The Sad Tale of Picher, Oklahoma
Driving through northeast Oklahoma is much like driving through any other state in the American interior. Long, straight roads surrounded by vast expanses of grass gently flowing in the breeze. Massive farms with farmers dutifully working to provide the food that keeps the nation going. Every once in a while, the vast nothingness is broken up by a seemingly insignificant blip of a town.
Like much of the plains states, you could easily pass through these areas without giving them a second thought. You certainly wouldn’t expect that among these fields of hardworking people lies a town that has suffered tragedy after tragedy. Yet, such a town lies in the northeastern corner of Oklahoma.
This is the sad tale of Picher, Oklahoma.
The beginning
To understand the town of Picher, we must go back over 110 years to 1913. During this year, a man named Harry Crawfish discovered lead and zinc ore in the area and staked a claim. It didn’t take long at all for more mines to start popping up in this little corner of Oklahoma, and a flourishing city literally popped up overnight. The town was named Picher in honor of O.S. Picher, the owner of the Picher Lead Company. The town would go on to be officially incorporated in 1918.
The formation of these rich lead and zinc mines couldn’t have come at a better time for the United States, as World War I began to break out. The war effort demanded a huge supply of these ores to manufacture the necessary bombshells and bullets. Picher was integral to this war effort, supplying over 50% of the zinc metal used during the First World War. Considering both world wars, the area around Picher contributed 75% of the metals used in the warheads. It’s worth noting that prior to the discovery of zinc around Picher, Germany had a monopoly on the Zinc industry as they controlled the zinc mines located in Belgium.
The little town was booming, reaching a peak of about 14,000 inhabitants in 1926. The area’s mines employed around 14,000 miners and an additional 4,000 people who worked in the mining services. The area did see a sharp decline through the 1930s as the great depression hit, but another boom wasn’t far behind when World War II broke out.
To the area's residents, it probably seemed that Picher would continue to flourish indefinitely. As is often the story with these mining towns, this was not the case.
The decline
As is so often the case with mining communities, the mines began to dwindle until they finally ceased operations altogether by 1967. The closure of the town’s mines left behind over 14,000 mineshafts that no longer had the contaminated water pumped out and mountains of mining waste, called chat.
By the 1970s, the town was down to around 2,000 full-time inhabitants. Despite being a shadow of its former glory, the town was still going. In fact, the mountains of chat had even become an integral part of the town’s culture. People would use the mining waste around the home, such as in their driveways, and the children would play on the massive mounds of chat.
Toward the end of the 70s, however, things started to take a dark turn. The water near the town began to run red in color and people were often sick. It was slowly becoming apparent just how toxic the mountains of chat surrounding the town were. In 1983, Picher was officially included as part of the Tar Creek superfund site. In 1994, tests indicated that approximately 35% of the children in the area had concerning levels of iron in their bloodstream.
To compound the health problems, decades of unregulated mining meant that there were numerous tunnels dug directly under the town. As these tunnels became unstable, sinkholes would form throughout the town, jeopardizing the integrity of many of the structures above. Authorities realized that around 86% of the town’s structures were unstable and could collapse at any time. The safety of the residents could no longer be guaranteed.
The final blow
At this point, the situation in Picher was already pretty desperate, but people were still trying to hold on to the town. Unfortunately, the final nails were about to be placed into Picher’s coffin.
Late in the afternoon on May 10, 2008, Picher was struck by a devastating EF4 tornado. Over 20 blocks were heavily damaged, and at least 150 people, possibly including one child, were killed. By this point, there were already intentions to vacate the city, so the federal government declined to give federal aid to rebuild the destroyed homes. Instead, the scheduled buyouts continued to assist people with relocation.
In April 2009, the city voted to dissolve the school district, and the post office was scheduled to close that July. By June 2009, all residents of the town had been given federal aid to allow them to relocate from Picher. Picher, Oklahoma, was officially dissolved on November 26, 2013.
The final resident of the town, Gary Linderman, died of an illness on June 9, 2015. With his passing, Picher, Oklahoma, officially became a ghost town.
Picher today
This brings us to the present day. It has now been over ten years since I first heard about Picher and wanted to visit. Unfortunately, circumstances just never quite lined up to make that happen. That was until the total solar eclipse of 2024. The timing of this trip worked out perfectly to include Picher as one of my destinations. So, my girlfriend and I packed into my SUV and made the drive out to the remote corner of Oklahoma to see what was left.
As we approached the town, we could see hills in the background that almost resembled massive sand dunes. As we approached, we realized that these were actually the toxic piles of chat that had caused so many issues for the town. Unfortunately, I neglected to get any photos of these piles as it’s truly mind-blowing how giant they truly are.
On the outskirts of town, we came across the remains of an old church. It’s locked behind a fence with signs warning that it’s property of the federal government and trespassing is not taken lightly. Despite this, it was still possible to get a shot of it from the road.
Continuing on to the downtown area, there’s almost nothing left. This is hardly surprising given that most of the remaining structures were slated to be demolished in 2011. Despite this, there is still a large section of abandoned housing standing in the center of town, with the Picher water tower in the background.
As the sun was setting on this beautiful day, I explored the stripped-out shells of these homes, looking for potential compositions. The evening light made for some interesting scenes and I found myself drawing on inspiration from the work of Todd Hido with the shots I took.
We explored these remains of the town until the sun had finally set on another day in Picher. As the cleanup effort continues, it’s hard to know what the future may hold for this once-bustling area. For now, it sits lonely, slowly decaying away into nothing.
