San Bernardino County Museum

John R Beyer at the county museum 

 According to David Myers, Chief Deputy of the San Bernardino County Museum, nearly eighty thousand people wander the hallways, admiring the exhibits. Heads twisting this way and that way, gaining as much knowledge as they can during their visit.

“That’s a lot of people visiting a county museum,” I stated, while Laureen was sipping on her morning coffee.

“Shall we visit, then?”

“Oh, we shall,” I responded. 

So, one sunny Saturday morning, we headed south on the I-15 for a day of exploring what the museum had in store for us.

“We might get hungry walking around the museum, since we didn’t eat breakfast,” Laureen said.

“Taken care of.”

DJ Coffee shop on 40th Street in San Bernardino did the trick. The place was rocking, as it usually is on our visits. We like the old establishment – great people working there, food is always good, and it’s been a mainstay in the neighborhood for decades. 

One motto of mine is to dine before exploring. It’s sort of like never go grocery shopping on an empty stomach.

“Why did you buy twelve boxes of Twinkies?”

There is no good reply to that question.

Before leaving, I did some research on the museums core values. Not sure why, but I thought it would make me sound more academic.

‘Through the lens of the region’s dynamic cultural and natural history, the San Bernardino County Museum develops visitors’ appreciation of our diverse identity to spark their curiosity, to stimulate inquiry, to challenge their assumptions, and to invite them to contribute to our common future.’

That is one heavy mission statement. I am exhausted just typing it.

Once we reached the museum, we noticed it is set up in a logical sequence. As though the hosts wanted the guests to flow easily and rationally through the halls.

“Many of our exhibit components are designed to be explored in chronological order which aids in adding context to the exhibit story,” Myers noted. “However, other exhibits may be organized thematically or even geographically. It all depends on the exhibit and how the visitor chooses to explore it.”

Chronological order? Thematically? Geographically?

“I say we just follow the map; the nice lady gave us as we paid our fee at the entrance,” I stated.

“Of course,” Laureen replied. But I knew that of course was really a rolling of her eyes. I like things simple, she’s the brains in the family and likes the chronological, thematically and geographically concepts.

As we entered, we started through the Hall of Earth Sciences which features a life-size mastodon and her calf. There were other ancient fossils, a redundancy there, allowing the visitor a glimpse into the past of the marvelous living animals who once roamed the county of San Bernardino.

Mama and baby

An extinct Giant Sloth

“I guess the theme here is big animals,” I stated.

No reply. But I think I actually heard her eyes roll that time.

Wolves stared down at us from a rock faced overlook as we made our way through this exhibit hall and moved onto the Hall of History. I didn’t want to guess their theme.

Here we learned how the first people in what would become California referred to the land as the Sacred Earth. How the locals made baskets, pottery, tools from the native plants and soil. How they lived off the land and prospered.

I suggested that Laureen try making sandals from the Joshua Tree; she is very crafty. But when I looked around to see her reaction, I found myself standing alone as she was moving away from me and my comment, toward the ascending ramp. No sandals in the Beyer home, I guess.

We moved to the second level where more and more awesome sights were awaiting us.

The Hall of Biodiversity had an incredible collection of wildlife commonly found in and around San Bernardino County. There were birds, mammals, reptiles, amphibians, and I believe a model of a space alien found in the High Desert. Then again, it could have just been the model of the Old Woman meteorite. 

Everywhere we looked were in depth descriptions of how the climate and geography of the region personally effects all living things, be that animal or plant.

A great place for school fieldtrips, I would assume. And correct I was.

Myers stated, “As the pandemic ends, we expect fieldtrips to return, and we look forward to welcoming students back.”

Speaking of schools, (and who isn’t nowadays?), all the ‘hands-on’ exhibits were temporarily closed to nasty and germ ridden hands of humans.

“We believe hands-on interactive exhibits extend the learning experience and increase engagement, and we look forward to bringing them back when it is safe to do so.”

Well, there was one hands-on experience Laureen found near the new exhibit, ‘Here comes the sun: solar science and spirituality.’

I caught up with Laureen at a large plasma ball. The ones if you put a hand on the globe, arcs of light magically go from the center of the ball to the touching hand. I’d go into greater detail but, I don’t have a clue how it works. It was developed by Nikola Tesla. Enough said.

