The "Ghost Town" of Amargosa
By all indications and quick glances, the place seemed to be a quintessential “ghost town.” The houses were long deteriorating, a truck could be seen with flat tires, and the nearby businesses were shuttered. Yet, there was still a spark of life among the white walls of the old hotel beneath the glaring sun.
The Mojave Desert is a peculiar place to find an opera house.
However, with time limited by driving distance, other plans, and a flight to catch, we opted to just make a brief stop back at the seemingly forgotten town we had passed on the way in.
A faded note on the door stated that a tour was happening, but the padlock and yellowed paper seemed to indicate otherwise. The parking lot was a mix of sand, gravel, and decaying asphalt with no one coming to or from the doors. A few cars sat in the parking lot while ours moved up to the nearby cafe as I shot photos. The only other noises were from birds in the trees, a few voices I could hear in the distance, and cars zooming by on California State Route 127.
The building’s windows were dark aside from an electric “open” sign blinking in the window. Laura and her Dad went ahead to scope out the restaurant/coffee/bathroom situation. As I got near, a pair of Australian tourists came out, quipping to each other about their plans for the day. The surrounding landscape and their accents immediately brought to mind the scene in the original Mad Max film when the family stops for gas and provisions in an ever worsening post-apocalyptic landscape.
So did we.
She and her husband decided to stay.
Marta was able to rent the theatre and set about on renovations and restorations. She renamed it “The Amargosa Opera House” and began performing shows, often to no one seated in the hall or the few locals who would occasionally stop by. As time went on, she began painting murals in both the theatre and rooms of the adjoining hotel, her artistic talent not solely limited to dance. Becket’s shows and maintaining of the theatre began to draw audiences from all over after she was profiled in Time, LIFE, People, and National Geographic. Soon, the Amargosa Opera House and Marta’s work became an oasis of culture in the Mojave Desert. Even as she aged and her ballet performances became sit-down shows, Marta had a following and audience who’d come from all over the world. After fifty years performing in Death Valley, she passed away from natural causes at the age of 92 in 2017. A memorial adorned with flowers and mementoes from fans and friends acknowledges her life at the center of the complex.
Even after passing, Marta Becket's memory keeps Death Valley Junction from becoming a true ghost town. The opera house can still be visited, rooms at the hotel are still available, and the cafe is a roadside respite from a rather bleak highway. A flyer in the window indicated that shows honoring her life would soon be performed at the opera house.
There’s another hint of life at Death Valley Junction in another seemingly abandoned structure. I shot a quick photo of the place, assuming it was empty and not noticing the logo on the front reading “lik.” Looking on Google Maps, the building doesn’t appear in a 2008 street view, but is listed as being a Peter Lik gallery. Lik is a renown fine art photographer with galleries in New York, Houston, Australia, Hawaii, Miami, and several in Las Vegas. The Death Valley gallery noted on Google Maps doesn’t appear on his site, because as it turns out it’s not like his others.
- David Lik's Death Valley gallery. |
You can’t go inside, the building isn’t staffed, and there’s nothing to purchase. Rather, at night, the windows light up and reveal large prints of his work. The building isn’t so much a gallery as it’s a work of art itself.
EDIT: Looking at the above image at full resolution and zooming in, it appears that there weren't any prints hanging up when this photograph was made on Jan. 26, 2018. I'm not sure if the gallery is still maintained or not. If you know for sure, leave a comment below or drop a line.
The story of Marta Becket and the gallery across the street were both things I didn’t pick up on in the few minutes spent at Death Valley Junction.
Reading about them in the days since, I wish I had.