Kingman Haunts

 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.

Drone shot of Slaughterhouse Canyon, Kingman Arizona

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.

Spooky caves are everywhere in Slaughterhouse Canyon

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.

Paul checking out some crumbled ruins in Slaughterhouse Canyon

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.

“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.

There are some creepy abandoned structures along the way

That excuse worked for me as a kid.

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.”

Interior of the Sportsman Bar, Kingman AZ

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.

The once famous and glamorous Brunswick Hotel, Kingman AZ

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.”

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.

John can be contacted at: beyersbyways@gmail.com

 

 

The Rebirth of the Ghost Town of Amboy

Welcome to Amboy, CA

According to Ken Large, Operations and Logistics Manager for Roy’s Motel and Cafe in Amboy, there are ongoing plans to rejuvenate this once prospering town into something for the future.

“When Albert passed away in 2023,” Ken said, “I wondered what would become of his dream of turning this once vibrant town into a go-to destination for those traveling along Route 66.”

Albert Okura, the founder of the popular restaurant chain Juan Pollo in Southern California, had purchased the nearly forgotten town of Amboy in 2005. Albert loved history, especially the history of Southern California and more importantly Route 66. When he purchased the town of Amboy, his wish was to do all he could to turn it back into the iconic spot where travelers from across the United States would stop along America’s Highway during its heyday.

The original sign is lit up nightly in Amboy, CA

He had big plans, but that was nothing unusual for this man who created a chain of cookeries which would later label him the Chicken Man for the delicious food served in his nearly 30 various locations.

Albert knew he could recreate the thrill of travelers along Route 66 that was once felt after the route was completed in 1926. Sadly, Albert passed away on January 27, 2023 at the young age of 72 in Ontario, California. 

But, his dream did not die. “His family have been wonderful in keeping Albert’s dreams alive here in Amboy,” Ken said. “Take a walk around and see for yourself all the construction being conducted to complete this place by the summer of 2026.”

That summer would be the 100th anniversary of the completion of Route 66, and there are huge plans being developed along that long river of asphalt stretching from Chicago all the way to Santa Monica.”

Rumor has it that a family of Sasquatches may attend the festivities somewhere along the nearly 2,500 mile highway - but of course, that is on a need-to-know-basis.

And, I need to know!

Before I started walking the property, Ken did inform me that finishing the entire project may be a bit of a stretch but “...knowing Albert’s family as I do, I think we may indeed have everything up and running for the huge crowds that will be coming through. They are an awesome group of folks and I am sure keeping Albert’s legacy alive will be in the forefront of their thoughts.”

I’ve been through Amboy more times than I can count - either heading east or heading west. Did I stop each time? No, but every time I passed by those stark white empty cabins, the large paned windowed reception area of the motel, and the gas station with its huge sign out front welcoming visitors, I felt a slight tug at my heart.

Road monument with unfished cabins in the rear at Amboy, CA

Amboy, once a bustling and hustling railroad stop for miners, travelers, shippers, receivers, and those that just wanted an adventure which then, as many such towns did, turned into a ghost town and was now being brought back to life, makes me smile.

The last time I visited and spoke with Ken, a large tour bus had just pulled up and about a million tourists exited. It was a very large custom made bus.

“We sometimes get up to three thousand people visiting a day,” he said. I just saw a million, so I suppose his math could be accurate, rounded off for the year.

As I was taking a snap of some of the construction going on, a tourist walked to me and in a very German accent and said he recognized me.

“Yes, I am John R. Beyer, the world-renowned travel writer,” I humbly responded.

“Nein,” he retorted. “You look like the restroom attendant. Paper is needed in stall three.”

I nodded and then mumbled, “You probably meant number two.”

Ken advised me that 50% of the visitors are European, 35% from the United States, 10% from South and Central America and the remainder from Asia or perhaps the territory of Nauru.

As I wandered here and there, teams of construction personnel were wiring this, harnessing that, and pretty much doing what construction personnel did. They were busy rebuilding Amboy into what Albert Okura had imagined.

New construction in the works in Amboy, CA

A town full of life which invited the tourist to stop for a spell for a rest, and perhaps a meal and then back onto the historic byway or Route 66.

