Happy New Year!

As always - we at J and L Research and Exploration want to express our desire for the very best New Year for you and your loved ones. Here's to an awesome 2023!

Fun With the EP-2 Fat Tire E-Bike

Just doing what I do, traveling

As a travel writer, I travel. That’s what I do, visiting many varied places during those times when I am out and about. Sometimes in the hustle and bustle of large cities and sometimes, other times, as I prefer, in the hinterlands of a desert landscape or on mountain paths. 

Traveling the byways, as I do, I am always cognizant of my mode of transportation. Will I need 4-wheel drive to get to a ghost town? Will I need to bring hiking equipment to climb to a vista point? Getting to out-of-the-way places can sometimes be a challenge.

So when I was contacted by ENGWE, manufacturer of various models of folding e-bikes, to see if I would be interested in testing and reviewing the EP-2 Pro Fat Tire Folding Mountain E-Bike, I jumped at the chance.

I had already been planning a trip across the Mojave Desert in Southern California and what better place to put this bike through some serious trials with soft sand, hard packed trails, steep terrain, and all the rest which makes this desert a formidable place for the adventurer?

I advised the marketing rep to send the bike as though it had just been purchased by a customer. It arrived in a large cardboard box delivered to my residence.

What impressed me from the start was the way in which it was packaged. Styrofoam comforted every inch of the bike. There was not one scratch or damaged piece to be seen. It was a unique experience not to have to think of returning a damaged item.

The directions which came with the bike were clear and concise. It took a little more than a half hour to make the bike complete.

A tool kit was supplied which was useful for attaching the front and rear metal fenders, the rear rack, the front and rear lights, and everything else that needed to be attached or tightened.

Folding the bike was simple, a lever in the middle of the frame resulted in the bike folding nearly perfectly in two while another lever on the front allowed the handlebars to fold in, making it easy to load the bike into the rear of a vehicle. The bike fit perfectly in the rear section of my Toyota FJ, with room to spare.

No issues in carrying this E-Bike

The bike does weigh 74 lbs., which puts it at the top of most electric bikes but considering it is for rough riding, the weight should not be a factor in decision making.

The EP-2 Pro has a 960W Peak brushless gear motor, a 48V13ah Lithium Battery, 20” inch fat tires attached to a 20” folding aluminum alloy frame, disc brakes, iron leg shock absorbing front shocks, Shimano derailer, an easy-to-read 48v LCD screen on the handlebars, and so much more. 

The top speed is rated at 28mph but when running on smooth pavement I was able to reach 31mph. 

There are five levels of peddle assist for the EP-2 Pro and all kick in when certain peddling speeds are reached by the bicyclist.

Running through each assist level, I noticed a distinctive pull as the bike kicked into gear and felt confident that this e-bike would take me pretty much anywhere I was willing to attempt.

Laureen also enjoyed the EP-2 Pro

The seven-speed Shimano derailer with the convenient set-up on the right handlebar was easy to use and mastered in only a few moments. Shifting was fast, smooth, and kept in the sprocket no matter the ground I was traveling over or how I may have manually shifted the peddle assist in various locales.

Distance is rated at 50 miles, depending on speed and terrain. One afternoon the bike took me over a little more than twenty-five miles over rough desert roads. There were still a couple of bars left on the battery indicator, so this e-bike is good for at least 35 miles or more with an average sized rider atop it – again, depending on the traveling surface.

Overall, the EP-2 was more than I had expected. Great looks with its rugged black exterior, handling any terrain I put to it and appearing ready for any adventure.

For the price of roughly $1,000 makes this outdoor E-Bike more than reasonable for anyone wishing to pursue the great outdoors, be that city or country.

In all transparency, I was not paid for this review, now work for ENGWE, but was offered a chance to test it - and I did. It was fun.

Merry Christmas

John and Laureen at JandLResearchandExploration want to wish you the a most joyous Holiday Season for you and your family. It is the time of year to remember all those we love. 

 Reach out and share that love. 

                              It will be more meaningful than one can imagine.

 

Petersen Automotive Museum, Los Angeles

 During my travels, museums are always of interest. Walking along pathways in various, and often eclectic museums is a wonderful experience. There is so much to learn; so much to take in. But sadly, there never seems to be enough time to explore every nook and cranny. 

Exploring every nook and cranny can find the adventurer locating a hidden treasure or a very large and hungry rodent. 

And each structure containing historical knowledge is different. Laureen and I learned this recently during a visit to the Petersen Automotive Museum in Los Angeles.

One of the first things that grabbed my attention was when a very friendly and attentive docent who walked up to me with a drool bucket. 

“Why did she hand me this?” I asked Laureen.

As I turned, a bright and shiny 2005 Bugatti Veyron hypercar came into view. My chest started getting tight, tears slowly slipped out of the corners of my eyes, and I felt light-headed.

Laureen handed me a napkin. “You’ve overflowed your drool bucket.”

Who wouldn't feel faint of heart looking at these cars

The Petersen Automotive Museum was opened on June 11, 1994. It was first located within the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County before moving to a defunct but historic department store along Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles.

If my research is correct, the original site of the car museum was Ohrbach’s, a part of the Seibu Department Store worldwide chain. I have no idea what they sold, but probably this and that since it was a department store. It was a large and strangely windowless building, but when it closed in 1986, and Robert Petersen purchased the property in 1992, it was perfect for his dreams.