Laureen was there with two cute and very curious young boys who were showing and explaining to her how to hold her hand on the globe. The boy’s mother was taking photographs with her phone as the boys continued their lesson. I think Laureen learned a lot.

I loved it. This mom had taken her two very young boys to the museum and allowed them to wander, with her right there alongside, and investigate all there was to investigate in that museum.

We parted ways and I knew I had just watched two future scientists in the making.

This exhibit also featured a substantial space with threes huge screens immersing the visitor in dramatic and colorful footage from NASA’s solar dynamic observatory.

Dramatic is really an understatement. The sun’s surface changed colors constantly but slowly, allowing us a chance to marvel at the intensity of that natural fusion reactor we wake to each morning.

Yes, where stellar nucleosynthesis transforms lighter elements into heavier elements with the release of energy. Binding energy for different atomic nuclei.

In all modesty, I Googled that.

This exhibit was so dramatic, that we spent several minutes posing in front of the burning suns surface. It was fun and silly.

According to Myers, “One of our newest and most visited exhibits is the solar one. It helps to tell the story of how the sun has shaped the culture of Southern California.”

I didn’t need an exhibit to tell me that. Smell the sunscreen at any Southern California beach during the summer and we know how the sun has affected us all.

“I think you’ve laid out long enough in the sun.”

“No, I want to be lobster red tonight. It’s such a great look with my white shorts.”

We found all the exhibits well laid out, explained perfectly, and positioned just right for visitors.

“Different exhibits appeal to different visitors,” Myers said. “Some people love the immersive cave and giant ground sloth in our Sculptured by Time exhibit, while others enjoy a more relaxing stroll through our new outdoor Ethnobotany Garden space where they can learn about traditional ecological knowledge of the areas indigenous peoples.”

Okay, this David Myers is one smart guy. All I know is that when going outdoors of the museum, there are lots of cool looking plants to stroll through in a relaxed fashion.

According to Barb Williams, bellevuebotantical.org, ‘Ethnobotany is the study of how people of a particular culture and region make use of indigenous (native) plants.’

It is fascinating how humans looked at all the different varieties of plants growing nearby and determined what needs could be taken care of by these plants.

“Hey, this tree bark may stop the pounding in my head.”

“This river reed may make a snazzy pair of sandals.”

“And maybe this green plant may, wow, is that Jimmie Hendrix?”

We wandered here and there and thoroughly enjoyed our trip through the halls of the museum. It’s open and the place was packed while we were there. Seemed to us that most guests were families with young children.

That was a great sight. After a year of pandemic lock down, parents were taking their children out an about. And one of those places was the museum.

Myers seemed excited about so many visitors once again. “We’ve missed our visitors and are thrilled to welcome them back with two new exhibits. In addition to Here Comes the Sun, in June we are opening Super Monster City, a traveling exhibit that explores the social and political context of superheroes and villains through toys and posters.”

The San Bernardino County Museum, located at 2024 Orange Tree Lane, Redlands, is a wonderful experience for all ages. Plenty of activities, displays, photographs, exhibits, and all the rest that make this place worthwhile for anyone who wants to learn the history of San Bernardino County.

And who wouldn’t want to learn all they could?

Laureen Beyer beneath the large welcome sign

A personal note: this blog was written during the ending of the Corona-virus pandemic. As of now, everything is open to enjoy.

Daggett - Worth a visit

 

Original Blacksmith shop in Daggett, Ca

According to Mark Staggs, President of the Daggett Community Service District, the small town of Daggett has big plans.

“We have big plans,” Staggs stated.

I have always had a soft spot for this little berg, ten miles east of Barstow on Interstate 40. I used the town of Daggett for one of my novels, Operation Scorpion. I spent some time there, doing research for the fictional piece, and met some really nice folks. 

But, since the publication, I haven’t been back. Sure, I drive by quite often, on my way to here and there along the interstate, but I rarely stop.

So, when I heard Staggs was giving a historical tour of the town, I knew it was time to revisit and learn more about the history of the town.

Staggs is a nice guy – truly nice. He immediately made our little group of tourists feel right at home. He is one of those fellas who likes to tell a joke, while being serious about the history of the town he truly loves.

“The history of Daggett isn’t known by a lot of tourists, but we are in the works to change that,” he shared.

Those are the big plans Staggs had mentioned earlier while conducting a fascinating tour of the Daggett Museum.

