Wild Days of Yore All But Buried in Now-Sleepy Silverado Canyon

In a quiet, wooded area on a mountainside here, remains of an old silver mill sleep under a hot July sun.

No roads reach into this section of Pine Canyon. A steep footpath is the only access. Only the singing of the birds and the sounds of leaves snapping against the breeze break the quiet.

But with a little imagination, one can hear the sounds of Orange County’s rip-roaring past. Against this now-quiet backdrop, hundreds of miners once dug deep tunnels into the mountain. Ore carts rattled down narrow-gauge rail tracks. Music tinkled from pianos in seven nearby saloons, and anvils clanged in two blacksmith shops.

“Silverado was one of those sudden boom towns that just pop up--people streaming in with prospects of finding riches,” said Lee DiGregorio, a federal archeologist with the Cleveland National Forest. “It’s a historic site.”

Indeed, a state historic marker at the eastern terminus of Silverado Canyon Road reads:

“Located in Canada de la Madera (Timber Canyon), Silverado was a mining boom town founded in 1878 when silver was discovered nearby. During the colorful life of the boom, 1878-1881, miners flowing to the area established a thriving community served daily by stage from Los Angeles and Santa Ana.”

Orange County historian Don Meadows has said that up to 1,500 people flocked to Silverado during the brief boom. At its peak, about 1880, the new mining town had three hotels, three general stores and a school, in addition to the seven saloons and two blacksmith shops. About 250 mining claims were staked out in the canyon.

Today, Silverado is only a lightly populated, rustic community that strings along the 6-mile length of narrow Silverado Canyon Road. Other than the historic marker, there are no indications that this hamlet was once a mining center--let alone a boom town. Current residents say they came here to get away from the freeways and urbanized Orange County.

“I like it because it’s peaceful and quiet here,” said Patty Clark, owner of the Shady Brook Country Store. “But, yes, years ago, I guess there was a lot of action around here, especially on the Fourth of July. I imagine there was a lot of whooping and hollering and drinking.”

But Silverado librarian Lucille Cruz said she is not certain that the 1880-era community really was so lively.

“The mining town was settled by farmers from Anaheim and Santa Ana, and they were family-type people, so maybe this wasn’t like the wilder mining towns of California,” Cruz said.

Historians disagree on who first discovered silver here. Some accounts credit Hank Smith and William Curry, both of Santa Ana, with the first find in 1877. But Orange County historian Jim Sleeper, in his book “Santa Ana Mountains,” wrote that “Mexicans prospected Madera Canyon (now called Silverado Canyon) long before any gringo swung a pick there.”

Elsie McClelland, in her “Silverado Canyon Sketches--1853-1953,” asserted that the first silver find was made by Smith and Curry “in the seventies.” But her history also credited U.S. Marshal J. D. Dunlap with stumbling upon an old Mexican silver mine here in 1874 while chasing a murderer in the Santa Ana Mountains.

McClelland said that Dunlap filed a claim to that old Mexican mine. It was at first called the “Dunlap Mine,” then renamed the “Blue Light Mine.”

Whatever its origin, the Blue Light Mine endured. It became the largest silver producer of the boom town. Mining at the Blue Light continued, off and on, until the late 1950s, with zinc being the principal mineral taken out during the 1940s.

Relics of the Blue Light can still be found on the mountainsides of Pine Canyon. But no signs give directions to the old mine. Visitors are discouraged because part of the footpath to the mine crosses private property. The mine itself, however, is on land now within Cleveland National Forest.

One first encounters remnants of the old mine about a mile and a half southeast of the state historical marker. A steep footpath into Pine Canyon leads to a barren hillside. There, like a metallic dinosaur, the remains of the old Blue Light mill bleach under the sun.

Bits of corrugated metal, steel rails and concrete foundation show the outline of the old mill, which was torn down for scrap material about 15 years ago. A mill roller--a large, metal cylinder--rests forlornly in a dry creek bed.

According to McClelland’s history of Silverado, mine shafts higher up in the mountains brought the silver ore to this mill. The ore went into a three-rail tramway that carried it partway down the mountain. “The ore was hauled from the tramway by mule team to the mill,” McClelland said.

A switchback trail from the old mill extends about 2 miles higher into the Santa Anas, ultimately coming to three cave-like mine openings. Two are adits--entrances to the old mine--and one, oddly enough, was used as a sort of upper-mountain office for the mining operation.

On a recent afternoon, an eerie quiet hung over the forest-shaded area fronting the mine openings. Cool air, from deep within the mountain, filtered out the adits. Subterranean water dripped from the ceilings. Bits of logs and mine-support timbers floated in a pool of water in one of the shafts. And one could clearly see the bluish-white color of the ore remnants inside.

Residents of Silverado say they like to hike up to the old mine periodically--to commune with history.

“Once in awhile we take take moonlight hikes up there. It’s beautiful,” said Judi Davis, owner of the Silverado Canyon Market. “This whole canyon has so much history.”

Next door, at the Silverado Library, librarian Cruz similarly marveled at the community’s colorful history.