners, nearly a quarter of the town’s population, with the newspaper noting that “even in this harsh land, love and sacrifice touch the hardest hearts.”
The cemetery also preserves the story of James McPherson, whose substantial marble headstone stands in stark contrast to the simpler markers surrounding it. McPherson, an early investor in the Silver Bell Mining Company, died in 1906 while visiting the operation from his Philadelphia home. The Nugget reported that his widow commissioned the elaborate monument to be shipped from Philadelphia at considerable expense, yet never visited the grave herself. This absent memorial represents the distant capital that built Silverbell but remained emotionally removed from the community’s daily realities.
In the Hispanic section of the cemetery, multiple generations of the Mendoza family lie buried side by side, illustrating the deep roots some families established in the community. Beginning with patriarch Joaquin Mendoza, who arrived in 1895 as a mule team driver and eventually opened a small general store serving the Mexican-American community, the family’s presence spans Silverbell’s entire existence. The youngest family member buried there, Teresa Mendoza, died in 1934, thirteen years after the railroad’s departure and well into the town’s decline, suggesting the tenacity with which some residents clung to their community even as economic opportunities diminished.
Newspaper accounts preserve everyday moments that humanize the town’s story. A May 1908 article in the Nugget describes the wedding celebration of mine foreman Robert Kellerman to schoolteacher Virginia Hayes, noting that “the company store had ordered special decorations from Tucson” and that “Mrs. Griffith’s piano was transported to the community hall for the occasion, where Miss Hayes’ students performed several musical selections.” This glimpse into a joyful community gathering contrasts with the newspaper’s somber reporting on mining accidents and illness outbreaks.
The railroad’s human element appears in the story of station agent Franklin Pierce, who, according to a 1912 feature in the Nugget, maintained a remarkable desert garden adjacent to the station using water from the locomotive tank. The article praised Pierce’s “civilization-building efforts” and noted that his roses “bring beauty to our industrial landscape and remind us of gentler places.” This small effort to create beauty amid Silverbell’s utilitarian environment speaks to the very human desire to improve harsh surroundings.
Perhaps most telling are the cemetery’s nameless graves—simple markers with no inscriptions or with writing long erased by time and weather. These anonymous resting places, particularly numerous in the sections containing graves of miners and laborers, represent the forgotten contributors to Silverbell’s brief prosperity. Their unrecorded stories form the foundation upon which the more documented narratives rest, reminding us that historical memory often preserves the exceptional while obscuring the typical.
| Category | Details |
|---|---|
| Name | Silverbell, Arizona |
| Type | Ghost town (historic mining town) |
| County | Pima County |
| Founded | Circa 1870s |
| Status | Abandoned; modern mining site nearby |
| Population (Historic) | Estimated 1,000+ during peak in early 1900s |
| Population (Current) | None (historic site abandoned); modern company town nearby |
| Historical Significance | A major copper, silver, and lead mining hub in the early 20th century |
| Mining Companies | Initially operated by Imperial Copper Company, later Asarco LLC |
| Main Industry | Copper mining (with silver and lead byproducts) |
| Decline Factors | Ore depletion, economic shifts, Great Depression |
| Modern Operations | The New Silverbell Mine, located nearby, is still an active Asarco property |
| Remnants Today | Ruins include foundations, mine shafts, and cemetery; some ruins on private land |
| Accessibility | Limited access; some ruins accessible via off-road trails near Marana, AZ |
| Nearby Modern Town | Marana, Arizona (~30 miles northwest of Tucson) |
| Geographic Setting | Western Pima County in the Silver Bell Mountains |
| Elevation | Approx. 2,800 feet (853 meters) |
| Best For | History enthusiasts, experienced ghost town explorers, industrial archaeology |
The origins of Silverbell are tied directly to the copper veins that ran through the surrounding mountains. Though indigenous peoples had long known of mineral deposits in the area, with evidence of prehistoric mining activity dating back centuries, it wasn’t until 1865 that the first modern mining claims were filed by prospectors venturing north from Tucson. The settlement that would become Silverbell, however, didn’t begin to take shape until the 1880s, when more substantial mining operations commenced.