In fact, in keeping to Albert’s plans, Ken explained that they hoped to have rooms ready to rent, a fully functioning restaurant, and other amenities which made staying in Amboy for more than a couple of hours a reality.

I asked about the family and their thoughts about Albert’s visions.

“I must say that Kyle, one of Albert’s children, comes here quite often and spends long weekends checking out how much work is getting done. Often, Mrs. Okura and other family members accompany him and they love it out here. They are a great and loving family.”

Years ago, my lovely wife Laureen, along with one of our daughters, Kelly, drove through Amboy and were delighted to see the site was being used as a Fly- In. Planes of all makes and models were actually landing along Route 66 and taxing to the small airport located there.

Music, food, and other entertainment were in abundance for all to share in.

Other events which are being coordinated by Ken, the other staff members, and the family are motorcycle rendezvous, classic car shows, airplane fly-ins, music festivals, space alien conventions, and the list goes on and on.

And gas is available at the original pumps

“We also are also a venue for those who want to rent the place out for movie shoots, television ads, music videos, weddings, and the like,” Ken stated.

Recently a Polish singer by the name of Daria Zawailaow utilized the town for a music video. It is spunky, riveting, and I have no idea what she is singing about - my Polish is rather limited except for some old and now inappropriate jokes.

The below link will show just one of the musical talents who visited Amboy and wanted to share with their audiences what an iconic place this little town is and why it is important to visit.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=CoMFkWwevjA

For more information: https://visitamboy.com/ 

John can be contacted at; beyersbyways@gmail.com

 

Amboy, Part I

Anyone who has traveled extensively along that long black ribbon of highway called Route 66 will recognize the name of the town of Amboy. Tourists, locals, and America’s Mother Road aficionados know of this old railway stop smack dab center in the Mojave Desert.

It is that iconic place just a few hundred yards from a double set of railroad tracks to the southwest which conjures up images of past times. Towns like Amboy were vital stops for visitors who ventured from the windy city of Chicago to the edge of the Pacific Ocean.

The Mojave Desert is not for the weak-willed or unprepared. No, in the summer months the temperatures can easily soar into the triple digits making driving along Route 66 a challenge at times - especially before the invention of air conditioning for vehicles.

But it is these exact spots that remind the traveler of the fortitude and tenacity of those who went out and settled in sometimes very hostile territories - and succeeded.

Railroading was big business, moving goods from here to there to be consumed by those needing supplies or simply desiring goods from various locales around the country.

And the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad honchos knew the fastest route from large hubs, such as Barstow, would be straight across the Mojave Desert.

In the late 1880s, train engines needed water to build up steam to pump those large steel wheels along hundreds of miles of track.

So railroad stops were created and boom towns blossomed.

Towns like Siberia, Bagdad, Ibis, Bannock, and so many more once were thriving, but have now been nearly all forgotten through the decades. A sign here or there may advise the traveler of a tree as the only living entity in Bagdad. There are broken slabs of cement littering this section or that section of desert allowing those with an imagination to understand that folks once laughed and loved in these towns. And yes, deserted but well maintained cemeteries dot the desert floor giving names to those who lived and died along the railroad. And sometimes there is simply a weatherbeaten wooden cross fighting to stay upright in the blasting winds and relentless sun with no recognition of who lies below.

Many of the ghost towns have their own monuments to past residents

Amboy was such a town. A place that came into existence in 1858 as simply a watering hole for the trains belonging to the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, later to be the Santa Fe Railway. In 1883 Lewis Kingman, a locating engineer, established the stop as an actual town and soon more and more folks were moving in.

The Church in Amboy, California

In 1926 the now famous Route 66 was completed and people were able to drive their Ford Model Ts, Pontiac 6s, Dodge Specials, or other vehicles all the way from the midwest to California. 

The love affair with cars and driving was in full gear. And the tiny town of Amboy was soon to become an iconic stop along Route 66 due to an enterprising couple who through happenstance soon made the railroad stop their home for decades.

