[Author’s Note: My apologies for the quality of the photos. I was armed for this trip with my 3+ year-old iPhone that has been dropped one too many times.]

If you live in Albuquerque and ever find yourself with an open Saturday and a hankering for adventure, word has it there is plenty open road between you and some intriguing destinations.

There are the usuals that get the press: Santa Fe with its art, Taos with its pueblo, Carlsbad with its caverns, and Alamogordo with its white sands. And then there are the unusuals that get less press, but carry as interesting prospects.

This last Saturday was just such a day for me- the road was calling, and I needed to get out of the house, not to mention the city.

This weekend, I didn’t have to think long about where to go. It was handed to me by a friend on Friday.

Following a meeting at APS in the morning, my boss and I dropped in our friend Tina. Having not seen her for a while, we wanted to catch up with her, and so we met her and chatted for a little while, about work, about recent preoccupations, about health. Somehow the conversation turned from pleasantries to poltergeists, and it was the she asked us: “Have you guys ever heard of White Oaks?” There was a bar out there that she had started visiting that she really enjoyed, but she also found the place fascinating, because this hopping biker destination bar was in an actual ghost town. “Everyone at the bar a few weekends ago saw unmistakably two UFO’s one night.”

Ghosts and aliens. Very compelling.

And so finally after getting around on Saturday and telling myself I needed to get out, I threw a few drinks in a cooler, and hit the road to find the haunted bar.

White Oaks: A Magnificent Meteor

White Oaks wasn’t always a piddly little town. It was actually a pretty thriving place back in the 1880’s.

Founded by a disappointed ’49er who followed a group of Mexican prospectors into the shallow canyons of the Jicarilla Mountains, the 49’er found gold, staked a claim, and set to mining in the hills around the town. And with the news of his strike, others soon followed him.

In 1879, there were a few men in tents and shanties churning the hilly earth to look for gold. By nearly a year later, 800 men lived in the tent city, and the hill town was on the map as the next hot prospector’s destination. In a very short time, more claims were filed, buildings were built, businesses were installed, and the town was among the liveliest in the New Mexico Territory.

“In 1882, construction was completed on Starr’s Opera House, and the town sported several saloons, several general stores, a school, and a town hall. In 1884 Lyman Hood held the first church services in an actual church building, these meetings having previously taken place in the town hall. During this period, there were brothels with many prostitutes, and the town was frequently a haven for cattle rustlers and other outlaws.”

In its heyday, White Oaks was home to over 4000 folks, with enough interest to support the four newspapers published there weekly.

White Oaks had its high times in the mythic Wild West, and was significant enough that many of the period’s big personalities like Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid frequented its stores and bars.

And White Oaks didn’t merely materialize during a period of solitude and silence in Lincoln County. Just a year before Baxter’s gold strike, in 1978, the entire region was under convulsions from the civilian war that erupted when rival business and ranching moguls decided to used hired hands and bloodshed to take control of interests in the county. For for 6 months, violence spilled over throughout Lincoln County with successive murders, revenge killings, and gun battles, climaxing in July. After a four day standoff at the Battle of Lincoln, U.S. Army troops showed up to try and quell the situation, but combatants from each side fled when faced with gunfire and flame. Tensions were high in the territory.

In time, though, two issues spelled the town’s decline. The gold in the mines dried up, and the newly developing railroad lines crossing the country chose to bypass building through the expensive properties held by private land owners in the area, and instead put the regional line through by the ranching community twelve miles to the west, Carrizozo.

I liked this additional note in the Wikipedia post on the town: “An additional source of decline was the presence of an excessive number of lawyers, with the accompanying excessive litigation surrounding land titles, mine claims, and livestock profits. By the early 1900s the town was a shadow of its previous self.”

White Oaks, like a falling star or a passing UFO, blazed a bright but brief trail in New Mexico lore.

Today, White Oaks is a ghost town, but it is not exactly dead. Probably the main reason for this is the No Scum Allowed Saloon.

No Scum Allowed Saloon

Perched on a subtle crest at the northeast end of town (which is comprised of County Road A044 acting briefly as Main Street, and a few tributaries leading to a handful of homes and buildings on neighboring hills), the No Scum Allowed Saloon began as a carryover from the golden era of White Oaks.

As you approach the hodge-podge of a structure, you learn that the single door into the main bar is the doorway that let people into the old saloon back in the old days. The main bar today is a narrow strip of wooded shelter, bisected by the bar running down its length, and you get an immediate sense of its age entering it. Behind its neon beer signs and playful decor, you feel the building’s age under its low ceiling and rough hewn timbers.

