With a name like Holy Terror, you picture the old Keystone mine to be a dark, scary place. It was, but that's not how it got its name.
It was named for a man's wife.
The original mining claim was discovered by William B. Franklin and his adopted daughter, Cora, in 1894. It was a rich ledge of gold-bearing quartz, and it grew to become one of the richest gold mines in the country.
When it came time to name the new mine, friends suggested to Franklin that he name it after his wife, a common practice at the time. Franklin took their advice, sort of. He was a regular at the many saloons in Keystone, and often his wife, Jenny, had to drag him home by the arm. When she retrieved him from the bar, he would wink at a friend and say, "Ain't she a holy terror?"
And that's what he named the mine.
The Holy Terror and the neighboring Keystone Mine later merged, their shafts connected by tunnels. But the two companies continued to operate separate mills.
By 1903, the Holy Terror Mine reached a depth of 1,200 feet. However, the mining company's early success was bogged down by underground water problems and litigation from fatal mine accidents and claim disputes. The mine ceased operation in 1903, and was allowed to fill with water. The Holy Terror had a brief revival from 1938 to 1942. Ore was mined in the neighboring Keystone Mine, brought to the surface through the Holy Terror shaft and processed at the Keystone mill.
The story of the Holy Terror could see another revival in the future. A Canadian company in 2013 began drilling test holes to map the quality of the ore that remains in the Holy Terror vein.
Maybe if mining resumes, they could name it Jenny's Revenge.
If you are going to die -- and do we have a choice? -- there are worse places to spend eternity than Keystone's Memorial View Cemetery.
Perched on a hillside just south of town, the cemetery offers a great view of Mount Rushmore National Memorial. (In fact, back when Mount Rushmore used to put on an Independence Day fireworks show, local residents and savvy tourists gathered at the cemetery for one of the best, most uncrowded views of the show anywhere.)
Keystone’s very own chainsaw artist, Jarrett Dahl, has sold one of his carvings to Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. The piece, a fanciful portrayal that looks like part soaring eagle, part motorcycle, has attracted a lot of attention at its perch in front of Dahl’s Chainsaw Art shop in Keystone. Now it's going to be attracting a lot more attention at Ripley's in Orlando, Fla.
When you go to Custer State Park, they tell you to keep a safe distance from the bison. -- the lumbering beasts that walk the roads with that "leave-me-alone" demeanor. It's easy to see why.
But they don't tell you keep your distance from the park's roaming herd of burros. I'm not sure it's possible to keep your distance from these guys. To say the burros are friendly would be an understatement. Not only do they come running when a car pulls over, they poke their enormous heads right in the window. One woman told me once that a burro actually tried to climb into her minivan.
The Custer State Park Buffalo Roundup is an awe-inspiring experience that you will never forget. When some 1,300 bison come galloping across the hillside, it simply takes your breath away. After they are safely corralled, you can walk to the fence and get a close-up look at these magnificent beasts.