Old downtown of Daggett

For many, Daggett is not known at all. A dot on a map between Barstow and Needles along the black ribbon of a busy interstate. But back in 1939, with the publication of John Steinbeck’s novel, Grapes of Wrath, the small town got a mention. When the Joad family, from Oklahoma, drove through the inspection station just east of town, those refugees from the Dust Bowl had officially arrived in California.

According to the Daggett Historical Society, the town was founded in the 1860s, but did not become known as Daggett until 1883. At this time, the mines were running full steam in the nearby Calico Hills. The residents realized having the mining town of Calico near Calico Junction may be a bit confusing – so, the folks decided that the name Daggett may fit the bill, using the last name of then Lieutenant Governor of California, John Daggett. 

It is rumored, and don’t we all love rumors, that the Lieutenant Governor had visited Daggett at some time. 

Well, here’s something of note about Daggett which isn’t a rumor. Helen Muir, the daughter of the famous naturalist, John Muir, resided in Daggett. She was instrumental in assisting her father with his writings and correspondence, but being in poor health, the family moved her from northern California to the warmer climate of Daggett. 

Other visitors to Daggett during its heyday included Walter E. Scott – better known as Death Valley Scotty, Francis Marion Smith – better known as the Borax King, Tom Mix – better known as Silver Screen Cowboy, and Wyatt Earp – better known as ‘I get around the West a lot.’

There is a lot of history in this town.

One of the original water towers

After the museum tour, Staggs offered a hands-on tour of the area.

Actually, it wasn’t exactly hands-on, but more of a drive-by and get out of your vehicle sort of visit to the numerous historical sites in and around Daggett.

According to Staggs, there were quite a few indigenous peoples who had lived in the area, long before the settlers arrived looking for rich minerals or good lands for farming and grazing.

“People have been living here for thousands of years,” he stated. “In fact, the Vanyume, or Desert Serrano were some of the Native Americans first encountered by the Catholic missionaries in the late eighteenth century.”

As to point this out, Staggs had us drive approximately a mile or so to the north of Daggett, where, behind a tall chain link fence, was a huge pile of dark colored rock. Upon those rocks were dozens of petroglyphs. 

“We’re not really sure who created these glyphs, but we know they are hundreds of years old.” 

“I know they’re at least older than nineteen-forty-seven,” I replied. “Some local carved his name and date on one of the rocks.”

Staggs nodded. “And, thus the reason for the fencing.”

The town of Daggett kept growing as more and more silver was being mined out of the ground in Calico. The ore was shipped to Daggett, where it awaited a mill with ten heavy stamps, ready to start breaking up the ore and releasing the precious metals.

In fact, there was so much ore being ground up in Daggett that property values started rapidly increasing. So, when the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe (ATSF) railway were contemplating a location to build a heavy rail yard, the company decided on a small place named Barstow, since the land in Daggett was too expensive.

Daggett continued to prosper and became a populated and happening town. At its peak in the late 1890s, it had three stores, two restaurants, three saloons, three hotels, a lumberyard, and many other establishments which would interest miners, visitors and locals.

I followed Staggs to where remains of the Columbia stamp mill can still be seen. A large structure, nestled next to a hill, and when looking northeast, the viewer can easily see the ghost town of Calico.

“They used wagons pulled by mules to bring the ore from Calico to here for crushing,” Staggs explained.

Original wagon used in the early days in Daggett

It could take sometimes two days to reach Daggett for milling, depending the amount of ore being towed in the wagons behind the mules. That's a long time for a mere seven miles.

“Let’s speed up, Roger,” one drover may have been heard yelling at his partner on another ore wagon.

“We’re going as fast as we can,” Roger may have replied. “Ole, Bessy is moseying at her top speed.”

As it usually occurs with mining camps, the silver or gold ore eventually runs out. This was the case for Calico – once a rich and rowdy mining camp, it soon turned into a deserted dwelling. And in the late 1890s, the population of Calico dwindled until it became a ghost town.

But one of the by-products which was found while mining in Calico was the substance, Borax.

Turns out, Borax had many uses which made being human even more enjoyable. It can be used in toothpaste and as a laundry additive. It can be used for acne cure, skin creams, and lotions. It can be used for paints and ceramic glaze. But, most importantly, it can be used for making slime for kids.

This product was a wonder find.

