Time surely seems to be accelerating. It feels like 20 minutes ago we were greeting the new year of 2025. Well. Add another digit onto the 21st century.
We’ve a most interesting trek ahead, o mighty Santa Clarita Valley history trail riders.
There’s dubious fishing tips from our Tataviam pals and we’ll offer a respectful nod to perhaps our greatest SCV hero. We’ll take a look at how this newspaper did a rain dance to end a drought, inspect some bad hombres and tip our hats to those poor souls who didn’t make it very far into the new year.
Speaking of hats, don’t forget to make sure your Stetson is on snuggly. There’s always a slight breeze as we dip into the SCV time portal …
WAY, WAY BACK WHEN
HEY. DON’T CLAM UP. — The Tataviam Indians, who lived as peaceful nudists here while our forefathers were writing the Constitution, used to fish for freshwater clams on the Santa Clara River, which ran bank to bank back then. Like some other Southland tribes, they might have used hallucinogenic herbs to drug trout and other fish in the small lakes and pools here. The Amerindians would drop the herbs in the water and drugged fish would float to the top.
THAT LONG, COLD, HARD HIKE FROM DEATH VALLEY — On Jan. 2, 1850, William Manly and John Rogers arrived at the old del Valle rancho. The pair had hiked all the way from Death Valley, surviving on roots, dead animal carcasses and branch water. They were in search of help for their stranded wagon train of settlers. Actually, Manly and Rogers thought they were near the city of San Francisco. Quite lost, they asked some local cowboys where San Francisco was. The Caballeros pointed toward Don Ignacio del Valle’s home — which was called: Rancho San Francisco. Caballeros from the Santa Clarita ranch would follow Manly and Rogers back to Death Valley and rescue the starving encampment. Many of the survivors from that wagon train would eventually settle in the SCV. A report from an early Signal editor noted that one of the women rescued from the ordeal looked out the back of her Conestoga wagon at the retreating desert hell and bade, “Goodbye, Death Valley.” She would later settle in Newhall. And that’s how Death Valley supposedly got its name.
ESTE VALLE ES MIO — Besides that, on Jan. 1, 1842, Ignacio del Valle lay formal claim to the Rancho Camulos.
AND, THEY USED A LOT OF HAIR OIL? — What do Gavin Newsom and Henry Gage have in common? Both were California governors. On Jan. 5, 1899, Acton good old boy Henry T. Gage, famed mine owner and entrepreneur, was sworn in as this state’s chief exec.
JANUARY 3, 1926
O RARE GOOD JURIST — One of the most influential people of the late 19th and early 20th century died 80 years back. Judge John Powell lived an amazingly rich life. He led troops in seven Civil War battles, was a noted big game hunter (in 1870, he shot the largest mountain lion ever recorded in California) and was justice of the peace here for over 40 years. In that time, he never had a single decision overruled by a higher court. On his death bed, he noted that the best thing he had ever accomplished in his life was prior to the Civil War to free 700 slaves in an African camp headed for the Americas. His sidekick? Stanley Livingston. Interestingly, it was Dec. 29 when Powell was born. He died the same day, 86 years later.
DODGING DEATH — Ed Hendricks nearly died. Twice. He was working on the construction of the ill-fated St. Francis Dam when he slipped. The only thing stopping him from hitting the jagged rocks 200 feet below was a rigging. Hendricks was caught by his neck and choking to death when workers managed to climb down and save his life.
‘I’M READY FOR MY CLOSE-UP, MR. DeMILLE’ — A film crew working for Cecil B. DeMille at Vasquez Rocks rescued a giant owl, flying around the ancient topography with a steel trap on its foot. The owl fought the rescue attempts, sinking his talons into the leg of one of the grips. They managed to free the bird from the trap and then let it go. Few know this, but ol’ Cece had a ranch in Canyon Country. He raised race horses.
GAVE A HOOT. DIDN’T POLLUTE. — Cowboy actor Hoot Gibson and his movie company were at the old Needham Ranch (off present day Sierra Highway and Newhall Avenue near the boneyard) making a Western moving picture. No reports of owl rescues though. Hoot got his nickname from when he worked as a delivery boy for Owl Drugs.
JANUARY 3, 1936
DIDN’T GET TO FULFILL MANY NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS — John C. Touer didn’t make it very far into either 1936 or his motorcycle race. Touer was driving an Indian with a sidecar and crashed near Power Station No. 1 up San Francisquito Canyon. He had just started an endurance race from Saugus to Big Bear when he lost control of his bike and died. His partner was seriously injured, but survived the wreck.
NEW YEAR’S CLAIMS A SAUGUS TEACHER — Rain and poor driving skills played havoc on the New Year 90 years back. Two more folks were killed in auto accidents. One was former Saugus Elementary teacher, Minnie Kellogg Schenberger. She had been visiting her brother, Charles, over the Christmas holidays.
