Soledad Mountain

Soledad Mountain rises just south of the Mojave, its rocky slopes bearing the stories of over a century of mining. Gold was first found here in 1894, when prospectors chased the Queen Esther and other veins. Early tunnels, stamp mills, and mercury pans yielded approximately five million dollars’ worth of gold and silver before activity slowed by 1914.

The Great Depression brought the mountain back to life. In 1933, George Holmes struck the Silver Queen vein, drawing in investors from South Africa. By 1935, the Golden Queen Mining Company had built a modern underground operation. From 1935 to 1942, the mine was the largest producer in southern California’s desert, until a federal wartime order shut down all gold mining.

After the war, the mountain quieted. The mill was dismantled, and with gold fixed at $35 an ounce, few miners could make a living. That changed in the 1980s, when new heap-leach technology made lower-grade ores profitable. Golden Queen Mining, a Canadian firm, consolidated the claims, drilled thousands of feet, and by 2016 reopened Soledad as a modern open-pit, heap-leach mine.

Geologically, Soledad Mountain is a volcanic dome complex of rhyolite and latite. These brittle rocks fractured to host dozens of quartz veins. The deposit is a low-sulfidation epithermal system, rich not just in gold but also silver—often five ounces of silver for every ounce of gold.

Today, lined leach pads, water monitoring, and wildlife protections stand where old shafts and tailings once scarred the land. The mine has produced over 340,000 ounces of gold and 3.5 million ounces of silver since 2016. Now owned by Andean Precious Metals, Soledad is one of California’s last working gold mines, carrying forward a desert legacy that began 130 years ago.

References

  1. Mindat.org. Soledad Mountain (Golden Queen Mine), Mojave-Rosamond District, Kern County, California, USA. Mineral locality database. Accessed August 2025.
    https://www.mindat.org/loc-80502.html
  2. Mojave Desert. Desert Fever: Soledad Mountain. Mining history of the Mojave Desert. Accessed August 2025.
    https://mojavedesert.net/desert-fever/soledad-mountain.html
  3. Construction Equipment Guide. Golden Queen Mining: History in the Making. Published March 2015.
    https://www.constructionequipmentguide.com/golden-queen-mining-history-in-the-making/24706
  4. Golden Queen Mining Company Ltd. Soledad Mountain Project. Project overview and operations (archived site). Accessed August 2025.
    https://www.goldenqueen.com/project/soldedad-mountain/
  5. U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). Technical Report on the Soledad Mountain Project, Kern County, California. NI 43-101 Report, 2015.
    https://www.sec.gov/Archives/edgar/data/1025362/000106299315001070/exhibit99-1.htm
  6. Mining Data Online. Soledad Mountain (Golden Queen) Mine. Production, Reserves, and Technical Summary. Accessed August 2025.
    https://miningdataonline.com/property/596/Soledad-Mountain-Golden-Queen-Mine.aspx

Standard Hill

Standard Hill sits just south of Mojave, California. Today, it appears to be just another rocky desert butte, but for more than a century, people were convinced it was a golden hill.

It started in 1894 when George Bowers, a lone prospector, stumbled across gold in the rocks. His first load of ore was worth $1,600, a substantial sum back then. Word spread fast. Soon, miners were sinking shafts into veins with colorful names, such as Yellow Rover, Exposed Treasure, and Desert Queen.

By 1901, the place wasn’t just a scatter of claims anymore. A big 20-stamp mill and a cyanide plant were built to crush and process the rock. What had been a lonely hill was suddenly alive with pounding stamps, the smell of chemicals, and the clatter of wagons hauling ore. A little company camp, called “Gold Town,” even grew at the base of the hill to house workers and families.

Mining boomed off and on for decades. Companies came and went—the Mojave Consolidated, Standard Mining and Milling, and later Standard Hill Mines Company. Each tried to pull wealth from the hill. In the 1930s, during the Great Depression, the district came roaring back to life. Miners chased the gold veins hundreds of feet down, working day and night until World War II shut them down by government order.

All told, Standard Hill yielded approximately $3.5 million worth of gold and silver in the past, primarily from the first three prominent veins. That’s roughly 170,000 ounces of gold, much of it in the form of bright yellow metal mixed with silver. People who worked in the mines said that some ore was so rich it sparkled in the sunlight.

The rock itself tells part of the story. Standard Hill is made of ancient granite capped with younger volcanic rock. When hot fluids moved through cracks in these rocks long ago, they left behind quartz veins stuffed with gold and silver. Miners followed these veins like treasure maps, finding pockets of ore several feet thick.

