The grave of the Pickled Pioneer is on a lonely hill in a place once known as New Canaan, "The Promised Land."
In 1855, Dr. William Keil, leader of a religious commune called the Bethelites, planned to lead his group west from Bethel, Missouri to greener pastures along the Pacific coast. Prior to the group departure, Keil's son, nineteen year old Willie, came down with malaria. Dr. Keil had promised his son he could lead the wagon train. On May 19, four days before the trip's start, Willie succumbed.
Keeping his vow to his son, Dr. Keil dropped Willie into a lead-lined coffin, filled it with 100 proof Golden Rule whiskey(a brand distilled and traded by the Bethelites), sealed it, and placed it on the lead wagon, draped in black and converted to a cross-continental hearse.
Wagon Train hearse.
Willie led the train after all.
According to accounts of the Bethelites' Oregon Trail journey, Willie helped hold off a number of Indian attacks. West of Fort Kearney, a Sioux party intercepted the wagon train to see the Pickled Pioneer. They left peacefully. It happened over and over as the 250 Bethelites traversed dangerous Indian lands. Near Fort Laramie, an Indian war party approached the expedition, and gestured at the large black box in the lead wagon. Willie's dad cracked open the coffin and let the braves have a gander at the dead man floating in spirits. Curiosity satisfied, they departed with nary a scalp.
They finally reached western Washington, and secured a final resting place for the Pickled Pioneer.
Today, the grave site is along a sparsely populated stretch of State Rt. 6. There's a pulloff for the marker; Willie's grave is on the hill behind it. The wooden Heritage Marker features a carved relief of the wagon train, led by the wagon hearse. "In the evening by lamp-light, Willie was buried here November 26, 1855."
Across the street is an establishment called Tombstone Willie’s Saloon, the logical source for postcards and souvenirs, sadly locked and deserted during our visit. A descansos fatality memorial is about 300 feet west, completing a Devil's Triangle of liquored mortality.
The promised land of western Washington didn't work out for the Bethelites -- it was too wet. They moved south to Oregon, to a drier valley, and founded the town of Aurora. No one is pickled there.