The economic driver that truly sparked Silverbell’s development was the establishment of the Silver Bell Mining Company in 1890, backed by Eastern investors who saw potential in the region’s copper deposits. Unlike the silver boomtowns that had captured the public imagination in the previous decade, Silverbell was primarily a copper producer, with some silver, lead, and zinc extracted as secondary minerals.
By 1900, Silverbell had become a company town in the truest sense, with the mining operation controlling most aspects of community life. The Imperial Copper Company, which took over operations in 1903, expanded the mines significantly and built much of the town’s infrastructure. By 1910, Silverbell reached its peak population, with estimates suggesting between 1,000 and 1,500 residents called the dusty mining camp home.
Silverbell’s development coincided with Arizona’s territorial period and the broader expansion of American industrial interests into the Southwest. The town embodied the territory’s transition from a frontier outpost to an industrial resource center. As Arizona moved toward statehood in 1912, communities like Silverbell represented the economic potential that helped justify the territory’s admission to the Union.
The town witnessed several notable events that marked its history, including a significant miners’ strike in 1915 that brought operations to a standstill for nearly three months. This labor action, part of a broader movement across Western mining communities, revealed the tensions between industrial labor and management that characterized the era. Another defining moment came in 1911 when a flash flood swept through the canyon, destroying several buildings and claiming three lives—a stark reminder of nature’s power in the desert environment.
Today’s visitor to Silverbell encounters a landscape where nature has largely reclaimed what man once built. Located on land now controlled by ASARCO and private ranching interests, access is limited and often requires permission. What remains visible presents a stark portrait of abandonment and decay.
The most substantial ruins include several stone and adobe wall fragments of what were once the company store, assay office, and administrative buildings clustered near the center of the former settlement. These structures, built of more permanent materials than the wooden miners’ cabins, have withstood the desert’s harsh conditions somewhat better, though roofs have long since collapsed and interiors are exposed to the elements.
Near the eastern edge of the townsite stand the concrete foundations of the ore processing facility, massive rectangles and circles embedded in the earth where machinery once crushed and separated valuable minerals from worthless rock. Rusted fragments of metal equipment protrude from the ground in places, like industrial fossils partially exposed by erosion.
The street grid is still faintly visible in some areas, particularly after seasonal rains wash away surface dust to reveal the more compacted road beds. Several old wagon roads and the better-engineered mine access roads can be traced through the landscape, connecting the townsite to the mine openings in the hills above.
Evidence of former infrastructure includes stone-lined cisterns that once collected precious water, the concrete pad where the electrical generator stood, and the foundations of the water tower that supplied the community. Archaeological surveys have identified the likely locations of the schoolhouse, several saloons, a small hotel, and the doctor’s office, though little remains above ground at these sites.
Current preservation efforts are minimal, with no formal protection beyond the general provisions applying to historical resources on state and private lands. ASARCO, which controls much of the area through its modern mining operations, has placed warning signs around more dangerous features such as mine shafts and partially collapsed structures. The Arizona State Museum conducted limited documentation of the site in the 1990s, but no ongoing preservation program exists.
For would-be visitors, accessing Silverbell requires advance planning. The ASARCO Silver Bell Operations, which conducts modern open-pit mining in the vicinity, controls access roads, and permission must be obtained through their Tucson office. Guided visits are occasionally arranged through the Arizona Historical Society, offering the safest and most informative option for exploring what remains of this once-bustling community.
Approximately a half-mile northeast of the main townsite, Silverbell Cemetery occupies a gently sloping two-acre plot surrounded by mesquite and palo verde trees. This burial ground, established around 1890 with the town’s first permanent settlement, offers one of the most tangible connections to the community’s human story.