So, in 1891, Francis Marion Smith – the Borax King - moved to Daggett from Death Valley and installed mining operations at the Borate mine, a few miles east of Calico. It was such a successful venture that in 1898, the Borate and Daggett Railroad was built to move the Borax to Daggett, which was easier and cheaper than the twenty mule team wagons which were being used.

Unfortunately, in 1911, richer Borax finds were located back in Death Valley, and the Borax King left.

The population and economy of Daggett soon decreased through the years, to its present day figure of two hundred citizens.

Lawrence Vintus, a member of the Daggett Historical Society and employee of the Community Services District, believes there is a rebound coming for the town in which he was born and raised.

This is a pretty ambitious belief for a young man who graduated high school in 2020. His love of Daggett is evident in every word he uses when discussing his hometown.

“We’re going to make this town a tourist destination,” Vintus announced, while showing the tour group around Alf’s blacksmith shop, built in the late 1800s. His family has owned the property, where the shop is located, for decades – a lot of decades.

Some of the treasures inside the blacksmith shop

As I walked through the tall dusty wooden doors into the interior of the blacksmith shop, I felt as if I had just walked back in time. Tools, from the late 1890s were lined up everywhere around the shop. It was though the blacksmith had just left for an afternoon break.

“This is how my grandfather left it for us,” Vintus said. “Now we want to share it with everyone.”

Staggs nodded. “Mugwumps is being renovated as a visitor’s center, with a restaurant, gift shop, and a place tourists can visit to understand the importance Daggett.”

Standing there, in the blacksmith’s shop, looking at these two men, it was hard to imagine they would fail at their dream of making Daggett a must go place to see. 

When I wrote my novel, I used Daggett as a place for the protagonist. There was a reason he had to go there. There was a reason I had to write about it. And, now it is a place for all with a love of history should venture to.

Cantil - still thriving

 Back in February, I wrote a piece concerning a little town that no longer exists.

The name of this place was Saltdale. This town once existed in the Mojave Desert, on the edges of the now dry Koehn Lake. It was one of those stories that made me ponder as I walked across the mucky semi-wet salt beds checking out this abandoned house and that sinking structure in the salt.

Often I travel with my beautiful wife, Laureen, or perhaps with my buddy Paul, on these adventures. But many times I travel alone, this was one of those times.

As I stood alone, looking out across the vast stretches of land that lay before me, I could almost hear machinery running, vehicles driving here and there, people talking, and children playing. 

It was surreal. 

Recently, I received an email from a wonderful young lady by the name of Becky Gallen who had read the piece and enjoyed it.

That piqued my interest right away – she liked my story. A writer’s dream – someone who enjoyed what I wrote. 

Turns out that another small town, that still has a few residents, is just six miles to the west of the Saltdale I wrote about. It was once a thriving town of families, businesses, and the like – by the name of Cantil.

Cantil is an unincorporated community located in Kern County in the Fremont Valley.

Becky informed me that her 95-year-old mother still lived in Cantil – in the house that she and her husband, Bill, shared.

Like many small towns located across the vast Mojave Desert, there doesn’t appear to be much to see. But when a person looks closer, there is.

What I learned after briefly communicating with Becky reinforced what I had assumed about these small towns: some gone with the wind and some barely hanging on, were once vibrant communities with fascinating citizens.

Becky had shown my article about Saltdale to her mother. Becky’s mother told her that more than once over the years someone would drive out into the wet and mucky surface on Koehn Lake and get their vehicles stuck, hopelessly stuck.

Koehn Lake

I knew the feeling, since I had nearly lost a boot in the muck on my visit, and I don’t quite weigh as much as a pick-up truck – thank you Nutri-System.

The two communities of Saltdale and Cantil were linked with all the salt production occurring in and near Koehn Lake.

Of course, when the mining panned out so did Saltdale. Cantil is still viable, though not as thriving as it had once been.

Cantil was founded as a railroad station for the Nevada and California Railroad Company back in either 1908 or 1909. More tracks were needed from Owens Lake to Mojave to deliver minerals and other goods being mined or produced in the Owens Valley for consumers to the ever-growing town of Los Angeles.

Since it was the custom for railroads to follow the alphabet when naming stations, it was the letter C’s turn.

“Let’s call it Cansas,” one railroader suggested.

“No,” replied another worker. “How about Cornswabble?”

The lead railroader shook his head. “We’ll call it Cantil. After all the red cliffs we see in the nearby mountains which remind me of the time I spent in Spain.”