The hill wasn’t done yet. In the late 1980s, modern companies returned with bulldozers and leach pads, excavating four small open pits. They mined for just a few years before prices fell and the operation shut down again in the early 1990s.

Today, Standard Hill is quiet. You can still see old mine shafts, scattered ruins of the mill, and the scars of the modern pits. It’s a reminder of how one small desert hill fueled dreams of riches, supported little communities, and became part of California’s long gold-mining story.

Standard Hill – Desert Fever

Mojave, CA

  • Desert Fever: An Overview of Mining in the California Desert (Mojave Desert Mining History, Standard Hill section)
  • California Division of Mines and Geology, Mineral Resources of Kern County (1957; later summaries of Mojave-Rosamond District production and geology)
  • Mindat.org – Standard Hill Group (Mojave Mining District, Kern County, CA) – mindat.org/loc-219385.html
  • Elephant Butte – Standard Hill Group, Mojave Mining District, Kern County, California (technical geology report, academia.edu)
  • The Diggings – Standard Hill Mine (historical mining claim and production records) – thediggings.com/mines/28338
  • California Journal of Mines and Geology, 1930s–1940s issues (district reports with production figures and ore descriptions)
  • USGS Bulletins on Mojave District mineral deposits (notably reports describing epithermal systems of Soledad Mountain, Standard Hill, and Tropico Hill)

Barstow, California

Timeline

Prehistoric

  • Indigenous Mojave and desert tribes lived in the region for thousands of years, traveling along the Mojave River and ancient trade routes.

1840s–1860s

  • Travelers along the Old Spanish Trail and Mormon Road camped at spots near Barstow such as Grapevines and Fish Ponds.
  • 1860–1871: Camp Cady, east of Barstow, served as a U.S. Army post protecting travelers along the Mojave Road.

1860s–1880s

  • Silver mining boomed in nearby Calico and Daggett.
  • Settlement first appeared under names Fishpond and Waterman Junction (named for Robert Waterman, a silver mine owner).

1880s

  • 1882–1884: Southern Pacific Railroad built to Daggett, later taken over by the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railway.
  • 1886: Town officially named Barstow after William Barstow Strong, ATSF president. Became a major railway division point.

Early 1900s

  • 1911: Casa del Desierto (Harvey House) opened, providing elegant lodging and meals to rail passengers.
  • 1925: On July 4, the business district was moved about a quarter mile to align better with the highway and railroad.

Route 66 and World War II

  • 1920s–1940s: Barstow thrived as a stop on Route 66.
  • 1942: Marine Corps Logistics Base established, supporting military logistics during World War II.

Postwar era

  • 1958: Goldstone Deep Space Communications Complex established nearby as part of NASA’s Deep Space Network.
  • 1960: Barstow Community College founded.

Preservation and modern history

  • 1975: Casa del Desierto listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
  • 1976: Designated as a California Historical Landmark.
  • 1990s: Harvey House restored after earthquake damage, repurposed to house the Route 66 Mother Road Museum, Western America Railroad Museum, and serve as an Amtrak station. (2025)

Jack Longstreet

Andrew Jackson “Jack” Longstreet (circa 1834–1928) earned renown as “the Last of the Desert Frontiersmen” — a man of fierce independence and rugged frontier grit, whose life still echoes across Nevada’s wild backcountry.

Jack Longstreet was one of those desert characters who seemed pulled straight from a dime novel, only he was real — and larger than life. Born around 1834, probably in Tennessee, he carried a shadowy past that folks whispered about. Some said he’d been mixed up in rustling back east, and when his gang was caught, the others swung from a rope while Longstreet got off with the loss of an ear. He grew his hair long to hide it, and the scar just added to the air of danger around him.

By the 1880s, he had drifted into Nevada, a land of raw opportunity and rough justice. He was everything the frontier demanded: a prospector, gambler, rancher, stagecoach shotgun rider, saloonkeeper, and, by some accounts, even a Pony Express rider. He married a Southern Paiute woman named Fannie, learned her language, and earned a reputation as a man who stood up for Native rights. He could be tough, but he was fair — a quality that made him respected by some and feared by others.

In 1895, Longstreet built a stone cabin beside a spring in the lonely Ash Meadows of the Amargosa Valley. The place was remote enough to suit him, with water for his livestock and a wide view of anyone coming his way. That cabin, now restored in the Ash Meadows National Wildlife Refuge, still stands as a quiet witness to his life on the edge of civilization.