The cemetery contains approximately 60-70 identifiable graves, though local historians estimate the actual number of burials may exceed 100, with many markers lost to time and the elements. The oldest definitively dated grave belongs to Marcus Williams, a mine supervisor who died in 1892 when a support timber collapsed. His sandstone marker, though weathered, still bears a faintly visible inscription noting he was “Called to Glory from the Depths of the Earth.”
Grave markers in the Silverbell Cemetery reflect the economic limitations and material availability of the frontier community. Wooden crosses, now weathered to silvery gray, stand alongside more substantial markers of local stone. A few commercially produced marble headstones, presumably for more affluent residents or those whose families could afford to import them from Tucson, create a stark contrast to the simpler memorials.
The cemetery reveals several patterns common to mining communities of the era. A sad cluster of small graves in the northwestern corner bears witness to the high infant and child mortality rates, with several markers indicating children lost to diphtheria during a 1908 outbreak. Another notable pattern emerges in the dates of death recorded in 1911, when six graves mark victims of the flash flood that devastated parts of the town.
Occupational hazards are evident in numerous inscriptions referencing mining accidents, with at least eight graves specifically noting death occurred “in the mine” or through mining-related injuries. These stark reminders of the dangers faced by Silverbell’s working population provide insight into the human cost of copper extraction in the days before modern safety regulations.
The cemetery’s maintenance has been intermittent since the town’s abandonment. In the 1970s, a group of descendants and historical enthusiasts conducted a cleanup effort, documenting visible inscriptions and repairing some of the more substantial markers. Today, the Arizona State Museum maintains basic records of the cemetery, though physical maintenance is minimal, limited to occasional volunteer efforts coordinated through the Pima County Historical Society.
Unlike many mining communities that maintained separate burial grounds for different social classes or ethnic groups, Silverbell’s single cemetery served the entire community. However, clear segregation existed within its boundaries, revealing the social stratification of this early 20th-century mining town.
The cemetery’s eastern section, on slightly higher ground, contains the more elaborate markers belonging to mine managers, merchants, and their families. These graves typically feature carved headstones, some imported from as far as Denver or Chicago according to newspaper accounts. By contrast, the western and southern portions contain simpler markers for miners and laborers, reflecting the economic disparities within the community.
Demographic patterns emerge clearly in the cemetery’s layout. A section along the southern edge contains markers with Hispanic surnames, representing the significant Mexican and Mexican-American population that provided much of the mine’s labor force. Several markers in this area feature Catholic symbolism and Spanish inscriptions, some noting birthplaces in Sonora or other Mexican states.
The cemetery also reflects changing burial practices over time. Earlier graves from the 1890s tend to be marked with local stone or wooden crosses, while later burials increasingly featured commercially produced monuments as transportation improved and relative prosperity increased. Family plots became more common after 1900, suggesting a shift from the transient nature of early mining camps toward more permanent family settlement.
Community traditions surrounding death and burial in Silverbell included both American and Mexican practices. Historical accounts mention Memorial Day observations as early as 1905, when the town’s children would decorate graves with desert wildflowers and sage. For the Hispanic community, Día de los Muertos observances continued even after the town’s decline, with descendants returning to clean and decorate family graves well into the 1950s.
Among the notable community members interred in the cemetery is Thomas Reynolds, who served as Silverbell’s only doctor from 1902 until his death in 1917. His substantial granite monument, reportedly paid for by community subscription, bears the inscription “He Healed Others, Himself He Could Not Save” following his death from pneumonia contracted while treating miners during a winter outbreak.
Silverbell supported one primary newspaper during its existence, the Silverbell Nugget, which began publication in 1903 under the ownership of William Griffith, a former reporter for the Arizona Daily Star in Tucson. Operating from a modest frame building on the town’s main street, the Nugget served as both news source and community forum for approximately 14 years.