And why would Robert Petersen want to buy a windowless building? The answer was quite simple.

But first, who was Robert Petersen?

He was born in 1926 in East Los Angeles but later moved to the High Desert where he graduated from Barstow High School in 1942.

Yes, Barstow High School. How cool is that? Then again, First Lady Bess Truman, actress Jean Harlow, and many other famous folks join the ranks of those who graduated from small public schools.

There you go, big city types with your big city schools. 

During World War II, Robert served in the Army Air Corps. After the war, he moved back to the Los Angeles area where he worked at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) as a publicist.

A lifelong car enthusiast, his father had been a mechanic and Robert often worked alongside him on various vehicles, his heart belonged under the hood.

After being laid off from MGM, Robert decided to put his energies in the realm he loved, automobiles, especially hot rods which were taking America like a large thundering storm.

But in a good way.

Also having a great knowledge in the media market, along with a few fellow associates, he decided to publish a magazine called, Hot Rod. The publication coincided with the first ever hot rod exhibit in Los Angeles, if not the entire United States, during the late nineteen forties.

The magazine was sold at the hot rod exhibit for a price which barely covered the cost of publishing, but its popularity grew so quickly that soon over fifty thousand copies were being sold on the open market per month.

His knack for publishing what the public wanted was uncanny. Throughout his publishing career, Robert oversaw the publications of Car Craft, Sports Car Graphic, Motor Trend, Guns & Ammo, Motor Life, Teen, Tiger Beat, and many others.

The bottom line: he was extremely successful and his love for the automobile never faltered.

So, in 1992, when Robert and his lovely wife, Margie bought the defunct Ohrbach’s, it was the ideal location for an automobile museum.

With no exterior windows, Robert knew the extreme sunlight would not pour through the building causing damage to the vehicles he wanted to be put on display.

Each year, more and more vehicles went on display: Hollywood celebrity cars, exotic foreign vehicles, unique one of a kind prototypes of vehicles, futuristic imaginations, and the more the merrier for the Petersen’s.

The crowds loved the museum and soon it was decided that the museum needed a new look. Not just any new look but an entirely new and innovative design.

Petersen Automotive Museum

What else would the Petersen’s want.

In 2015, over one hundred million dollars in renovations took place, totally changing the entire look of the complex.

The architectural firm, Kohn Pedersen Fox was hired and went to work on the old building. What they came up with, in my opinion, is a mixture of modern art meets modern art.

But then, I’m a writer, not an artist.

The design which was created must have been what Robert and Margie had hoped for. A unique setting to house their inventory of automobiles.

The new exterior façade of the building consisted of one hundred tons of 14-guage type 304 steel in 308 sections, 25 supports and 140,000 custom made stainless-steel screws.

The museum reopened on December 7, 2015.

It is rumored that the first guest stated, “The building looks so awesome.”

The second guest may have said, “The Petersens are artistic geniuses.”

The third guest, who may have been a Los Angeles police officer may have replied, “This building looks like its speeding down the highway. Time for a ticket.”

As one approaches Petersen’s, the red and stainless-steel ribbons enwrapping the building are a cause to stop in amazement. Though the appearance may seem radical, a closer look allows a view that shows the imagination behind the entire entity. An automotive museum which features not only vehicles from pretty much every decade of the industry, but one not afraid to venture into the future of where vehicles may be going.

Even flying machines may be on display

“This is going to be fun,” I slurred to Laureen, as we were directed to the third floor to start our self-guided tour of the museum.

She only shook her head. “Stop over there with all the other guys and empty the drool bucket before we get in the elevator.”

The Petersen Automotive Museum covers probably about a billion square feet over three floors, each jammed packed with every conceivable vehicle ever produced nationally or internationally.

Real snow-mobiles

Of course, there is the Vault in the basement of the building, where more exotic, famous, and expensive vehicles are stored. An additional fee is charge for that entry, and when I went to the purchase the tickets, the lady in the booth looked at me as if in recognition.

“I’ve read your articles,” she said.

I smiled. “How nice.”

“I don’t like some of them,” she replied. “No vault for you.”

We returned to the elevator.

As the doors of the elevator opened on the third floor, there was nothing but vehicle after vehicle all lined up allowing the visitors to inspect up close and personal.

We walked in front of, alongside, and to the rear of some of the most beautiful vehicles I have ever seen. And some others were just fun; they brought back memories.

I took a million photos, jotted down notes but then forgot about everything and just enjoyed the ride from massive floor to massive floor.

There was the Batmobile, the Ghostbusters’ hearse, the DeLorean from Back to the Future, and so many more Hollywood vehicles.

There were luxury sedans, coupes, and some pretty fancy camping trucks. It was as though the rich and famous had decided to use the third floor as their own parking lot.

I was again lightheaded.

On the next floor was something truly special. A tribute to Bond, James Bond aptly entitled: Bond in Motion.

John R Beyer assisting James Bond

It should be noted that the museum changes 'special' attractions throughout the year - we made it just in time for the Bond exhibit.

In 1958, the author Ian Fleming published ‘Dr. No,’ and four years later the beginning of a cinematic legacy was born. This exhibit of Bond film vehicles was in honor of the sixtieth anniversary of that first look at MI6 special agent 007.