JANUARY 3, 1946
AT LONG LAST, THE WAR WAS OVER — We published a short and joyous story on our front pages eight decades back. Here it is in its entirety: “In the latter half of 1945, another significant and very welcome change took place in The Signal’s news columns. Instead of publishing the dread news of its sons in battle appeared the happy items of service men returning from the wars. The Signal is most thankful at this time that it need publish no accounts of fallen heroes.” At long last, no more World War II.
LUCKY TO BE ALIVE — Bill Lutge, manager of the Bear State Dairy in Newhall, was hunting pigeons with friends in the rugged hills north of Castaic. A pea soup fog fell and Lutge was soon wet, hungry and lost. He chanced upon an old hunting shack, made a fire and holed up for the night. A rancher saw the smoke and drove him back to civilization. Lutge was a little embarrassed. A massive manhunt combed the hills the night before in a wet snow, looking for him.
I GOT SOME FRIENDS WHO’D FIT THE DESCRIPTION, BUT AIN’T NAMING NAMES — Speaking of rescues, it must have been a heck of a New Year’s Eve party. Local deputies rescued a lady visiting from Arkansas. They found her on a trash pile, partially naked, drunk and wearing a barbed wire belt.
JANUARY 3, 1956
OUR TIRELESS POSTAL GALS — The little Newhall Post Office serviced much of the valley. Christmas had been a record year with the five-lady staff handling about 10,000 letters and packages per day. There was a rather charming photo of the PO gals, all collapsed in their chairs the day after Christmas.
NO KA-BLOOEY — Rancher Trinidad Escalante found an unexpected post-Christmas gift. He was digging a new fence line at his hog ranch when he discovered an unexploded aerial bomb buried a foot deep at the bottom of one of his holes. I’m not exactly green about the Big Picture History Thing, but I can’t seem to recall any foreign country declaring war on Saugus and attacking the oasis via their air force.
JANUARY 3, 1966
LAS GOBBLE GALS — They must have really liked turkey. Two teenage girls (and classmates of mine) Kathy Wing and Sharon Allsup, spent the entire night camped out on the doorsteps of The Mighty Signal. They had the correct answer to a promotional quiz and wanted to be the first to deliver it by 8 the next morn. First prize was a pair of turkeys.
GEEZ. TALK ABOUT HOLDING A GRUDGE. — Back in 1918, Mr. and Mrs. Roy Lewis had quite the tiff and separated after 10 years of marriage. After being divorced for 47 years, the two reunited and were married late in 1965 while in their late 70s.
OAK OF THE GOLDEN ART SCHOOL — California Institute of the Arts was touting their brand new campus, scheduled to open with 1,200 students in 1967. Location? Not off the future McBean Parkway. The original CalArts campus was slated to be on 36 acres of Walt Disney’s Golden Oak movie ranch in Placerita Canyon.
JANUARY 3, 1976
AH, THE DEVIL’S PUNCH — On this date, California Highway Patrol Officer John Bavetta got a call from dispatch about a man injured at Sierra Highway and Placerita Canyon. He called from an emergency roadside phone and said he had hurt himself parachuting out of an airplane. When Bavetta arrived, it turned out the man was drunk, had fallen down an embankment and “dreamed” he was parachuting.
RAIN. PRESENT THYSELF. — The Signal used to have quite the reputation for powerful editorials. On this date, editor Scott Newhall penned an op/ed piece, calling for yet another end to yet another drought. Quoth Scotty: “We hereby serve notice of demand that the winter rains begin. And we are not referring to the ‘gentle dew’ propounded by William Shakespeare. We instruct the gods to send us rain, steady and long, until the gutters are flowing like chokecherry wine and the hills are soaked, and the Santa Clara River is rolling along like the Mississippi. If these instructions are not heeded, heaven will have to answer to the free, infallible, and invincible press of America.”
JANUARY 3, 1986
GETTING A GOOD BELT — Motorists cruising about are inundated by the message: “Click it or Ticket.” We can thank the state Legislature and Gov. George Deukmejian from 40 years back for the idea. On the first of 1986, it became law that anyone in a car had to be strapped into their seat belt. Fine was 20 bucks then.
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Happy New Year, dear saddlepals and see all y’all next weekend with another exciting Time Ranger adventure into the back trails of SCV history. Until then? ¡Vayan con Dios, amigos!
Local historian and the world’s most prolific satirist/humorist John Boston has launched his new eclectic bookstore — johnboston-books.com. His hilarious adventure/family/supernatural sequel to the national bestseller, “Naked Came the Sasquatch,” — “Naked Came the Novelist” — is on sale now. Ditto with his two-volume “MONSTERS” series about the supernatural in the SCV.