The weekly newspaper, typically consisting of four pages, sold for five cents and claimed a circulation of around 300 at its peak. Griffith maintained a generally pro-business editorial stance, frequently advocating for infrastructure improvements and territorial policies favorable to mining interests. However, the paper occasionally showed independence from company positions, particularly during labor disputes when Griffith attempted to present perspectives from both management and workers.
The Nugget documented the rhythms of community life in Silverbell, from mining developments and production figures to social events and personal milestones. Regular features included reports on ore quality from different mine sections, announcements of community dances and holiday celebrations, and notices of visitors to the relatively isolated community. The paper’s “Personal Mention” column tracked the comings and goings of residents, while birth announcements, wedding celebrations, and obituaries chronicled the community’s vital statistics.
Coverage of broader territorial and national events arrived with some delay, often reprinted from larger publications in Tucson or Phoenix. Presidential elections, significant legislation affecting mining interests, and major national events received attention proportional to their impact on the local community. During the Spanish-American War, the paper printed letters from several local men who had enlisted, creating a direct connection between this isolated mining town and international events.
The Nugget office operated from a wooden structure near the company store until 1913, when it moved to a stone building that provided better protection for the printing equipment. Griffith served as both editor and primary reporter, with occasional assistance from his wife Sarah, who maintained the business operations and typesetting. Following Griffith’s death in 1915, Sarah continued publishing the paper until 1917, when declining population and advertising revenue forced its closure.
Few complete issues of the Silverbell Nugget survive today. The Arizona Historical Society in Tucson maintains a partial collection covering primarily the years 1907-1912, while scattered individual issues exist in private collections. The newspaper’s printing press was reportedly moved to Marana after the publication ceased, where it served another small community paper until the 1930s.
The arrival of railroad transportation in 1904 marked a transformative development in Silverbell’s growth and economic viability. The Arizona Southern Railroad, a subsidiary of Southern Pacific, constructed a 22-mile spur line connecting Silverbell to the main Southern Pacific route at Red Rock, finally linking the isolated mining camp to national transportation networks.
Before the railroad’s completion, transportation to and from Silverbell relied on wagon roads that became nearly impassable during seasonal rains. Ore shipments traveled by mule-drawn wagons to Tucson, a journey that could take three days under ideal conditions and much longer during inclement weather. Similarly, machinery, supplies, and manufactured goods faced the same arduous journey in reverse.
The Arizona Southern Railroad represented a significant investment in Silverbell’s future, with construction costs reported at over $150,000—a substantial sum for the period. The line featured a simple terminal at Silverbell consisting of a small passenger platform, freight loading facilities, a water tank for steam locomotives, and a modest two-room station building constructed of local stone with a wooden roof.
The railroad’s operations transformed the mining town’s economy and daily life. Trains operated on a regular schedule with three roundtrips weekly between Silverbell and Red Rock. The journey took approximately two hours each way, a dramatic improvement over previous transportation options. Passenger service allowed residents to travel to Tucson for shopping, medical care, or business, returning the same day—a convenience previously unimaginable.
Freight service constituted the railroad’s primary economic purpose. Outbound trains carried copper ore to smelters in Douglas and El Paso, while incoming trains delivered mining machinery, construction materials, and consumer goods. The increased shipping capacity allowed the mines to process greater volumes of lower-grade ore that previously would have been uneconomical to transport, effectively extending the operation’s viable lifespan.
Railroad employees formed a notable contingent within Silverbell’s population. The operation employed approximately 15 men locally, including the station agent, freight handlers, track maintenance workers, and train crews who resided in the community. These relatively stable, skilled positions contrasted with the more dangerous and physically demanding mining jobs that employed the majority of local men.
The Arizona Southern Railroad continued operations until 1921, when declining mine production and the post-World War I recession forced service reductions. Passenger service ended entirely in 1920, though limited freight operations continued for another year. The final train departed Silverbell on August 17, 1921, marking the end of an era and accelerating the town’s decline.