Roy Crowl and his wife, Velma, ended up in Amboy in 1924 after a vehicle mishap, and not being able to afford the repairs stayed while Roy worked as a mechanic and other jobs and Velma became a cook at a couple of restaurants that were there at the time in Amboy.

In the late 1930s, Roy believed Amboy was going to be huge on the map along Route 66 since the vehicle traffic kept getting heavier by the month and purchased four acres of land. In 1938 Roy opened a garage, Roy’s Garage, to service any and all vehicles heading east or west out of town and soon his business was booming. His son-in-law Buster Burris, who had married the couple's daughter, Betty, went into business with Roy in the garage and opened up a parts store inside the garage. Soon though, Betty came up with the idea of their own cafe and confiscated the parts store for her restaurant.

The name was then changed to Roy’s Garage and Cafe. Soon the realization that travelers not only needed fuel, food, and repairs but also a place to spend the night gave the owners another business concept.

Cabins were built just east of the garage and cafe and the name was again changed to Roy’s Motel and Cafe.

Rental cabins to be used by guests at Roy's

In the 1940s the population of Amboy was reported at nearly 200 citizens with three small motels, restaurants, multiple garages, a church, a school, and a post office.

Amboy was certainly on the map for those driving Route 66,

When Roy retired in 1959, Buster not only maintained the motel, service station, and restaurant but also acquired the whole town which included other entities such as a Post Office and school.

Unfortunately, with progress often comes decline and that is what occurred when Interstate 40, a few miles north of Amboy was completed in 1973. Travelers now opted for the faster route instead of the single lane winding road of Route 66 which often meant stopping for trains at crossings or slowing through the towns along the roadway.

Almost all but Buster’s business closed, leaving the town pretty much empty except for a few hangers-ons.  Buster sold the town in 1995 to Walt Wilson and Tim White who used it as a film set and for photo shoots. But even that dried up, forcing the men to lose the town in a foreclosure which returned what was now a ghost town to Betty Burris, Buster’s widow.

As the town died, the citizens left derelict houses

Amboy went back on the market and finally was sold to Albert Okura, the owner of the popular chain of restaurants, Juan Pollo, in February of 2005.

Part of the deal was that Okura had to promise to preserve Amboy and reopen Roy’s. Perhaps Betty Burris did not understand that Albert was a man full of his own dreams and a lover of history.

In fact, he established the one-of-a-kind McDonald’s Museum in San Bernardino of the site where the original McDonald’s restaurant was owned by brothers Richard and Maurice McDonald.

Albert Okura knew what he wanted to do with this Amboy town which he had purchased - turn it back to how it looked in its heyday and welcome guests from around the world to come and enjoy this particular part of true Americana.

He was a man with a mission and a revamping of Amboy was started as soon as the ink dried on the escrow papers.

In Part 2 - Even after Okura’s passing in 2023, his dream is very much alive with his family and the staff working on taking Amboy off the ghost town rolls and making it a living historical landmark.

John can be reached at: beyersbyways@gmail.com

Tidal Bore Rafting on the Bay of Fundy

John R Beyer near the Bay of Fundy in Nova Scotia

According to Ed, “Retirement, as I view it comes in three realities. Go-go. Slow-go. Or, No-go. I am going to enjoy the first as long as I can.”

Ed is a full time RVer, along with his wife Trish. They winter in Florida and spend the rest of the year wandering here and there.

This particular here was where my lovely wife, Laureen, and I caught up with the two along the Shubenacadie River which empties into the Bay of Fundy.

The weather was warm for Nova Scotia in mid-June and we were ready for an adventure on this natural phenomenon known as the tidal bore, the shift between low and high tides in the Bay of Fundy.

We had donned our life jackets and were just awaiting instructions from our white water river guides before climbing aboard the small red Zodiac rubber raft with a 60 horsepower outboard attached aft.

Derrick, the man at the helm, announced that we would be traveling out toward the bay while the river was at its shallowest.

“I know it looks like all the water is gone but we will navigate through some channels cut out naturally by the ebb and flow of the river which will give us all a great chance to see how marvelous this experience can be.”

A view of the bottom of the Bay of Fundy after water recedes

In the past, I have run white water rapids on the Colorado River, the Kern River, the Stanislaus River, and the American River - so this should not be too much of an experience in all reality. 