In 1962, the film Dr. No was released starring the Scottish actor, Sean Connery. 

“I thought he was British,” I said to Laureen.

“Who cares, he was so handsome,” she replied.

A couple of women near us nodded in agreement. I believe it was the beginning of a conspiracy.

The adventures of James Bond were on full display with the incredibly wide variety of vehicles that had shared the silver screen with the character in the twenty-five movies released thus far.

The 1964 Aston Martin GB5, the 1977 Lotus Wet Nellie, the Neptune submarine, and so many more that it took an hour just to inhale the history of this not-so-secret agent of British Intelligence.

The Original Aston Martin

All were choregraphed in order of appearance on the big screen, with descriptions of the film in which the vehicle was featured. A classic walk through time starring some of the most iconic vehicles known to movie goers.

A little action on the set

The bottom floor was just as awesome, though. There were hyper-cars, super-cars, electric cars, and motorcycles from the past to the future.

No idea - but looks incredibly fast

This Petersen Automotive Museum is not just for car lovers, but for all who respect the imagination it took to create such works of automotive genius and beauty.

For further information: https://www.petersen.org/

Cruising the Danube in Vienna

 Laureen was busy pouring over a stack of tourist pamphlets in the small apartment we had rented for our stay in Vienna.

It was a very nice spot called MyPlace, located along Vorlaufstrasse in the city Center of Austria’s capital city.

I liked the name.

“Where’d you stay in Vienna?” 

“My place,” I would answer, with a touch of a Viennese accent.

“Must be nice to have your own place.”

“It was,” I said with a slight bow, showing my gracious side.

Our home away from home

The weather had not turned out to be what we had expected, much like whenever travelers travel. It was supposed to be raining and cold much of the time as we trouped about the city of nearly 2 million folks.

The 20 suitcases Laureen had packed for the trip, were loaded to their bulging zippers with winter jackets, rain jackets, jackets with two pockets, jackets with hoodies, and jackets within jackets.

We could have worn shorts and tank tops most days. The Nanook of the North wardrobe was not necessary for this outing. Thank goodness there were 19 other suitcases for this eventuality.

“How about a lunch cruise along the Danube?” Laureen asked.

“I like boats,” I said. “But only if lunch includes schnitzel. Has to have schnitzel or count me out.”

She nodded. “It does and it’s three hours of sightseeing along the river.”

Something about a three-hour cruise gave me a pause for a moment. 

“Gilligan will not be aboard,” Laureen said.

We donned our yachting gear. Blue jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, and a light sweatshirt in case the sun decided to disappear behind a silly cloud or two during the river trip.

The Danube is the second longest river in Europe: 1,770 miles of blue flowing water starting in Germany and passing through ten countries before emptying into the Black Sea. The Volga in Russia is longer by approximately 400 miles, but only travels through the one country, so who cares?

We were going to be eating schnitzel on the Danube.

Now, that's a meal

Our ship was to be the DDSG Blue Danube for the lunch cruise. I have no idea what DDSG stands for though – I asked around at the docks but was only met with a couple of salty crew members who prattled something in German.

All flags were flying aboard the DDSG Blue Danube

I smiled and believed they had said something about my shoe being untied. I looked; it wasn’t.

One of the captains, Matthia S. Krista, is quoted as saying. “As one of the most livable cities in the world, Vienna is always worth a visit. For tourists as well as for locals who want to enjoy the view from the water. I am pleased to be able to look after you safely on board our ships.”

In all transparency, I lifted that quotation from the company’s website.

Arriving dockside along the Schwedenplatz in the Danube Canal area, we were greeted by very friendly crew members who reminded us not to fall while boarding.

“That warning ruined my day already,” I said.

Laureen Beyer ready for the cruise

The Blue Danube, our cruise ship, was long and spacious, with two decks: the top view deck on top, and the bottom view deck on the bottom. 

No sooner had we taken a beautiful spot on the top deck with our own table and fabulous views of the river and the city than our waiter appeared as if by magic.

It was Vienna, after all.

“Could I interest you in a beverage before we depart?”

Ah, Vienna.

Like trains in Europe, the cruise started right on time – punctuality is greatly admired and adhered to by Europeans. As the dock lines slipped off port and the bow thrusters churned away in the fast currents of the Danube, I looked at my watch.

“Right on time.”

“I have three minutes past the hour,” Laureen replied.

“American time, I’m on Austrian time.”

Five minutes into the cruise and I'm loving it

The river is wide, plenty wide enough to accommodate a couple of ships the size of the Blue Danube which could easily pass each other if there were a need. There wasn’t and it was more than an hour before any other boats came into view.

What was in view were wonderfully beautiful sights of the city as we drifted by.

River Danube has beautiful sights thru Vienna and beyond

One of the first sights to be seen was the Urania observatory, the oldest observatory in Vienna, built in 1910. During World War II, the observatory’s cupola, along with some of the more fragile astronomical equipment were destroyed by allied bombings. In 1957, the observatory was reopened to the public.

Green trees lined the shorelines of the Danube River, and as we gently cruised, we got a taste of what it would be like living along a real river.

The Mojave River may be a river, but I do not foresee any cruise ships powering by Apple Valley, Victorville, or Hesperia anytime soon.

