Category Archives: Whatnot

Particular about Cheese

Las Vegas Clark County 1910-11-26

Gritts, the grocer, poses a pretty straight and put on his No. 1 smile As the lady with the I’m-placing-a-thumping-order air entered the shop. She wanted some cheese.

“Yes, madame.” smirked Gritts. “I have some delightful Derbies, madam, a quantity of choice cheddars, and a parcel of prime Parmeasans.”

1910 article from Las Vegas Clark County

Particular about Cheese

Madam would certainly like to taste some if she could. Certainly, Madam could, if she would. Gritts flourished his gauge over this cheese and that. Madam nibbled at 11 different samples. No; none of them was quite “it.”

“Of course, Madam,” said Gritts at length, “if you require Stilton–” and he handed her a generous taster.

“Ah,” nodded the lady, as she smacked her lips, “that will do nicely! now, if you’ll give me a matchbox all be getting home. I only want to bait a mouse trap!”

A Visit With “Death Valley Scotty”

By Ivan Summers, from the SANTA MONICA EVENING OUTLOOK, Automotive Section, Thursday, January 29, 1925.

“Oh My Gawd”! The explosion of words roused my dog snoozing nearby. What else would you say when, while pawing through an old box of family junk, an eighty eight year old newspaper smacks your eyeballs? Especially if you’ve had a lifelong addiction to desert minutiae. The absorbing yarn of about 2000 words (with no byline) entails a journey by two Franklin automobiles into and out of Death Valley including a successful meeting with the legendary Death Valley Scotty. The (crumbling) newspaper itself is an historic gem laced with ads touting “Balloon Tires,” the new Maxwell Coupe, the Rio Roadster, the Hudson super six–all iconic in U. S. car history. As well, splashed front page, are several pics of the famous air cooled Franklins in the valley and a photo of that career rascal himself–Scotty!

According to the writer (unnamed) there had been an attempt the previous summer to negotiate Franklin cars from Furnace Creek Ranch to Scotty’s digs. But 126 temp and road (or no road) conditions turned them back for another try in January of 1925.

Good stuff here. They breakfast in Mojave, proceed to Randsberg, Leach Springs and Owl Springs. You can’t do that today as Leach Springs is on sacred military ground. That trip assuredly went
over what still is the Steamwell road out of Johannesberg, through Granite Wells connecting with Owl Springs and on to the Harry Wade road. Then east on Bradburg Wash to Shoshone. Tough going today if
you could even find it.

These guys eventually got to Scotty but with an interesting little aside in Rhyolite. The mining camp had only been “partly disassembled.” A moving picture company was filming something to be entitled “The Air Mail.” (Film archives)??

Scotty, apparently a genial host, saw that the travelers were housed and fed. The writer goes on to inform that Scotty’s house was furnished with elaborate stuff from China with maybe a $6,000 import fee plus other niceties that exceeded $150,000. The story implied that these were Scotty’s digs done with Scotty’s money There was mention by Scott of his ‘partner.’ Albert Johnson, who Scotty mentioned was going to build a million dollar house near his.

photo of the con man, Death Valley ScottyApparently what the Santa Monica writer didn’t know in 1925 was that Scotty was one of the magnificent cons of the early 20th century. He’d been exposed in 1906 and again in 1912 as a fraud and hoaxer. He relieved numerous gullible investors, including Johnson, of many thousands–invested in nonexistent gold mines. He even did some jail time in 1912. Despite this egregious behavior he remained in Johnson’s affection until Johnson passed in 1948.

The Franklin car party’s announced intention was to negotiate the length of the valley, in this instance from North to South. From Scotty’s out of the south end. The article states “this had never been done before.”

Well, uh, not exactly the case. This writer’s father, Herbert S. Summers, made a journey in 1923 in a Model T Ford from south to north at least as far as Furnace Creek Ranch. His route was from Barstow north east past Bicycle Lake, Garlic Springs, Cave Springs and directly up the  valley to Furnace Creek Ranch.

Summers wrote a delightful little tale of their adventure describing the perils of mid-summer travel and took numerous photos–still in the family archives.

On exiting Scotty’s, the Franklin party passed by something referred as the “lost wagon” and another site called “Surveyors Well,” neither of which appear on today’s maps. They evidently turned west to take the Wingate Wash (Pass) road paralleling the Epsom Salt Mono Rail and eventually found Mojave, unaware that it was possible to complete the North-South transit through Cave Springs and to Barstow. It in fact (in reverse) had been done.

Death Valley survived Scotty–and is a better place for it

A Desert Painting

Pastels & gold.

