There’s many stops to make this week, amigos.
We’ve got Rudolph Valentino to say howdy to — well. Maybe more of an adios. There’s bandits, Geronimo, blowhards, the first local helicopter landing, anniversaries, giant bobcats and one of the strangest elections in our history. We also narrowly dodged an ecological nightmare. With a heavy heart, we’ll also remember how the Santa Clarita Valley was affected by the cowardly terrorist attack on the Pentagon and World Trade Center on 9/11/2001.
Let us mosey in the mystical canyons of your Santa Clarita history …
WAY, WAY BACK WHEN
HANG THE VACANCY SIGN — The Civil War was still going on but on Sept. 11, 1864, Fort Tejon was abandoned.
SHOULD WE BE RENAMED FORMER OAK VALLEY? — We used to have our very own Johnny Appleseed. Except he was more like Johnny Acorn. The Santa Clarita used to be heavily forested in spots in the 19th century and certainly prior to that. But in came the Spanish and the Californios behind them, followed by statehood. Hundreds of thousands of epic oaks were cut down to make way for farmland grading. The wood was used for local and Los Angeles fireplaces and construction.
Town founder Henry Mayo Newhall wanted his valley to look more like a New England habitat and commissioned John Saunders to start planting oaks. And Saunders did. There are stories that Newhall also had Saunders plant a row of eucalyptus trees that stretched from his house near present-day Magic Mountain all the way into town and into present-day Hart Park as a bridle path. Except for Hart Park and along McBean Parkway, most of those trees are long gone. Stories from former historian A.B. Perkins was that Saunders also planted those big eucalyptus trees along State Route 126. Kick up the chainsaw, gone, gone, gone …
MISSION STATEMENT — Just over the hill, 239 years ago, Father Lasuen officially dedicated the Mission San Fernando Rey de España. Last we heard, Spain hasn’t been helping out much with the property.
BEFORE YOU KNOW IT, WE’LL BE 200 — It was California’s birthday on Sept. 9. We turned 176. Here’s a rough one for you. Its first two years in existence, the No. 1 expenditure for the 31st state was for the eradication of Indians. We’ve had more than our fair share of scoundrel governors. In fact, our very first chief exec didn’t serve out his term, resigning because Washington wouldn’t supply thousands of troops to eradicate all of California’s Native Americans.
SMOKE YOUR SUBSCRIPTION — I’m a little tardy in my well-wishes, but nonetheless sincere. We just missed the 180th birthday of The Californian, the state’s first paper. It was published on Aug. 16, 1846. Walter Colton and the 6-8 Kentucky dentist Bob Semple were the first editors. The Monterey paper had two columns and was an odd 11-3/4 inches by 10-1/4 inches. Interestingly, the coarse paper stock was the same used to roll cigarettes. Yup. After you read your newspaper, you could smoke it.
SEPTEMBER 12, 1926
UNINTENDED CLIFF DIVERS — Three Angelenos were surprise visitors to the Newhall Community Hospital. I can’t even imagine why anyone would want to be speeding in a Model T on a dirt road, but they were. They lost control of their car and as it went over a local cliff, they jumped. Landed about 40 yards later, too.
OUR EDITORIAL POSITION — The Signal lamented all the hubbub given to the passing of Rudolph Valentino. Then-editor Almon B. Thatcher noted that the great aviator John Rodgers died the same day, but the nation’s media ignored his passing. Perhaps old “Dad” Thatcher was in a foul mood anyway. He wrote his editorial on Labor Day while letting everyone know that if it WAS Labor Day, why was he working?
WABBIT SEASON? — Los Angeles County put a temporary moratorium on rabbit hunting. Thatcher thought it was a good idea, stating: “At the rate hunters began, there wouldn’t have been a rabbit in all Southern California in a few days.” Wish Thatcher could come out to my place. He’d rest easy knowing 100 years later, they had all relocated to my place.
SEPTEMBER 12, 1936
AREN’T THESE TODAY’S CITY HALL HOURS? — On this date, C.K. McKinley was promoted as the new building inspector for the entire SCV. His local hours? Tuesdays and Fridays, 8-10 a.m. Pretty much back then, they just kicked timbers and drank coffee …
DENSELY POPULATED OR TOO MANY NO-SHOWS? — In a bittersweet way, this was one of my favorite elections. Locals voted 14-5 to kill a bond measure for a new school house for New Era School. It was the last of the little red schoolhouses in the valley. I’d like to say if only the education forces could have rallied another 10 votes to pass the measure. But I’m not sure there were another 10 votes in the New Era district up Bouquet Canyon.