“Look, mom,” a young tike on a Mojave river cruiser may say. “Is that water I see in the river?”

“No, you are thinking of the Danube.”

The Romans called the river, the Danubius, which is from an ancient Celtic word meaning, appropriately, to flow, and was shortened during modern times to simply the Danube.

History has flowed along the stretches of this waterway for eons. As water transportation played such a powerful role with empires, as it still does today, many a historical figure had ventured the width and length of the river Danube.

In 1529, the Ottoman Empire, after crushing Hungary, ventured to the city of Vienna along the Danube and laid siege. The Sultan, Suleiman the Magnificent, had over 100,000 soldiers against the defending Viennese army of only 21,000. But after just two short weeks the Ottomans gave up and left the territory.

Rumor has it that Suleiman the Magnificent blamed the failure on his younger brother, Ahmet the Mediocre.

Following the dismal siege, another 150 years of constant rivalry would erupt between the Ottoman Empire and the Hapsburg Dynasty in Austria.

Soon, we entered the Freudenau lock not far from Danube Island, along the Danube Canal. We had never been in a lock before, and it was exciting.

The lock

Note: we need to get out more.

The locals refer to the Freudenau lock as the largest bathtub in Vienna. It is huge, containing more than 80,000 cubic meters of water.

I have no idea what that means but it is a lot of water contained in a long narrow channel with huge metal gates on either side that close as our boat entered the lock.

“We’re locked in,” I said to the waiter as he brought a fresh Gosser to our table.

He smiled and walked away.

“Do you think he has heard that before?” Laureen asked.

“I doubt it,” I replied.

The Danube is such a vital route to ship goods here and there that the lock has over 13,000 ships passing through each year. Not only that, but the site is also used for hydroelectric power.

Ingenious and fun.

Everyone was enthralled with the lock

Twenty minutes later, our ship was raised to the current level of the Danube River, and we were on our way again.

The locks, (there is another on the route), were installed years ago to stop the flooding which periodically would occur in the city of Vienna when the Danube would swell and pour over its banks. 

Danube Island came up fast to the starboard.  The 13-mile-long island separating the Danube River from the Danube Canal, is a recreational mecca for the citizens of Vienna. There is hiking, running, biking, and skating. There are beaches for swimming, water sliding, surfing, water skiing and boat rentals.

Not a great shot of Danube Island, me and not the camera

In all fairness, being from Southern California, there was no way this guy was going to jump into the Danube, where on a good day it feels like two degrees above freezing.

The Viennese are some tough people.

The island also boasts the world’s biggest trampoline center, called the Danube Jump.

We did not check that out.

Along the shorelines popped up little fisherman cabins which are used by individual families to hunker down while using nets in the river for commercial fishing purposes. There are one hundred of them, or so said the lady over the ship intercom system.

A very fancy fishing cabin along the River Danube

The Blue Danube continued cruising along pristine shorelines, bustling pedestrian walkways along the banks, tall modern buildings, tall historical buildings, and just a wonderful exploration of all Vienna had to offer from the comfort of our chairs.

Beautiful hotels awaiting Vienna guests in posh rooms

In the distance were the spires of St. Stephen’s Cathedral completed in 1578. Slowly, the Danube Tower, the tallest structure in Austria rising over 800 feet above the land came into view. Then the Ernst Happel Stadium appeared on port, the largest stadium in Austria which can seat over 50,000 football fans and was completed in 1931.

Observatory in Vienna along River Danube

One landmark after another slid by and each as interesting as the last.

We had not thought of taking a daytime cruise, but it turned out to be a great way to see the city and get an idea of where to travel once we were on dry land again.

It worked, and the schnitzel was delicious.

The Huntington Library

 I glanced over at Laureen, who was sipping coffee on our front porch.

“You know,” I started. “I’d like to head down the hill today and walk through some gardens.”

“We have plenty of land here for you to walk through and there are some pretty nasty sized weeds calling your name.”

Listening very attentively for a few seconds, I did not hear one weed beckoning me.

“How about a walk-about at the Huntington Library in San Marino?”

The Huntington Research Center

In 1862, the U.S. Congress chartered the Central Pacific Railroad to build a railway eastward from Sacramento as part of the western extension of the Transcontinental Railroad.

Many in Congress, it is rumored, hmphed and hmphed while smoking big cigars and tipping their top hats to each other over this railroad charter.

“We do such wonderful things for our subjects,” one congressman may have said.

“I believe you meant to say, our constituents,” another congressman may have replied.

The first congressman nodded. “Why certainly that’s what I meant.”

Theodore Judah, an American civil engineer, had an idea to build the Central Pacific Railroad but needed financial support for such a huge project.

“Fat cats are needed for this railroad,” Judah may have pondered.

Soon, he had four wealthy individuals who wanted to get more wealthy by constructing a railroad which would be part of the tracks linking east to west.

Leland Stanford, Mark Hopkins, Charles Crocker, and Collins Potter Huntington ponied up the finances for Judah’s dream.

When the Central Pacific Railroad finally met up with the Union Pacific Railroad at Promontory Summit in Utah, the ‘Big 4’ realized they had done something truly special for the country – and were going to make a fortune.

Instead of taking weeks, or even months, to bring goods from the east to the west, it would now be only a matter of days to supply the needs of pioneers and growing towns along the route.