“Show off,” a railroad hobo stated from beneath a cattle car.

So, Cantil was off and running.

When I visited Saltdale, I was moved to write about it - nothing there but a large dry lake with lots of muck to sink into among the dilapidated buildings and other structures.

At first, I thought there wasn’t a story to be written, but I was wrong. People survived, thrived, and enjoyed living here. 

As they did in the neighboring town of Cantil.

In fact, Cantil and many other small communities played a major role in providing water and other goods for travelers across the Mojave Desert.

In a government publication, Routes To Desert Watering Places In The Mohave Desert Region, California, dated 1921, there is a section which show the importance of such a guide would be for those adventurers.

‘Four Roads come in on right (southeast) from Cantil (1.5 miles) and on left (northwest) from Redrock Canyon. Just beyond, cross old railroad grade. 26.9 Koehn and Cane Spring. Water at ranch house.’

When a place can supply water to a thirsty person, it is on the map!

Most of the towns I visit in the hinterlands are ghost towns. Of course, I have never actually seen any ghosts in these towns - a strange sensation or a sound I can’t quite recognize, but no white sheets floating effortlessly through the air giving me the heebie-jeebies.

Per Merriam-Webster, a ghost town was once a flourishing town wholly or nearly deserted usually as a result of the exhaustion of some natural resource.

In the cases of both Saltdale and Cantil, that would be mainly the production of salt. It ran out and so did most of the town life.

Turns out, the small burg of Cantil had a lot of life at one time.

Becky shared a book her mother published in 2021, ‘From Sunrise to Sunset,’ about her life while living in Cantil.

Cantil never grew into a hustling-bustling cosmopolitan city. No, it was a small place but with the other small communities nearby like Saltdale, Mojave, and Randsburg, it was a busy place.

Neighbors would come from all over for holidays, special events, and other festivities and fill the town with laughter and joy.

I liked that. I liked the fact that I was actually able to touch the soul of those folks who had lived in such places. Sometimes traveling as I do in remote areas, I do not get to see what came before, and am stuck looking across at what is no longer.

When I drove through Cantil, I saw houses half-buried in sand, abandoned and left to the brutality of time.

These homes were once part of Rancho Seco, but locals knew the place as Jack Rabbit Acres. It had been a large ranch with employees living in apartments not far from the homes I had seen sinking into the sand. 

The ranch was eventually abandoned and some sheep herders brought in their flocks who ate away the grass to the level of the ground. Combine that with the harsh winds, the topsoil soon was gone, leaving just a sandy floor.

Not far away is Red Rock School. It sits behind a chain link fence nowadays. Desks and chairs sitting out in the yard. No classes, no students, no teachers, and no tardy bells.

The school was built in 1918, expanded in 1937 and again in 1965, for the growing number of students coming in from the nearby communities.

The school closed its doors in 2008. There are continuing discussions with the school board about its ultimate future.

Walking through a couple of streets, I noticed houses with people in the yards taking care of this or that.

I did not bother them. I was a stranger, and they were doing what they were doing. It did not seem appropriate at the time.

I was simply wandering and wondering what life had been like when this town was booming.

It is not like the town is completely unknown though. The 1932 film starring Boris Karloff, The Mummy, was filmed in Cantil as were dozens of other films shot in Red Rock Canyon a short distance to the northwest. 

In October of 2014, the Virgin Galactic Spaceship Two, VSS Enterprise crashed in the Mojave Desert not far away, sadly killing one of the pilots.

The automotive company, Honda has a proving center not far away where all the brand-new cars that the organization wants to market go through all sorts of tests. Sort of like studying for the SAT but with more horsepower.

Honda proving center

It is a very hush-hush place and the security is extremely tight while the auto manufacturer does what they do with the prototypes.

Years ago, I tried to sneak a peek into what was going on there and since the fences were tall, I took a hot air balloon intending to fly silently above the proving grounds. Unbeknownst to me, the first thing a ballooner needs to check is the wind direction before leaving the ground.

Laureen had to pick me up in Seattle. 

So, my venture through Cantil was not what I thought, but I knew a story was there that needed to be written.

A story of family, friends, community and all the rest that makes a place worth living. Sure, there may not be much now, but it was surely a place to behold at one time.

Memories should be enjoyed, and not forgotten.

Perhaps driving through such places like Cantil would instill a stronger sense of community in all of us.

Might not be a bad idea.