Ash Meadows Wildlife Refuge

He later moved north into the Monitor Range, setting up the Red Rock Ranch near Belmont. His final years were quieter, but not without drama. In 1928, an accidental gunshot led to a stroke that ended his life at the age of about 94. He was buried in Belmont Cemetery, with Fannie joining him four years later.

Longstreet lived by his own rules in a Nevada that was still wild. His life was part outlaw tale, part survival story — the kind of man who could gamble in a saloon one night, dig a waterhole the next, and disappear into the hills without a trace. Even today, his name carries the weight of desert legend.

Timeline

1834 – Born, likely in Tennessee.
Mid-1800s – Rumored involvement in rustling; loses an ear as punishment.
1880 – Arrives in Nevada Territory; works as prospector, gambler, rancher, saloonkeeper, stagecoach shotgun rider.
1882 – Operates a saloon and drug store in Sylvania, Nevada.
Late 1880s – Homesteads near Moapa Indian Reservation; involved in a fatal shooting, later acquitted as self-defense.
1890s – Marries Southern Paiute woman, Fannie; becomes known for supporting Native rights.
1895 – Builds stone cabin at Ash Meadows, Amargosa Valley; ranches and develops spring site.
Early 1900s – Leaves Ash Meadows for Monitor Range; establishes Red Rock Ranch near Belmont.
1928 – Accidentally shoots himself; suffers stroke and dies in Tonopah at about 94 years old.
1932 – Fannie Longstreet dies; buried beside Jack in Belmont Cemetery.

Ash Meadows

Death Valley 49er Hoax

Back in late 1998, Jerry Freeman, an amateur historian with a passion for Death Valley’s old 49er trails, came out of the Panamint Mountains claiming he had found something straight out of a gold rush daydream. Hidden deep inside a cave, he said, was a wooden trunk left behind by the lost ’49ers who famously struggled across Death Valley in 1849.

AP photo – Clay Campbell

The box was a curiosity in itself — weathered wood, iron hinges, smelling of dust and old paper. Inside was a jumble of “treasures”: gold and silver coins (most tarnished, some shiny), a hymnal, a flintlock pistol, a pair of baby shoes worn soft with age, ceramic bowls, and even a letter dated January 2, 1850, supposedly written by a pioneer named William Robinson. The letter told a story of hardship and faith as the writer prepared to leave the desert behind. To Freeman, it was the smoking gun of history — proof that the Jayhawker survivors had stashed some of their belongings before moving on.

When he brought the chest to Death Valley National Park headquarters in early 1999, there was real excitement. Newspapers ran breathless headlines about a half-million-dollar find. Historians daydreamed about finally holding personal effects from the very people who gave Death Valley its name.

But almost as quickly, the doubts started trickling in. Some of the coins didn’t match the time period. The word “grubstake” appeared in the letter — a term that historians said wasn’t common until years later. And some items looked suspiciously… fresh. One ceramic bowl still had a price sticker.

Park officials brought in experts from the Smithsonian and the Western Archaeological and Conservation Center. That’s when the story unraveled fast. They found modern polymer glue holding parts together. The tintype photos used a process that wasn’t invented until after 1856. A “Made in Germany” stamp on one bowl could only have existed after World War I. Even the leather on the baby shoes was still soft, which shouldn’t have been possible after 150 years in Death Valley heat.

By the end of January 1999, the Park Service went public: it was a hoax. Not one item in the chest could be proven authentic to the Gold Rush era.

Freeman stood his ground, saying he’d always believe the chest was genuine, maybe “salted” with a few newer items by someone else. But for most historians, the romance was gone. What had looked like a once-in-a-lifetime discovery turned out to be another desert tall tale — one that fooled people just long enough to make them want to believe it.

Moe the Chimpanzee

A Detailed Historical Account

Origins and Early Life
Moe is a chimpanzee with an extraordinary life story that began in Africa and soon intertwined with a California family. In 1967, St. James Davis – then a merchant seaman – encountered an infant chimp in Tanzania whose mother had been killed by poachers. Davis rescued the baby chimp and brought him to the United States with the help of missionaries. He and his wife LaDonna, who were unable to have children of their own due to LaDonna’s health, decided to adopt the chimpanzee and name him Moe. The Davises raised Moe in their West Covina, California home just as one might raise a human child. He wore clothes, was toilet-trained, took showers, and even slept in a bed. Family life for Moe included simple pleasures like enjoying chocolate milk and watching television with his adoptive parents. From his infancy, Moe bonded strongly with the Davises, becoming the center of their family life for decades.