Riding an incoming tide from an ocean? 

The Bay of Fundy has two extensive tides that retreat into the Atlantic Ocean twice a day - roughly twelve hours apart. The tide goes out and boats that have been photographed millions of times are seen sitting on the muddy floor of the bay. Then a few hours later the tide returns and the boats miraculously start to float beautifully upon the waters waiting for their owners to get on board as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Laureen Beyer standing on the floor of the Bay of Fundy, Nova Scotia

So, here we were near the small enclave of Green Oaks, approximately 60 miles northeast of Halifax getting ready for our four hour cruise along the Shubenacadie River.

Old Railroad bridge spanning the Shubenacadie River, Nova Scotia

“Sounds like a Rolling Stones song,” I mentioned to Laureen as we made our way down a rather steep incline to the floor of the now empty river. “I can’t get no satisfaction from my Shubenacadie. I can’t get no . . .”

“Stop,” she replied. 

“The mud can get a bit slippery here,” said Steph, a guide who would be accompanying us on our wild rapids journey.

I smiled but then suddenly found myself sliding down the path to the river as though I had just donned a pair of snow skis for a downhill slalom. I was out of control.

“A hand here,” I yelled. 

“I think Laureen pushed me,” I said when regaining my balance next to the Zodiac.

We had signed up with Fundy Tidal Bore Adventures for this excursion along the Shubenacadie to see what all the hub-hub was with these Bay of Fundy tides.

I had never heard of a tidal bore. Though, it is very true that I have met a lot of bores in my life, and perhaps one or two by a tide, but this phenomenon was new to me.

The definition is quite simple: ‘A tidal bore, often simply given as bore in context, is a tidal phenomenon in which the leading edge of the incoming tide forms a wave (or waves) of water that travels up a river or narrow bay, reversing the direction of the river or bay's current. It is a strong tide that pushes up the river, against the current.’

Huh?

We had witnessed the water in various rivers upon our travels in this region of Nova Scotia over the past few days to marvel how a river or bay is full of water and then within a couple of hours you can be having a lobster roll on the dry bed.

In fact, the lobster rolls were delicious and backed by a cold Nine Locks Dirty Blonde made eating on the muddy floor of a waterway that much better.

When the water retreats and then returns to fill in the bay or river, the fluctuation can be amazing. These tidal bores only occur in a very few remarkable areas around the world and usually have a difference of about 20 feet between ebb and flow.

The Bay of Fundy is one of the grandest of them all, with a difference of sometimes over 40 feet - in fact at Burntcoat Head Park, approximately 40 miles west of Green Oaks on the Bay of Fundy, 54 feet of water difference is not uncommon.

Some people actually surf the Tidal Bore on the Bay of Fundy

We were off heading toward the bay as our captain, Derrick, piloted the small raft with great expertise finding this channel or that channel.

“Look up at the tall cliffs surrounding us,” he directed. And we did. “When the tidal bore comes in it will not be long until those cliffs are only a few feet above us instead of the sixty they are now.”

Suddenly a bald eagle soared out of the tall green trees atop those very same cliffs and circled high above us. 

"You’ll see a lot of those today,” Steph said, and in fact, we counted at least fourteen flying high and wide across the Shubenacadie in the next four hours.

Soon we were beached along a huge sand bar in the middle of the river. “We’ll be here for about thirty minutes until the tide comes in, and then it’s off to the races.”

“I read that the tidal bore can be only a few inches in height as it comes in,” I said to Ed and Laureen who were standing near me. “Doesn’t sound very thrilling.”

We chatted about this and that when suddenly we all noticed the once dry sand bar was quickly going under water and we were ankle deep in the incoming waters. The tide was coming in at a rate of about two inches a minute.

“Let’s get aboard,” Derrick said as we all climbed back into the raft and took our positions sitting on top of the inflated sides. “Make sure to hold tight to the ropes behind you when we actually hit the tidal bore.”