Physical evidence of the railroad remains visible in the landscape today. The raised grade can be traced along much of the original route, particularly in areas where substantial earthwork was required to maintain the gentle gradient necessary for train operation. Near the townsite, concrete footings that once supported the water tower stand as the most substantial remaining railroad structure, while scattered railroad spikes and tie plates occasionally emerge from the desert soil after heavy rains.
Silverbell’s decline began gradually following World War I, when copper prices fell from their wartime highs and production costs increased. The Imperial Copper Company, which had operated the mines since 1903, faced growing financial pressure as the most accessible high-grade ore bodies became depleted. By 1919, the workforce had been reduced by nearly half, and operations focused on just two of the five mine shafts that had operated during the peak years.
The post-war recession of 1920-21 delivered a critical blow to the already struggling operation. Copper prices plummeted further, making even reduced operations economically unsustainable. In March 1921, the company announced a “temporary” shutdown that would ultimately prove permanent for the original mining operation. The Tucson Citizen reported that approximately 300 workers and their families faced displacement, with the company offering rail transportation to Tucson or Phoenix for those wishing to relocate.
The railroad’s discontinuation later that same year sealed Silverbell’s fate. Without rail transport, any potential revival of mining operations became economically infeasible. The population declined precipitously, with the 1922 state business directory listing Silverbell’s population at just 76 residents. These remaining inhabitants primarily consisted of a few property owners, elderly residents unwilling to start over elsewhere, and some Hispanic families who maintained small agricultural operations in the surrounding valleys.
The final blow came during the Great Depression when property tax delinquencies led to the abandonment of many remaining structures. The post office, which had operated continuously since 1894, finally closed in 1934, requiring the few remaining residents to travel to Marana for mail service. By 1940, the federal census recorded just 18 residents in the Silverbell precinct, effectively marking the community’s end as a functioning town.
The cemetery continued to receive occasional burials even after the town’s significant decline. Records indicate the last formal burial occurred in 1947 when Margarita Mendoza, one of the last original residents, was laid to rest beside her family members according to her wishes, despite having lived her final years in Tucson. Informal burials may have continued beyond this date, though documentation is sparse.
Former residents scattered primarily to Tucson, Phoenix, and the mining communities of Ajo and Miami, establishing new lives while maintaining connections to their Silverbell roots. A reunion of former residents occurred in Tucson in 1952, with the Arizona Daily Star reporting that approximately 75 “Silverbellites” gathered to share memories and photographs. As one attendee reportedly remarked, “The town died, but the community lived on in different places.”
The physical town deteriorated rapidly after abandonment. Desert conditions, while preserving some elements, proved harsh on wooden structures. A fire in 1939, likely caused by lightning, destroyed several remaining wooden buildings in the town center. Salvage operations during World War II removed most accessible metal, including sections of rail line and mining equipment, for the war effort. By the 1950s, Silverbell had transformed from a declining town to a true ghost town, with only stone foundations and adobe walls standing as evidence of its former existence.
Silverbell occupies a significant position in Arizona’s mining history, representing the transition from small-scale prospecting to corporate industrial mining that characterized the territory’s economic development. Unlike better-known mining communities such as Bisbee or Jerome that grew into substantial towns with diverse economies, Silverbell remained primarily a company town throughout its existence, providing a clearer example of the pure mining camp model that once dotted the Western landscape.
The Arizona State Historic Preservation Office recognized Silverbell’s historical significance in 1992, including the townsite and cemetery in the state inventory of historic places. However, the site has not received National Register designation, partly due to the limited integrity of remaining structures and the complex land ownership issues involving active mining claims. Archaeological studies conducted by the University of Arizona in the 1980s documented the townsite’s layout and material culture, establishing a baseline inventory of visible features before further deterioration occurred.
For the Tohono O’odham people, whose ancestral territory includes the Silver Bell Mountains, the area holds cultural significance beyond its mining history. Ethnographic studies have identified several places of traditional importance in the vicinity, including a historic travel corridor and plant gathering areas. Tribal historians note that many O’odham people worked in the mines or provided services to the mining community, representing an often overlooked aspect of indigenous adaptation to European-American economic systems.
