Oro Grande, a great little town

Welcome to Oro Grande

A friend of ours, Kathleen, contacted me and said I needed to meet the mayor of Oro Grande. I didn’t even know there was a mayor.

“They have a mayor?”

 “Well, he’s the honorary mayor. Joe Manners is nothing but a fount of knowledge where it concerns Oro Grande. You’ll find him very interesting; and he’s the caretaker of the cemetery.”

The proverbial cat was out of the bag, I found cemeteries interesting. But don’t all taphophiles? Still can’t get used to that term – sounds really creepy.

“So, I should meet this Joe Manners?”

“Yes, you should,” Kathleen replied.

And met him I did, on a lovely but very warm morning at his office away from home, the Cross Eyed Cow Pizza restaurant along the National Trails Highway, in Oro Grande. 

Why the name cross eyed cow? Wondering if there are such things or was it just a made-up term for the pizza joint. The name was kind of catchy, though. Something a person would likely not forget. But, was there such a thing as cross eyed cows?

I googled this cross eyed cow thing, and sure enough, there are lot of cross eyed cows roaming the countryside of the United States. Of course, I mean no disrespect for these cows, but I was just curious.

Curiosity satisfied.

Joe Manners, like his last name indicated, was very cordial and polite, and most importantly, on time. And as Kathleen had indicated, a virtual cornucopia of knowledge when it came to Oro Grande.

Honoree Mayor Joe Manners

“Joe, before we start going through all the history stuff, why do they refer you to as the mayor?” 

“Because I’m very involved with the community, and one day years ago somebody called me the mayor. It’s stuck ever since.”

Good enough for me.  

Mayor Joe had brought about a million file folders with photographs showing Oro Grande from its earliest days and we went through them one at a time. He sipped a cup of coffee and told me stories about Oro Grande, and the seventy-four years he has lived there. 

The file folders were full of black and white photographs, color prints, newspaper articles, and an assortment of other items which were treasures on their own. Each had its own story to tell, describing a bit of the history of this little town just north west of Victorville.

One photo from the fifties showed a bunch of smiling young school children, and he named each and every child. Another photograph was of the opening day in April of 1961 of the Griffith Henshaw Memorial Park, and Mayor Joe could recall the name of everyone in the picture. Yet another photograph depicted some cave-men riding dinosaurs, and he could name everyone in the shot, including the dinosaurs. Okay, I made that up. He had forgotten the dinosaur names.

I marveled at this man’s memory. I was just hoping I could remember where I had parked my car before the meeting. 

For nearly an hour I was taken on a journey back in time to when Oro Grande was first developed as a mining community through to the present day. It is a lot to take in. I mean a lot of history here detailing the strong men and women who came to the Victor Valley and settled here in the earliest days.

 “Why isn’t there a museum here?”

“Not much interest and we’d need a building and a lot of donations,” Mayor Joe responded.

It seemed every town in the High Desert had a museum, large or small. Shouldn’t Oro Grande have one, depicting its special history? 

“You know, we were the first settlement in the High Desert,” Mayor Joe said.

“So, you are like the original O.G.? Get it, Oro Grande, O.G.”

Mayor Joe ignored me. Wisdom along with a good memory.

Another photograph really got my attention. The photograph showed two train robbers on horseback who had held up a train coming into Oro Grande on April 20, 1898. In the ensuing robbery, two men were killed, the train engineer, Clifford, and one of the robbers, Jones.

“What’s really interesting is the young woman standing in the white dress,” Mayor Joe said.

“Why?”

“That’s the lady in white. She haunts the town.”

Interest piqued. “Really?”

“We have quite a few, shall we say strange sightings in town,” Mayor Joe informed me. “Especially at the cemetery.” 

The cemetery!

“We even had ghost hunters out there. You can see their videos on YouTube.”

Fifteen minutes later I was following Mayor Joe in my vehicle, to the Oro Grande cemetery. I found it parked right where I had left it earlier in the morning. My memory wasn’t as bad as I’d feared.

