Vidal Junction

John R Beyer at Vidal Junction, California

As I have in written in past articles, there are places we are destined to travel to without even meaning to travel there. 

If I haven’t written that, I should have, sounds almost brilliant. One of those memorable quotes. 

Anyway, when we travel, there are times we are moving toward a final destination, but sometimes on the way to that objective, another stopping-place shows up in front of us that is just as intriguing. 

That is truly adventure.

As a travel writer, I find myself in that realm quite often, and I find it reassuring. Just because I want to end up at one place, doesn’t mean I don’t want to find myself in a totally different locale. That is what makes life so exciting.

Okay, enough philosophy – on with what this article is about.

Growing up in Southern California, I spent a lot of time at the Colorado River. The main route I used was Interstate 10, to Blythe and then north on Highway 95 to the Parker Strip. A friend of mine, Bob, had a place along the river, and we’d spend countless hours boating on that stretch of water and then relaxing after a tiring, but fun filled day with our families.

Good times.

Well, during those trips, I must have driven past Vidal dozens of time, and never gave it a second thought.

A bent sign, along Highway 95, letting the passerby know there may have been something worthwhile there once, but apparently that something was long ago. Slow down, take the railroad tracks carefully at Vidal, especially if towing anything, and then drive on to Parker.

That was the extent of my knowledge of Vidal.

On a recent trip, Laureen and I, again were buzzing south on Highway 95 and passed that bent sign indicating the town of Vidal.

“Wonder what’s there?” Laureen asked.

“Nothing, would be my guess,” I replied.

“Let’s check it out. You never know,” she said.

And we did. I made a legal U-turn and headed back to that tall crooked sign. Getting out of our vehicle, we snapped a few photographs and started walking east on the dirt road, known as the Old Parker Road – not to be confused with the New Parker Road.

Laureen Beyer at the end to the tracks in Vidal Junction, California

Train tracks ran right next to the roadway. They were empty, straight, as if they hadn’t been used in a long time - lonely. I doubted that, since trains seemed to run through this part of the country all the time. None did while we were there, but that didn’t mean they didn’t use these tracks – just not for the thirty minutes we wandered here and there.

“That’s a nice looking little house,” Laureen mentioned, as she pointed to a very well-kept white and blue cottage.

She was correct. The house stood out in the brown desert like an unforgotten jewel. Perhaps a ruby, that has been neglected by a heart broken lover – what?

Man, this is starting to sound like a cheap dime novel.

Turns out, that the nice looking little house was the only permanent abode for Wyatt Earp and his wife, Josephine – who went by Sadie.

John R Beyer in front of the Earp's house, Vidal Junction, California

Yes, probably one of the most famous western lawmen – among other things, who rode a horse through the southwest.

The Wyatt Earp, who became even more famous, or infamous, after that thirty second street battle at the OK Corral in Tombstone, Arizona. Two factions of westerners had had enough with one another, and temperatures boiled over in the afternoon of October 26th, 1881. In a matter of a half a minute, three were dead and three wounded. Tombstone would soon become a household word.

The violence would also go down as the most famous gunfight in the American Wild West. Sorry, Wild Bill Hickok.

There is a cement slab with a plaque, in front of the small house, explaining – ‘The legendary lawman, gun-fighter, gambler, businessman, and miner along with his wife Josephine inhabited this “Dream-Come-True” cottage from 1925 – 1928. During the fall, winter and spring months while he worked his “Happy Days” mines in the Whipple Mountains a few miles north of this site. This is the only permanent residence they owned in their long lives together.’

Long life together, meant forty-seven years. They married – common-law – in 1882, and stayed with each other until Wyatt’s death on January 13, 1929.

That is a long time in anyone’s book, especially for a guy who had been mixed up in more gunplay then I’ve had IRS audits. Did I just write that?

It should be noted, that during Wyatt’s life, he moved around a lot – gambling here and there, looking for minerals in the mountains of Arizona and California, sitting for interviews, and the like. The Earp’s never really settled down, but instead rented hotels and small homes during their married life.

