In the old days, Patagonia was a mining and ranching town. The hills were dotted with mines—the Trench, Flux, World's Fair, and many, many more. Copper and silver and gold ore came down--in trucks and on burros--from mining towns such as Harshaw to the railroad in downtown Patagonia. In those days also, cowboys drove their herds into town to the pens along the railroad to wait for the cattle cars. And at night, in the local bars, miners swapped stories about ore cars that left the tracks, veins of gold ore that had not been mined yet, and miners who were maimed or who died in accidents. Joker Mendoza was there. He walked from his home across from the cattle pens eight miles uphill to the Flux, and he walked home at night with his miner's lamp lighting up the path. Today, Joker still sits in the Wagon Wheel bar from time to time, and, if you ask, will retell the stories of those days, now long gone. Pull up a stool and listen. Let Joker take you back to the mines. See if you can smell the gas and taste the dust!