Shop owners were said to have danced in the streets with joy.

“By golly, that sarsaparilla will be here in no time. My customers will be bellied-up to the bar for that lip-smacking delicacy.”

But this article is not about the railroads, it is about Collis P. Huntington’s nephew, Henry E. Huntington who left a beautiful legacy in the town of San Marino, just southeast of Pasadena.

As a boy, Henry grew up hearing about his rich uncle and what he had accomplished in the railroad world, as well as other successful monetary ventures.

As it turned out, Henry went to work for Collis as an executive at the Southern Pacific, which had been the Central Pacific earlier. When Collis passed away in 1900, Henry assumed the leadership role with the Newport News Shipbuilding and Drydock Company in Virginia as well as other businesses which were under Collis’s control.

To say the least, Henry was becoming wealthy.

Henry E. Huntington

In 1910, Henry divorced his first wife, Mary Alice Prentice Huntington, and in 1913 married his uncle’s widow, Arabella.

No judgement here, but it did shock the high society in San Francisco at the time.

“OMG, can you believe they got married?” one socialite asked another socialite.

“When I heard, it was simply LOL to me.”

The weather was nearly perfect for us to stroll the 207 acres which comprise the Huntington Library, Art Museum, and Botanical Gardens.

Over 130 of those acres are taken up the Botanical Gardens. That is a lot of walking in and out of the various gardens at the Huntington.

Laureen Beyer strolling one of the gardens

There’s the Garden of Flowing Fragrance, the Chinese Garden, the Desert Garden, the Japanese Garden, the Rose Garden, the Children’s Garden, the Australian Garden, and some others I forgot to write down.

There are nearly 27,000 different types of plants on the grounds which include 16,000 various species. Must be considerable work for the staff of full-time gardeners to keep track of such numbers.

Lots of various trees at the Huntington

“I think it was sixteen hundred and fifteen, but I suddenly had a coughing spell and lost track,” one gardener told another.

“Well, let’s start again, shall we? You know how the head gardener can be.”

It was relatively early in the morning when we arrived, which allowed Laureen and I to shoot through the gates and onto the grounds rather quickly.

Heading to the 16,000 square foot Rose Hills Foundation Conservatory for Botanical Science proved to us that a greenhouse that large may have its own weather system brewing.

The huge steel and glass building is home to three different habitats – a lowland tropical rain forest, a cloud forest, and a carnivorous bog.

It also sports a humidity that must be nearly 3,000 percent.

I was dripping sweat within seconds of entering the structure – Laureen was glistening.

“Holy Moly,” I said. “My eyeballs are fogged over.”

It was amazing what had been created for guests to experience. Huge towering plants dripping water onto other plants and tourists. A large pond was surrounded by portions of the rain forest. There were plaques everywhere describing this plant or that plant for the curious botanists.

“There is the Corpse Flower,” Laureen observed. “Want to take a closer look?”

“A closer look? Sure, it’s not a Venus Flytrap?”

I was more interested in studying the Amorphophallus titanium, or Stinky Plant in laymen’s terms. Research states that when this plant blooms it can clear a room out quicker than a pug with digestive issues.

I’m immature like that. 

After spending nearly an hour looking at this plant or that plant, we exited into the late morning sun where a gentle breeze greeted us.

“That is refreshing,” Laureen said.

“Yeah, I think I dropped twenty pounds of water weight in there.”

As an entrepreneur, Henry invested in this and in that and along the way purchased great tracts of land. He purchased 500 acres in what was called the San Marino Ranch, where the library is now located, as well as other large parcels in Pasadena and Los Angeles.

Being the creator of the Pacific Electric Railway Company – the Red Car. Henry was able to amass more wealth by offering a 24/7 mode of transportation in and around the ever-growing city of Los Angeles. By 1910, his electric trolley system spanned over 1,300 miles with 20 streetcar lines and 1,250 trolleys.

Henry was responsible, along with other early developers, of creating the Southern California that we now recognize.

Huntington Beach, Huntington Park, Huntington Lake, Huntington Hospital, Henry E. Huntington Middle School, and Huntington Drive are just some of the places named after this man who had moved from Oneonta, New York to make California his permanent home.

Speaking of homes, the original home of the Huntington’s, located on the grounds happens to be more of a humongous mansion, now the art gallery. 

The Gilded-Age abode was designed by Myron Hunt, along with the adjacent library built in 1919, also by Hunt. Other buildings were added during the following years including a tea house, a bowling building, billiard building, art gallery, a mausoleum, and other historical structures.

Just one of many beautiful buildings at the Huntington

And I thought the few sheds on my property were impressive.

An interesting fact, the mausoleum located on the grounds was designed by John Russell Pope, who also designed the Jefferson Memorial in Washington D.C.

Arabella was quite the art lover and between she and her husband garnered an extremely large collection of masterpieces from around the world during their marriage.

John R Beyer standing beside one piece of art work

A statement concerning Huntington stated the following, ‘far and away the greatest group of 18th century British portraits ever assembled by any one man.’

It was estimated during his lifetime the collection of art was worth 50 million dollars. Today it is valued at over 400 million.

Prior to Henry E. Huntington death in 1927 – Arabella had passed away three years earlier, a foundation had been formed and the acreage, including all the buildings and gardens were opened to the public in 1928.

