The Southern Belle of the Mojave
Andrea Pruett (1940-2026) • Owner, Bagdad Cafe
Andrea Pruett with ostriches
Andrea and Harold Pruett came to Newberry Springs in 1995 to run an ostrich farm. The water drilling costs made that impossible. A real estate agent mentioned a café on the old Route 66 alignment that was available. They bought it, renamed it after the German film that had been bringing European tourists to the Mojave for nearly a decade, and opened the doors.
Andrea had no plan beyond that. What she had was an instinct for people so specific and so genuine that strangers would walk in off the highway and leave in tears. She ran the place that way for thirty years.
She passed away on January 13, 2026. Mark Bradley, her partner of fifteen years, was there.
Mark Bradley inside the Bagdad Café. Newberry Springs, California. May 2026.
Mark Bradley, interviewed at the Bagdad Cafe, Newberry Springs, March 2026
How did you first come to know this place?
My girlfriend at the time worked here — this was about twenty-five years ago. I got to know everything about it through her. And then I left for a while, came back, and Andrea was basically alone. So I stayed. That's kind of how it went. You don't plan to end up at a place like this. It just happens and then you can't leave.
How would you describe Andrea?
She had this charm. This southern belle thing where she could get somebody in here and within seconds they'd be crying. People she'd never met, off the highway, no context. She'd say something or do something and they'd just feel it. I've seen it hundreds of times and I still can't fully explain it. She'd dance in here, have a good time, make people feel like they were the only person in the room. She did it without thinking about it. It was just who she was.
One time the health department came in — and look, this place had its rough periods, the kitchen wasn't always what it should be. I was sitting out front bracing for it. The inspector walks through, gets back in her car, didn't check anything, didn't ask anything, just left. I came in and asked Andrea, do you know her? She said, nope, never met her in my life. That was Andrea. She'd never even know she did it.
Andrea Pruett with a guest inside the Bagdad Café
"There are people's versions of walking into the Bagdad Cafe all over YouTube. People filming themselves coming through the door for the first time. That's what she built.”
What was it like when the French buses started coming?
It just grew and grew. Tour operators started dropping people a quarter mile down the road so they could walk up to the café the way the characters in the movie did. Thirteen buses in a single day. I remember that day. And it's been going on for years, just like clockwork. They come here and they get emotional. Some of them watched the film as kids — their parents made them watch it — and they've been saving to come here ever since. And they walk in and see the actual place and it just hits them. There are people's versions of walking into the Bagdad Cafe all over YouTube. People filming themselves coming through the door for the first time. That's what she built.
What happened when she got sick?
It was gradual. I was with her every day so I didn't always see it clearly. But I noticed the vocabulary dropping off, the stories getting shorter. I told her — I said, I'm seeing something change. She still had her spark right to the end. Just couldn't hold it as long. The last period was hard. She was sleeping a lot, not eating much. I was making her scrambled eggs one night, just trying to get something in her. Went to take out the trash and when I came back she'd slipped out of her chair. I called it in and started CPR. Eighteen minutes for a sheriff to get there, thirty for an ambulance. When the sheriff arrived he said she was still warm, still had a pulse. I knew. But I kept going.
Andrea Pruett at the Bagdad Café, Newberry Springs, California. May 29, 2008.
Andrea Pruett outside the Bagdad Café, Newberry Springs, California.
Vintage travel trailers collected behind the Bagdad Café
"You don't plan to end up at a place like this. It just happens and then you can't leave."- Mark Bradley
How were you after?
Bad. I didn't know how to act. When you're a caretaker and then suddenly there's nothing to take care of — you just go to pieces. I went to shit pretty fast, medically. Heart stuff. I'm doing great now, I've snapped back. But those first weeks were rough. I sat here at the memorial and I just started bawling in front of everybody. I never cry like that. But this place — if I start thinking about it I just lose it. It's got a hold on me I can't explain.
Tell me about Halo.
I've known her since she was four years old. Andrea used to just hand her off to me and I'd take her to the ranch, take her to Walmart, whatever. She was a handful with her grandmother but with me she was completely different. It was just an act. She knew how to read people from that age. She's sixteen now and she's got the same energy Andrea had. The same way of drawing people in. The rest of the family has a lot of faith in her. We all do. I'm going to work with her. She doesn't need to worry about anything. She's going to be a star here.
"She still had her spark right to the end. Just couldn't hold it as long."
A celebration of life for Andrea Pruett inside the Bagdad Café. Newberry Springs, California, 2026.
What does the place feel like now?
There's still something here. People still come in and feel it. I don't fully understand it. You can feel when it's working and when it's not, and it's still working. The people that come here are just the nicest people you'll ever meet anywhere in the world. They don't see the rough edges. They just want to be part of this. People have met here and got married. People come back twenty years later. Whatever Andrea built, it didn't leave with her.
We're making more money on merch right now than we ever made on food. The kitchen is coming back. The buses from France are still coming. Halo is coming. She'd have loved that.