Warnings were given to all us customers not to bring any personal belongings upon the raft - cell phones, cameras, jewelry, car keys, or anything else of value. Morgan, the owner of the company, had told us before casting off that the waves would be so brutal that it would be nearly impossible to hold onto anything but the ropes looped around the exterior of the raft.

“I’m sure this will be a nothing burger that we paid good money for,” I skeptically replied.

Forty minutes later they could hear my girlie-man screams all the way to Prince Edward Island.

The tidal bore was anything but boring as it smacked straight into the waters of the river and with the narrow channels filling up, created pockets of swirling masses of white water, and our raft bounded into the air like a fish fighting for its life.

“You noticed when the water was out there were dips here and there across the surface of the river,” Derrick yelled across the raft. “That is what’s creating the rapids.”

At this point, I had swallowed enough of the Shubenacadie to become a local and we weren’t done yet.

“Now, off to the washing machine!” Derrick yelled, as he throttled the raft to maximum velocity.

In moments the entire bow of the raft, where Ed and I happened to be sitting was engulfed in mammoth waves. It was thrilling. It was wonderful. It was scary, as I lost my grip of the rope with my left hand and ended up on the floor of the raft, which happened to be full of water.

“I can still see the top of the boat,” Ed yelled. “Is this all you got?”

Derrick took the challenge and plunged us head first into the first set of six footers which ran over the length of the Zodiac. I lost count on how many sets there were. 

That is when, for the briefest moment, I hated Ed.

It was probably the best ride of my life. Nerve wracking and all, but to experience a tidal bore so up close and personal was beyond marvelous.

Fishing boats get stranded twice a day on the Bay of Fundy

We survived and I had to agree with Ed - this trip to Nova Scotia was going to be a Go-go. 

For further information: https://www.tidalboreadventures.ca/contact

John can be reached at beyersbyways@gmail.com

Pioneer Town, where western history comes alive

 Pioneertown is known for its marvelous western facades, dirt main street, hitching posts, wooden sidewalks, and dozens of films, television series, and music videos that have been shot there over the decades.

From films like The Gay Amigo in 1949, and The Last of the Pony Riders in 1952, to more modern films such as The Gambler in 2014, and Ingrid Goes West in 2017, this modern-day ghost town has the perfect Old West ambiance.

Of course, two of my favorite music videos were shot there. The 2010, I Rep That West, by Ice Cube tops the list. Nothing better than a rapper riding into a hot dusty western town in a beautiful convertible lowrider surrounded by horses and townsfolk. Or, the 2016 hit by Cyndi Lauper, Funnel of Love, filmed in and around the town with a special appearance inside Pappy and Harriet’s.

The iconic Pappy and Harriet's in Pioneertown

A pink-haired cowgirl with a Brooklyn accent says it all when it comes to authentic Americana.

“Hey yuz guys,” Lauper may have said when finished with the filming. “Anyone know where I can get a friggin’ cannoli in these here parts?”

Of course, one film not listed among dozens is the one Laureen, my lovely wife, and I were in nearly ten years ago. We had bit parts about something to do with the West and a bunch of bad hombres - but when the film was completed and in the can, it never came back out.

I called my agent. “Look, Johnny Baby, the film was so bad that it was declared a national disaster. Find another career.”

“How about writing a travel column?”

A snicker came over the phone. “I’m sure that will pan out. Lose my number.”

Recently, I pulled on my Tony Lama lizard skin two-inch heeled cowboy boots, snugged up the emerald buckled three-inch wide belt through the loops of my Wranglers, knotted the bolo tie just right around the collar of my Rockmount shirt, donned my ten-gallon Stetson, and walked down the main street in Pioneertown.

Luckily it was very early in the morning and no one was around, or I may not have been able to escape with that outfit on.

Nope, Pioneertown revels in the realism of what life was like in the Old West days and did not need some big city dandy wandering around.

Back in the day, that would be right after the ending of World War II, a man by the name of Dick Curtis had a dream.

“I want to create a living, breathing movie set to shoot good Western movies,” he may have said.

In 1946, Curtis was able to wrangle 17 cowpokes to pony up the cash to fund the purchase of 32,000 acres of land just a few miles from the small town of Yucca Valley. Some of those involved included Roy Rogers, Bud Abbott, and others who bought into Curtis’s idea, and soon the place that would be known as Pioneertown was founded.