It wasn’t until they purchased the small cottage in Vidal in 1925 that they had true roots. They’d summer in Los Angeles and the rest of the year mainly in Vidal.

An interesting point, that the Earp’s were actually living in Calzona – not far from Vidal – in 1922, when a huge fire destroyed the town, but miraculously the little house didn’t burn.

The house was moved to Vidal, where the Earp’s eventually bought it.

According to a couple of sources online, Morgan Earp (Wyatt’s younger brother) was the original owner of the house in Calzona, but he was murdered in 1882 in Tombstone – revenge killing for the OK Corral gunfight, and I couldn’t find material backing up those suggestions.

The way with history, one person writes this and the other person writes that. It is romantic, in a literary way though, to believe Wyatt and Sadie actually lived in the house that Wyatt’s younger brother had built.

Let’s allow that bit of history go without much further investigation.

So, now that we knew this little burg had a lot more going for it, we decided to explore a bit more.

Over on Main Street, all these towns have a main street, stands a beautiful rock and mortar two story building. On the top, like castles of old, are jagged rocks as though they expected Vikings to storm the building.

Original store in Vidal Junction, California

No Vikings, and really not much on the history of the building. It must have cost a pretty penny – or a lot of pretty pennies – to build such a place.

In a statement on the website, flickeriver.com, the building had various businesses which occupied the building through the years. A barbershop, an assayers office – make sense if Wyatt and others were mining for gold – and other commercial endeavors. There were supposed showers behind the building for cowboys to rinse off the dust of the desert.

In full disclosure, the research on this building did not yield much information. Actually, very little about both Vidal and the surrounding area is very limited online. That is a shame, since this was once the home of an iconic member of the ‘old west’ legend.

Mainly ruins in Vidal Junction

As mentioned earlier, Wyatt and Sadie resided in Vidal during the fall, winter, and spring times, moving back to Los Angeles during the summer. A little bit warm in Vidal during that scorching time of year. Besides, Wyatt did work as a consultant for some film companies assisting in making western movies as accurate as possible.

As mentioned in truewestmagazin.com, the early cowboy star, Tom Mix, and Wyatt became very close friends, so close that Mix served as a pallbearer at Earp’s funeral. 

Rumor has it, Tom Mix cried.

According to justwestofmyheart.blogspot.com, the town of Vidal kept growing with ranchers, miners, traders, and the building of the Los Angeles Aqueduct in the 1930’s. ‘By 1935, the area had no less than 28 liquor establishments, the paper describing them as “hangouts for river toughs and equally tough women.”

But, the great depression played havoc everywhere, and one place hit especially hard was Vidal. Soon people left and the desert began to encroach back on the emptiness left behind by the vanishing citizens. 

A relatively newer structure in Vidal Junction, California

Not much is left to Vidal today. A few deserted houses, Wyatt’s cottage, the remains of the JM Heacock building, and a cemetery across the railroad tracks.

Is it worth a stop along Highway 95? Yes, it is.

“I bet this place has a very intriguing past, I bet,” Laureen stated, as we headed to our vehicle.

“And I’d take that bet,” I replied. I knew that would be a sure wager.

 

Searchlight Museum

Entrance to the Historical Museum in Searchlight, Nevada

As I have mentioned numerous times in my columns, museums have a special place in my heart and I try to visit as many as I can whilst out and about on traveling adventures.

Again, as I have also mentioned numerous times in my columns, our children used to roll their eyes, harrumph, or feign illness whenever I turned into the parking lot of some vault of historical value - namely a museum.

Laureen, my lovely traveling partner, and I tried to instill an appreciation of history and the stories of those who came before us and who made wherever we happened to be traveling what it is today.

It did not matter if it was Amboy, Bullhead City, Randsburg, London, or Paris - each place has a special story to be heard and appreciated. 

