Author Topic: Short Stories  (Read 40574 times)

saudust

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #50 on: April 08, 2015, 05:33:43 AM »
Thanks, wshawkins, for another history "lesson".  The center at Red Rock Canyon tells of how lush the vegetation used to be many, many moons ago.  My grandson got really freaked out by the indian life-like statue there.  Up into my arms and away from the stare we went.

Thank you for continuing to post such interesting information.
Let me wake laughing from a nap in the afternoon under the aspens in the fall.

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #51 on: April 08, 2015, 07:11:13 AM »
It’s interesting that the best food for your evening meals in Bishop are at a casino, a bowling alley and 8,400 feet in Bishop Creek Canyon in the original log cabin serving some of the best food in the high Eastern Sierra today. ;D
"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #52 on: April 14, 2015, 07:13:47 AM »
Phantom of the Eastern Sierra



Phantom of the Opera




Three miles up the North Fork of the Big Pine Creek trail and 1700 feet higher than at the Trailhead, you come up to Lon Chaney’s Cabin.  The cabin was like something out of a fantasy novel.  This cabin was built solid, unlike any backcountry cabin I’ve ever seen.   


NF Big Pine Creek Trailhead




U.S. Forrest Service Sign





Just off the main trail places you below a set of stone steps and the massive stone structure of this solitary cabin.  The cabin is a 1,288-square-foot granite field stone structure, solidly built to say the least.  I love the setting of that cabin, and the name of the location: Cienega Mirth.


Stone Steps




A U.S. Forest Service sign on a nearby tree identifies it as a wilderness ranger cabin.  The cabin is secured by large locks on the doors and wooden shutters bar the windows, all contributing to an air of mystery that seems in keeping with the image of its original owner, Lon Chaney Sr. The actor who starred in "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" and "The Phantom of the Opera," Chaney was referred to as "the man of a thousand faces," and for millions of moviegoers in the 1910s and 1920s was the face of horror in movies.


Chaney had his summer stone cabin built for only $12,000 in 1929-30.  It was designed by Los Angeles architect Paul Revere Williams, the first African American granted a fellowship in the American Institute of Architects.   But Williams is best known for designing private homes, about 2,000 of them, for film celebrities, politicians and other famous people.  The Chaney cabin was the only mountain cabin he designed.


Cabin




Cabin




Surrounded by steep canyon walls and located amid lodgepole pines in the Inyo National Forest, the cabin faces a creek.  Wide stone steps lead up to the one-story rectangular building; its walls are 2 feet thick and made of large granite rocks cemented together. There is a gable roof, now covered by corrugated metal, and overhanging 8-inch-thick lodgepole beams.


The interior is still in good shape and is divided into one large room with a kitchen separated by a plank wall.  There is tongue-in-groove pine flooring, and a granite fireplace in the main room.  When Chaney owned the cabin, there was a mounted deer head above the fireplace and a bear rug on the floor.  A kerosene lamp on a pulley provided light for the living area and the kitchen.


Interior of Cabin





"Tonight I start out for the High Sierra. No shaving, no makeup, no interviews for four long, lazy weeks. We take a stove along and the wife cooks the fish I catch.  We sleep under the pines and I try to climb high enough to reach the snows.  Camping's the biggest kick in life for me," Chaney told a writer in 1928.


It was no accident that Chaney located the cabin near the Cienega Mirth section of Big Pine Creek, where it curves gently and flattens out.  It is one of the best trout fishing spots in the area.  Chaney was an ardent fly fisherman and early practitioner of catch and release who had escaped to the area for many years.  He camped with his family near the site of the cabin long before he ever had it built.  The fact that there was no road up Big Pine Canyon to the cabin was very appealing to Chaney.  He hired pack trains to bring in supplies as needed.


Big Pine Creek – Good fishing spot





Chaney was to enjoy his cabin for only a few months before his death at age 47.  His last trip to the cabin was with his wife, Hazel, in late July 1930.  By that time, according to Michael F. Blake's book, "The Man Behind the Thousand Faces," Chaney's bronchial cancer was very advanced.  His weakened state, combined with the cabin's 9,200-foot elevation, made it impossible for him to fish.  Continuing hemorrhages forced him to return to Los Angeles, where he died Aug. 26, 1930.


