Mountains, Deserts and Mining
Chapter One: The Mountains
By John Klein
January 20, 2010
This is a story about a boy's trip at the age of eight from home in San Francisco to a lovely place in the White Pine Mountains of eastern Nevada, at a forest camp some four thousand feet above sea level.
It's about more than a vacation, something more like an odyssey. However described, it's a series of my own indelible memories never before reduced to writing.
In the time shortly before and after World War I my father's uncle, his mother's brother, yearned to go westward from his home in Albuquerque and prospect for gold and silver. My grandmother grubstaked him. He remained a bachelor all his life, and lived in the outdoors in the wide open west. He fit the image of the lone prospector; old timers today may remember when Alber's Flour widely advertised its product on billboards showing the man in a cowboy hat bending over a campfire in the desert with skillet in hand ready to toss flapjacks. Those billboards reminded me of my dad's prospector uncle.
My father and mother married in 1919. By that time "Uncle", as we always called him, had located in Nevada a deposit of galena, an ore containing lead and silver, had staked a claim on it, and had started to develop it under the federal mining laws. My father answered his call for help and he and my mother went together to my uncle's claim and camped there for a matter of months while the two men built a cabin and a horse corral on the site. This was the mining camp high on a wooded mountain slope that I was destined to visit ten years later in 1929.
Just about the time the stock market crashed and the Great Depression was to follow, my father received a letter with another call from Uncle for help. A snow slide had carried away his cabin and corral. Uncle was unharmed because he lodged every winter in a boarding house in the town of Ely, Nevada. He couldn't work his claim once the snow fell. It was many miles away from public roads and the trails up and down the mountain were impassable until the spring thaw. Uncle said that he would not try to replace the cabin. He was living in an old tent and his need was for a new one and for tools and small equipment that had either worn out or gone down with the avalanche.
The decision was made to go. When school was out and my father had arranged an extended vacation from his job we departed San Francisco at dawn on a summer day in a 1923 touring sedan, with a soft top and isinglass (pronounced with a z sound—izin-glass) panels that could be clipped to the sides in the case of rain. Isinglass was like thin celluloid; one could see through it, but not too clearly. The car was six years old with very little mileage on it. My dad had purchased it from two elderly bachelor brothers living next door. They had bought it new, but couldn't get the hang of driving it, so they had put it on blocks in their garage and let it sit in repose until a day they admitted they were never going to go anywhere in it and offered it to my dad for twenty five dollars.
The car was spacious. With the back seat cushion removed we loaded the whole back with equipment and supplies, including among other things a new tent, a 38 caliber revolver and boxed ammunition, carbide lanterns, flashlights and batteries, wax candles and new hand tools. On top of these were layers of bedding for me and my two younger brothers, which neatly afforded us comfortable sitting room when we were awake, and napping and sleeping places as needed.
I had been privileged to go with my dad on the shopping trips it took to fill uncle's wish list. Need I say that as an eight year old acquainted with cowboys in the silent movies I was fascinated by that revolver? And, need I say I was never allowed to touch it or even get near it? It went the whole trip way at the bottom of the heavy pile in the back of the car, and never saw the light of day until it was turned over to Uncle, who promptly sequestered it safe from the reach of curious little boys.
We left from the Ferry Building on the automobile ferry to Vallejo, a long ride on the water in the early morning chill. The trip up the valley to Sacramento seemed endless, and one must remember that the entire route was a two lane road laid out to pass through each and every small town along the way, and that our highway speed was between twenty and twenty five miles an hour.
I was wide awake and wide-eyed when I saw the Sacramento River and there along the river front of the City electric trains that looked exactly like the Lionel brand of toy trains which were the most desired of our Christmas toys.
I had my very first look at the State Capitol on our way through town.
We reached Auburn in Placer County as night fell. I had my first look at a gold rush town on the Mother Lode. My mother taught me about the gold rush and something of the history of the places we passed on that entire trip. My two brothers were not yet in grade school, and they tuned out of teaching sessions. We stayed overnight at Auburn in a cabin in an auto camp.
Old timers will remember that auto camps preceded motels. The cabins were typically board and open stud frame with sink and water, and hookup for an electric plate. Toilets, and shower rooms if any, were outside on the edge of the camp.
