Hope you all are having a fine Saturday morning. We have a great little adventure ahead of us, including the great discovery of gold in this here valley, and a band of Protestant lynchers taking the law into their own hands. And there’s even a declaration of war on a pesky enemy — rodents.
So, all you folks hop up on your saddles and come along. Enjoy the ride!
WAY, WAY BACK WHEN
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HERE’S SOME GOLD! — On March 9, 40 years apart, two important events occurred. Francisco Lopez was born at Mission San Gabriel March 9, 1802. Then, March 9, 1842, Lopez was credited with the first officially documented gold discovery in California.
Lots of myths, variations and questions about that discovery. While Lopez was credited with filing the first known mining claim, gold had been taken from the Santa Clarita Valley for decades. As early as the 1790s, there was the story of the Lost Padre Mine in Castaic. Millions were taken from there. Then, miners were panning all up and down San Francisquito Canyon in the 1820s, again, taking out millions.
And yet, Francisco Lopez was credited with the first discovery of gold in the valley. Old Spanish records indicate he was joined by two friends in the discovery — Manuel Cota and Domingo Bermudez. While they were on the original petition to the governor of California, Lopez and a fourth gentleman, whose name has been lost in history, were on the grant. Cota and Bermudez were the forgotten prospectors of SCV history.
Some extreme trivia. The fable part was that Lopez’s wife had asked him to bring back some wild onions for their salad that night. For years, oldtimers argued exactly what kind of the many local wild onions he plucked. Another story had Lopez napping under an oak tree, then reaching out to pull up some onions. Onions? They don’t grow under oaks.
In a conversation with The Signal by Judge John Powell, who served as magistrate here for 50 years in the 19th and early 20th centuries, that first gold discovery was even earlier. According to Powell, from a conversation he reportedly had with Andres Pico (of Pico Canyon fame and brother to California then-Gov. Pio Pico), Piute Indians found large gold nuggets in the Placerita Creek all the way back in 1796. The exact location was described as, “… in the bedrock of the narrows in Placerita Canyon, 4 miles from (downtown Newhall).”
The Indians brought them to the padres at the brand new construction site of the San Fernando Mission. The missionaries built rockers and sluice boxes and mined the gold. According to The Signal of Nov. 19, 1920, “No one seems to know just how much gold was mined, but it is supposed to have been a considerable sum.”
AND NOW, BRETHREN, LET US TAKE A MOMENT TO PUT DOWN OUR HYMNALS AND GO LYNCH SOMEONE — I never did get a first name, but pioneer Addie Lyon used to tell the story of the Rev. Crum who probably favored the Old Testament a smidge too much. Back in the 1880s, Newhall was a rip-roaring Wild West town. The little Newhall Elementary, when it was on 9th and Chestnut, would let some Protestants use the upstairs for church meetings.
One Sunday, a fistfight erupted out of a downtown Newhall saloon and meandered a couple of blocks over in front of the school. The horrified parishioners watched from the window as one participant took a stretch of lumber and bashed his opponent’s brains in. Boy howdy, who has that kind of energy on a Sunday morning? Anyway. The Rev. Crum got pretty excited. Leading his flock, they rushed downstairs, grabbed the assailant, and dragged him over to where Placerita Creek used to flow under Railroad Avenue today.
Back then, they had a large trestle bridge going over the mostly silent river. But, it was tall enough to drive a really tall canvas-topped wagon under without scraping anything.
The Rev. Crum and his toothy congregation then proceeded, without trial or thank you, to lynch the brawler right there from the bridge. Fortunately for the lynchee, a sheriff’s posse came roaring up on horseback, saving the day just as the guy, with a cowboy’s riata over his neck, was about to be pushed to his death.
Just like in the movies.
The combatant was rushed for his own safety into Los Angeles where he would later stand trial. He was found guilty and given a life-in-prison sentence that ended up being just 18 months.
MARCH 7, 1926
THE PASSING OF PASTOR ELLISON — One of the valley’s most popular old-timers passed away on this date. Known simply as Mr. Ellison, the 90-year-old Black man ran a vineyard just north of Newhall. He lived alone but was an ordained minister and entertained folks of all races and colors in his small home.
THE HIGH COST OF BOOZE — I still marvel at how darn stiff the fines were for bootlegging. Remember, Prohibition was the law of the land and you couldn’t buy or certainly make recreational booze. Elmer Fisher picked the wrong valley to make moonshine. He was pulled over after apparently enjoying too much of his own product. A case of bathtub gin (some of it missing) was found in the back seat of his car. His fine was $1,000 (or, the price of TWO HOUSES during the 1920s). That would work out to about $1.2 million today for a drug bust. Fisher worked off his $1,000 fine at a rate of a dollar a day at a county jail. I know. Today, that’d be 1.2 million days, or, 3,288 years, less time off for good behavior, of course …
MIXING IT UP — One of the most famous people on the planet and international film/cowboy star, Tom Mix, was good for the local economy. He brought in a film crew of about 125 to his Mixville studio, which was HQed right here in Newhall. Reports were Tommy was making a “railroad picture.”
BACK IN THE DAYS WHEN YOU COULD AFFORD MEAT — You can’t throw a dirt clod (if you could even find one in most parts of the valley anymore) without hitting some form of entertainment in modern times. Big news around town which had many grinning was that Central Meat Market hired on a small merry-go-round for their back lot to attract business.
