Built in 1878, the Miners Union Hall was once the center of Bodie’s social life. An annual Fourth of July grand ball, a masquerade ball on Washington’s Birthday, and Christmas parties were held here. At the far end of its ballroom, now a dusty museum, is an old painting of a shipwreck. Below it is an old piano, bearing a battered tuba on its top. I was drawn to this juxtaposition of symbols because of its incongruity. The waves in the painting filling the background of my image were utterly alien to Bodie, and perhaps represented a touch of romantic fantasy for those who once danced beneath them. The tuba that serenaded those dancers is now mute and dented, much as Bodie itself has been abused by man and nature and is now forever silenced. Neither tuba nor town will ever play again.