Dulled colors of a hazy sunset.
Brown cloak of dry brush.
A nakedness of patches of earth.

Gasping wind gleaning miniscule, dried, brown flowers from indistinct and unkempt bushes.

Alone by being alone.
The sun no longer paints our backs,
The whole black of a moonless night rushes into the vacuum.

~ w.feller

Back in the Old 1900s

In The Year 1910:
Only 14 percent of the homes in America had bathtubs.
A three-minute call from Denver to New York City cost $11.
There were only 8,000 cars in the U.S. and only 144 miles of paved roads.
The average U.S. worker made between $200 and $400 per year.
Two out of every 10 U.S. adults couldn’t read or write.

~

Bath by Installments

On the Mojave Desert where water, like gold, in considered a precious element, a bath is often possible only through divine intervention plus human ingenuity. When Bob Alexander, dusty and dirty from a month-long prospecting trip through the Mojave Desert Mountains, awoke one morning in 1867 to an overcast sky and smelled moisture-laden dust in the atmosphere, he grinned from ear to ear.

“Rain, by jeepers!” he prognosticated. “And here’s where Bob takes a bath!”
He hurried through breakfast, and just as he’d finished scraping the last spoonful of chuck from his plate, the rain began to fall. He stripped his clothes off, stepped out of his tent, and stood for a long time under the ample shower. Wet from head to foot, he ducked back into the tent for soap and worked up a generous lather all over his body. He chuckled with glee.

“Better than going to church,” he told himself. “After four weeks of dry camping, cleanliness is sure on a par with godliness, as the feller says.”

With eyes closed to keep out the soap, Bob left the tent. “Hell’s Bells!” he exploded. Typically, the desert shower had ceased as abruptly as it had begun. He squinted at the clouds from under a carefully raised eyelid. They were rising. The sun was breaking through.

Ugly words like blue flames flicked from his angry lips. He groped his way back into the tent, took the first rag he could lay hands on and wiped the soap from his eyes. The sun blazed forth, and the clouds disappeared over a distant mountain rim. Bob watched their departure with baleful eyes.

Providence Mountains, Mojave National Preserve

Providence Mountains

“Dry gulched by a rain storm!” he thundered bitterly, “without enough water to wash a horned toad!” The soap was beginning to dry and draw on Bob’s skin. A quick rub-down served only to increase the irritation. There was nothing to do but to hike to Fort Rock Springs, five miles distant in the Providence Mountains. Here he could find water and relief. Donning his dirty clothes, Bob struck out across the country.

When he reached the Fort entrance, his feet, tough though they were, smarted like blazes and his skin, drawn and puckered under his clothes, itched unmercifully. He stopped in agonized surprise when the sentry order:

“Halt!”

“What the hell!” Bob remonstrated.

“You can’t go in there. The Fort is quarantined. Measles.”

“I’ve got to go in there. I’m all lathered up with soap!”

“Drunk or just crazy?” interrogated the sentry.

“Neither,” Bob returned, exasperated. His voice took on a pathetic tone as he stripped off his shirt to illustrate his story. The sentry listened and looked, his face changing from astonishment to amusement and sympathy.

“Mister,” said the sentry, “orders from Lieutenant Drumm, Commander of this here fort, are that only officers of the Fort, people with passes, and details, are permitted to pass through here.”

Bob was desperate. He retired abjectly. But not for long. In a few minutes, he marched up towards the sentry again, this time, simulating, awkwardly enough, the gait of a soldier on parade. The sentry smiled.

“Halt! Who comes there!” he sputtered, fighting back laughter.

“Detail of one, bound for the Fort,” returned Bob, grimly.

“Pass, detail!” shouted the sentry.

Bob passed, on a dead run, headed for a tub and water.

Taken from The Old West, Pioneer Tales of San Bernardino County

Flying Saucers Reported Over Mojave Desert

The latest flying saucer report comes from Silver Lake airport near Baker. Two aircraft communicators stationed at Silver Lake report they watched a brilliantly-glowing object speed through the desert sky for nearly 10 minutes Saturday night before it disappeared on the western horizon.

Their report was confirmed by crew members and 25 passengers of a United Airlines plane and by aircraft communicators at a station in Las Vegas, Nevada.

David Stewart of Redondo Beach, first officer of the United plane, said the object was more cigar-shaped than the previously reported pancake-shaped “saucers”.

L. M. Norman and R. E. Connor, the two aircraft communicators at the Silver Lake airport, said the object might have been a meteor.