FORGOTTEN HORSE SENSE — For some of you newer saddlepals up for the first time, a warning. Always be alert around horses. An old-time cowboy, Fred Pettinger, learned this the hard way when his horse kicked him in the face, breaking his jaw and busting out several teeth. Poor ol’ Fred was a mess and then some.
THE FORGOTTEN SAUGUS-TO-THE-SEA HIGHWAY — I always wondered why this never happened. Certainly, the Depression later on had a lot to do with it. But, for over a year, bureaucrats were working hard to connect Newhall and Chatsworth via the Saugus to the Sea highway. That’s the road that starts to go up Towsley Canyon from The Old Road today. Engineers had been hiking all up and down STTS, making their big plans. It was to become a paved part of Mulholland Drive, via Topanga Canyon, and connect Newhall directly to the Pacific Ocean. Depression came. Never happened.
MARCH 7, 1936
THE NEVER-ENDING WAR ON RODENTS — On this date, a small battalion from the county ag department’s poison crew came out to eradicate squirrels and gophers. They were most abundant in late winter/early spring of ’36. (The “THEY” in question would be the rodents, not L.A. County’s poison posse.) They also caused a lot of damage, undermining trees and even making a divot a yard wide and deep smack dab in the middle of our Newhall International Airport. (Please refer to previous parenthetical clarification on “THEY.”) A plane had to be actually pulled out of the hole via a tractor. Of course, problem with poisoning varmints is that it kills birds of prey (who hunt the varmints in the first place) and tends to poison the groundwater. Bothersome details, details …
RODENTS, PART II — You could probably blame Newhall Land for an abundance of pests, too. They had been literally working around the clock the last four months getting in the sugar beet crop, along with alfalfa. That drove varmints out of the fields and into the houses …
MARCH 7, 1946
SURGERY’S DEADLY DANGER — Had I known it could be so dangerous, I might not have had my tonsils yanked when I was a kid. On this date, Bill Fox, owner of the Foothill Cafe in Castaic, died after complications from a tonsillectomy. I guess death sure counts as a complication, doesn’t it? Don’t send flowers. Foxy’s been gone 80 years now.
MARCH 7, 1956
THE UNENDING STORY OF THE SELF-INFLICTED GUNSHOT WOUND — Get out the book. Add another to the rolls. John J. Leonardo, 20, became something like the 312th million bozo to shoot himself. During the 1950s, the Western was the undisputed king of entertainment for America. At the end of just about every TV show or movie, they’d have a showdown, usually involving the hero “fanning” his revolver. This resulted in a real-life copycat trend in which amateurs would come out to the SCV to practice their quick draw. Ol’ John J. was a little too quick on the draw process. He slit his right leg open so it looked like a canoe.
CUZ WE’RE TOUGH ON CRIME, THAT’S WHY — A small army of law enforcement officers took after a trio of bandits. It was a melding of the Old West and the New West, with lawmen on horseback and in a helicopter. The men had robbed a Piru grocery and eluded a roadblock before being captured by the good guys. Of course, folks were wondering why the mobilization of the 7th Fleet for just a grocery store stick-up.
MARCH 7, 1966
TEACHERS GET A RAISE — The Saugus Union School District voted a big raise for its teachers, with some getting an extra $300 to $1,000. That’d be a year, not a week. Credentialed teachers who had 12 years’ experience would go from $10,500 to $11,485 a year. Or, about the salary of 11 reporters in 1966 …
SPEAKING OF ANTI-POVERTY — We had the strangest election (sort of). Forty years back, locals showed up to the polls to vote on creating an anti-poverty district. Only one information meeting had been held for our anti-poverty board, which would cover all of the Antelope and Santa Clarita valleys. That meeting had been held in Pomona. I sort of qualified the word, “election.” Only seven people showed up to vote. Election officials believed we may have made the Guinness Book of World Records as the poorest turnout in American history.
MARCH 7, 1976
SMOKE, SMOKE, SMOKE THAT HIGH SCHOOL CIGARETTE — Hard to believe, but a state law allowed local school districts to mandate whether students could smoke on campus. Our own William S. Hart Union High School District mulled the question over for weeks, under pressure from local pro-smoking forces (including teens). It was a rather crazy time. New Superintendent Clyde Smyth had called 10 nearby districts and found two wouldn’t even consider the measure, six didn’t even bring it up and two had enacted a pro-smoking policy, primarily because they couldn’t control it. One trustee said smoking was no big deal and likened it to kids having long hair.
MARCH 7, 1986
PILOT TIP NO. 1: GO AROUND THE POWER LINES — A crop-dusting pilot crashed his chopper into some high-tension lines. Luckily, the lines were under repair and no juice was flowing through them. Pilot Jim Davidson escaped with serious, but not critical injuries.
Sure was a fun trail ride with you compadres. I’m reining old Warlord and the two of us are going to down a few gallons of anything liquid and then I’m going to continue the ongoing and unfruitful task of trying to teach said mount how to unsaddle himself. See you back here at The Mighty Signal hitching post next weekend with another exciting Time Ranger adventure, and, 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.