Relationship with His Owners
St. James and LaDonna Davis considered Moe their son in every sense. They referred to themselves as “Moe’s dad and mom,” and treated the chimpanzee as a pampered, if unconventional, member of the family. “That was the word they used to describe him, and that was how they treated him,” a story noted, portraying Moe as a “hairy, rambunctious child” in the Davis household. They taught Moe how to wear clothing, use utensils at the dinner table, and even communicate through simple sign language. In an oft-cited anecdote, Moe participated in the Davises’ wedding ceremony – LaDonna described him as a combination of flower girl and best man – emphasizing just how integrated he was in their personal lives. Over the years, countless family photos showed Moe snuggling with the couple or even lounging in bed with them. The deep emotional bond was mutual: the Davises doted on Moe, and he in turn was docile and affectionate with them, knowing them as his family. LaDonna once tearfully explained that Moe was “like the son she never had,” underscoring the profound connection between the chimp and his human caregivers.

Media Presence and Fame Prior to 2008
The City of West Covina awarded Moe an “Honorary Citizen” certificate in 1971, reflecting his local celebrity status. From the 1970s onward, Moe became something of a local celebrity in Southern California. In fact, a 1971 legal battle over Moe’s residency in West Covina turned into a public spectacle that Moe ultimately “won” – a judge ruled the city could not evict him, remarking in court that “he doesn’t have the traits of a wild animal, and is, in fact, somewhat better behaved than some people.” Following this victory, West Covina presented Moe with an official Honorary Citizen certificate, symbolically recognizing him as one of their own. Moe went on to make numerous public appearances that endeared him to the community. In the 1970s, he was often seen in parades and at civic events – at one point even ceremonially receiving the “keys to the city” of West Covina. Friends wrote a biographical book, Moe, documenting these years, including photographs of the chimpanzee engaging in human-like pastimes. Moe was pictured driving a speedboat and even sitting behind the wheel of a sports car, grinning as if he were out for a joyride. He reportedly “sold” Girl Scout cookies to help local troops and delighted crowds by performing ribbon-cuttings at events. Thanks to such exploits, Moe became a media darling. Local newspapers and TV stations featured stories on “Moe the chimp” over the years – sometimes portraying the charming, well-behaved ape as a model primate, and other times covering the more troublesome incidents that came later. By the early 2000s, Moe’s name was familiar to many in the Los Angeles area, as his saga of domestic life, celebrity cameos, and subsequent controversies played out in headlines.

Housing and Care Arrangements (Jungle Exotics in Devore)
Moe’s living arrangements changed several times over his life, especially after authorities determined he could no longer reside in a suburban home. In 1999, following two incidents in which Moe bit a police officer’s hand and later a visitor’s fingertip (after she reached into his enclosure with red-painted nails), West Covina authorities forcibly removed Moe from the Davis home for violating the city’s wild animal ordinance. This marked the end of Moe’s idyllic life in the house and the beginning of his life in sanctioned facilities. His first stop was the Wildlife WayStation, a noted animal sanctuary in the Angeles National Forest, where he stayed for a few years. In 2003, when that sanctuary ran into licensing problems, Moe was transferred to a nonprofit facility called Animal Haven Ranch near Bakersfield, California. It was at Animal Haven Ranch that a notorious incident occurred in 2005: as St. James and LaDonna visited Moe to celebrate his 39th birthday with a cake and treats, two other younger chimpanzees escaped their cage and brutally attacked the Davises. (Moe himself did not partake in the attack and remained in his enclosure, reportedly looking on in shock.) This horrific event left St. James gravely injured and LaDonna also hurt, and it underscored the potential dangers of captive primates. Animal Haven Ranch closed to the public after the attack, and Moe’s presence there became a legal liability. In the aftermath, Moe had to be moved yet again for his own safety and care. By 2007, Moe found a new home at Jungle Exotics, a private compound in Devore, California. Jungle Exotics is a licensed facility that provides animals – from tigers and lions to reptiles and dogs – for film and television productions. Unlike a sanctuary, it’s essentially a training and boarding compound for working animals. Moe was not used in any show business work; he was kept as a permanent boarder, and the owners built him a large, comfortable enclosure complete with toys, blankets, and even a “lookout tower” platform where he could watch trains go by in the distance. By all accounts, Moe adjusted well and was “a happy camper” at Jungle Exotics, enjoying the fresh air and roomy cage after years in smaller quarters. However, this arrangement would later prove controversial. The co-owner of Jungle Exotics, a trainer named Sid Yost (operating under the business name “Amazing Animal Productions”), had been sued in 2005 for animal cruelty amid accusations that he beat and abused chimpanzees used in Hollywood shows. Yost settled that lawsuit in 2006 by agreeing to send all his chimps to accredited sanctuaries and to bar himself from working with great apes ever again. Yet here was Moe – a chimpanzee – living on Yost’s property in 2007–2008. The Animal Legal Defense Fund later pointed out that Moe’s very presence at Jungle Exotics violated the 2006 legal settlement and raised alarms about the adequacy of Moe’s care. (In fact, ALDF representatives said they had no idea Moe was at Jungle Exotics until news broke of his escape.) Despite these red flags, for a time Moe appeared to thrive in the Devore facility under the day-to-day care of trainers there. Jungle Exotics was Moe’s fourth home since leaving West Covina, and tragically, it would also be the last place he was seen.