“We first saw it some 15 degrees above the horizon north of Silver Lake,” Norman said. “It appeared to be a big ball of fire with a large luminous vapor trail.”

“We watched it from 7 to 10 minutes. It looked like it might have been falling, but then it swung off toward the west and disappeared.”

The fiery object was observed not only by the two communicators at Silver Lake, but also by four pilots  who had stopped at the airport for an overnight stay.

While the Silver Lake men watched the object, their station was in contact with the United Airlines plane which also spotted it.
Steward, the United officer, said his crew of five men all saw the object, as did the plane’s passengers.

He said his ship was flying at 14,000 feet and that the object flew a parallel course for 20 miles then faded in the distance. He estimated its speed as faster than his plane’s 290 miles per hour.

from the Barstow Printer-Review, June 29, 1950

Tools of the Desert Indians

The tools of the desert dwellers varied with specific material available and with the individual Takic or Numic bands of Uto-Aztecan speaking Indians: Vanyume, Paiute, Chemehuevi or Kawiisu. Simple wood fire drills enabled Native Americans to make fire. By burning roots of a tree or bush, the Paiute preserved the fire. Use of rolled up juniper bark which when lit held fire for a long time.

They made stone mortars and metates (some portable) for grinding food and paint. A stick served as a stirrer; a tortoise shell, sheep horn or pottery as dippers; a rabbit scapula or carved wood as a spoon; a sheep’s horn, coiled basketry or pottery became dishes. Tortoise carapace had been reported used as diggers, bowls, dishes to hold seeds. In Oro Grande specimens of tortoise shell rattles have been found. Waterproof baskets, animals’ stomachs, and pottery “canteens” served as water carriers. Knives and drills were, of course, made from flaked stones and shaped bone. The yucca spine with fiber attached served as needle and thread. Sinew provided strong twine and backing for bows. Glue came from boiled sheep’s horn. For tanning skins, aborigines used the brain of larger animals. Professional tanners contend that the brain size of each animal is large enough to tan that animal’s skin. Paiute people utilized desert hardwood for their three to four feet long bows, sometimes
backed with sinew. Chemehuevi sinew-backed bows, often recurved, were powerful and accurate. Some Paiutes and Utes made bows from juniper trees by cutting through the bark. When that section died, they took it off the juniper tree and carved it into sturdy bows.

Tools of the Desert Indians

“When that section died, they took it off the juniper tree and carved it into sturdy bows.”

Arrows, made from reeds or arrow weed, were tipped with local quartz, chalcedony, jasper, or traded for obsidian obtained from the Paiute or Shoshone of Owens Valley. Netting and snares added to the survival tool kit.

Dozens of varieties of juncas, reeds and grasses made baskets for cooking, wearing (as hats) and storing. Some baskets with pitch added to them held water.

Their migratory yearly rounds made it necessary to store food to be retrieved during poor winters. They built water resistant caches with rocks, or into caves, or tree trunks. If grasses came late in January, runners went to their caches for food.

These tools allowed desert Indians to survive in a harsh environment for 5,000 years.

Courtesy Mojave River Valley Museum by Cliff Walker

Rub-a-dub Tub

Bathtubs when first introduced in 1840 and laws were passed against their use due to safety reasons. Someone conceived the idea of a bathtub on wheels which visited homes by appointment. The idea worked so well these wheeled tubs were introduced in most of our larger cities and were quite a moneymaker. Most of them were built of steel and copper and about 7 feet long and nearly as wide. At least curtains on a frame gave some privacy.
(Capper’s Weekly, 1930)

The Railroad was Coming Through!

Hesperia, was initially purchased in anticipation of the railroad coming through. Investors stood to make a nice profit from not only the railroad, but in the real estate near by as communities grew.Hesperia, Ca.

Hesperia, Ca.

But the railroad was built to Mojave, where trains could easily be routed southward toward Los Angeles, or over the Tehachapis, then north to San Francisco. The Hesperia investment languished and then was passed on to others. The railroad came through much later, but it was not so much of a big deal then.

The Empty Desert

Mojave Desert scenery
View from the El Paso Mountains – Red Rock Canyon, California State Park

I first went to the desert to experience what I thought would be sensory deprivation–after all, there was nothing there. It wasn’t like that though. I saw the wild geology, plants of all different kinds, animals fitting every niche, and human history, then even further back in time to the people without names. The closer I looked, the more I saw, and it all connected. These experiences filled my senses; to see the subdued pastels, to hear the cooing mourning doves, to smell the dust and creosote, to feel the rocky earth, and to even taste the gritty wax the dry heat of the desert left thick on my lips. Blazing days, frozen nights, campfires cooking up damned strong coffee. Red sunrises, hallowed and silent sunsets.