The Chaney cabin was built under a government special use permit that allowed Chaney to own the structure while leasing the half-acre site from the federal government.  The cabin was sold in 1932, and again in 1955.  It reverted to the Forest Service in 1980 when the permit expired.


Address of Cabin






The Forest Service considered destroying the cabin to comply with the 1964 Wilderness Act, which calls for the restoration of natural conditions in wilderness areas.  But the agency changed its mind when it became clear that the amount of dynamite required to demolish the massive stone structure would cause major damage to the surrounding trees.


Ultimately, the Forest Service decided that the cabin's historic value justified its preservation.  In 1982, the agency proposed placing the cabin on the Register of Historic Places, but the application process was never completed. The cabin remains on the list of candidates for official designation.


Cabin




Today, the cabin is closed to the public, and is seldom used by the Forest Service for shelter or rescue operations.  There is no money budgeted to maintain the cabin's interior, even though volunteer groups do periodically monitor and maintain its exterior.


After looking over the cabin, do continue up the North Fork of the Big Pine Creek Trail to the Big Pine Lakes and access to the Palisade Glacier and Palisade Crest, which rises over 14,000 feet.   Not an easy hike, but well worth the effort for the views and some decent fishing.  You will see too why Lon Chaney so loved this part of the Eastern Sierra.


Lon Chaney






"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

John Harper

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #53 on: April 14, 2015, 08:57:20 AM »
Here's a few shots I took last Monday, up near Bishop:







And a nice shot of the famous Sierra Waves:


Incredible to think how ancient these glyphs are.  We saw evidence of heavy water erosion at one site, complete water slides carved out of rock by ancient water flows.

John

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #54 on: April 14, 2015, 10:17:34 AM »
See you have been doing some rock hopping!  Nice photos, especially the one of the wicked Sierra Wave!
"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

bj

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #55 on: April 14, 2015, 11:05:42 AM »
Cool pics of the cabin. I hadn't seen inside before.
" Rock on..........Rock the Creek"
Hardrock

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #56 on: April 14, 2015, 02:35:21 PM »
Cool pics of the cabin. I hadn't seen inside before.


The storm shutters were open so just took a picture through the dirty window. :photographer:
"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #57 on: April 24, 2015, 06:53:27 AM »
Cottonwood Charcoal Kilns




Cottonwood Charcoal Kilns from the 1920’s





Just off of 395 at Owens Lake, the Cottonwood Charcoal Kilns reminds us of the silver rush from the late 1800’s.  These beehive shaped structures are located alongside what used to be Cottonwood Creek, and a part of the larger story of Owens Lake before its water was diverted to Los Angeles Basin.  Today, Cottonwood Creek is long gone and what is left of Owens Lake is a dry lake bed.


The Cottonwood kilns were built to provide charcoal to the rich Cerro Gordo mines, 10 miles to the east and across Owens Lake, since all the wood available around the Cerro Gordo had been cut down and burned, and this charcoal was necessary to continue production.  With so much raw ore to process and refine, the kilns at the mine had an insatiable appetite for charcoal.


Colonel Sherman Stevens




Colonel Sherman Stevens Sawmill during Operation 1870’s




Colonel Sherman Stevens filled the need for charcoal by building a steam-powered sawmill in 1873, high up on Cottonwood Creek.  Trees were cut for lumber and charcoal, which was used during mine construction.  Logs were hauled in by ox teams and Colonel Sherman Steven’s mill began turning out lumber for the long flume ride down the canyon.  By fall in 1873, four miles had been completed with twelve-foot V-shaped sections were boxed together at the mill and sent down the water-filled flume to be attached to the end by carpenters.  Temporary sidings were constructed so that the boys could ride the boxes down the flume while the canyon walls echoed with their laughter.  The slide was so steep in spots that the workmen shot downward like a cannonball, spraying water in all directions.  The flume was thirteen-miles long when completed.  Once the lumber made the 13 mile run, they were cut for lumber or burned for charcoal