The 2008 Escape
Moe’s tranquil stay at Jungle Exotics came to an abrupt end in late June 2008. On Friday, June 27, 2008, the 42-year-old chimpanzee somehow escaped from his enclosure at the facility. The exact circumstances of Moe’s breakout remain a bit mysterious. The owners of Jungle Exotics were baffled as to how Moe managed to defeat his cage’s security – one co-owner noted that the steel enclosure “should have been able to hold a gorilla,” yet Moe had the strength or smarts to pry it open or break the welds. One theory was that Moe, who had always been clever with his hands, unlatched or bent a portion of the cage and simply walked out. Another suggestion was that a recent wildfire in the area might have agitated or frightened Moe, prompting him to make a bold escape into the unfamiliar wilderness. What is known is that on that Friday afternoon, after getting free, Moe wandered calmly from the Jungle Exotics compound onto a neighboring property. He ambled into a house that was undergoing remodeling, startling a group of construction workers inside. Reports indicate Moe may have approached the workers in a non-aggressive manner – one witness thought the chimp held out his hand as if expecting a treat or handshake, and there was even a rumor that a worker offered Moe a sandwich. Before anyone could contain him, however, Moe slipped away again. He hopped a fence and headed off into the vast brushy expanse of the San Bernardino National Forest, which borders the Devore area to the north. By the time animal caretakers arrived on scene, Moe had vanished into the wild. The initial escape occurred in a mountainous, heavily wooded zone, making it immediately difficult to track the chimp’s movements. Moe, who had lived his entire life in human care, was suddenly loose in an environment full of real dangers (rattlesnakes, mountain lions, and other wildlife) and devoid of the easy food sources he was used to. It was a race against time to find him.

Search Efforts After the Escape
The search for Moe in the summer of 2008 was intense and emotionally charged. As soon as his disappearance was discovered, the Davises and their friends mobilized a private search party to comb the foothills where Moe was last seen. St. James Davis, still partially recovering from the 2005 mauling, even ventured out (in a wheelchair) to direct search efforts, demonstrating the couple’s devotion to their chimp despite the physical hardship. They quickly hired a helicopter to fly low over the forest, hoping the noise of the chopper might flush Moe out of hiding or spur him to reveal himself. Searchers on foot used four-wheel-drive vehicles to navigate the rugged terrain and broadcasted recorded chimp calls through loudspeakers in an attempt to lure or communicate with Moe. They also brought in bloodhounds to sniff for any trace of the chimpanzee’s trail. The San Bernardino County Animal Control authorities were on standby with tranquilizer dart guns, but they treated Moe’s escape as a mostly private matter – since Moe was not deemed an immediate public threat, officials did not mount a massive manhunt, instead offering support and a hotline for sightings. Despite these efforts, finding a single chimp in 240 square miles of forest proved exceedingly difficult. No confirmed sightings of Moe came in the first days or even weeks after his escape. The Davises pleaded with the public to help if they spotted Moe – asking anyone who saw the chimp to call authorities but not to approach him, for fear that Moe could be frightened or harmed by strangers. Numerous tips did trickle in: search teams followed up on reports of “big, hairy” creatures in the woods, only to determine those tracks belonged to bears, stray dogs, or even a mule. In one bizarre incident, someone reported seeing “a man in a monkey suit” running in traffic near a mountain road, which sent deputies scrambling, but that too turned out to be a false alarm or prank. A few tantalizing clues suggested Moe might still be roaming nearby – locals noted a couple of outdoor water faucets mysteriously left turned on, and a few chickens went missing from a rural property, raising hopes that Moe was stealthily raiding yards for water and food. However, none of these clues could be definitively linked to the chimp. After several exhaustive weeks, the search gradually wound down with no sign of Moe. Sadly, as of 2008, Moe had not been found and remains missing to this day. His disappearance became an unsolved mystery, leaving the Davises heartbroken and the public wondering whether Moe could possibly survive long-term in the wild.

