Taking the waters
“People who have been bedridden sufferers for years come here, drink the waters and get well, often in a very incredibly short time,” the Eureka Springs Daily Democrat reported in December 1891. “Ladies who have languished for years in their terrible mind-wrecking and body-destroying ills arrive here and in a few months at the furthest are seen with the bloom of health upon their cheeks and rejoicing in restored womanhood.”
At a time when “taking the waters” was all the rage in this country, Arkansas was fortunate to have two of the nation’s top resorts—Hot Springs and Eureka Springs. Bathing in and drinking mineral water quickly declined in popularity following World War II, though Hot Springs managed to thrive through the 1960s with technically illegal but wide-open casino gambling.
Eureka Springs, meanwhile, experienced a long decline. As one display at the Eureka Springs Historical Museum points out, it might have been a blessing in disguise since residents were too poor to tear down houses and commercial buildings in order to build modern structures. Those old homes and buildings give Eureka Springs its charm today.
I’m in my Eureka Springs hotel room, flipping through the Fun Guide, one of those free publications I always pick up in tourist towns. These types of magazines aren’t known for their writing, but the introduction of the Fun Guide explains Eureka Springs as well as anything I’ve ever read.
“Tourism is the movement of people outside their usual environment,” it says. “They want to visit someone they already know, find warmer or cooler weather, or simply discover the offbeat. By the mid-1850s, tourism in America was a popular cultural activity and an industry. In 1879, people stumbled into this sheltered spot in a forest guarded by bears and mountain lions. They needed beds, meals and plenty of rest. They wanted to stay. They made a town, and they made it famous.
“Eureka Springs became a 19th century health destination due to people swearing they ‘got healed up’ by drinking and bathing in special water that burped out of the ground. Today, Eureka Springs is known more for Victorian architecture, art, food, music and natural beauty than it is for healing water. Either way, this place is a stress reliever. It’s an unusual and unexpected town that prides itself on parenting all the trees, birds and vitality that can squeeze in.
“Our roads curl like a razorback’s tail and loop like a shoelace because they were sculpted for pedestrians and people on horseback. Peculiar? Perhaps, but disregard to order was necessary, not practical. Our economy was originally built on water, and now it’s based on diverse residents welcoming intrepid travelers. People here understand that ancestry, age and personal identity are a given, not a battlefront. Isolation and affordability are magnetic. Despite uncertain politics, economics and pandemics, this lovely, hard-tofind town has endured and thrived due to tourism.”
The economic decline slowed in the late 1960s when rightwing zealot Gerald L.K. Smith began work on projects—the Christ of the Ozarks statue, the Great Passion Play, an art gallery, a Bible museum, a model of the Holy Land— that drew church groups to town.
A local newspaper reported in September 1971 that “more than 1,300 of the 1,750 paid admissions for the Sunday night performance of the Passion Play sat through the entire program in spite of a robust rainstorm that started at 10 p.m., one hour before the end of the play. Only a few asked for a refund, saying they already got their money’s worth. Those who stayed were thoroughly drenched but made no complaint.”
Smith died in April 1976, but his works live on. Crowds aren’t what they once were, but now people come to Eureka Springs to see its architecture, take ghost tours at historic hotels, visit Thorncrown Chapel, eat in hip restaurants and enjoy outdoor recreational pursuits such as hiking and mountain biking. They also come to visit the many art galleries.
“Tourism has increased 42 percent over last year’s rate,” Roy Reed wrote in a July 1972 story for The New York Times. “Deposits in banks have doubled in four years. Real estate values have risen sharply and there are virtually no vacant commercial buildings. Almost every old Victorian house in town has a new coat of paint and fresh window box of petunias.
“Other outsiders have followed the Smiths here. There are many like Leonard Bjorkman and his family, who have bought and remodeled the New Orleans Hotel and have turned it into a favorite lodging for busloads of Baptists from Oklahoma and Louisiana who come to see the Passion Play. The Bjorkmans came here from Miami, where he owns an automatic car wash business.”
Reed pointed out that hundreds of young people had also moved to Eureka Springs. They were the hippies. Many stayed and opened businesses. They were called “freaks” and “longhairs.” It’s clear now they played just as big a role as Smith in reviving Eureka Springs.
“I didn’t want my son to grow up in Little Rock where they have to lock the doors,” Linda Ballentine told Reed. He described her as “a longhair who dropped out of one of the state’s prosperous manufacturing families.”
“Virtually all of them earn money to support themselves,” Reed wrote. “These may be the strangest freaks in the nation—they have developed a work ethic. Their aim is not to make a great deal of money but to earn enough to make it through the winter. Winters are hard here, physically and economically.”