But, friends of Roy Rogers had wanted to name the place, Rogersville.

It is rumored that Roy himself said, “Rogersville, seriously? How about Evansplace?” 

To settle the matter, after a few rounds of arm wrestling, and a song written by Tim Spenser called ‘Out of Pioneertown,’ the eventual name of simply Pioneertown took hold.

A French couple was walking down Main Street and smiled at me while I tried not to topple over in the high-heeled boots I had worn. I could tell they were very excited about traipsing through such a rich movie history that Pioneertown offered.

The woman looked at her male companion and said in French, “Il a l’air ridicule.”

Since my French is very limited, I am sure she was talking about how every building along Main Street was very authentic and painstakingly constructed to resemble those that would have been found around the 1880s in the west of the United States.

I smiled and said, “Oui, oui.”

The male nodded and said, “C’est un idiot.”

Which I took as meaning what idiot would not want to visit Pioneertown while on holiday from a country boasting about eating snails and attending operas written by Ravel?

Pioneertown was not just a movie backdrop to film western films, it actually was a fully functioning community when completed in the late 1940s.

There was a grocery, a motel, the Red Dog Saloon (still in use today), restaurants, an ice cream store, a bowling alley (also still in use today), and other businesses that were functioning and making a profit - including a newspaper: the Pioneertown Gazette.

Lots of places for photo ops in Pioneertown

Non-movie types could purchase an acre of land with full utilities for as little as $900, which would be in today's dollars about a million buckaroos. 

Soon trouble was a-brewing for Pioneertown when in 1948 Dick Curtis stepped down as President of the corporation in protest over the decision made to cater more to Hollywood than to making Pioneertown a truly independent community.

In a rather strange set of realities, both the land sales and movie production dropped off until a producer by the name of Philip N. Krasne stepped up.

He was the bigwig producing the very popular television series, The Cisco Kid, starring Duncan Renaldo, which ran for six seasons.

Krasne saw the potential of Pioneertown. So much so that he signed a 25-year lease which again put the western town back on the map for both locals, tourists, and those cigar-smoking Hollywood big shots.

As I teetered through the town on this early morning, I was, as always, impressed at the care each structure along Main Street gets to ensure that anyone viewing the buildings truly believes they have traveled back in time. It is hard not to imagine this town was not a rootin' tootin' cow-punching, cow-poking sort of town.

Any moment I was expecting a drunk cowhand to exit the Red Dog Saloon, spit into the street, and grin at me.

“Hey, lookey,” he may have said. “We gots us a real live cow dude.”

Though it was early and nothing was open for visitors, there is a lot to offer while visiting Pioneertown.

Of course, there is the famous Pappy and Harriet’s Pioneertown Palace which serves amazing food and drinks, as well as live music on various days of the week.

There is the Custom Leather and Saddle Shop where I actually did purchase a gun holster and belt in the years past. The Pottery Shop offers handmade pottery and a visitor can watch as these products are produced. There is an art studio where folks can dress up in historically accurate clothing for the time period and have their photograph taken.

And as mentioned, the Red Dog Saloon not only offers dining options but adult libations to boot. There is a large barn soundstage that can be rented out and occasionally offers live performances.

The Red Dog Saloon in Pioneertown

The main street offers photo opportunities galore for those who want to immortalize their visit and share on Instagram, Facebook, X, or whatever social media a person wants to utilize to show their friends and strangers they are in Pioneertown.

A perfect backdrop for western films at Pioneertown

There is the Bath House facade, the Jail facade, the Jack Cass Saloon facade, and many more for those picture-perfect moments. My favorite is the facade facade.

Pioneertown, a place for gunslingers

There is the Pioneertown Motel which offers plenty of rooms for those traveling for a night or two, as well as local Airbnbs to accommodate any traveler. And, there is camping available in the town itself.

With the beautiful mountains and valleys nearby, there is nothing but natural wonder surrounding Pioneertown - as well as the Joshua Tree National Park within half an hour's easy drive.

