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Death Valley Junction, California, is a very tiny town located near the border with Nevada. It’s surrounded by the Mojave desert and contains more abandoned buildings than people. A hotel and restaurant display the only signs of life should you happen to drive by it on the highway.

I stopped here briefly on my way to Death Valley National Park, and this speck on the map was the highlight of my day thanks to the Amargosa Opera House and the inspirational story of Marta Becket.

Once a busy location for borax mining operations in the 1920s, the town was in full decline in the late 1960s when Becket, a dancer from New York City, stopped in Death Valley Junction to fix a flat tire. Seeing possibility in a run-down meeting hall, she rented the space and began performing her own one-woman shows there.

In the beginning, audiences were small, but Becket performed three shows a week whether there was anyone there to watch her or not. She painstakingly repaired the theatre with the help of donations and painted permanent audience on its walls, albeit one that would fit better in Shakespeare’s time than modern-day California.

The king and queen sit in a royal box at the back, surrounded by courtiers. Nuns attend the same performance as the ladies of a bordello. Actors and dancers wait in the wings for their turn to join the action onstage.

In time, word of this unique theatre and the entertainer whose vision transformed it spread and seats began to fill up on a regular basis. In 2009 when I visited, more than 40 years had passed since she first settled there, and Becket was still dancing for sold-out audiences, many coming from long distances just to see her.

Stepping into the opera house for the first time is an experience, as you come face-to-face with what one person can do with an idea and some determination and guts. Becket created a space for herself to do what she most loved to do in the craziest location.

Death Valley Junction is even now practically a ghost town, but the Amargosa Opera House saved it from its inevitable fate. With Becket now in her late 80s, I hate to think of that charming little building left to crumble in the sand and wind of the desert. Here’s hoping her vision lives on.

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