Early next morning we were climbing toward the high Sierra, when the car began acting up. My dad was good at keeping an engine going, and had his full toolbox clamped on the running board, so we managed to limp along and find a repair garage in the town of Colfax where two elderly and friendly mechanics went about trying to diagnose the trouble. One theory after another failed and we spent the whole day in Colfax going between a restaurant on the main street and the garage on the side street where our fully loaded car was lingering on the point of cure, or mechanical death, we didn't know which.
Now my parents were patient people and my little brothers were unconcerned. For myself I had taken to enjoying the changing scenery from the time we had departed the ferry boat, and I just wanted to get going. I had never before been in mountains and was enchanted by the smell of pine trees in the warm mountain air.
In early afternoon I heard my mother say, "Dad, I'm not sure those two fellows know what they are doing."
"Mom, don't you see that they are not veteran mechanics. They are made over blacksmiths, like a lot of others who saw their jobs go away with the horse and buggy. But they are honest I think."
In late afternoon the problem came clear. It was the electrical system. Insulation on the wiring had deteriorated with age and was causing short circuits in the ignition system. The repair went ahead in earnest and the two mechanics worked through the supper hour and had the engine running smoothly by around nine in the evening. They asked my dad for a price he thought was very reasonable and he settled with them in cash. We were free to go.
Then I suffered an incident which is burned in my memory.
My mother said: "Dad, do you think we should turn back and go home?"
He pondered for but a moment and said maybe it was a good idea not to risk the long trip still ahead in the wide open spaces.
I burst into tears at hearing that. I cried like a baby. I bawled. I had reached an age where I didn't do things like that anymore but was carried away at the thought of going home. I wanted so badly to make that trip; it had already become an adventure, and to give it up at that point would have broken my child-like heart.
My parents looked at me, speechless at first, then tried to console me, and couldn't, looked at each other, and turned to me and said. "All right, if you stop crying we'll go ahead.'
So, my parents undertook a night time crossing of the High Sierra in a 1923 touring car, fully loaded, with three little boys sleeping in the back. Later that year I heard my dad in conversation with company at our home tell that if my mother had not dozed off, and had seen the condition of the road we were traveling , she would have protested his going ahead. He said it was hardly more than a wagon road that had been paved over. It was probably built in large part on the original gold rush trail coming down from the Donner Pass.....In its alignment today it is Interstate 80.
I fell into deep sleep after we left Colfax, and then suddenly awoke in the dead of night. The car was stopped and the engine was off. In the glare of the headlights in the middle of the road there was a huge horse with broken chains draped over its back. We looked in awe as it lingered a few moments, then departed down the slope. Dad said it had probably escaped from a cruel master. We stepped out to stretch a bit and let the engine cool off, and I was overwhelmed by what I saw next. Even as I write this more than seventy five years after the fact I feel my surge of amazement and wonderment as I looked up at the night sky in the clear air high in the Sierra on that moonless night.
As a city boy I had never before seen such a sight—— countless bright starts, millions it seemed to me, framed by tops of peaks barely discernable in the glow of the starlight. On a nearby peak there was a red beacon light. My mother said it marked the summit for the air mail pilots who crossed the mountains in the dark of night. She pointed out the Milky Way. I had my first lesson in astronomy on that road shoulder. I have ever since loved the sight of the night sky seen from dark places on clear nights. Astronomy since that moment has fascinated me, although I have never been schooled in it. But as a young man I did pick up courses in spherical trigonometry and celestial navigation, and took many a sight on the stars and plotted many a ship's position during a two year stint on the open sea. My interest and motivation to master celestial navigation trace back to my awakening to the vastness of the universe as seen that night close by the Donner Pass.
We arrived in Reno about three in the morning, and lodged once again in an auto camp for a few hours of sleep before venturing to cross the wide open spaces of Nevada.
I will continue the story in Chapter Two following, in which we learn that something else about that automobile, other than the wiring, had deteriorated with age.
A Typical Patrol
By Norm Nance
January 20, 2010
It is close to 1130 hours when I arrive at the Rohnert Park Public Safety building. I go on duty at midnight and I like to arrive a little early so I can get all my equipment set for another night of patrolling the city. From my opened locker I retrieve my duty belt and some black polish. I get some polish on the leather and make sure it is covered well for protection from the elements. There is just enough of a shine as to make it look good, but not real shiny or reflective. Shoes also get a shine, top, front and rear. The lieutenant likes that.