And of course, there is always entertainment awaiting the visit to Pioneertown on the weekends with old west shootouts along Mane Street.

What would be an old west town without hombres and sheriffs shooting the town up at scheduled hours for the tourists?

I’m sure my French friends in Pioneertown would have exclaimed, “Pas possible,” to that question.

For more information: https://visitpioneertown.com/

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/

The hauntings of the Captains Anchorage, Big Bear

 On a recent Saturday, I asked Laureen is she had any specific plans for the day.

She knew what that meant.

“A road trip?” she responded.

And, within forty minutes we were on our way to Big Bear, in the San Bernardino Mountains. It is one of our favorite haunts.

Haunts – I like that, since it is October. That spooky time of year.

 Big Bear – there is Big Bear City and Big Bear Lake, for those who haven’t travelled Highway 18 to either of those locales. Traveling this road is to witness tall glorious pine trees, a blue lake, hiking trails, off-road trails, eating and shopping in the Village, and so much more.

We love the Big Bear area.

“I love the Big Bear area,” I stated.

“I know,” Laureen responded. “Where are we going to lunch?”

I knew the right spot. A place that is internationally known as a very haunted and goose bumpily place. The Captains Anchorage.

“We haven’t been there in a dozen years,” Laureen stated.

“And the spirits are angry about that,” I said. “The tip you left last time was rather vacuous.”

Laureen ignored that.

Driving by the Mitsubishi cement plant, south of the town of Lucerne Valley on Highway 18, always reminds me of a space colony. Huge round storage buildings with conveyer belts going this way and that way has an out of this world appearance.

“Doesn’t it look like space aliens have captured humans and sent them to work in their factory?” I asked Laureen as we drove by the place.

She shook her head. “Looks like a cement factory.”

“Human, we do not enjoy your remarks – to the mines with you.” I stated.

Laureen ignored me again. 

As we swung around Baldwin Lake, we had some time to kill before the restaurant would be open, and decided to take the scenic route through Holcomb Valley. Actually, I had intended on the drive to snap a photograph of the ‘hanging tree’ in the area where the old mining town of Belleville once stood.

I wrote a column on Holcomb Valley for the Daily Press Newspaper, back in June of 2020, but I won’t go into any detail about that trip now. I don’t like repeating myself – unless it is to our children, and I can go on and on and on about the same subject for weeks.

Since Belleville, like many mining camps, could be a violent place – there had to be some place to punish those who thought killing one another was a perfectly fine way in dealing with personal disputes. 

It was the Wild West, after-all.

So, the townsfolk found a nice big and tall Juniper tree to string up the really bad hombres. Is the tree haunted? Don’t know and never asked – but with its outstretched tree limbs and prominent location in the valley, it could be.

The hanging tree in Holcomb Valley

“Almost lunch time,” I said to Laureen.

As we headed out of the valley, we came across a tree that made the hanging tree look downright tame.

Spooky no-name tree Holcomb Valley

There in the middle of a clearing, we were staring at an apparition that film director, Tim Burton would find alluring.

Gnarled leafless branches tweaked in such a way, it appeared as if it was alive and trying to reach and grab any unsuspecting person sauntering by. Not a stich of green on it – only the tall barren trunk hunkered down in the soil. 

“That looks as if it’s haunted?” Laureen asked.

“I’ll come back, and pick you up in the morning – let me know about your research.”

We headed out for lunch at that time.

The Captain’s Anchorage, is located in Big Bear Lake, and has been a landmark for the city since 1947, when the owner, Andy Devine opened it. The famous actor turned restaurateur, wanted something special to entertain his Hollywood friends, and thus the restaurant and bar became the center point not only for the locals, but many other famous actors. Roy Rogers, John Wayne, Lee Marvin, Jimmy Stewart, and many more made the long drive from Los Angeles to the mountain community of Big Bear Lake to partake in the extensive menu offerings.

Captains Anchorage, Big Bear

The original name of the place was the Sportsman’s Tavern, and remained that way until 1972, when it was renamed The Captains Anchorage by Woodrow and Charlotte Meier, who had purchased the restaurant from Devine in 1966.

It is a beautiful building full of character and grace – and it is haunted.