The ghost town has featured in several scholarly works examining Arizona’s mining history, most notably in Eldred Wilson’s comprehensive “Silver and Copper: Arizona’s Economic Backbone,” which devoted a chapter to Silverbell’s development and decline. More recently, environmental historians have studied the site as an example of the long-term landscape impacts of early industrial mining practices, documenting how tailings piles and altered drainage patterns continue to influence the desert ecosystem more than a century after active operations ceased.
Silverbell plays a modest role in regional heritage tourism, though its remote location and access restrictions limit visitation compared to more accessible ghost towns. The Pima County Visitors Bureau includes brief mentions of Silverbell in its historical publications, and occasionally heritage tours arranged through the Arizona Historical Society include the site when access permissions can be obtained.
The community’s newspaper and railroad history, while less extensively documented than its mining operations, provide valuable insights into how communication and transportation networks influenced the development and sustainability of isolated resource communities. The relatively short operational period of both the Silverbell Nugget and the Arizona Southern Railroad offers a compact case study in the relationship between infrastructure, information flow, and community viability in early 20th century Arizona.
The Silverbell Cemetery, as the most intact physical reminder of the community, presents both opportunities and challenges for historical conservation. Unlike the mining structures that have largely disappeared or the railroad infrastructure that was systematically salvaged, the cemetery remains as a deliberate memorial landscape created by the community itself.
Preservation efforts at the cemetery have been sporadic throughout the decades since Silverbell’s abandonment. The most significant conservation initiative occurred in 1978 when the Southern Arizona Genealogical Society, in cooperation with descendants of Silverbell residents, conducted a documentation project that photographed and recorded all visible grave markers. This effort produced a registry of 63 identifiable graves with transcriptions of legible inscriptions, creating a valuable record before further deterioration occurred.
Physical conservation has proved more challenging than documentation. The cemetery’s remote location makes regular maintenance difficult, while the harsh desert environment continues to erode both stone and wooden markers. Occasional volunteer cleanup efforts, typically organized through the Pima County Historical Society, have removed invasive vegetation and repaired fallen markers, but no permanent maintenance program exists.
The contrasting preservation states of different sections of the cemetery highlight cultural differences in memorial practices. The Hispanic section, where graves typically feature concrete or stone crosses, has generally weathered better than areas with wooden markers. Additionally, oral history interviews conducted in the 1970s revealed that Hispanic families from Silverbell maintained traditions of cemetery visitation longer than their Anglo counterparts, with some families continuing annual Día de los Muertos visits well into the 1960s despite having relocated to Tucson or other communities.
In 2005, a modest conservation grant from the Arizona Heritage Fund allowed for the installation of a commemorative plaque at the cemetery entrance, providing historical context for visitors and acknowledging the site’s significance. This project also included the creation of a simple walking path and the repair of the most severely damaged markers, though funding limitations prevented comprehensive restoration.
Contemporary memorial practices continue in modified form through descendant communities. The Silverbell Mining District Historical Society, formed in 1998 by descendants and historical enthusiasts, organizes an annual memorial gathering at the cemetery each November, combining elements of Anglo Memorial Day traditions and Mexican Día de los Muertos observances. These events typically include cleaning activities, the placing of flowers on graves, and the sharing of family histories connected to the community.
Ongoing documentation efforts include a digital database maintained by the Arizona State Museum that incorporates historical records, photographs, GPS locations of identified graves, and family information where available. This project, initiated in 2012, aims to create a comprehensive record that will survive even if the physical cemetery eventually succumbs to time and the elements.
Visitors to Silverbell should approach with both caution and respect, recognizing the site’s historical significance and the ongoing connection many families maintain with the cemetery. Access to the townsite requires advance permission from ASARCO, which controls the primary access roads as part of its modern mining operations in the vicinity. Unauthorized entry constitutes trespassing and may result in legal consequences.