GOOD THING DEPUTY STORY DIDN’T GO ON VACATION — Dick Lindsey had a nice nap on company time. The sheriff’s deputy made the mistake of making some improvements on the cell at the 6th Street sheriff’s substation No. 6. Deputy Story went off on a call and locked the doors to the holding pen behind him, forgetting that Deputy Lindsey was still inside. A few hours later, Story called HQ, then hit himself in the head, remembering that Story was on paint patrol. When he came back, Story unlocked the place, heard Lindsey swearing at him, threw the keys inside the cell and fled.
ORANGE YOU GLAD TO SEE ME? — Before there was Valencia, there was Valencia. Oranges, that is. We had a monster crop due in 1936. (Traditionally, the juicy fruits were at market by Halloween.) Ninety years ago, there were 18,000 registered growers of oranges and about half grew Valencias.
ACCIDENT-PRONE PERK — It was a small town and people wore many hats. Historian, real estate agent and water works owner A.B. Perkins finished demolishing the old Saugus Elementary School on this date. He carted away most of the material to his spread up Wildwood Canyon. Old Perk nearly killed himself in the demolition when a wall fell on him. Perk also knocked himself out when the big bronze school bell hit him on the head.
SEPTEMBER 12, 1946
OUR MOVIE LEGACY — Known as Melody Ranch today, Placeritos Ranch celebrated its 10th anniversary. Writer Jack Birnbaum had a rather nifty description of the studio hidden under the oaks in Placerita Canyon: “A town which appears on no maps, a town which has no name, but many names; and yet has been host to a number of famous Americans, scenes of thousands of fist fights and shooting frays, in its roaring history.” Starting in 1936 with just a caretaker and his helper, by 1946, it had a foreman and 16 full-time employees and seven part-time workers. More than 180 pictures had been shot there in its first decade — that’s 18 a year.
BRRRRRRR & BOY HOWDY!! — On this date, the evening low was 40 degrees. It actually hit the high 30s in some of the upper canyons around here.
WHIRLYBIRD TRIVIA — The very first helicopter landed at Newhall International Airport (earning, with jocularity, the nickname for an irregular mail run into Mexico) on this date. It was an Army model No. 346630 and piloted by Lt. James Chudars. More trivia? The chopper was the first airborne vehicle to be used in fighting a local fire. We had a series of four-day blazes that blackened 8 square miles. The fires, all in the same area, were started in one case by careless smokers, and, in two others, by an arsonist or arsonists. The helicopter, by the way, wasn’t used to directly fight flames. It airlifted food, water and supplies to firefighters battling the blaze on the front lines.
SEPTEMBER 12, 1956
ONE BIG-ASTERISK BOBCAT — A rather huge lynx rufus was captured in the hen house at the Honby home of Mr. and Mrs. Fred Reuther. Yup. They named the street after them. The predator weighed 25 pounds, was a yard long and 18 inches tall at the shoulder. That’s a big darn cat. Guess he got fat on chickens because he gobbled up 13 hens in just one week.
MAY THEY BURN IN YOU-KNOW-WHERE — Wish there was a way to tell who these sickos were before they went to work. A pair of arsonists, called “firebugs” back in the 1950s, were the target of a manhunt after several brushfires were started throughout the valley during a triple-digit heat wave.
OUR TOP LOCAL ACCIDENT CATEGORY — Here we go again. The short-lived quick draw craze carved another notch. Young Don Campbell of Canyon Country nearly shot off his forefinger while monkeying around with a .45 Colt revolver. This was in the kitchen of Denzel Cameron, who would later become a world-famous horse trainer and stock provider for the movies. I remember it was Denzel who sometimes used what he called a “war bridle” for the truly recalcitrant mounts. With one yank, Denzel once took down a mean old bucking pony, got close to the horse’s face and calmly said, “Think about it.”
ALL WITH BIG FOREHEADS — The population of Palmdale hit 12,000.
CLOSE TO AN ECOLOGICAL NIGHTMARE — Three juvenile delinquents broke thermometers in the huge Newhall Water Co. tank in Railroad Canyon. Blessedly, one of the boys’ conscience kicked in and he confessed the “prank.” More than 350,000 gallons of water had to be drained from the tank. Darrell Haskell climbed down the ladder inside with a broom, flashlight and dust pan, swept up the mercury and then filled the tank back up. The parents of the boys were forced to pay for the water — which was worth about $150.
