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The Townskeeper

Capa once had a population of 300 and was known for its mineral baths.

The town of Capa has a population of one unless you count Philip O’Connor’s dog, Midnight, whose nickname is Buddy. Phil and Buddy seem a lot like the town they live in — quiet, restful and welcoming.

Capa was platted in 1904 by the Western Town Lot Company, a division of the Chicago North Western Railway Company. Railroad representatives wanted to name the town Russell in honor of J.C. Russell, an early settler to the west. But Mr. Russell did not want his name attached to a town. Doane Robinson of the South Dakota State Historical Society suggested that the town be called Capa, which is Lakota for beaver.

Philip O’Connor is the last man living in Capa, a once-bustling town in Jones County.

As the railroad reached Capa in 1906, people began to settle in the 70 acre town site. Soon the town had 75 residents and numerous businesses, including the Capa Hotel, which piped water from an artesian well into a public bathhouse. The town became known for its mineral baths which visitors sought out for treatments. Capa also had lumberyards, a bank, the Capa Hustler newspaper, two churches and several general merchandise stores. Capa grew to about 300 residents.

Phil’s roots run deep in Capa. His great-grandparents, Arthur and Kathryn McConnville, were some of the first people to settle there. His grandparents, Walter and Kathryn Poler, purchased the hotel, a house, and a pasture in 1916. Later his parents, Henry and Helen (Poler) O’Connell, took over the hotel and house. Henry worked on a railroad bridge crew. Phil lives in the house where his grandparents and later his parents resided. He taught for 20 years in rural schools in the surrounding counties.

Today the town stays alive in the stories remembered by Phil. A house next to his was moved back and forth along the one street. Katie Biwer was the first homesteader, he says. Nick Biwer lost a gold Luxemburg coin and years later he was telling a Capa merchant about losing the coin. As the story goes, the merchant happened to be rubbing his shoe in the dirt at the time and unearthed the coin.

O’Connor’s grandparents purchased the once grand Capa hotel in 1916, along with a pasture and house.

“The Scandal of Capa” came about when a resident by the last name of Young solicited funds to build a sanatorium. The man absconded with the money and was never seen again.

The town prospered for about 25 years, but the Great Depression took a toll. Capa also suffered when the new highway didn’t follow the valley along the Bad River by which Capa sits. Cars had a hard time making the steep grades in the valley. Then the railroad company pulled its section crew from Capa and the town dwindled further. Another blow landed in 1976 when the post office closed. Most of the remaining homes were moved away, one going as far as North Dakota.

Still, Capa made news when a British Broadcasting Corporation crew filmed the town site and interviewed Phil in February 2009 for a documentary about the Dirty Thirties. The BBC found a town with remnants of the hotel, a few homes, a barn, the school and a church. Capa Lake on the town’s eastern edge is still fed by the artesian well that once provided warm baths in the town’s heydays.

Some people see pictures of Capa or drive past on the road and think they’ve seen a ghost town, but it’s still alive with stories and with Phil O’Connor, the townskeeper.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the November/December 2009 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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One Man Towns

Some Black Hills tourist promoters began to market Trojan as a ghost town in 1959, ignoring the fact that Alvin Carlson still lived there. Trojan was once a prosperous Black Hills mining town that lost population due to mine consolidations. Most residents moved to Deadwood or Lead to work for Homestake.

When Trojan was declared a ghost town, travelers began to stop and take photos. Some even walked into Carlson’s house without knocking. “I went down to the Chamber of Commerce and told those people if they didn’t stop tellin’ folks this was ghost town that this old ghost was gonna start shootin’ at a few people,” Carlson told a South Dakota Magazine writer in 1999. “They’d come in here with out of state license plates, walk in, snoop through my stuff and just take it. I come unglued when people take my stuff and that’s when I decided to move it back down the road a ways.”

Yes, in the 1970s, Carlson did just that: he moved the town’s buildings to a spot less than a mile away. He and his brother-in-law used a heavy-duty truck and a cable and dolly system to jack up each structure.

Trojan held almost all of Carlson’s memories. He went to school there, made friends there, married and worked there. Even without the people who made the memories, Trojan was still his home. But in 1998, Wharf Mining Company purchased the land under Trojan’s new town site. At age 74, he wasn’t up to the task of relocating the town a second time.

Several other South Dakota towns are one-man or one-house towns. Pat and Wayne Surat are the only residents left in the southeastern South Dakota town of Bijou Hills. It, like Trojan, was once a booming town home to a bank, newspaper, blacksmith shop, Ford dealership, soda fountain, churches and a grocery store. Unlike the slow decline suffered by most towns, Bijou Hills disappeared a building at a time because an eccentric farmer from nearby Academy bought them and moved them onto his farm. So although the Surats still live in town, the rest of the town has moved except for their house, Wayne’s mother’s house and a church.

Philip O’Connor, the last man living in the small town of Capa, was interviewed in 2009 for a BBC documentary about the Dirty Thirties. A crew arrived to film the town’s remaining buildings: a hotel, a barn, some houses, a school and church. The town was brought to life in 1906 when the railroad reached town. The Capa Hotel piped in mineral water from a nearby artesian well and became well known for its mineral bath treatments. The Great Depression greatly contributed to the town’s demise. Phil lives in the house his grandparents and parents occupied. He taught school for two decades in the surrounding counties.

What motivates a man or a woman to stay in a town long after the other people, and maybe even the buildings, of the past are gone? Perhaps Carlson said it best when he contemplated moving from Trojan: “I could go to Florida or Alabama where I have family, but it’s too hot down there,” he said. “I’m only satisfied here. As soon as I get to Boulder Canyon I start to feel better. The closer I come to Trojan the better I feel. I’ll find a place in the hills not too far away.”