by Joni Eastley
Note from the Editor: This is part of a speech written by Joni Eastley, a much-loved public official and chronicler of rural Nevada history. She delivered this speech on September 17, 2025 at the 80th annual conference of Nevada’s County Fiscal Officers Association.
We found it to be a beautifully-written reflection on human transience and the merciless nature of life in the Old American West, and received the author’s permission to publish it here on the Stoic Simple website.
Death, it has been said, is the great equalizer, and stories surrounding death both fascinate and terrify us. The same is true for cemeteries. I don’t know about you, but I sometimes wonder “Will anyone remember me when I’m gone?” And many of the more than 600 people buried in the Old Tonopah Cemetery probably wondered that, too.
This cemetery, which was only used between the years 1901 and 1911, was the final stop for miners, gamblers, stage drivers, swindlers, ladies of the evening, and regular everyday mothers, fathers, and children. It is the final chapter in every one of those lives, and is the fenced-in equalizer of all. From Civil War veterans to children and babies, the period at the end of the final chapter of every one of these life stories is the Old Tonopah Cemetery.
The Central Nevada Historical Society is committed to ensuring that none of them are forgotten and to that end have researched the personal histories of every identified person buried there. Unfortunately, many identities are known only to God and we will never know how and why they got here, and why they never left. We can only imagine the number of mothers and other family members who said (to borrow a line from a well-known movie) “Why don’t he write?”
So, to indulge the fascination we all have with cemeteries—but forgo the terror—I thought I would share the histories of several of the tragic, yet colorful individuals buried at the Old Tonopah Cemetery. Every one of them played a role in building the history of a Nevada boom town. Before we get started you should know that all the information related to the individuals you’ll meet today was taken from death certificates, inquests, and newspaper articles of the day from Tonopah and, if the death was dramatic enough, from around the west.
Ready? Then let’s start with Stella Campbell, or “Brick” as she was called by her “associates” in Tonopah’s redlight district.
The Chorus Girl: Stella Campbell
It is not known how or why 23-year-old Stella Campbell ended up in Tonopah, or if that was even her real name, but she may have heard or read about the big silver strike and was looking for her pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. One thing was certain, though—when working girls ended up in Tonopah, or any other new town on the Nevada frontier, it was difficult for them to escape.
Stella, or “Brick” as she was known to her friends, was employed as a chorus girl in the dance hall at The Big Casino, which was located on Main Street across from where the El Marques restaurant is today. She was a troubled young woman, which was apparent from reading the interviews that were conducted during the inquest following her death.
Stella began drinking early the day of July 23, 1909, according to Ed Drake, a drummer in the orchestra at The Big Casino. According to Ed, Stella began crying about an hour before she drank a glass of corrosive poison at 7:30 that evening. He said Stella had been despondent and was drinking heavily from the time she woke up that morning. As Ed was combing his hair and tying his tie in preparation for work that night, Stella poured herself a drink in a pewter cup and said “Ed, here’s regards.” It became obvious pretty quickly that Stella had ingested poison, as it burned its way from her mouth through her throat and digestive system.
Dr. Mapes was summoned immediately but before he got there, Ed and Birdie Kelly, a fellow chorus girl and close friend of Stella’s, began administering olive oil, egg whites, and milk, which were the accepted antidotes for poison in those days. When the doctor arrived, he pumped out Stella’s stomach then transferred her to the Miner’s Hospital at about 10 that night. The only words she ever uttered regarding her actions were to Ed, when she asked him “Why didn’t you let me go through?”
Death came to Stella on August 4, 1909, after 12 days of intense suffering and she was buried the following day in the Old Tonopah Cemetery.
Stella’s mother, who lived in Washington, D.C. was contacted prior to her death and she said she thought Stella might have been married to a man named Malone but that was never confirmed. Other rumors circulated that she was a stenographer and typist for the Pacific Railroad and that she might have previously worked at the post office in Ely. Others said they thought she may have been employed in Nat Goodwin’s light opera company, but no one knew anything for sure which, unfortunately, was true for nearly all the working girls, many of whom were trying to run away from their pasts but instead packed that past with their valises and brought it with them to Tonopah. Why she took her life will never be known, although in many of these cases it was usually desperation brought on by alcoholism or unrequited love, or both.
Birdie Kelly, the chorus girl who tried to help Stella, attempted suicide herself about five months later by shooting herself close to her heart. She had also been drinking heavily for more than three weeks. Despite severing an artery in her arm during the attempt, Birdie survived and went on to unsuccessfully attempt suicide several more times, once by turning on the gas in her room. It was later disclosed that she had a suicide pact with Stella, but got cold feet before she could complete her part of the deal.
It was guilt that was said to have caused Birdie’s repeated attempts on her own life. And, in a true Old West Shakespearean twist, Walter Decker, who had worked in Tonopah at the Nye and Ormsby Bank on Main Street, fell in love with Birdie after seeing her at The Big Casino and followed her to Oakland, California, where she moved to live with her two sisters. When Birdie spurned his advances, he intended to murder her but then wasn’t able to lure her out of her home so instead Walter shot himself in the head on the sidewalk and died instantly on March 25, 1910. Despite repeated searches, I could not determine what became of Birdie Kelly.