PULPY INFLATION — The Mighty Signal raised its subscription rates from $3 to $3.50. That was for a year. And, we were just a weekly.
SEPTEMBER 12, 1966
WE’RE KID RICH — This is an estimate on my part, but I’m guessing from pre-school to college, today we have more than 100,000 in local SCV schools. Sixty years ago, there were just about 9,000 in grades K-12.
A GREAT BUT UNASKED-FOR NICKNAME — “Peeping” George celebrated his 11th year on the job. George Nelson started in 1955 as the live-in forest watcher high atop a wooden tower on the 3,800-foot peak of Oat Mountain. He spent the days in an 11-foot-by-11-foot cage atop a look-out tower. Besides “Peeping,” George had the nickname of “Geronimo,” given to him by firefighting friends. In his youth, Nelson was a movie extra and stuntman where he often played an attacking Indian. Also, George was part Apache. He was also a rancher in Tick Canyon. He leased land on Oat Mountain and sort of double-dipped, taking his herds to Oat to graze while he watched for budding fires.
The county’s original fire tower was built in 1927 at a cost of $2,885. Victor Lopez was the first watcher. It stood 65 feet tall. It was rebuilt in 1937 and improved in 1957. Lightning frequently struck the steel tower and sometimes, an unscheduled bear would try and climb the ladder to visit George. Besides that, wind gusts sometimes approaching 100 mph would rattle the tower and anyone in it.
THAT’S $428,571.43 PER PERSON — One of the weirdest elections in local history was around the corner. A $6 million water bond issue was slated for the September election. Interesting note? Only 14 residents of Tick Canyon were eligible to vote on a decision that would touch the lives of future Canyon Country residents in the form of water and sewage lines. County officials watched the polls, even helping the oldest of the voters — 97-year-old Warren Ferguson. Come election day, only 12 of the 14 eligible showed up. The bond carried unanimously. This despite the fact that the secretary of Kaufman & Broad, the developers who would put houses on 1,000 acres in the desolate canyon, was under indictment for grand theft. That passed bond measure from those 12 people would ultimately allow the Pinetree subdivisions to be built.
THRICE AS NICE — The Mighty Signal continued to grow, announcing on this date they would expand to three issues a week — Monday, Wednesday and Friday — starting on Oct. 3, 1966. It was a mighty switch, too. We used to print on Thursdays and Sundays then.
SAME LAW. NEW TITLE. — More changes. For eons, Newhall had an old-time justice of the peace court here. Sixty years back, it switched to a more grown-up municipal court. We were one of the last three justice courts left in California. The last two were on Catalina Island and Malibu.
SEPTEMBER 12, 1976
THE GOLDEN SPIKE — More than 1,000 folks turned out to take part in the 100th anniversary of the Driving of the Golden Spike at Lang Station. The Chinese Historical Society brought along a genuine decorative dragon for the occasion. Our spike, by the way, is housed at the California Historical Society in San Francisco. The grumpy suits at Southern Pacific wouldn’t allow any passengers on the trains they had brought for the celebration. Secretary of State March Fong Eu was scheduled to redrive the ceremonial gold spike, but missed badly. She handed the maul to Robert Banning, great grandson of Phineas Banning, the first man to drive a stagecoach through Beale’s Cut on the other end of the valley.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001
9/11 — In the worst way, it was one of those landmark historical events where everyone alive then remembers where they were when they heard the news. The 9/11 Islamic extremist terrorist attack on the Pentagon and World Trade Center in New York City was one of the worst assaults perpetrated on American soil in our country’s history. Nineteen al-Qaeda terrorists hijacked four passenger planes and ended up killing 2,997 victims. An estimated 6,000-25,000 were injured.
Here, in the SCV, immediately after the news, about 500 locals volunteered at the Red Cross to give blood. City of Santa Clarita employee, Robert Murphy, lost his brother, Raymond, a firefighter, in the WTC attack. Every year since, on the anniversary of the infamy, the Santa Clarita Valley has held vigils, remembering and honoring the victims and heroes of that day.
• • •
Well. We’ve run out of history for this trail ride and we’ve just about run out of summer. I say amen, boy howdy and yippee coyote to that. See you next weekend back at The Mighty Signal hitching post for another exciting Time Ranger adventure. Until then? ¡Vayan con Dios, amigos y feliz casi otoño!
Visit John Boston’s bookstore and eclectic online store with unique gifts for readers and writers at JohnBoston-Books.com. Lifelong SCV resident Boston, with 119 major writing awards and nearly 12,000 columns, is the most prolific humorist and satirist in world history.