The iconic ghost town of Amboy, California

George Santayana, the philosopher is given credit for penning the immortal phrase: ‘Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’

I am the perfect example of Santayana’s statement. How many times Laureen has reminded me that a small taste of Mrs. Renfro’s Carolina Reaper Salsa didn't sit well with me in the past? I generally remember while being rushed to the emergency room by a team of paramedics.

But I digress.

Recently, our daughter Kelly let us know that she was taking our grandson, Eli, to a children’s museum in their town of Meridian, Idaho.

We smiled over the video call but once disconnected, high-fived each other. “It worked,” we stated in unison.

According to Rebecca Carlsson in her article for MuseumNext, published on September 15, 2023, ‘Museums have the power to create unity of both a social and political level and a local one. Local museums can provide a sense of community and place by celebrating a collective heritage, offering a great way to learn about the history of a particular area.’

Carlsson ends her piece with ‘Museums are just as crucial to the future as the future is to museums. Not only can our museums bring history to life, but they can also shine a light on our present and future - a light which can be hard to find elsewhere.’

Great article and a must-read for parents - in addition to my own columns, obviously - to instill a sense of who we are not only as a country, state, or city, but who we are as a whole.

Sometimes those visits may conjure up images we may not want to recall.

It is hard for most right-minded people not to get teared up while visiting the Holocaust Museum in Los Angeles, or walking the acres of land containing Manzanar along Highway 395. Those are gut-wrenching places to wander but at the same time, as Santayana hoped, if we remember the past we may not let those things happen again.

Perhaps the philosopher was not as skeptical of the human condition as many are today.

But I digress.

With my admiration of museums, I visited the small but extremely informative historical center of Searchlight, Nevada.

Searchlight in the bygone days

I wrote about the once bustling mining town during the dark years of the pandemic when I was not able to enter the museum with the mask restrictions, social distancing, and COVID bugs flying non-stop creating havoc, so I made it a point to revisit.

The museum is located in Clark County within the Searchlight Community Center along Cottonwood Cove Road which ultimately leads to the Cottonwood Cove Recreation area on Lake Mohave.

In 1897 a miner by the name of George Frederick Colton was looking for gold in the area when he supposedly said, “It would take a searchlight to find gold ore here.”

Well, gold was found, and thus the name for find, Searchlight Mine, and in 1898 the name of the newly founded gold rush town.

Today, there is not much to view in the town, more of a crossing spot for those traveling to the blue waters at Cottonwood Cove or on their way to Las Vegas along Interstate 95. A casino or two, a gas station or two, and a few places to grab a meal - but the museum is a must-stop since it holds some very interesting pieces of information explaining why the town of Searchlight is a truly hidden treasure of history.

Let us put away the mining history, important as it may be for making a desolate desert landscape come alive with untold riches, but concentrate on who was once involved in this town of now only 278 humans that was once home to nearly 2,000 souls.

As I wandered around the well-displayed kiosks in the museum I was amazed at the photographs, newspaper clippings, tools, books, and other artifacts which made this stop so much worth anyone’s time.

I did not know that John Macready once lived in Searchlight where his father once owned a very rich ore-producing mine. Macready was a famous pilot in the early years of the 20th Century and helped make aviation a household word. He was one of the first pilots to fly non-stop across the United States and the only three-time winner of the Mackay Trophy. 

I did know that Edith Head, the very famous costume designer who still holds the record of receiving eight Academy Awards for Best Costume Design, lived in Searchlight as a young child. Her mother had been married to a mining engineer and called Searchlight home for many years. Edith is considered one of the most influential costume designers in the history of film, working for Paramount Pictures for over four decades.

The history of Edith Head while living in Searchlight, Nevada

I did not know that Clara Gordon Bow, the 1920s film star, used to visit Searchlight on a regular basis from her nearby abode, the Walking Box Ranch - named after a camera connected to a tripod for filming in the early days of Hollywood. The ranch was owned by Bow and her husband, actor Rex Bell, as a respite from the often craziness of the film crowd in Los Angeles. 