Hesperia Lake

This compound is across the dirt road east of the lake. I’ve heard different things about what this complex is, was, was supposed to be and ended up being as well as a couple different things along the way. Mostly, at this point in time, it has been under construction.  It looks cool though and is one of the 7 wonders of Hesperia. I think it probably shrinks anyone who goes inside to about 3/4 scale. I have never seen anyone come out

Round buildings and igloos at Hesperia Lake

Round buildings and igloos at Hesperia Lake

Hesperia Lake:
http://digital-desert.com/a/hesperialake/

Differences

Sometimes the scenery appears to be the same– It looks like that here and there and over there.  Look closer–this sameness is the differences. There are no gradual changes or blending. Everything is this or that.  Hard contrast.  Then, instead of becoming this faceless hole in our memory, we can become aware of our attachment to common reality.

Cajon Pass
Mormon Rocks

Erosion at Mormon Rocks

The sameness of the differences at Mormon Rocks in the Cajon Pass

Local History — A 30 Second Story — Silverwood

Silverwood LakeThis is Silverwood Lake. It is named after some guy named Silverwood rather than the silver wood that grows around the lake and Summit Valley. Before they could have the lake there had to be the dam. The dam in this picture is Cedar Springs Dam. Before the dam there was Cedar Springs. It was a small town. It was flooded to make the lake. Everyone moved out first. Some other stuff happened here before that.

The end.

Be Soft …

Joshua Tree National ParkBe soft. Do not let the world make you hard.
Do not let pain make you hate.
Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness.
Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.

— Kurt Vonnegut

Simply Nature

Photo of cresote bushes at sunset in early spring in the Mojave Desert

Creosote at Sunset

It is simple, really; the wind storms bring dusk early to the high desert. The airborne dust hastens the sunset, and the sunset goes deep and passionately purple. the wind rests and the day is over.  Equilibrium.
The desert wind has played its joke.

Move forward into the forever blue of the “Everything.”

A long night to hunt or be hunted.
By the time the sun has raced around the earth and rises, the game has changed ever so slightly, and some desert creatures will be dead, and some will be fed.

~ W.Feller.

Zigzag

Interesting how a zigzag of light against a shadow will catch your eye while you look away from the low sun. Anticipation, is paramount; the shadows roll over the mountain canyons and ridges quickly. Observe it then. Blank everything else out and don’t look away. What you will see will never be the same again. Don’t miss your moment!

photo of Mojave yucca at sunset, Apple Valley, CA.

A zigzag of light

Beyond the Black Butte

Ten miles from the base of the mountains, beyond the black butte where the plains roll like swells in the ocean, there is a small, dusty, little shack. Inside this shelter there is a broom,Abandoned cabin in the Mojave Desert a chair and a table with a dog-eared pad of paper and a stubbed pencil lying on it. The air is so clean it is tiring; at least so it seems. Sitting there in the quiet there is no way to gauge the time. There is sunrise, noon, and sunset. There is night too. and unless there is a moon, it is the blackest night with countless upon countless stars. If there is a sound it is only the wind humming through the creosote. This is the place to contemplate infinity, and eternity, and the wind humming through the creosote…

Death Valley Scotty …

Better than True Stories of the Mojave Desert:

Death Valley Scotty preferred mules over horses. “Mules were smart, horses were stupid,” he’d openly claim. To illustrate his point he told of one very hot summer day when he was riding a horse next to a cornfield. He’d say, “It was so hot the corn began to pop. Well, that horse was so stupid he thought it was snowing and froze to death.”

~ True Story!

Dirty, Thirsty and Half-Baked Hiker Conquers Death Valley

July, 1966

Dirty, bearded and nearly done to a turn, Jean-Pierre Marquant staggered yesterday to the end of what you might call a cooked tour — a 102 mile hike through boiling Death Valley.

Hiker conquers Death Valley

JEAN PIERRE MARQUANT

“I’m happy it’s over,” said the footsore and weary Frenchman.

He was taken to Death Valley National Monument headquarters at Furnace Creek and left shortly thereafter for Los Angeles.

Friends who met him as he finished said he appeared in good physical condition, except for swollen, blistered feet and a mighty thirst.

The 28th-year-old former paratrooper began his walk last Wednesday, announcing he still wanted “to show there is still adventure in the States.”

But he lost his cool during a week of air temperatures that shimmered between 115 and 135° and ground temperatures as high as 190–so hot his shoes burned off.