Not only is Joe Manners the honorary mayor of the town, but he has also, by his own choice, taken on the responsibility to be the caretaker of the town’s boot hill.

Most cemeteries, not that I’m an expert, are quiet and reverent places. This one was no different. Very neat and clean.

One of the decorated graves at the cemetery

“San Bernardino County helps out a bit, and just a couple of days ago, Captain Bryan Schultz, brought his county work crew up here and cleared all the weeds away. There were a lot of them, but they did a great job. Helped me out a lot.”

Mayor Joe pointed to a tall flag pole in the cemetery. “Osborne Pipe and Supply installed the flag pole and base. They help the town a lot, too.”

Oro Grande cemetery

The pole, with the stars and stripes waving in the slight breeze over where not a weed could be seen, nor any ghosts dancing amid the wooden crosses or tombstones either.

“Mayor Joe, the ghosts or orbs?”

He smiled and led me on a tour through the graveyard – telling me the history of nearly every person laid to rest here. It was touching, as was the pride of loving attention Mayor Joe showed to every site which was plainly evident.

“I give tours you know. If anyone wants to have a history lesson in the cemetery, all they have to do is contact me. Usually the folks at the Cross Eyed Cow know where to find me.”

“The town is a great place to visit,” Mayor Joe stated.

The Iron Hog restaurant and saloon

I would heartily agree.

Lucerne Valley is worth a thorough visit

 Many from the High Desert of Southern California, have driven through Lucerne Valley a number of times. Perhaps on the way to Big Bear. Perhaps on the way to Joshua Tree National Park. Perhaps on the way to Landers to experience the Giant Rock. Or perhaps just to stop in Lucerne Valley for breakfast or lunch, on the way for some heavy duty four-wheeling in Johnson Valley.

And perhaps, according to imdb.com, to film some of the following movies – Valkyrie (2008), Green Lantern (2011), and Alpha II (2918). 

There are so many more films, television series, and commercials that have been shot in Lucerne Valley – but, I just got lazy, and decided mentioning the three most popular films was enough to make my point.

But, Don Henry, owner and awesome artist, of ‘Art by Henry’, had something to add to those few I mentioned.

Some of Don's art work - there's plenty more

Laureen and I had stopped by Henry’s studio years ago, at the corner of Highway 18 and Trade Post Road, on our way to Big Bear. Bought a couple of pieces of art from the gentleman and then left. 

While I was back in town, I stopped by his business again.

“Didn’t you stop by here years ago?” Don asked.

“Yes, of course. You recognize me, since I don’t age,” I responded.

“What do you want?”

Did I mention Don is a pretty straight shooting kind of guy? 

Of course, being the social butterfly I am, Don and I hit it off immediately again.

“You know, I was in a music video, here in Lucerne Valley.” He told me. “The Hollywood types always use this part of the desert for commercials, music videos, and the like. We’re remote, and I guess viewers like remoteness.”

“I like remoteness,” I replied.

He just looked at me.

Turns out that Don Henry, was one of the actors in the music video by Kranium, filmed in Lucerne Valley in 2015. Kranium’s Kemar Donaldson, is a Jamaican reggae star. The video shot in Lucerne Valley was for his 2013 hit single, ‘Nobody Has To Know’.

He played his role down though. “I was the guy in the video cooking and waving at the crew when they left. Not much of a part, but nice folks and very professional.” 

Well, that part was more than I had in my bag of memorable moments with reggae singers. I listen to Bob Marley on Sirius – that’s all I have. 

But, I wasn’t in Lucerne Valley to discuss stardom with Don Henry. Nope, a reader had written to ask if I had ever heard of Chimney Rock, just west of the town limits of Lucerne Valley.

I know what a chimney is. I have plenty of fires during the winter, but no – not a chimney rock in Lucerne Valley.

Research, Watson, research.

Turns out that Chimney Rock is an important part of the history of the Mojave Desert.

Plaque located near Chimney Rock

On February 16th, 1867, a group of Native Americans found themselves fighting for their lives against a posse of settlers at Chimney Rock.