E Ticket Log Sluice ride down the long flume




Two large charcoal kilns were built and they still stand to this day.  Whereas most kilns are built using bricks or stone, these two were built out of clay bricks which were covered in plaster and look very much beehive like.  Wood would be loaded into the kiln by way of the ground level door, until stacking it by that method became too difficult, and then more wood would be lowered in by the upper door.  When the kiln was full, the doors would be closed and the wood inside set ablaze.  Vents at the bottom of each kiln were opened or closed as necessary in order control the burn.  For about ten days, the wood would cook slowly into charcoal.  Afterwards, the charcoal, along with lumber from the nearby saw mill were loaded up on steamboat, sent across Owens Lake to Keeler and then hauled up to the Cerro Gordo mine.



Sawmill 1900’s





Sawmill 1921   


"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #58 on: April 24, 2015, 06:57:20 AM »
Cottonwood Charcoal Kilns




Cottonwood Charcoal Kilns Turn off





All that remain today are the two charcoal kilns, but with holes in the tops they are weathering fast.    Sadly since the kilns were made out of clay bricks, they have certainly taken a toll from the elements. Rain, wind and sun have damaged the kilns, yet they still stand.  Unless otherwise preserved they will eventually return to the dust from which they were made.



Cottonwood Charcoal Kilns Plaque





Where Cottonwood Creek flowed before City of Los Angeles diverted the creek





Cottonwood Charcoal Kilns




Cottonwood Charcoal Kilns








"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #59 on: May 12, 2015, 06:45:40 AM »
1872 Earthquake Recalled from Newspaper Articles



I know I did a story of this as recalled from John Muir of the Great Owens Valley Earthquake of 1872.  Now I like to tell the story told through newspaper articles as seen from eye witnesses as this human tragedy unfolded. 

The local newspaper at the time was “The Inyo Independence” (now the Inyo Register) out of Independence Ca.  Interesting looking back at these old newspaper articles (available through microfilm) and how they talked and thought back then and what was important to them at that time.  The written word can be powerful as you’ll see:

The Inyo Independence ran numerous detailed stories on the earthquake, including this dramatic initial headline:

Horrors!!



Strong wooden houses bounded up and down and rolled to and fro like ships in a heavy seaway, crockery smashed and furniture danced about the floors, chimneys dropped instantly to the ground, stone and adobe houses crumbled and went to earth like piles of sand, burying the miserable occupants in the ruins, and the whole world was in its last convulsions!

House Collapsed 1872


It would fill volumes to detail all the wonders of those few seconds of time - the wondrous phenomena of nature, the dire calamities, the personal experiences, miraculous escapes and interesting incidents, but for the present we are forced to forego the greater part of these things, and give some main facts, the most of which at the time or subsequently came under our own observation.

All who were not caught in the falling ruins were soon in the streets and soon began to hunt out the extent of the damage.

Henry Tregallas Killed:

Henry Tregallas was killed in the ruins of his house.  When found by the terrified employees his arms were locked around the almost inanimate form of his wife, both buried in the debris, she badly injured, nearly suffocated and he quite dead.  Every building on the ground, save the frame mill, is razed to the earth, and it is absolutely wonderful that none but Mr. Tregallas fell victims.  At the mine no one suffered injury.

The Destruction of Lone Pine:

The greatest loss of life and destruction of buildings occurred in the town of Lone Pine.  Every stone and adobe building, comprising about three-fourth of that unfortunate place, was leveled to the earth.

Masonry Structure Collapsed 1872


Many of the dwellings and with but one or two exceptions, every business house in the town was built of adobe and hence the great loss of life.


Dead of Heroism:


There were over sixty persons killed and wounded in that place alone.  The large store of Loomis Bros., crowded with goods, fell and buried Rockwell Loomis.  The debris caught fire close by where he was lying and near to a large quantity of powder in keys [kegs].

He owes his life, as do many others, to a deed of Heroism performed by Wm. Covington, who, in the midst of the quakings and terrors of the scene, and at the imminent risk of his life, refused to abandon his helpless friend, and never ceased his efforts until he extinguished the fire, then lapping the powder kegs, and got the wounded man out.