Both, Henry, and Arabella wanted to give back to the community which had welcomed them with open arms. They are interred on the Huntington grounds.

We took our time wandering through the Huntington Art Gallery where wide marbled hallways and carpeted stairways greet the visitor leading them to room after room with walls hung with some of the most beautiful paintings in the world.

Thomas Gainsborough’s Blue Boy, Rogier van der Weyden’s Madonna and Child, Thomas Lawrence’s Pinkie, Mary Cassatt’s Breakfast in Bed, Andy Warhol’s Small Campbell’s Soup Can, and so many more to please the eye.

Gainsborough's Blue Boy dressed in blue

There were sculptures, decorative art pieces, prints, furniture from around the world, huge tapestries depicting hunting or battle scenes, and so much more to take in.

Every object was impressive. 

The day sped by quickly and soon early afternoon was upon us. It felt as though we had put many miles on our tired legs traipsing through the gardens and the art collections.

“I’m exhausted,” I said as we left the complex.

Laureen nodded. “In a good way?”

I smiled, “Yes.” 

For more information: https://www.huntington.org/

Happy Halloween

We, at J and L Research and Exploration, want to wish everyone a safe and haunting good 

time on October 31st.

Travel with fellow goblins while scaring your neighbors, it's the right thing to do.

Raise your hands if you agree.

 

The Haunting at Apache Death Cave

As Laureen and I were driving west along Route 66, after visiting Winslow, Arizona – we decided to stop by a place that is so haunted, so scary, so unnaturally spooky that most humans would not dare to tread there.

Not being like most humans, we knew it was an experience we just had to visit on our very own.

Laureen is not that fancy on these spectral sorts of sites but since I was driving . . .

After pulling south off Route 66 by the ruins of the town of Two Guns, I was busy scanning my hand-held GPS looking for the scariest area near Two Guns.

Welcome to Two Guns, Arizona

“I don’t think this thing is working,” I told Laureen. “If I’m holding it correctly, we’re somewhere between Vienna and Salzburg.”

No reply from Laureen.

Suddenly I heard her from about 50 feet away. “It’s right here, I can feel it.”

Laureen Beyer looking for the Apache Death Cave

The reason Laureen does not like to travel to many supposedly haunted places is due to the fact she actually ‘feels’ something. A sense or foreboding of what may have occurred in the past at such a place.

Me, I usually feel hungry or thirsty. 

As in earlier articles concerning ‘haunted places’ I tend to be a bit of a skeptic. Don’t really think folks from the afterlife are lingering around waiting for me to invade their space.

“Hey, you are now in my personal ghost space. So rude of you that I will throw this antique rocking chair at your head.”

Of course, I do have to admit I have heard or seen things that I can not explain while traveling here and there.

I once saw a boy scout escort an elderly woman across the street in Houston, and I thought that only happened in Hallmark films.

“What is right here that you can feel it?” I asked Laureen, finally giving up on the hand-held GPS which had me now somewhere east of Moscow.

“The cave, it’s right here,” she replied.

The Apache Death Cave

The cave, Laureen was mentioning, was the famed Apache Death Cave located about 12 miles west of Meteor Crater in Arizona along Route 66.

The legend is terrifically sad.

In the late 19th century, the two dominate native tribes residing in the area were the Apache and the Navajo. These two groups did not get a long well together and often raided and killed each other over territory or perhaps because they did not like each other.

But in 1878 it is rumored that some Apaches entered two Navajo camps and killed everyone except three young girls whom they kidnapped.

Other Navajo warriors hearing of this diabolical action started to chase the Apache to seek their revenge and get the girls back.

The Navajo were closing the gap of the fleeing Apache but suddenly lost sight of them near the edge of the Canyon Diablo, a long arroyo that meanders through the territory.

Getting off their horses, the Navajo looked high and low and low and high but could not locate the Apache.

Just then, as the story goes, one of the Navajo thought he heard voices coming from somewhere below him and then found a deep cave carved into the Kaibab Limestone.

Sure enough, the Apache had ridden into the large cave with their horses and captives hoping to trick the tracking Navajo.

The ruse did not work.

Grabbing a lot of sagebrush, the Navajo decided to smoke the Apache out of the cave by lighting the bushes on fire.

Moments later, a few Apache ran from the cave but were immediately killed by the waiting Navajo.

It only took a few minutes to realize the captives had been murdered by the Apache, so the rest of the Navajo posse decided to finish the job and continued to throw large amounts of burning sagebrush into the mouth of the cave.

There was no chance for escape for any of the Apache trapped within the walls of the cave. 42 Apache succumbed to the smoke and fire.

I wandered over to where Laureen was standing by a small rock border, and she pointed downward. Sure enough, there was a cave which seemed as though the walls may have been smoke damaged sometime in the past.

“The hairs are standing up on head,” she stated.

Looking at her perfectly quaffed hair, I did not know what to say. So, I said nothing.

An old wooden ladder type of bridge ran across the width of the cave allowing the visitor a chance to get closer into the cave.

The bridge leading to the cave

“You first,” I said.

“Me never,” Laureen replied.

After a few tense moments of rock scrambling and teetering on the wooden bridge, I found myself at the bottom of the cave. 

It was dark inside the cave. 

“Do you feel anything?” 

“Yes,” I replied.