It is historically known as the last battle between immigrant settlers and Native Americans in the Mojave Desert.

As with all history, there are two perspectives.

Pioneers in the valley and up in the mountains near modern day Big Bear, had had enough of some of the local tribe members stealing their cattle, stealing their horses, burning down saw mills, burning down houses, killing a settler here and there, and just overall being aggressive.

Then, on the other side of the proverbial coin, the Native Americans didn’t like the settlers coming into the area carving up large amounts of territory for themselves. Erecting fences, constructing houses, creating more roads for more settlers, building towns, and having the overall effect of destroying their hunting grounds.

Not a positive situation for anyone concerned.

The matter was settled at Chimney Rock. This was the final camp of the natives, and they were surprised by a posse who had been following them for months.

There was a shootout, and the natives retreated to the desert areas. People of both parties were wounded and killed, and that was the last violent resistance in the Mojave Desert, according to historical sources. 

I had driven to Lucerne Valley to investigate the site of Chimney Rock. It was easy to find. At the junction of Highway 18 and Rabbit Springs Road, there are two stone markers indicating the site of the last struggle between natives and settlers.

“That was easy to find,” I said, as I pulled over and saw the markers. “Now what?”

I took some photos of the hills northwest of the markers and peered through a metal tube on the marker on the right. Looking through the tube, a person has a perfect sight to where chimney rock is.

The tube to see Chimney Rock

“Hey, that looks like a chimney,” I stated, wishing Laureen was there to respond – instead of sounding like an idiot talking to myself. “Wish Laureen was here.”

“Stop talking to yourself.” I said.

I had brought a metal detector for some searching around Chimney Rock. Never know what a person may find at the site of the last struggle between Native Americans and settlers. Bullet casings, belt buckles, or even a bucket of gold.

It was windy, chilly, and the hike would be well over a mile from where I was parked. And, there probably would be no pot of gold, so I decided to drive into Lucerne Valley and have a look around. When in doubt, take the easy route – another great motto.

Entering the town, I passed another place we had driven by many times in the past but never explored. ‘Nelson Studios’.

The location is easy to pinpoint on the north side of Highway 18, and the water tower with the name of the studio emblazoned on it, was a dead giveaway. The entrance is guarded by beautifully decorated stone walls with two ornate iron gates.

Very impressive, but there is no film studio. 

Why was this place deserted? I took out my phone, and asked Mr. Google. 

A little research led me to an article from the Daily Press, published on September 22, 2016. It was written by none other than Matthew Cabe.

His piece, This Desert Life: My Nelson Studios Obsession, is a must read. Fascinating, and full of research on how this place came about and the demise.

Detailed and precise. That’s his style – facts matter.

My take: he got it wrong.

As I walked through the deserted grounds of the Nelson Studios, what I experienced was tumbled down Roman columns, Roman tubs, Roman walkways, Roman benches with all those fancy curly kind of designs they were known for.

“What do you want on that fountain?”

“Some curly rock carved things. What do you think?

“I like curly fries.”

“Sorry, we’re two thousand years before they are invented.”

It was eerie, each step I took around the grounds I expected a Roman Centurion to come at me asking my business.

“Draw your sword,” he would demand.

 “I have a camera with a flash,” I would threaten.

And, where was Matt wrong?

I’ve traveled a lot in the desert over my years. Met great people from all the places I never knew existed.

So, in those travels and listening to what I’ve listened too, perhaps there is another reason for all the Roman stuff laying around the Nelson Studios.

Could Julius Caesar have stopped by Lucerne Valley to build a new empire?

He was powerful, egoistical and had desired world domination.

“What do you think, Crassus? Should Lucerne Valley be our next conquest?”

“I don’t think that’s how it happened,” Don Henry told me. “What I understand is that the studio was actually manufacturing things for Hollywood films. Like you saw as you walked around today.”

That meant Cabe’s research was more accurate than mine! Foiled again.

The day was spent, and so was I. Lucerne Valley is not a place to drive through from here to there. It is a place to stop. There is so much history, that it would take hours, if not days to take it all in.