It was a noble act.  The worst hurt, though not the only one, sustained by Mr. Loomis was in having one ear and a large portion of his scalp torn away.

Mrs. C. M. Joslyn:

Mrs. C. M. Joslyn and her three children were buried under masses of adobes and broken timbers.  She and her only son, the pride of her heart, little George, occupied a bed on the opposite side of a heavy partition from the bed where her two little daughters were sleeping.

The partition fell across Mrs. Joslyn and little George, killing the latter instantly, and severly injuring her, while the two girls remained unhurt.  When finally rescued the wounded and almost insane mother, forgetful of self and all else save her little darling, clung to his dead body until made to relinquish it by almost sheer force.

The large and strongly built brewery, belonging to Munzinger and Lubken, crushed in partially, but all escaped without injury, save one, Munzinger's innocent babe whose little life was crushed out by the fell blow.

A Mexican woman, her two daughters and one son all died together, the sole survivor of this family being a boy about ten years of age, who escaped with his nose and one foot badly crushed.  Two well-known women of the town, Lucy and Antonia, occupying different houses, were crushed to death in their beds.

Juan Ybeseta, a native of Chili, and a prominent man had his skull split wide open when his house fell in.  Others were mangled most fearfully and many placidly slept the sleep of death, with nothing visable to show the cause.  We saw many other dead bodies laid out in a blacksmith shop and other places when we arrived on the ground a few hours after the great visitation, but we now must take note of the wounded, and a few remarkable escapes.

Col. Whipple was asleep in the second story of his residence when the crash came.  Feeling that escape was impossible, and with a thought of his absent family, he exclaimed, "This is Death!"

At Camp Independence all the buildings (adobe) are partially destroyed, though a few were thrown down, but among the latter was Jacob Vagt's which buried up himself and only child.  The latter, we grieve to add suffocated before it could be rescued, a fate the parents barely escaped.  Mrs. Vagt and a few others about the Post were somewhat injured, but none seriously.  With the pitiable loss of this babe our death list closes, though we are apprehensive of bad news from Deep Spring Valley, where most of the miners lived in rickety stone houses which could not withstand the shock a moment.
"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #60 on: May 12, 2015, 06:48:34 AM »

1872 Earthquake Recalled from Newspaper Articles


The Edwards House, built in 1868 and located in Independence, survived the earthquake.  Wood frame houses from this era did well during the earthquake and became the standard after the earthquake.



At Big Pine the shock was very severe, at Bishop Creek somewhat less so; some buildings down in both localities but no one hurt.  At Aurora brick buildings were cracked, and at Benton, this side, the same things occurred, but except the fright, no damage done.  We heard nothing from any point north of Aurora.


South, at the lower end of Owens Lake, the shock was light.  From Coso, 70 miles south-east, a report comes that 30 Mexicans were killed, but this needs confirmation.


Strange to say, Cerro Gordo sustained no loss of life or injury, other than the crumbling of a few dry stone walls.


Belshaw's furnace stopped for a few hours, but resumed operations in the morning.  The grade down the mountain was in places so filled with rock and earth as to be impassable for vehicles.  At Belmont, a few stone cabins were thrown down, but without injury to the occupants.


"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #61 on: May 12, 2015, 06:50:34 AM »

1872 Earthquake Recalled from Newspaper Articles


Local Color


Account from Fish Springs


"...Not far off, a horse's hoof protruding from the ground, where a crack had opened and then closed, gave reasonable inference as to where the rest of the animal might be found." (Chalfant, 1933)

Account from Owensville (near present-day Laws, out of Bishop)


"My grandfather, Thomas Clark, residing in Owensville at that time used to tell of his experience in the quake. He had come home very late from Bishop with a washtub full of household supplies which he left sitting in the middle of his cabin floor intending to put them away the next morning. When the quake hit he found himself making desperate efforts to remain on his feet and at the same time reach the door, all the while trying to stay out of the way of the tub which seemed to have the same intentions." (Letter, H.M. Clark.)

Earthquakes don't kill people...