Public and Legal Responses and Controversies
Moe’s saga over the decades sparked significant public debate and several legal battles, highlighting controversies over exotic animal ownership. Early on, many in the community regarded Moe with affection – as evidenced by West Covina’s granting of honorary citizenship to the chimp – but city officials also grappled with the risks of keeping a chimpanzee in a residential neighborhood. In 1971, when West Covina first tried to enforce its ban on wild animals by removing Moe, the Davises fought back in court and won an unusual reprieve. The judge’s conclusion that Moe did not behave like a wild beast effectively gave the family legal cover to keep him at that time. This case, with Gloria Allred as the Davises’ attorney, received media attention and set a precedent (at least temporarily) that a well-behaved chimp could be treated akin to a household pet. However, as Moe grew older and larger, and after incidents in the late 1990s demonstrated the potential danger (two people were bitten, albeit in provoked situations), public sentiment shifted toward caution. In 1999 West Covina authorities invoked a zero-tolerance stance on the city’s wild animal ordinance, removing Moe for public safety reasons despite the Davises’ objections. The couple’s subsequent legal efforts – including a civil rights lawsuit – led to a 2002 settlement: West Covina agreed to pay them $100,000 and assist in purchasing a house in Baldwin Park (a neighboring city with looser animal regulations) so the family might reunite with Moe legally. In principle, this suggested a compromise to allow Moe back into a home setting outside West Covina. Yet bureaucratic delays and the aftermath of the 2005 mauling incident derailed that plan. By 2005, even some former supporters of Moe’s homecoming questioned the wisdom of keeping a strong adult chimp in a domestic environment, no matter how gentle he seemed. After the 2005 attack (in which Moe himself was blameless but humans were grievously hurt), the controversy over exotic pet primates intensified. The incident became a cautionary tale in news reports about the unpredictability of chimpanzees and the dangers they can pose as they reach maturity. St. James and LaDonna Davis, despite their trauma, remained steadfast in their love for Moe – in 2006 they even put up a sign on their lawn reading “Free Moe,” signaling their continued desire to bring him home. They pressed West Covina to honor the earlier agreement. A judge eventually ruled in 2007 that the city had breached its obligations and ordered West Covina to pay the Davises a further $32,000 and contribute $300 per month toward Moe’s care, since the promised Baldwin Park arrangement never materialized. This legal victory was bittersweet; by then Moe was living at Jungle Exotics under the Davises’ frequent supervision, and the couple’s priority was simply his well-being. Moe’s 2008 escape brought another wave of public response. There was both sympathy for the Davises – a sense of empathy for “parents” desperate to find their missing family member – and renewed criticism of the practice of keeping chimpanzees in captivity outside accredited zoos or sanctuaries. Animal welfare organizations seized on Moe’s disappearance as evidence that stricter oversight was needed. Notably, the Animal Legal Defense Fund called attention to the circumstances of Moe’s care at Jungle Exotics, arguing that Sid Yost should never have had a chimp in his custody at all due to his prior legal ban. ALDF suggested that Moe’s escape (and possible grim fate in the wild) was a tragic result of substandard caretaking and regulatory slip-ups. The case fueled discussion about tightening laws on exotic animal trainers and private ownership. Indeed, California law already prohibits keeping primates like chimpanzees without special permits, and Moe’s story became an example cited in support of these regulations. Ultimately, Moe the chimpanzee’s life reflects the complexities of human relationships with exotic animals. He was at once a beloved member of a human family and a wild creature subject to instincts and strength that humans sometimes underestimated. Public and legal responses to Moe’s situation evolved from indulgence and fascination in the early years to concern and strict oversight in later years. The controversies surrounding Moe – from city council meetings and courtroom showdowns to animal-rights investigations – have had a lasting impact. They have raised awareness about the responsibilities and risks of keeping great apes in captivity, and have prompted ongoing conversations about how we balance compassion for animals with public safety. Moe’s disappearance in 2008 left unanswered questions, but his legacy endures in the legal precedents and cautionary lessons that arose from his remarkable journey.