As we entered the business, I walked over to the dark wood bar, located in the Andy Devine Room, and snapped some photographs. That’s what I do – don’t look at the menu first – just snap some shots. Perhaps there will be an orb floating somewhere in the photograph when I download it later.

Andy Devine, film star and past owner 

“Have you come to see George?” Natalie asked from behind the bar. Natalie has worked at the Captains Anchorage a long time, and knows a bit about the history.

“George is our local ghost,” she stated. “He likes to hang around the bar, causing some mischief now and then, but doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“You’re a believer then?” I asked.

“I don’t belong to a cult, if that’s what you are asking?”

“No, not that kind of a believer,” I replied. “Have you had any interaction with George?”

Natalie nodded. “Once in a while a light will turn on when no one is here but me, or the glass washer will suddenly light up. Those kinds of things.”

Laureen was standing to the right of the bar, near the kitchen entrance, and I saw a peculiar look on her face.

“You feeling something?”

“Yes, there’s something here between the bar and the fireplace,” she responded. “It’s like someone being anxious. As they are troubled by something – I really can feel the emotions.”

Laureen is so much more sensitive than me, when it comes to practically anything – except those sad mistreated dog commercials – they tear me up. A box of tissues, please.

“Did you feel anything?” she asked me.

I nodded. “Yes, I feel the bar is calling me over for a cold one.”

According to Patti Scriven, the current owner and daughter of the Meier’s, George was Andy Devine’s ‘bookkeeper’. During the time period that Devine was the owner, there was lots and lots of rumors of illegal gambling going on at the Sportsman’s Tavern. In fact, upstairs are small booths which are original to the design of the restaurant, that look like the perfect size for a slot machine placement. Poker games, roulette, and possibly betting on horse races, may have taken place in the establishment.

John R Beyer with owner, Patti Scriven

Was George just a bookkeeper or perhaps a bookie also?

Upstairs dining booth where illegal gambling may have occurred 

“Rumor has it that George may have been embezzling profits from the illegal gambling,” stated Patti. “He may had been afraid of getting caught and committed suicide at his house, not far from here."

“Then why would he haunt this place?” Laureen asked.

“We have had numerous of those paranormal investigators out here, and they all say the same thing, he was the most happy here at the restaurant,” Patti replied.

“It is a very nice place to haunt,” I stated. 

Some research I conducted, showed George may have also been killed by some angry gamblers or those who caught him skimming money off the top of the receipts.

Either suicide or murder makes for a possible haunting.

It seems as though George does truly like haunting the restaurant, its patrons and staff. He, according to Patti, has never caused any harm to anyone personally.

“There’s been some liquor bottles shattering behind the bar when no one was present, some tromping of heavy footsteps up and down the stairs, blowing out some candles, and the like. Pretty harmless – more like pranks.”

The bar where ghosts like to frequent

Shattering an expensive bottle of spirits is not a prank. That would be a felony in any ghostly realm.

“Listen, Mr. Ghost man – I don’t care if it was a prank – that was an expensive bottle of Dalmore sixty-two, there you decided to shatter. Who is going to pay for it?”

Patti entertained us with more tales of the mischievous George, but stated she had never had a true other-worldly experience with the ghost from the Captains Anchorage.

“I wish Rita were here,” Patti stated. “She really has had some recent experiences with George.”

“Please, go on,” I asked.

“Well, recently Rita was near the kitchen when she suddenly saw a dark shadow sweep right beside Hugo, our chef, who was busy cooking. She was scared to death and screamed. When I asked Hugo if he saw or felt anything, he replied just before Rita screamed, he had felt a presence swoosh by him, almost touching him. But, there was nothing there when he glanced around.”

Haunted omelets anyone?

“Yes, Rita won’t even go upstairs to get a bottle of wine,” Patti said. “I tease her that a customer wants a certain vintage and will she go up and get it, she just tells me no.”

“I don’t blame her,” Laureen stated.

“Neither do I,” Pattie stated. “I just like to tease her that way.”

Is the Captains Anchorage haunted? I don’t know, but I do know they have great food and a greater tale for their customers.

Shhhhhhhh......