"Only one frame building in the valley was leveled, and that was an unsubstantial and cheap shed. Many, however, were racked, and all plastering was shattered. Adobes were promptly striken from the list of favored building materials; probably there was never a more instantaneous and general change of opinion regarding construction methods." (Chalfant, 1933).

"Reading these grand mountain manuscripts displayed through every vicissitude of heat and cold, calm and storm, upheaving volcanoes and down-grinding glaciers, we see that everything in Nature called destruction must be creation -- a change from beauty to beauty -- John Muir
"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #62 on: September 21, 2015, 06:42:56 AM »
Bodie Stories

Recently visited Bodie and they were celebrating the old times with many people dressed in period clothes.  What was most interesting was they were telling stories of famous events that happened in Bodie.  Thought I’d pass on some of the stories I heard that day.

Bodie was named after W. S. Bodey who discovered gold in the nearby hills in 1859.  Funny they couldn’t  even get the name right!

Bodie was famous for its saying:  “Goodbye God, I’m going to Bodie”

"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #63 on: September 22, 2015, 09:45:21 AM »
Bodie Stories

The 601 and Joseph DeRoche

One of the more famous stories of Bodie was the “601 vigilante group”. The notation of “601” is commonly known to mean “6 feet under, 0 trials, 1 rope”.

During a ball at the Miner’s Union Hall on Saturday, January 15, 1881, Joseph DeRoche danced with the wife of Thomas Treloar, even though Treloar asked him not to. Words were exchanged and an argument took place, but DeRoche left the event before most of the other attendees.

When Treloar and his wife left the Hall, they walked down Main Street. At the corner of Main & Lowe Streets, DeRoche jumped from the darkness and shot Treloar in the head. DeRoche was immediately arrested, but was handed over to Deputy Farnsworth, who was drunk at the time. DeRoche quickly escaped.

DeRoche made a run for it down Goat Ranch Road, but was caught about eight miles away and was returned to Bodie. He was hanged by the Bodie 601 vigilante group on Monday, January 24, 1881. Below is an article that was printed by The Bodie Free Press newspaper:

   Judge Lynch held his first court session in Bodie early on Monday morning and passed iudgment on a criminal whose crime is already recorded and impressed on every mind in this community. The tragic end of DeRoche, the murderer, was at once awful and impressive.

    The lesson to be learned from it is easily read and the simplest mind can fully comprehend it. That a cruel murder had been committed no one can deny; that the swift retribution was expected every observing citizen could predict with safety. The excitement of the Sabbath did not die away and the wrath of the people did not go out with the setting of the sun. As the shades of darkness enveloped the town, the spirit of revenge increased in intensity and developed into a blazing column of fire. It was burning in its intensity and fearful in its results. After the adjournment of the court and DeRoche was token back to his narrow cell, a mysterious committee was organized, the like of which has existed in many towns on this Coast since ’46, and whose work has been quick and thorough. The Committee, it is reported, held a long session and discussed the matter in hand. The session was long and deliberate, and its conclusions resulted in the lynching of DeRoche.

    Between 1:30 and 2 o’clock Monday morning, a long line of masked and unmasked men were seen to file out of a side street into Bonanza Avenue. There must have been two hundred of them and as the march progressed to the jail the column increased. In front were the shotguns carried by determined men. They were backed up by a company which evidently meant business, and no ordinary force could foil them in their progress. When the jail was reached it was surrounded and the leader made a loud knock at the door. All was dark and quiet within. The call had the effect of producing a dim light in the office, and amid loud cries of “DeRoche,” “Bring him out,” “Open the door,” “Hurry up,” etc. Jailer Kirgan appeared, and responded by saying: “All right boys; wait a minute; give me a little time.” In a moment the outside door was opened slowly and four or five men entered. Under instructions the door of the cell in which the condemned prisoner lay was swung open. The poor wretch knew what this untimely visit meant, and prepared for the trying and humiliating death. It was some moments before he was brought out, and the crowd began to grow impatient. Some imagined the prisoner had been taken away by the officers – If this had been the case what would have followed can only be imagined. All these doubts were put at rest by the presence of the man.