I get my briefcase and make sure it has plenty of report forms. These include crime reports, vehicle collision and also miscellaneous service reports. These are small cards which we fill out if there is not enough information for any other type of report. These are used the most as most of the calls we get require no further action. I also keep extra batteries and a flashlight in there along with extra ammunition. I retrieve a portable radio from the dispatcher and make sure it works.
These were the cheapest ones they could get and are not always reliable. Of course when I was in Willits, we had no portable radios. This is a big improvement from then. The lieutenant arrives and gives us a briefing. We are advised of a problem area from the previous shift and also any new information about wanted persons who may be in the area. We talk to the off going shift and get any first hand information we may need. We are also given our beat areas. There are usually only two beats. North which is from Southwest Boulevard and the South beat. If there is a contingent of Reserves on, sometimes there is a cover beat. That means that beat can cover any part of town and is the first back up called to assist another officer.
Sometimes there is an inspection, but not always. I get the keys for a patrol car and go out and inspect it. I put my equipment in the car and open the trunk and check the equipment there. There is a First Aid kit, fire extinguisher and our fire turn out gear. There is also and O. B.A. (Oxygen Breathing Apparatus).In Rohnert Park we were police officer and firefighters. Double duty for half the price. After checking the car and the equipment, it is time to hit the road.
This night there are two extra units. The reserves have come out and one is assigned a roving cover unit and so am 1.1 like that as I can drive allover and I am not restricted to a small area.
On the road and I also have a reserve with me. We have been together before and he is just as nuts as I am. We both like the Graveyard Shift A good team. There had been several calls to a party in the "B" section of Rohnert Park and we head there. Rohnert Park has it's neighborhoods alphabetized. It does make it easier to find things at times. When we arrive, the other units are also there. The college kids look out and see three police cars there and the party is shut down and they break up. So sad, too bad. It would have been nice to see a little action. Off we go to give the industrial area a good check. There have been several break ins and equipment thefts in some of the businesses in the north end of town.
A slow patrol and nothing is obvious. We even get out and walk the area and check doors and windows. Nothing. There is a call for the south beat of a barking dog. He acknowledges the call and is off to quiet the dog. We go to the golf course and check out the pro shop and café. All in fine shape. We then go to the west side on the other side of the freeway and check out the few businesses there. They all are also secure. Nothing is out of place. As we go over the freeway overpass, I see a car make a right turn onto Commerce Blvd. It had not stopped at the red light. As I get closer the car looks familiar. It is the lieutenant. He sticks his arm out the window and waves at us. I think he should use all of his fingers and not just one. His day will come. We cruise through the residential areas. There have also been a number of auto burglaries and it would be nice to catch one in the act. Again we stop and park the car and walk around. It is amazing what you can see and hear when all is quiet.
I have also gotten to watch the animals while out. They can let you know if someone is about if you watch them carefully. Again nothing . We have been out for about three and a half hours. I call in and we get permission to get to the office and have lunch. Just as we leave the station after lunch, the lieutenant takes a call of a loose dog in the "L" section. We cruise that way as we had not gone down there earlier. The lieutenant calls for back up. We were just over in the next block so we respond. When we get to his position. He is in a driveway and inside his car with another reserve.
There is a large black Great Dane walking around the car and barking at him. I see the homeowner look around the corner and yell, "Well do something!" The lieutenant yells back, "Why don't you come out here and tell this dog to stop trying to take my fenders off." The dog turns towards the homeowner and that man leaves rapidly. I radio we are hear and the lieutenant wants us to get the dog poll and capture the dog.
I get out of the car and walk up to the dog and say, "Spoony. Come here." He wags his tail stump and comes over and gets a pet and a rump rub. I know Spoonfull (Spoony) from earlier occasions. He is big but a really nice and gentle dog.
I look at Spoony and say, "Now Spoony. You should not try to bite the Lieutenant’s car. That is not nice. Come on, lets go home." The lieutenant just sits in his car shaking his head. I walk Spoony a few houses down and ring the door bell. Shortly a man opens the door, after he asks who is there and I let Spoony in the house. A check shows someone had deliberately removed the wire from the gate lock and let him out. I fill out a Miscellaneous Report and have a good laugh with the lieutenant. He also apologized for the wave. We check the areas some more and soon it is time for end of shift and I go home. Another day, another dollar and a half.
More later when things really heat up.