Luther A. Ingersoll

Luther A. Ingersoll was a journalist, editor, and historian active in Southern California in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. He is best known for compiling and publishing Ingersoll’s Century Annals of San Bernardino County, 1769–1904, a substantial local history volume released in 1904. This book is a detailed chronicle of San Bernardino County, California, combining early exploration, settlement, economic development, and biographical sketches of prominent citizens.

Here are a few key points about Luther A. Ingersoll:

  • Background: Not much is readily available about his early life, but he appears to have had a background in journalism and was active in publishing and historical writing.
  • Editor and Publisher: He worked in various editorial capacities and likely contributed to or edited newspapers in California. His writing style shows familiarity with both narrative history and biographical journalism.
  • Century Annals (1904): This was his best-known work and a common reference source for researchers studying early San Bernardino County. The book includes:
    • Explorations and Spanish mission history.
    • Rancho and pioneer development.
    • Biographical sketches (often based on submitted family or self-authored accounts).
    • Civic and institutional growth, including railroads, mining, and agriculture.
  • Methodology: Ingersoll’s work reflected the historiographical style of his time—often celebratory, biographically focused, and boosterish. Still, it captured primary recollections and early records that might otherwise have been lost.
  • Legacy: Despite some historical inaccuracies or omissions, Century Annals remains one of the foundational regional histories for San Bernardino County and is still cited in local historical studies.

Broken Homes

Photo Title: George A.F.B., 12-22-2013
Photographer: Walter Feller


1. Composition:

  • The curve of the sidewalk pulls the viewer’s eye naturally from the foreground toward the background, which is effective in creating depth and leading lines.
  • The tree in the mid-ground serves as a visual anchor, offering a natural focal point in an otherwise rigid environment.
  • The buildings form a flat horizon, which complements the minimalist and desolate tone of the scene.

2. Lighting and Tone:

  • The subdued, desaturated palette supports the theme of abandonment and decay. There’s a washed-out, almost ghostly feel that mirrors the forgotten nature of the place.
  • Lighting is soft and diffused, likely from overcast skies or a low winter sun. That lends a cold, lifeless mood—appropriate for the subject matter.

3. Subject and Message:

  • The photograph tells a quiet but heavy story—of abandonment, former purpose, and time’s erosion. It’s a subtle documentation of what was once a vibrant part of military infrastructure, now fallen into silence.
  • Including the date and location in the image enhances its documentary value and turns the image into an archival piece.

4. Technical Observations:

  • Sharpness is well-controlled; textures in the concrete, tree bark, and dried ground are detailed but not exaggerated.
  • Some may critique the almost HDR-like softness in tonal contrast, but in this case, it enhances the surreal stillness.
  • The slight tilt of the camera horizon (if unintentional) could be distracting, but it also contributes a sense of unease.

5. Suggestions (if improvement were desired):

  • Cropping a sliver off the bottom might help rebalance the frame if you want to lessen sidewalk dominance and bring the focus more toward the buildings.
  • A version with slightly boosted contrast or selective color treatment (e.g., leaving the tree full desaturated while warming the sky subtly) could offer an alternative mood without losing the melancholy.

Overall Impression:
A quietly powerful photograph. It captures the stark beauty of abandonment with compositional clarity and emotional restraint. The image feels frozen in time—appropriate for a forgotten base in the middle of the Mojave. It’s not loud, but it lingers.

Tamarix Notes

—it’s Tamarix aphylla (athel tamarisk), which only reproduces by cloning, not seed. While it isn’t spreading like Tamarix ramosissima or chinensis, which have taken over waterways in the West, all types of tamarisk share one thing: they use proportionately large amounts of water. So even the non-invasive ones have an impact, especially in desert regions where water is life.

Here’s a list of the most common tamarisk (or saltcedar/athel) species found in the American Southwest, especially the Mojave Desert, with notes on whether they are considered invasive and whether they are heavy water users:

  1. Tamarix ramosissima (Saltcedar)
    • Invasive: Yes
    • Water-sucking: Yes
    • Notes: One of the most aggressive species, spreads by seed and root. Known for choking out native vegetation and monopolizing riparian zones.
  2. Tamarix chinensis (Chinese tamarisk)
    • Invasive: Yes
    • Water-sucking: Yes
    • Notes: Often hybridizes with T. ramosissima. Together, they dominate many desert waterways and floodplains.
  3. Tamarix parviflora (Smallflower tamarisk)
    • Invasive: Yes
    • Water-sucking: Yes
    • Notes: Less common but still invasive, particularly in California. Can handle salty soils and crowds out native plants.
  4. Tamarix gallica (French tamarisk)
    • Invasive: Occasionally
    • Water-sucking: Yes
    • Notes: Less aggressive in arid environments than others but still considered problematic in some regions.
  5. Tamarix aphylla (Athel tamarisk or Athel tree)
    • Invasive: No (not generally considered invasive in the U.S.)
    • Water-sucking: Yes
    • Notes: Grows as a large tree, does not spread by seed in North America, but it still consumes a lot of water. Introduced intentionally as a shade and windbreak tree.