    He wore light-colored pants, a colored calico shirt, and over his shoulders was hung a canvas coat buttoned around the neck. His head was bare, and as the bright rays of the moon glanced upon his face, there was a picture of horror visible. It was a look of dogged and defiant submission. With a firm step he descended the steps and came out upon the street in a hurried manner, closely guarded by shotguns and revolvers. The order to fall in was given, and all persons not members of the mysterious committee to stand back. The march up Bonanza Street was rapid. Not a word was said by the condemned man, and his gaze was fixed upon the ground. He was hurried up a back street to Fuller. The corner of Green was turned, and when Webber’s blacksmith shop was reached, a halt was made. In front of this place was a huge gallows frame, used for raising wagons, etc., while being repaired. Now it was to be used for quite a different purpose. “Move it over to the spot where the murder was committed,” was the order, and immediately it was picked up by a dozen men and was carried to the corner of Main and Lowe streets. The condemned man glanced at it for a moment and an apparent shudder came over him, but he uttered not a word. From an eye witness we learn that the scene which followed was awful in its impressiveness. The snow had just begun to fall, and the moon, which had shone so brightly during the early part of the night, shed but a pale light on the assembled company. When the corner was reached, the heavy gallows frame was placed upon the ground, and the prisoner led under it. The prisoner’s demeanor still remained passive, and his hands, encased in irons, were clasped.

    His eyes occasionally were turned upward and his lips were seen to move once or twice. On each end of the frame were windlasses and large ropes attached. The rope placed around the prisoner’s neck was a small one; when the knot was made it was tested against the left ear. This did not suit DeRoche particularly, and he changed it so that it was in the rear. Someone suggested that his legs and hands should be tied. This was immediately done. The large iron hooks of the frame dangled near the prisoner and the grating sound produced a peculiar feeling. It was at least three minutes before everything was ready DeRoche was asked by the leader if he had anything to say. He replied, “No nothing.” In a moment he was again asked the same question and a French-speaking bystander was requested to receive his answer. The reply this time was: “I have nothing to say only O God.” “Pull him,” was the order, and in a twinkling the body rose three feet from the ground. Previous to putting on the rope, the overcoat was removed. A second after the body was elevated a sudden twitch of the legs was observed, but with that exception, not a muscle moved while the body hung on the crossbeam. His death took place without a particle of pain. The face was placid, and the eyes closed and never were reopened. Strangulation must have been immediate. While the body swung to and fro, like a pendulum of a clock, the crowd remained perfectly quiet. After a lapse of two or three minutes a voice, sharp and clear, was heard in the background: “I will give $100 if twenty men connected with this affair will publish their names in the paper tomorrow morning.” The voice was immediately recognized as that of a leading attorney. (Only Pat Reddy would have had the courage to face the mob, and a yell went up from the crowd.) “Give him the rope,” “Put him out,” and similar sentences drowned out the man and his voice. His retreat was as dignified as the exigencies of the case would admit of. While the body was still hanging a paper was pinned onto his breast bearing the following inscription: “All others take warning. Let no one cut him down. Bodie 601.”
"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

hiker steve

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #64 on: September 22, 2015, 03:28:30 PM »
wshawkins,

There are some who are not convinced that the saying is "Goodbye God, I'm going to Bodie" but "Good, by God, I'm going to Bodie!"
After this story I tend to believe it was the former.

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #65 on: September 22, 2015, 04:58:01 PM »
True, either it was:

“Good, by God, I’m going to Bodie”-or-“Goodbye God, I’m going to Bodie”, was an entry in a diary from a young woman (Girl?) from San Francisco upon discovering her family was moving to Bodie during the gold boom.  At 8,200' elevation with 10,000 populations with no tree protection, Bodie had quite an unsavory reputation. Killings happened on a daily basis. Robberies, stage hold ups, and street fights made life exciting for Bodie residences.       :shooting:

I still like “Goodbye God, I’m going to Bodie”................................
"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #66 on: September 23, 2015, 07:29:16 AM »
Bodie Jail


The Bodie Jail was built in 1877 and cost about $800. It’s approximately 14’x18′ and has two cells in it. It’s been written that the jail wasn’t built very well, but it certainly saw a lot of “guests”. Purportedly, only one prisoner ever escaped. Bail was usually $5 for misdemeanors.