“Wow, what?”

“I think I dislocated my right shoulder.”

The cave was longer than I had thought it would be. I wandered a bit bumping into this wall or that wall, once nearly knocking off the top of my head on a low ceiling and thought that if the ghosts of the murdered Apache were not going to talk to me, it was time to call this adventure off.

Besides, it did seem rather spooky in that dark hole in the ground alone.

Not a lot of room inside the Apache Death Cave

“You want to come down, and see?”

“Nope.”

After dusting myself off and making sure my forehead was not bleeding, I noticed that Laureen was not looking quite herself.

She told me that there was something in the immediate surroundings she could sense. A sense of doom, of tragedy, of unmistakable horror.

“They were afraid to die in such a way.”

I do not question her feelings. I may do it inwardly but not outwardly.

But there was something different in that cave – I am not saying I felt what Laureen did, but it was rather oppressive in the cave. Almost suffocating, but that could be the close quarters and wandering around in a dark place by yourself.

New Reality paranormal investigators, Shawn and Cody, had visited the Apache Death Cave in the past and recorded their investigation for their hit series.

They felt and heard things while pulling their stint within that cave.

We spent time with them when they investigated a haunted ranch house in Lucerne. We all heard and experienced things that long haunting night.

These guys are experts in this paranormal field.

But I am still a skeptic. I am waiting for Casper to come sit next to me on the sofa and explain clearly why he is a ghost and why I need to believe.

In 1881, a bridge was built across Canyon Diablo by the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad and a small tent city, named Canyon Diablo was constructed for the workers.

Canyon Diablo

But that little tent city grew up to be a rootin’-tootin’ full-time town which made Tombstone look like a children’s nursery school.

The population boomed to 2,000 folks overnight and there was at least one killing in the streets near the dozen saloons, gambling halls, and brothels each day.

In fact, the first Marshall hired to protect the town was shot dead three hours later. It was a lawless town.

Boot Hill became so full that the undertaker ran out of room for any new customers.

One problem with this tale, according to the Republic Newspaper out of Arizona, is that this town probably never existed.

Images of town that may have never existed?

In an article written by Scott Craven, the town had been created by a fictional writer by the name of Gladwell Richardson who passed away in 1980 who had written nearly 300 western novels under various pseudonyms.

When the bridge was completed, the tent city moved on.

It was also Richardson who first wrote about the Apache Death Cave in his only non-fiction book about the town of Two Guns, Arizona. Prior to him writing about it in his book the tragic event had never seen print.

Seems, that both a town so wild Doc Holiday would have circumvented it and a horrific story such as the Apache Death Cave had occurred there should be more mention of it in the history books.

But, as with many historical records, things may get a bit exaggerated by those writing those histories.

Those silly writers. Who do they think they are embellishing here and there?

We walked around studying the layout, checking this out and checking that out and Laureen said she could still feel that something tragic had occurred here in the past.

Perhaps something had happened to the Apache and Navajo in the 19th century and perhaps not.

A town may have been here that was totally lawless but perhaps not.

That is the way with myths and legends, they grow stronger as the decades slip by.

Are they true or does it really matter?

Something was here at some time

Visit Kingman, Arizona for a Haunting Good Time

According to local resident, Art, there are some strange sounds coming out of a long and relatively narrow canyon near his neighborhood.

“Yeah, I have heard what could be referred to as shrieks in the late evening hours,” he said.

My buddy Paul had traveled with me to Kingman, Arizona to check out a couple of possibly scary haunts.

Laureen said nope when I advised her that the first stop would be Slaughterhouse Canyon.

After showing her some research I had conducted on the chilly-willy versions of what had gone down in the canyon there was no way Laureen would travel with me.

I asked Paul.

“Are you buying lunch?”

“If I have to,” I responded.

“You do and I’m going.”

Laureen feels things when it comes to the ghouls and goblins from the supposed afterlife. She’ll state something to the effect – “Something bad happened here; I feel a sense of doom.”

Like a good husband, I nodded my head.

Slaughterhouse Canyon is easy to locate in Kingman. Drive onto Andy Devine Avenue and look for the sign with a big finger pointing and the written words beneath it - ‘This way to Slaughterhouse Canyon – but beware.’

It is just northwest of a large housing tract where our new local friend Art lived.

In an article from the online site ‘Only In Your State,’ the canyon received its scary name from an event which may have occurred in the mid-1800s.

A family consisting of a father, mother and three children lived in a ramshackle cabin in the canyon next to a consistently running creek. The husband was a miner but not a particularly good one and the family had a tough time financially.

One day he left and never returned. With no one supplying what the family needed, the mother grew desperate watching her children getting hungrier and hungrier by the day. Legend has it that she could not take watching her children starve the death, so she murdered them to save them from such a long and painful death. She then threw their remains in the creek and took her own life soon afterwards.

Visitors to Slaughterhouse Canyon have reported feeling the anguish that still permeates the air, according to the article. And on evenings and nights when the air is quite still, it is said that you can hear the screams of the children.

With all due deference, Paul and I were there in the late morning hours and all we heard were birds chirping, lizards scampering, and butterflies flapping.

“We have a lot of coyotes around here and that’s the sound I hear coming from inside the canyon,” Art said.

“No blood curdling screams of anguish and pain?” I asked.