Clara Bow's personal trunk on display in Searchlight, Nevada

I did not know that Scot Joplin, the King of Ragtime, once wrote a song entitled Searchlight Rag in 1907, in honor of a couple of friends who had done some prospecting in Searchlight - Tom and Charles Turpin. The song was inspired by the tales the two brothers related to Joplin of their time spent in local bars in the area. Now, who would not like that song?

And, I did not know that a man by the name of William Harrell Nellis spent part of his youth in Searchlight before his family moved to Las Vegas when he was 13 years old. This man then went on to become a fighter pilot during World War II and flew in over 70 combat missions before being fatally shot down on  December 27, 1944, over Luxemburg. On April 30, 1950, the Las Vegas Air Force Base changed its name to Nellis Air Force Base.

Nellis's own story in Searchlight, Nevada

I did know that the late Senator Harry Mason Reid Jr. was born in Searchlight in 1939 but learned that he was one of four sons born to Harry Reid and Inez Orena Reid. The Senator’s father was a rock miner working various mines in the hills around Searchlight and his mother was a laundress for the local brothels in the area.

The things you learn while visiting museums!

Searchlight’s museum may be small but it is jam-packed with interesting tidbits about the history of the mining industry, and the famous folks who were either born there, visited there, or spent some time there during their lives.

There are quite of things to view at the museum in Searchlight, Nevada

I wandered a bit and marveled at the care taken in preserving the memory of this small town, really in the middle of nowhere but actually in the middle of some pretty big stories.

For more information: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obKkQ4U31VA

https://www.clarkcountynv.gov/government/departments/parks___recreation/cultural_division/musuems/searchlight_musuem.php

John can be contacted at: beyersbyways@gmail.com

 

 

Tragedy at Charlestown Peak, Nevada

Looking toward the peak of Mount Charlestown, Nevada

“There was suddenly a clear space in the skies above Mount Charleston and the pilot took advantage of it,” Docent Arlene said. “He pulled back on the controls believing he could make it over the summit despite the terrible winter weather.”

Laureen, my lovely wife, and I were visiting the Spring Mountains Visitor Gateway near Mount Charleston a mere 40 miles northwest of Las Vegas.

The wind was blowing from the west down through the snow-covered valley of the Spring Mountains, leaving both Laureen and me wishing we had brought warmer clothes for this afternoon's venture. Hiking boots, shorts, and thin sweatshirts were no match for the sometimes 50-mile-an-hour gusts howling down upon us with a touch of freezing.

The three of us, Docent Arlene, Laureen and I were gazing at a large bent and misshapen airplane propeller on display outside of the Visitor Center.

That wintery day back on November 17, 1955, proved a bit too tricky for the pilot navigating the C-54 Cargo plane, registered as USAF 9068.

How Mount Charlestown may have appeared at time of crash

“I’ve heard that if he had gained less than fifty feet or so the plane would have made it over the peak and headed toward Las Vegas, their final destination,” Docent Arlene stated. “Unfortunately, that peak in the distance was their final destination, killing all fourteen men aboard.”

Memorial for those lost on Mount Charlestown, Nevada

It was two o’clock in the afternoon and we had just finished a yummy lunch at The Retreat on Charleston Peak a bit earlier - we shared a large burger with a patty made of a mixture of bison, Wagyu beef, elk, and wild boar cooked to perfection. Washing it down with a nice cold Stella, made the meal that much more satisfying.

The Retreat near Charlestown Peak, Nevada

We had stopped by the Visitor Center to learn what we could about this mountain situated less than an hour's drive from Las Vegas and yet worlds away from that hustle and glitter.

There was no way that I could have imagined that we were going to learn about an aircraft that had slammed into Mount Charleston carrying 14 men heading from Burbank, California on its way to the top-secret installation of Area 51.

Yes, the very base in the Nevada Desert that houses intergalactic flying saucers, little skinny gray space aliens, and probably a few Sasquatches for good measure.

All the folks who perished during that winter storm atop Mount Charleston in 1955 on flight USAF 9068 were secretly working on the U-2 project. The plane that would change the way the United States routinely spied on their adversaries around the world, and perhaps allies too - just speculating.

