In 1852 a survey was made of the southwestern edge of the Mojave Desert. The Old Spanish Trail # had become a wagon road bringing thousands of pioneers to the west and developed as a supply route between Los Angeles and Salt Lake City. The survey was as accurate as any at that time and followed the trail from near the top of the Cajon Pass to a point where the trail leaves the Mojave River near Fishponds. The trail to Salt Lake continues north as we know it, but the river flowing east on this map bears southeast and empties into the Colorado River. At the time it was thought the Mojave (spelled Mohahve on the map) River followed this course. It did not. There was no Mojave Road in 1852 and not many Americans had traversed that portion of the desert. As we now know the Mojave River cuts through Afton Canyon and then disappears into the sink of the Mojave before it reaches Soda Lake.
Standing second from the left is Frank Waite, chief of police in Las Vegas for many years. Waite was a member of the posse that initially searched for Queho.
Subject: – – Mummified remains of an Indian renegade known as Queho. Many years previous to when this photo was taken in the early 1940s, Queho is said to have killed and robbed a number of individuals in the Searchlight, Nevada area. Unsuccessful efforts were made to apprehend Queho.
In the early 1940s, the men pictured here on the left and right were exploring an area along the Colorado River when they saw a cave in the cliffs above the river. they climbed up to the cave and Queho’s remains were found. Research had established that the remains were Queho’s because several of the artifacts he had stolen from people in Searchlight accompanied the remains.
Queho’s remains were turned over to the Palm Mortuary in Las Vegas when a question arose as to who would pay for the expenses of keeping Queho there and his burial. Roland Wiley, district attorney for Clark County, Nevada, at the time, suggested that the remains be turned over to the Elks Lodge, where for a number of years they were exhibited on the Heldorado grounds during Heldorado days in a glass display case with some of the stolen artifacts.
Queho’s remains were stolen from the Elks on 2 occasions, and each time they were recovered. Jim Cashman, head of the Las Vegas Elks at the time, grew tired of worrying about the theft of Queho’s remains so they were moved to a building belonging to Dobie Doc Caudil near the Tropicana Hotel.
Subject: A view of the suspension bridge and the statue of Christ at Cathedral Canyon, Pahrump Valley, Nevada, in the late 1980s. The statue, carved of rock, is a small replica of the Christ of the Andes installed in the Andes Mountains on the border between Argentina and Chile in the early part of the 20th century. The replica was made by an artist from Ajijic, a small town south of Guadalajara, Mexico. Wiley constructed the suspension bridge about 1973. In 1989, approximately 1,000 people a month visited Cathedral Canyon. Roland Wiley is seated in the picture; the man standing in the white shirt is unidentified.
Roland Wiley purchased Queho’s remains from Dobie Doc for $100 and buried them near Cathedral Canyon, located on Wiley’s ranch in Pahrump Valley overlooking his Hidden Hills airstrip, in concrete and steel so they could not be easily stolen again. Wiley believed the Indian deserved a decent burial and buried popcorn with the remains to accompany Queho on his journey.
On February 21, 1940, the banner headline in the Las Vegas Review-Journal— BODY OF INDIAN FOUND— recalled for many in the town memories of the first murder the dead Indian had committed, thirty years earlier at Timber Mountain, just a few miles fromSearchlightin the McCullough Range. . . .
These images were part of a set taken by Los Angeles historian and amateur photographer George W. Hazard (1842-1914), during his years traveling throughout Southern California photographing locations of local historical significance. – Courtesy Huntington Library
Borax mining in the United States started with the production of borax from Borax lake in Tehama County in 1864. The discovery of cotton ball ulexite in the playa of Teel’s Marsh by Frances Marion (Borax) Smith in 1872 ushered in the first major production of Borax in the United States. The center of cotton ball production then moved to Death Valley in 1880. The most famous operation was the Harmony borax works run by William Tell Coleman. This is the operation that becomes associated with the twenty-mule team wagons. With the discovery of colemanite, the Playa period started to decline.
The mines at Borate ushered in the Colemanite period of borax production. W. T. Coleman initiated the mining operations at Borate in 1884, but actual production did not commence until 1890. Several factors contributed to this delay. The first was the obvious need to provide transportation to the area and develop the mines. The second was the bankruptcy of the “House of Coleman.” In 1890 Borax Smith acquired the property from Coleman’s creditors. He then formed the Pacific Coast Borax Company and commenced shipping ore to the recently updated refinery in Alameda, California.