Businesses are open, so take a moment and spend some time. Perhaps, like me, you may see the ghost of Gaius Julius Caesar hanging around, near Nelson Studios.

If not, how about a burger at Café 247? They are real. And tasty.

Café 247 is open for business

Oh, also stop by and chit-chat with Don Henry at his art studio. He has some real interesting items there, and is a local history book on legs.

The art and the artist is worth the stop

The tragic loss of a star

Perhaps no American male actor has had more press coverage than the iconic James Dean. This handsome twenty-four-year-old man had just begun his career in Hollywood when his life ended tragically on September 30th 1955.

James Dean in his 1955 Porsche 550 Spyder

He had appeared in only three films, but his persona was generating a sizzle among film critics.

There are more posters and t-shirts, with him looking forever young and handsome, than most people have brain cells. And there are the famous paintings, showing Dean hanging out with Humphrey Bogart, Elvis Presley, and Marilyn Monroe in bars, pool halls, movie theatres, and one with a very chilled polar bear in a hot tub.

I bought that one. Laureen told me it was fake. But who wouldn’t buy it?

In an interview conducted by MTV with Johnny Depp in 2005, the actor had this to say about Dean.

"There are moments — behavior — in 'East of Eden' that are pure magic. ‘Giant’ is pure magic; 'Rebel' is a bit dated and is sort of a strange vision of the 1950s, but his work in that was amazing."

One recent afternoon, my son-in-law, Justin, informed me that the late actor’s transaxle from his 1955 Porsche 550 Spyder sold at auction for $382,000.00.

“What?” I asked, trying to recall what a transaxle actually was.

“Yeah, part of his wrecked Porsche. The single mechanical device which combines the functions of an automobile’s transmission, axle, and differential into one integrated assembly.”

Had to agree he’s one smart guy. No father-in-law actually wants to admit that. Son-in-laws are to be the brunt of jokes.

Those are the rules.

“Maybe the purchaser should have gone to Rock Auto,” I replied. “Would have been cheaper.”

Why such a high price for a piece of a car driven by James Dean? No idea, and actually there wasn’t much left of the Spyder after the collision at the intersection of Route 466 and Route 41. 

Dean was an amateur road racer, and had recently purchased the Spyder for a race in Salinas. Because the vehicle was new, it didn’t have enough break-in miles on the motor. So, his Porsche factory-trained mechanic, Rolf Wutherich, suggested driving the Spyder to Salinas for the race.

Okay, instead of towing the sports car to Salinas, there was a chance to drive it all the way there – who’d give that up? Dean didn’t.

On September 30th, he left Sherman Oaks around two in the afternoon, headed for the Grapevine and Fresno. From there, he and his companion would take the route toward Salinas.

Just south of Bakersfield, Dean was ticketed for speeding by the California Highway Patrol at three-thirty in the afternoon.

Duh, a brand new Porsche 550 Spyder. 

If I had been driving that vehicle, there would have been a message sent to the CHP’s offices along the route prior to my leaving.

‘Please pre-fill out the tickets for speeding, and send them to Laureen. I just can’t drive fifty-five.’

That would make a great title for a song. In fact, I could imagine Sammy Hagar performing it.

Dean and his mechanic, Wutherich, stopped at Blackwell’s Corner to fill up the Spyder before taking off to meet up with some friends in Paso Robles later in the afternoon.

A bit peckish, Dean bought an apple and a Coke before leaving the store. He smiled, took some photographs, and then got back into the Porsche heading west on Route 466 (later changed to Highway 46).

The corner store was located near the town of Lost Hills, forty-two miles west-northwest of Bakersfield.

Being a race car, and the fact the windshield was rather limited, Dean may have donned his favorite pair of goggles when leaving Blackwell’s Corner for the drive to Paso Robles.

That’s an important thing to remember – the goggles.

Just before six in the evening, a Ford Tudor Coupe entered Highway 466 from Highway 41 and within seconds crashed head-on with Dean’s vehicle.