The safest and most appropriate way to visit is through organized tours occasionally offered by the Arizona Historical Society or the Silverbell Mining District Historical Society. These guided visits provide historical context while ensuring proper permissions have been obtained and safety precautions observed. The active mining operations in the broader area present potential hazards including heavy equipment traffic and unstable ground near historical mine features.
The cemetery, though on public land administered by the Bureau of Land Management, requires a moderately difficult hike over uneven terrain to access. Visitors should come prepared for desert conditions with adequate water, sun protection, and appropriate footwear. Summer visits are discouraged due to extreme temperatures that regularly exceed 100°F.
Ethical considerations for cemetery visitors include fundamental principles of respect. Photography for personal or educational purposes is acceptable, but commercial use requires permission from the BLM and consultation with the Silverbell Mining District Historical Society, which represents descendant families. Visitors should never disturb graves, remove artifacts, or conduct rubbings, as even well-intentioned physical contact can accelerate the deterioration of fragile markers.
Archaeological resources throughout the area are protected under federal law. The Archaeological Resources Protection Act prohibits the collection of artifacts more than 50 years old from public lands, including items that may appear insignificant such as glass fragments, metal objects, or ceramic shards. These materials, while perhaps seemingly abundant, provide irreplaceable data for understanding daily life in this historical community.
The Pima County Historical Society maintains a small collection of Silverbell artifacts and photographs at its Tucson facility, offering a way to connect with the community’s history without impacting the sensitive archaeological site. This exhibit provides context for those planning a visit or those unable to make the journey to the remote location.
Standing amid the weathered grave markers of Silverbell Cemetery, with the rugged peaks of the Silver Bell Mountains etched against the Arizona sky, one cannot help but reflect on the transience of human endeavors. This community, which once hummed with the sounds of ore carts and steam engines, where newspapers rolled off the press and merchants tallied their accounts, has returned largely to dust—leaving only traces for those who know where to look.
Yet in Silverbell’s abandoned streets and silent cemetery, we find more than a cautionary tale of boom-and-bust economics. The human stories preserved in newspaper fragments and etched in stone reveal a complex community of individuals who built lives in this harsh landscape—celebrating births, mourning deaths, finding love, and creating meaning far from the centers of civilization. Their pioneer dreams, though ultimately altered by economic forces beyond their control, temporarily transformed a corner of the Sonoran Desert into a community with its own distinct identity and social fabric.
As contemporary Arizona continues its rapid urbanization, ghost towns like Silverbell offer essential perspective on our relationship with landscape and resources. The town reminds us that what appears permanent can prove ephemeral when environments change or resources deplete. Yet it also demonstrates how human connections to place transcend economic utility, as descendants continue to honor their ancestors and preserve the stories of a community that refuses to be entirely forgotten.
In the democratic geography of Silverbell Cemetery, where managers and miners, Anglo merchants and Mexican laborers rest in earth moistened by the same infrequent desert rains, we witness how death ultimately united a community divided in life by ethnicity, class, and opportunity. Their collective story, written across this landscape in foundation stones and grave markers, continues to speak to those willing to listen—reminding us that even ghost towns have voices if we approach them with patience and respect.
As the sun sets behind the Silver Bell Mountains, casting long shadows across the cemetery’s weathered crosses and tilting headstones, the ghosts of Silverbell seem momentarily present—not as supernatural apparitions, but as echoes of human striving, connection, and ultimately, acceptance of life’s impermanence in this beautiful, unforgiving land.
Silverbell is located approximately 40 miles northwest of Tucson. From Interstate 10, take the Avra Valley Road exit and proceed west approximately 15 miles, then north on Silverbell Road. Access to the townsite requires permission from ASARCO’s Silver Bell Operations.
GPS Coordinates:
Historical photographs reproduced by permission of the Arizona Historical Society. Contemporary cemetery photographs by the Silverbell Mining District Historical Society.