Valley of the Nuked Dolls
Fake small towns, complete with mannequins, food, and home appliances, were built just to be obliterated by nuclear tests in the 50s
This is an enlarged and updated version of a previous article, published more than a year and a half ago. I’m making these updates from time to time not only to add more information but also because, as a Substack reader, I know pretty well how unlikely it is that someone who has just subscribed to a newsletter will browse all the archive and read all posts — especially when there are many. If you do, don’t worry; updates are only made when deemed relevant.
In what is probably the only memorable scene in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Indy finds himself in a creepy small town in the middle of Nevada, where all the people are dead-eyed mannequins watching TV, watering gardens, riding bicycles, and driving cars. It was a Doom Town (or Nuketown), built on purpose to test the effects of a nuclear blast. Not even the preposterous “nuke fridge” sequence could spoil the scene.
A much more dramatic depiction of a nuclear test was shown in Oppenheimer, recreating Trinity, the first nuclear explosion ever, which took place in New Mexico. Doom Towns would only be used later — this test was devised to check if the weapon really worked. It did, and a few months later, thousands of civilians in Hiroshima and Nagasaki would get the hard end of it.
Village of the damned
Doom Towns were very real. From 1951 to 1992, 928 bombs were exploded at the Nevada Test Site, around 100 km north of Las Vegas — 100 of them in atmospheric tests (performed above ground). The idea was to test the effects of the explosions and radiation on urban infrastructure as well as people. Two towns were built, complete with houses, shops, water and electricity, cars, home appliances, food, and those creepy mannequins representing average (white) American families, provided by J. C. Penney department stores.
The first town was blown to smithereens on March 17, 1953. It was a national event, with Walter Cronkite reporting on live television. A 15-kiloton bomb (with roughly the same destructive power as the one dropped on Hiroshima) was detonated, destroying almost everything but sparing some lucky mannequins that happened to be in the basements.
“Survival Town” was the next victim, on May 5, 1955. Doing justice to the town’s name, two sturdy buildings are still standing, having survived a 29-kiloton blast.
Uncanny valley
Two years ago, an exhibition about the Cold War in the Nixon Library, in California, showed some of the still-remaining mannequins that are kept in the National Atomic Testing Museum. The uncanny models on display offer yet another proof (if needed) that mannequins are among the most frightening horror film props.
There’s no business like bomb business
The Nevada Test Site completely changed the region’s economy. As absurd as it may seem today, Las Vegas experienced a tourism boom (pun intended). People from all over the country gathered to watch the tests, buy souvenirs, and even organise picnics. Casinos, bars, and restaurants cashed in on the atomic craze — and there were those things you can only find in America, such as the “Miss Atomic Bomb”.
More details can be found here:
Better dead than Red
Many people, intoxicated by the “Red Scare” that took the US by storm in the 50s, believed it was their patriotic duty to witness the tests. After all, the government assured them that “Nah, it’ll be fine”. Only it wasn’t.
Fallout radiation spread from Nevada to other states. It affected tens of thousands, mainly in Nevada, Utah, and Arizona, who became known as “downwinders”. Cases of cancer, especially leukaemia, mushroomed (sorry for this one). The most famous victims were John Wayne, Susan Hayward, Agnes Moorehead, and Lee Van Cleef, who filmed The Conqueror in Utah in 1956. They were among the 91 people from the cast and crew who eventually died of cancer.
There’s a scene in which one of the Mongol soldiers tells Wayne’s Genghis Khan (with a good ol’ Midwestern accent), that “this raid may reap us more grief than spoils”. It did, but in real life.
The price is high — for you
The Radiation Exposure Compensation Act (RECA) was introduced in 1990 to try to remedy the criminal neglect of the victims, not only of nuclear tests but also of uranium mining. More than 40,000 claims have been approved for compensation, but many communities are still fighting to be covered by the Act, which is about to expire.
The US Senate approved an extension last March, as well as expanding eligibility and increasing the value of compensations. Now it’s up to the House of Representatives to decide. But they’re dragging their feet because of the “price tag” — something that is not a concern when it involves lands and peoples very far away.
Come to think of it, it looks like the mannequins were treated with more respect.
An interview with historian Andrew Kirk, author of the graphic history Doom Towns
The Nevada Test Site Oral History Project
A nice piece by The Guardian on the Nevada Test Site