Bodie Jail as it looks today

"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #67 on: September 25, 2015, 06:24:31 AM »
Bodie Stories


Cain House


One of the most popular stories of Bodie is the haunted house ghost stories. The Cain house is one of them.


Jim Cain was a shrewd businessman who brought lumber to the treeless Bodie.  Everything in Bodie was made of wood.  Homes were heated with wood and the mills used wood for their steam engines.  So you can easily see how Jim Cain made his fortune.


Cain built his house on the corner of Green and Park Street.  He hired a Chinese woman to be the family maid.  It wasn’t long before rumors were spread about Cain and the maid having an affair.  Mrs. Cain would none of that in her home so she immediately fired the maid.  The poor woman’s reputation was ruined and she couldn’t find a job.  She tragedy ended up committing suicide.


It is reported that her ghost still haunts the Cain home.  Over the years the house has served as the park ranger housing and it was also open to visitors.  Children have reported seeing the maid in the upstairs bedroom.  Even some of the park rangers have reported strange experiences.  One story is of a ranger who was sleeping in one of the rooms upstairs and felt a pressure on his chest.  He reported it felt like someone was on top of him, trying to suffocate him.  Another ranger had a similar experience as he managed to push the entity off after a difficult struggle.  Another reported the door opening and shutting throughout the night.  A daughter of another park ranger had a room upstairs where the lights kept turning back on during the night.  Soon after these strange unexplained haunts, ranger housing was moved permanently to its current location.


Cain Residence


"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #68 on: September 29, 2015, 06:48:22 AM »
Bodie Stories


Mendocini House in Bodie



Another haunted house in Bodie is the Mendocini house.  There have been reports of children laughing outside. Another ranger reported that it sounded as if a party was going on inside the house, but once the ranger investigated he could find no one there.  This house is also rumored to smell like someone is cooking Italian food.  Maybe it’s for the ghostly party that’s going on night after night.


Mendocini House


"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #69 on: October 22, 2015, 06:46:35 AM »
Bodie Curse




Legends about Bodie abound, including the Bodie Curse. Supposedly, if visitors take anything from this old ghost town – even a pebble, they will be cursed with bad luck. Misfortune and tragedy are heaped upon the victim until the stolen item is returned. According to Park Rangers, many who have taken things eventually return them to the park to rid themselves of this curse. Purportedly, the park maintains a log book of pages and pages of returned items. In the museum, you can see the letters from people who have returned items to the park. The curse is supposedly perpetuated by the ghosts of Bodie who guard against thieves and protect its treasures. Some believe that the "curse” is nothing more than a superstition perpetuated by the Park Rangers to preserve Bodie as a historic site. However, I for one wouldn’t take the chance of being haunted by the long lost souls of Bodie.

According to park ranger J. Brad Sturdivant, “The curse still exists today.” Spooked former visitors often return old nails and other souvenirs taken from Bodie. While “Most of it comes back in an unmarked box,” the ranger states, "We still get letters . . . from people saying, 'I'm sorry I took this, hoping my luck will change'”
"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."

P A C

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #70 on: October 24, 2015, 08:19:21 AM »
Life presents enough challenges - why risk/tempt 'the force' of the 'dark side'?   :lightning:

wshawkins

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Re: Short Stories
« Reply #71 on: October 27, 2015, 06:30:20 AM »
The Cold Horseman

One cold night in 1863 there gathered in the cabin on the edge of Bodie, a select company of the class then ruling the camp and its vicinage.  Their evening was broken into by a hail from the darkness without.  When the door was opened the lamplight revealed a horseman, who was cordially invited to dismount and come inside.  The rider said he would have to have help to get off the horse, as he was cold and stiff.  Much sympathy with his plight was profanely expressed, while the genial host went to his rescue by drawing a pistol and shooting his horse.  As the animal went down, its rider was assured:  “Now you can get off all right.”
"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."