Uncounted dozens of men have died in the long, salt-bottomed Valley — the lowest, hottest, driest spot in the U.S. – since white men first found it in 1849.

Marquant carried an umbrella and wore a 10 gallon hat. He also wore three T-shirts and three pairs of socks to preserve body moisture as much as possible, and kept his mouth filled with damp gauze to prevent it from becoming parched.

His hiking ensemble also included blue-tinted glasses, gloves, short pants and tennis shoes, which were burned to shreds by the searing sand and rocks. He was forced to protect his feet with socks and gauze.

Marquant was met daily by a support truck that furnished him with water, watermelon, soft drinks and clothing.
–

Cloud Racing …

Saddleback Butte State Park (from the back side)- Closed for the summer, open on weekends in the fall and winter.

As much as I don’t care for broad daylight photography, this one is a cool bit of a memory. The cloud raced along side for the next 30 miles into Lancaster. No big deal, just a cool memory.

photo of Saddleback Butte, California State Park

Saddleback Butte State Park

Doctor Dave

And now, a word from our sponsor …

Doctor Dave’s Medicine Tonic and Elixir — Good for what ails you, bad for what don’t. Now available in paper bags, and, without a pesky prescription!!! Cash only. No checks, credit cards or promissory notes.

Medicine Show wagon

YummMMMmmmMM! Good for whatever….

Old Woman Springs

in 1857 Col. H. Washington came through the Johnson Valley surveying the San Bernardino Baseline and documenting the biology of the desert. The party saw an old woman at the spring, most likely left behind with the children while the rest of the clan were in the mountains hunting game and gathering pinon nuts. By the time the surveyors made it to the spring, everyone was gone. They named the springs, Old Woman Springs.
Photo of original Old Woman Spring in Johnson Valley, CA

From the Journal of Jedediah Smith

“During my absence one of my Indian guides who had been imprisoned was released by death and the other was kept in the guard house at night and at hard labor during the day having the menial service of the guard house to perform. I took a convenient opportunity to speak to the Father in his behalf he told me he would do all in his power for his release.”

~ Journal of Jedediah Smith – 1826

Coincidence, or What?

According to the Mojave Desert Dictionary:

The Sam Houston No. 1 Mine: A silver mine in the Calico Mountains that was discovered  by Hugh Stevens and sold to a Mr. Johnson, who then sold it to two Frenchmen for $40,000. They changed the name to Blackfoot Consolidated No.1 Mine.

Then, oddly enough:

The Sam Houston No. 2 Mine: A silver mine in the Calico Mountains that was discovered  by Hugh Stevens and sold to a Mr. Johnson, who then sold it to two Frenchmen for $40,000. They changed the name to Blackfoot Consolidated No.2 Mine.

And to further complicate matters …

The Sam Houston No. 3 Mine: A silver mine in the Calico Mountains that was discovered  by Hugh Stevens and sold to a Mr. Johnson, who then sold it to two Frenchmen for $40,000. They changed the name to Blackfoot Consolidated No.3 Mine.

Mysterious, or what?

 

The Desert

The desert . . .“reveals its true character only to those who come with courage, tolerance, and understanding.

For those, the desert holds rare gifts.”

~ Randall Henderson – On Desert Trails

Desert Wife – Desert Life

Check out how I made this into a story relevant to the desert:

Walter Feller photography truck in desert

My Chevy — camouflage white. I can blend in alongside a big pile of salt or in a desert snowstorm.

My desert wife went to the desert store today, then comes back to our desert home and tells me she finds $25 in cash on the floor of the desert store. Wo0T-w0ot-WOot!!! My thoughts start racing and I begin calculating all the numbers involved. How cool–I could use her money to buy me gas to drive about 150 miles out into the desert! Then she tells me that she gave it to the clerk at the store. Now I can’t use her money that she found to drive about 150 miles out into the desert. Then she tells me the clerk told her that if the money isn’t claimed by the end of the day, the store would call her and they would give it to her.  I have hope. If it is unclaimed and they give it back her and I could drive out into the desert about 150 miles with gas I bought with her money. Then we get a phone call from a little girl who lost the money that my wife found thanking her for finding the money she lost. Now for sure I can’t use my wife’s money to buy the gas to drive about 150 miles into the desert.

I suppose they way everything went is for the better. $25 can be a lot to lose, especially for a kid. Reluctantly, I admit, my wife, who by the way, is always right, did the right thing. Thinking about it, if I would have used the money to buy enough gas to drive 150 miles out into the desert, well, how would I have been able to buy the gas to drive back?