In fact, according to Docent Arlene, the mission was so secret that the military never told the families of those aboard anything about how they died, let alone why their loved ones happened to be flying over Mount Charleston in the first place during a terrible winter storm. The plane was supposed to keep a maximum height of 10 thousand feet to maintain invisibility from radar but with the nasty weather, the pilot got a bit off course and suddenly realized too late that he had to try to make it over the nearly 12,000-foot peak of Mount Charleston.

As history records, George Pappos did his best but those last feet were just out of reach for the seasoned pilot trying to ferry his cargo of scientists to Watertown - codename for the desert area where things were being constructed and tested out of the view of the general public.

When traveling, as I do quite often, there are times when you learn about stories that come as a surprise. This was one of those times.

Not about the shenanigans going on in Area 51 - nothing surprising there. No, that top-secret base is probably one of the best-known top-secret places on this planet. 

I’ve been on the outskirts of Area 51 numerous times and once nearly was detained when a white SUV came barreling toward me on a remote dirt road. I hightailed it, and just caught in the rearview mirror the driver in the truck waving at me with a skinny hand with only three fingers attached. The passenger leaned out of the window yelling something, and I swore he had antennas stuck to his rather large-eyed head.

But, I digress.

We happened to be in Las Vegas to see the band ZZ Top at the Palms when we decided to drive the short forty minutes to Mount Charleston. In all transparency, we have visited the beautiful small town a few times in the past but nearly six years had glided by so we thought it would be a nice outing away from the glitter and hubbub of Sin City.

Little did we know that we would learn so much about the Cold War while talking with Docent Arlene at the Spring Mountains Visitor Gateway.

“For decades the families never truly knew what had happened to their loved ones,” Docent Arlene said. “The government wanted to keep the facts of the incident close to their chest, and they succeeded.”

Laureen and I wandered about the visitor center a bit and picked up a few more details pertaining to the crash. It was sad looking at photographs of what remained of the C-54 on top of Mount Charleston after the horrific crash.

A large debris field showed that the plane had nearly made the peak but instead bellied into the hard snowpack and skidded for dozens of yards before erupting into fire. It took time for responders to reach the peak with the weather and rescue equipment available in 1955, but it would have made no difference. Experts determined later that in all probability those aboard perished almost instantly upon impact. 

When the plane crashed and the military had removed the remains of the 14 men killed, the plane rested in its last landing position for years. The peak is treacherous and not easy to hike to, though people do during the summer and early fall when it is not covered by snow.

Through the decades, souvenir scavengers would scale Mount Charleston for mementos of the tragic airplane crash. It was becoming more and more hazardous, not to mention disrespectful, to allow tourists to venture into the damaged fuselage which was moving a bit more down the mountainside with each winter snowfall, so the US Forest Service had the fuselage blown up for safety reasons.

Some of the original propellers and plane debris still lay twisted and abandoned on the peak today. The engines were removed by the military and later reused in other aircraft.

One propeller is at the Spring Mountains Visitor Gateway and proudly on display at the National Cold War Memorial located on the grounds of the Gateway as a reminder of the once unknown heroes of the nearly 50 year Cold War against the then Soviet Union. 

One engine propeller from atop Mt. Charlestown 

It is the only National Memorial site in the state of Nevada.

We were told that the wind gusts were going to be hitting higher soon and the electricity was being turned off on Mount Charleston at four due to fire hazards in case of a downed power pole.

One more gander around the Cold War Memorial set in the beautiful setting of Spring Mountains and we were on our way back to Las Vegas and the concert.

But, in the parking lot, I stood a moment or two gazing at the snow-covered peak of Mount Charleston in the distance and wondered what it had been like for those 14 men knowing that was indeed their last flight.

I hoped they had not known it was.

For more information: https://www.gomtcharleston.com/

https://retreatoncharlestonpeak.com/

A good read on the topic: Silent Heroes of the Cold War by Kyril D. Plaskon

John can be contacted at: beyersbyways@gmail.com