Summary:

  • Invasiveness: Most tamarisk species are invasive, especially T. ramosissima, chinensis, and their hybrids.
  • Water Use: All tamarisks are thirsty. Even T. aphylla, though not invasive, draws significant water—making them ecologically impactful in arid regions like the Mojave.
Tamarix aphylla (Athel tamarisk or Athel tree)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tamarix_aphylla
FeatureTamarix aphylla (Athel)Invasive Tamarisk (ramosissima/chinensis)
Growth FormLarge treeShrub or small tree
Height30–50 feet6–20 feet
TrunkSingle main trunkMultiple stems
LeavesScale-like, dull grey-greenFine, feathery, bright green
Leaf SpacingWidely spacedDense along twigs
FlowersSparse, rarely seenShowy pink/white spikes
Blooming SeasonRarely blooms in U.S.Late spring to summer
Seed ProductionNone (no viable seed in U.S.)Profuse—spreads aggressively
Branch ColorBrown to greyReddish to purplish, especially new growth
Water UseHighHigh
Spread PotentialLow (clonal only)Very high (seed and roots)
Typical LocationHomesteads, roadsides, farmsRiverbanks, washes, natural springs
Tamarix ramosissima
Photo 32999308, (c) larry-heronema, some rights reserved (CC BY-NC)
https://www.inaturalist.org/photos/32999308


Eastwood Dams

When people think of Big Bear Lake or Littlerock Reservoir, they usually picture pine-covered hills or quiet desert canyons. But beneath those scenic views lie stories of bold ideas, early 20th-century innovation, and one man who didn’t mind going against the grain: John S. Eastwood.

Original Big Bear Dam – 1885 (colorized)

Eastwood wasn’t interested in building dams the way everyone else did. While most engineers were busy stacking massive concrete walls straight across rivers, he had something different in mind: a system of thin, curved arches that transferred pressure into solid rock abutments. It was lighter, cheaper, and—in his view—smarter.

In Big Bear, the original dam dated back to 1884. It was built by Frank Elwood Brown, a man with a vision to turn the dry, chaparral-covered inland valleys into citrus groves. His dam was modest and practical for its time, but growing demand soon outpaced its capacity. By 1910, the Bear Valley Mutual Water Company called on Eastwood to design something new. What he gave them in 1912 was a graceful structure of eleven concrete arches—his signature multiple-arch style. It raised the lake level and helped feed the thirst of the San Bernardino Valley below. A bridge was added in 1924, making the dam a true link between the north and south shores and turning it into a local landmark.

Meanwhile, about 60 miles west as the crow flies, the Littlerock Dam rose in a very different landscape—dry, wide-open desert edged by the San Gabriel Mountains. Built between 1922 and 1924, the dam had a job to do: tame seasonal flooding and store water for nearby farms and growing communities in the Antelope Valley. Again, Eastwood’s multiple-arch design was chosen. At the time of its completion, Littlerock Dam was the tallest structure of its kind in the world. It stood not just as a practical solution but also as a quiet sign of faith in human ingenuity—a way to harness nature without bulldozing over it.

Over the years, both dams have been modified to meet modern standards. Littlerock was reinforced in the 1990s, its delicate arches now hidden beneath a face of roller-compacted concrete. Some of Eastwood’s original elegance was lost, but the structure still holds firm. Big Bear’s dam remains more visibly true to his vision, standing quietly beside the lake like a relic from a time when ambition was poured in concrete.

Littlerock Reservoir

John S. Eastwood may not be a household name, but his work left a lasting mark on California’s landscape. His dams in Big Bear and Littlerock weren’t just about holding back water—they were about pushing engineering forward. More than a century later, their presence still shapes the way people live, work, and play in the Mojave and San Bernardino Mountains.

Eastwood wasn’t interested in building dams the way everyone else did. While most engineers were busy stacking massive walls of concrete straight across rivers, he had something different in mind: a system of thin, curved concrete arches that would transfer pressure into solid rock abutments. It was lighter, cheaper, and—in his view—smarter.