“Nope, just coyotes baying at the moon.”

Enough said, that is a haunting sound all of its own. 

We drove along a well graded dirt track along Slaughterhouse Canyon Road – yes, there is a road by that name -- but we did not see any old ramshackled house where the mother and children may have lived.

Aerial view of Slaughterhouse Canyon Road

Slaughterhouse Canyon Road - Kingman, Arizona

However, there was a strange sort of round rock and metal structure that looked old. We mused what it may have been since there was no plaque telling us what it had been.

What could this be?

“An old icehouse to keep food fresh,” Paul pondered.

“A storage box for tools,” I said.

But with plenty of modern-day graffiti sprayed on it, we knew now it was a party place for youngsters who told their parents they were going to the library to study.

That excuse worked for me as a kid.

Caves for ghosts to hide in? Booo!

Neither one of us felt haunted while in the depths of the canyon. That is not to say something tragic did not happen long ago and if all the stories about the mother and children are true, may they rest in peace.

What a horrible decision that must have been made by a parent. That perhaps is a haunting enough story.

“What now?”

“Ghost hunting makes me thirsty,” I replied. “Let us find an old place for an adult libation and I will wager it is haunted too.”

The Sportsman’s Bar is in the historic section of Kingman and was built in the early 1900s. It is a wonderful place to visit.

A long wood bar top, which appears to be the original, stretches for nearly a hundred yards into the interior of the establishment. Pool tables, a jukebox, dart boards, animal heads mounted on the walls, American flags, and a ceiling made of metal panels, make this place one of the coolest saloons I have visited. Not that I visit many but have read stories of those who have.

The Sportsman’s Bar makes folks feel welcome with comfortable stools lined belly-up against the bar itself and that is where Paul and I plopped down.

Tammy Gross, the General Manager, and bartender extraordinaire, asked what we would be having.

“First,” I said. “Is this place haunted?”

She shook her head. “Not that I know of or at least I haven’t noticed anything.”

But the way she said it, I knew there was more to that story, and there was.

“Well, one day I was here alone, and the jukebox just started playing by itself,” she said. “We have it programmed to play random songs unless a customer puts money in and chooses the songs.”

“Uh huh,” I said.

“It ran through every song with a Tuesday in it. Ruby Tuesday by the Stones, Tuesday’s Dead by Cat Stevens, Sweet Tuesday Morning by Badfinger, I Think It’s Tuesday by the Drunks and every other song that had a mention of a Tuesday.”

“Huh,” I said.

“Yes, it was a Tuesday.”

“Makes sense since it was a Tuesday,” I replied. “It wouldn’t if it had been Wednesday, or they may have been pretty dumb ghosts.”

Tammy then mentioned that some other staff had seen lights go off and on with no one present. Sounds of people walking on the roof when no people were there.

“You know there are tunnels beneath all the buildings on this street. Tunnels the early miners used. No one is allowed to enter now due to their condition, but rumor has it that there is even an old Speakeasy down there used during the prohibition years.”

Secret tunnels lay beneath these Kingman businesses

A gentleman was sitting next to me by the name of Dean spoke up.

“I camp out near Sitgreaves Pass on old Route 66 out of Oatman and I’ve heard some things during the night I cannot explain.”

Turns out Dean is quite the outdoorsman and spends his time camping here and there when he has a chance. Along Sitgreaves Pass is a long view of the valley heading toward Kingman and he finds the solitude enjoyable.

That is until one night around midnight he was awakened by the sound of someone using a pick-axe nearby.

A lot of small mines had been started and abandoned near Oatman in the late 19th century but not much activity during the 21st century.

Well, someone or something was going to town trying to dig for riches on this evening.

“I got up, looked around and walked toward the sounds. The picking was so close I knew I would bump into whoever was working so late in the night on their mine. But suddenly the noise stopped. I stook there for a long time and nothing else happened. In the morning, I checked all around where I had heard the pickaxe, and nothing had been disturbed. It was very chilling to say the least.”

Perhaps an old miner had returned to try their luck one more time near Sitgreaves Pass without knowing a live body was nearby.

Next door to the Sportsman’s Bar is the Hotel Brunswick, listed as one of the most haunted hotels in the area.

Ghosts and shadow people wander all over the hotel – in fact, some shadow people walk through living people. Very rude indeed.

A little girl ghost frequents the dining room.

“Tammy, what about the Brunswick next door?” I asked. “Shadow people, ghosts wandering here and there without a care in the world.”

She looked around. “You know a shadow person is an entity in a sense that looks like a person. I have seen them.”

“At the Brunswick Hotel?”

She shook her head. “I’m pretty much of a local and have been in the hotel, the restaurant, and the bar lots of times. No shadow people there.”

“Huh,” I said.

“But others have seen them and heard strange sounds when the place was supposed to be empty.”

The Brunswick Hotel ready for a make-over

Unfortunately, the Brunswick Hotel was closed for refurbishing. The owners want to bring it back to its original beauty and will be something to see. The once grand establishment was built in 1909 and has hosted famous folks like Andy Devine, Barry Goldwater, and Clark Gable to name just a few. It was the poshest of the posh during its heyday.

Is Kingman haunted?

Could be, but more importantly historic Kingman deserves a visit and you never know, there’s always the possibility a ghost may introduce themselves.