Witnesses said the Spyder was sent into the air, and flipped over numerous times before coming to a rest in a gulley alongside Route 466.

What was left of Dean's Porsche after the crash

Wutherich was horribly injured but survived the crash. Dean did not. He died soon after being placed into an ambulance.

The driver of the Ford Tudor Coupe, Donald Turnupseed, ended up with a bloody nose and some facial injuries.

I was about to type something about Turnupseed’s name sounding a lot like ‘turn-up-the-speed’, but Laureen thought it would be better if I didn’t. Not classy, considering.

The twenty-three-year-old Navy veteran and Cal Poly student, may not have seen the Spyder heading west along Route 466. The grayish-silver, low-profiled speedster may have been hard to spot at that time of day.

It was a sadly tragic accident.

A twenty-four-year-old was dead, and a twenty-three-year-old might blame himself forever for that accident.

Laureen and I were heading to Monterey, not long ago and were traveling Highway 46 westbound.

“Did you see that sign?” she asked.

“Spiritual? Or highway?”

“The one we just passed that said this was the James Dean Memorial Junction.”

Missed that. A quick and safe U-turn took us back to the intersection of Highway 41 and Highway 46.

John at the junction of 46 & 41

We parked far off the pavement, looked both ways, and then sauntered off toward the highway sign Laureen had noticed. There was also a memorial to Dean along a chain-linked fence on the north-west corner of the highways.

Make-shift memorial to James Dean

Even with traffic speeding by us on all sides, the location was eerily serene. Here, at this spot, one of America’s up and coming actors had been killed by a freak accident.

The memorial had flowers, ribbons of various colors, hand painted signs about James Dean, and a small heart shaped locket hanging from the fence.

Laureen at the intersection where James Dean lost his life

We wondered and pondered, what it must have been like when those first people came across such a horrific car crash. It must have been heart-rending. 

It was touching. We didn’t say much to each other, the place deserved quiet and reflection.

Forgetting for the moment that we were originally heading west toward Monterey, we turned around and headed east, back to Blackwell’s Corner, located at the intersection of State Route 46 and State Route 33. George Blackwell had opened a rest stop at the location in 1921 for road weary travelers. The name of the corner is in honor of him.

The place was hopping with tourists. Besides being a gas station, this is the place to go for any kind of pistachios. They had garlic onion, hickory smoked, roasted salted and peppered, chili lemon, and more than I wanted to jot down. There was home-made fudge, home-made cookies, home-made pickles, and a bunch of other home-made products that were never made in my home.

John standing next to a very tall James Dean

It’s a large place, this Blackwell’s Corner, and everywhere the guest would look there was the history of the region along the walls and the floor space.

Photographs of James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, and others showing Hollywood’s best during the 1950’s. 

There was a tribute to John Steinbeck, one of my favorite authors, depicting a pick-up truck loaded down like the one the Jarod family may have driven to the West along Route 66. Packed to the gills with everything a fleeing family would need to make a new home for themselves in California.

And of course, there is an entire hallway in honor of a customer who had stopped by on that fateful September 30th day in 1955.

There are photographs of him adorning the walls. Newspaper clippings of his film success as well as his obituary. And one piece of equipment the young actor may have worn that day - that last day of his life.

His goggles.

After the accident, passersby, stopped by the crash site and some decided that pieces of the carnage laying around were free to take.

There’s a tale of a young woman snatching Dean’s goggles from the ground, and hiding them in her purse.

Sixty-two years later, a family member donated them to Blackwell’s Corner as a museum piece – and they are now there behind bullet proof glass.

James Dean goggles, picked up by a passerby

There’s debate over whether Dean was wearing the goggles at the time of his death, or if they just happened to be in the vehicle at the time of the accident.

Does it really matter?  

A celebrity is killed - grab what can be taken from the scene and auction them off. But, in this case, the family finally did the right thing. 

Driving a highway is one of the great adventures we can enjoy. You never know what you may run across.

Even a memorial to a forever twenty-four-year-old actor, by the name of James Byron Dean.