At the other end of the old building, an empty doorway opens to a newer section that features a perimeter of tables, a raised section in the northwest corner to stage a band, light strands dangling from the ceiling, and an open area for dancers. To your immediate right is another small bar area, and the mini-kitchenette where the hot dogs are roasted. And the nice thing about this room is that the north side is open, and directly beyond it 40 feet or so is a little covered stage for a band, so that they can play out under the moonlight, and in front of them, people can either sit and watch or right before them, dance as well.

No Scum has become popular in the region because it somehow has learned how to draw some excellent artists to play each weekend, and because its an interesting destination to hit. It has become particularly a favorite with bikers who can spend a part of the day touring on the road, and reach there for a brew and some relaxation. No Scum also has land right adjacent to the saloon that is open- and they invited whoever to come and stay on it for the night. when I pulled up to the little complex, three large motor homes sat parked behind it.

“Come on up and bring a tent or your trailer- we don’t care”, Theresa, one half of the married duo owning the place, told me. “You can sleep in the yard by the bar over night, and use our grills to cook your breakfast in the morning.”

When I arrived, that night’s band was setting up on the outdoor stage, so I made a quick survey of the establishment, and returned to the bar for a drink.

I didn’t know Theresa was part owner of the place, but I asked her what it was like, being at a bar out in the middle of nowhere.

Inevitably, it was bound to come up.

Ghosts and Guests

“It’s been great. We always have people coming out to join us. They just like being out here, enjoying the music, enjoying the company. We stay pretty busy. When things slow down, it can get a little quiet out here though. And you always have them coming around.”

“When we moved out here, I was not a person who believed in them. You could have told me ghost stories, and I would just blow it off and think nothing of it. I never grew up feeling anything weird related to that stuff… But once we got out here, that changed.”

“Stuff happens that I just can’t explain. It’s been suggested that ghosts still walk through the streets here, passing through houses.”

“There have been many times here when folks have taken photos, and mysterious figures show up in the picture frame glass behind them. I mean, look at this…” she says as she pulls her iPhone out of her pocket and thumbs through the camera images. She stops on one that was taken in the very area we sit in in the bar. At the bar are three younger men, with one chair in the middle of them empty. And there, in the clear reflection in the picture pane on the wall behind them is a section showing their back sides- and what appears to be a thin, elderly, gray-haired man sitting in the empty chair.

She tells me of the time she is in the bathroom off of the dancing hall one Saturday morning, and all of the power goes out in the indoor dancing hall- her bathroom included- except for in the men’s bathroom next door. She goes outside to find her husband, and he tries tries to dissuade her. “A breaker went out.” “But the two bathrooms are on the same breaker.” They go back into the saloon, and now the woman’s bathroom light is the one with light on- and two fresh rolls of toilet paper have been placed on the toilet seat.

The paranormal pilgrims come through frequently, she says. “Just this morning, a group of them were down at the old school house looking for something. But that happens here.”

And then there is the darkly dressed figure who, in old cap and black long coat walked in and through the empty bar one night, unresponsive and silent. “Can I help you?” she asked as he walked through, face shadowed under the broad brim and his collar. He walked on into the dance hall which was unused for the evening, and when she went to follow him- he was gone.

“Have you ever felt spooked or scared by these things, being out here?”

“You know- not too much. I’ve just figured they are friendly, jokesters. They like to play pranks. And I just leave them alone. They are here for a reason- they have something to finish.”

Ghosts or no ghosts, No Scum Allowed is pretty lively most every weekend during the summer.

Getting There

White Oaks hides among the hills north of the Sacramento Mountains. It’s a good three hour trek there from Albuquerque, but the drive is nice.

Head south on I-25 through Isleta, Los Lunas, and Belen. Pass Socorro, and in San Antonio, stop at the Owl Cafe or Buckhorn Burger (if they are open) for a green chile burger. Continue on U.S. Highway 380 east across a broad swath of open space and blue sky that serves as the north boundary of the White Sands Missile Range.

In the middle of this yucca-peppered plain sits Bingham, a two-resident town that features the Blanchard Rock Shop ( brandishing the slogan, “Three Miles from Nowhere”), and access to the Desert Rose Mine, an open claim mine where visitors can go survey for fluorite, barite, galena, quartz and smoky quartz. Thirty miles later, you are in Carrizozo. Head north at the main intersection on 54 for a few miles until you hit County Road A044- it’s the one that crosses the train tracks and heads for the hills. You’ll weave back and forth on the road for a while until you see a few old tall buildings pop up in front of you ahead.

You’ve found White Oaks.