Bisbee Blog

I am relatively new to Bisbee but I already find this town enchanting. This old mining town has been revived as an artist town that brings in tourists. I guess many towns need to re-invent themselves when their major industry shuts down. This happened in the 70s and that is when the "hippies" moved in. Since then, Bisbee has changed a lot but it has retained a lot of its mining heritage. There are still old timers that worked in the mines living in Bisbee. The houses in Old Bisbee are mainly miner cabins. Some are falling down, some have been restored. We live in a restored miner's cabin on a narrow road perched on the side of a hill.

I will try to introduce you to my new town through this blog and through a newcomer's eyes. I am just learning about the history of the town and meeting the people that live here. The town is green and hilly and there are more steps than you can shake a stick at. I have heard it said that Bisbee doesn't have sidewalks, it has staircases. Many tourists probably don't get much opportunity to walk the steps, the way the residents do. You really get to see this town when you walk up the thousands of steps here. According to my husband,  Bisbee uses any excuse to have "a band and a bar." We have been to several of these events and there is always music and a bar.

 I recently found this charming poem online about Bisbee:

A Mining Tale by Larry Wittig The “Mile High City of Sunshine” Lies a’sleepin’ among the Mule’s Twixt rusty rugged mountain peaks And skies of azure hues. From Main Street, very serpentine, Her streets and alleys spread From brightly colored shops below To weathered homes above. Built by rugged miners, With pick and bit and sledge, Who’d wrestled free her precious gifts Of copper, gold and lead. The city grew, her riches milked, By men who sweat and swore, Until at last, her treasures gone, She slept and grew no more. Then one day the “new ones” came, In tie-dyed shirts and sandaled feet And occupied the weathered shacks She cradled in her arms. The picks, shovels and drills were gone, Replaced by clay and pen, Until, at last, the once proud town, Began to wake again. Now we climb her well worn steps And hike her narrow streets, And marvel at the history Preserved in brick and stone. From shop to shop we walk and talk And view her wealth, in kind, By artisans made, to take if you’ve paid, For now the tourist is mined. (Source: http://members.cox.net/~chilesmith/bisbeewn2.htm)