The two major problems plaguing production at Borate were the transportation and concentration of the ore. Initially, the ore was hand sorted at the mine and hauled to Daggett using the 20 mule teams and wagons once used in Death Valley. Smith was unhappy with this method, so in 1894 he experimented with a steam tractor locally called “Old Dinah.” Unfortunately, this experiment was a failure due to the nature of the road from the mines to Daggett. A narrow gauge railroad was then constructed in 1898 allowing the unprocessed ore to be shipped to a Calcining plant located at Marion, just North of Daggett. The ore was heated until the colemanite decrepitated and could be separated from the gangue. This allowed a better grade of ore to be shipped to Alameda and solved both problems.
By 1907 it was obvious to Smith that the days of Borate were numbered and the main operations were shifted to the Lila C mine at old Ryan, near Death Valley. All of the equipment, including the buildings, were removed and sent to the Lila C, leaving Borate completely bare. The Lila C lasted for only seven years and colemanite mining shifted to various mines in the Death Valley region. In 1927 the mines at Boron opened ushering in the Kernite period. Lessees and small miners continued operations at Borate until the opening of the mines at Boron.
Keep on Steppin’ — The man who walked 481 miles to see a sick friend
. . . At our home he [Shorty Harris] lay on his back for weeks, fed with a spoon. Always talking of putting another town on the map. Always losing a million dollars a day. He was miraculously but slowly recovering when an Associated Press dispatch bearing a Lone Pine date made front page headlines with an announcement of his death.
Though the report was quickly corrected, his presence at our house brought reporters, photographers, old friends, and the merely curious. At the time the Pacific Coast Borax Company’s N.B.C. program was featuring stories based on his experiences over a nation-wide hook-up. Among the callers also were moguls of mining and tycoons of industry who had stopped at the Ballarat cabin to fall under the spell of his ever ready yarns.
Pete Harmon
Among these guests, one stands out.
It was a hot summer day when I saw on the lawn what appeared to be a big bear, because the squat, bulky figure was enclosed in fur. Answering the door bell I looked into twinkling eyes and an ingratiating smile. “They told me in Ballarat that Shorty Harris was here.” I invited him in.
“I’ll just shed this coat,” he said, stripping off the bearskin garment. “… sorta heavy for a man going on 80.” He laid it aside. “It’s double lined. Fur inside and out. You see, I sleep in it. Crossed three mountain ranges in that coat before I got here. May as well take this other one off too.” He removed another heavy overcoat, revealing a cord around his waist. “Keep this one tied close. Less bulky….”
Under a shorter coat was a heavy woolen shirt and his overalls concealed two pairs of pants. He went on: “I was with Shorty at Leadville. My name’s Pete Harmon. We ought to be rich—both of us. Why, I sold a hole for $2500 in 1878. Thought I was smart. They’ve got over $100,000,000 outa that hole. I was at Bridgeport when I heard Shorty was sick, so I says, ‘I’ll just step down to Ballarat and see him.’ (The ‘step’ was 298 miles.) When I got there Bob Warnack tells me he’s in Los Angeles. When I get there they tell me he’s with you. So I just stepped out here.”
He had “stepped” 481 miles to see his friend.
Shorty Harris
I ushered him in and left them alone. After an hour I noticed Pete outside, smoking. I went out and urged him to return and smoke inside, but he refused. “It’s not manners,” he insisted.
Later I happened to look out the window and saw him empty the contents of a small canvas sack into his hand. There were a few dimes and nickels and two bills. He unfolded the currency. One was a twenty. The other, a one. He put the coins in the sack and came inside. A few moments later, from an adjacent room I heard his soft, lowered voice: “Shorty, I’m eatin’ reg’lar now and got a little besides. I reckon you’re kinda shy. You take this.”
“No—no, Pete. I’m getting along fine….”
I fancy there was a scurry among the angels to make that credit for Pete Harmon.
Late in the afternoon, Pete donned his coats. “I’d better be going. I’ve got a lotta things on hand. A claim in the Argus. When the money comes in, well—I always said I was going to build a scenic railroad right on the crest of Panamint Range. Best view of Death Valley. It’ll pay. How far is it to San Diego?”
“A hundred and forty miles….”
“Well, since I’m this far along I’ll just step down and see my old partner. Take care of Shorty….” And down the road, he went.
With humility I watched his passage, hoping that the good God would go with him and somehow I felt that of all those with fame and wealth or of high degree who had gone from that house, none had left so much in my heart as Pete.
Adapted from;
Chapter XVII
Shorty Frank Harris
Title: Loafing Along Death Valley Trails
A Personal Narrative of People and Places
Author: William Caruthers
