Table of Contents
Nuggets From Needles by Maggie McShan
Route 66 By A New Generation by Jay Pistiolas
Old Road Explored on California Cruise by Evelyn Ives
Grandma's Story by Lana Lynne Savage
Museum Celebrates 2nd Birthday
My Sister Was An Only Child by Stacy Vellas
NUGGETS FROM NEEDLES by Maggie McShan
Route 66 and its impact on the evolution of the west has attracted the interest of Dr.
Robert L. Schuyler, anthropologist, from the University of Pennsylvania and the University
Museum as part of a long-term study of Needles and the surrounding communities. This
includes Kingman, AZ, also on 66 and a historic town about the age of Needles.
Research Project
The research began three years ago and will continue for some time. He spent the months
of April and May 1996 here, working intensively on interviews and tours. Someone around
here has dubbed me "community historian" so I’ve had the honor of assisting
a bit on the project.
During the ’96 visit, my sister, Ruth Neal, and I accompanied Dr. Schuyler along
Route 66 through Needles and related the history of structures and historic sites as he
interviewed and recorded our voices. He took dozens of such tapes back to the University
where he may obtain some help from graduate students in transcribing the interviews.
This past spring (1997) he requested in advance that I arrange a tour of Carty’s
Camp, remains of which occupy an acreage at the east side of town. Dr. Herbert Mathews, a
former Needles MD is an absentee owner but I was able to arrange the tour through
relatives who live here.
Carty’s Camp
There is a fair-sized residence which is still in use and rented. A few of the old
cabins are being utilized as storage, but most are empty and open to the elements.
We were particularly fascinated with the complex of row cabins divided by narrow
garages, a type often seen in olden times. There are twelve in all, six on one side and
six on the other, back to back. There are a few other individual cabins.
I was overwhelmed with nostalgia when strolling through these grounds. It is Grapes
of Wrath terrain!
I believe Carty’s Camp was one of the first cabin courts ever built on old 66. It
goes back to the heyday of the late 1920s when the nation was awakening to the joys and
challenges of cross-country travel and the excitement and adventure of long trips by motor
car.
I had this story directly from one of the men involved and it is recalled from an
interview long past, as both are now deceased:
The Story
Bill Carty, then working for the Santa Fe, visited Grand Canyon where he saw some
primitive cabins, half tent, half wood.
Back at Needles he described them to Dick Mansker, also a "rail", but a man
with vision that reached beyond the realm of the choo-choo train. As a sideline he had
acquired considerable real estate at Needles and had many creative interests.
"We could build something like that and I have just the place," Dick
enthused. He and Carty made a quick trip to the canyon for a closer look at the cabins,
then came back and developed the camp.
The ground was on Route 66 frontage and backed up to property on which Dick built a
home and developed a public swimming pool and date gardens — but that is another
Route 66 story!
Both families operated the facility and lived there at first, but after awhile Carty
resigned his railroad position to become a full time businessman. He eventually bought out
Manskers’ interest.
The latter stayed with the railroad until retirement as an engineer many years later.
Although his energies extended to many other endeavors such as horticulture, the ample
Santa Fe paycheck guaranteed security.
Camp Flourished
Carty became a successful business man and was active in civic affairs. Meanwhile,
Carty’s Camp flourished for many years as the place to stay on Route 66.
Following his retirement, the business was owned and operated by a two-family
partnership, Cantebury and Armes. They operated a service station there called C&A
Chevron with a convenience store in connection.
Across old 66 from the court was a small park and picnic area with welcome shade trees.
Eventually Canterbury and Armes also retired from the business and after awhile it was
closed as such. At some point the property was split.
The present Charles Cantebury still owns the service station part and eventually Dr.
Herbert Mathews became the owner of the area containing most of the cabins and the
residence.
I saw him not long ago and he said the place is for sale. I don’t recall the
details.
Carty’s Camp is a Route 66 opportunity begging to be discovered. The essence of
by-gone days still hovers over the site. Restoration would take lots of work, dedication
and moola, but it could be so rewarding.
An example of a partly restored 1930s Route 66 campground is the dear little Old
Trails Inn, formerly The Palms Motel. I sadly report that it is now closed. For
various reasons the Wilde family gave up the project and it is now for sale. There is
another wonderful Route 66 opportunity. It is listed with Crystal River Real Estate
Services (760)326-2774. Ask for Wanda.
Needles is the place to go and to stay. The Colorado River is here as an added
attraction, so come on out, all you Roadies!! Bring lots of energy and enthusiasm, help us
fix up our wonderful landmarks and get rich while having fun!
P.S. Bring money if you have it!
ROUTE 66: By a new generation by Jay Pistiolas
I wasn’t even conceived when Route 66 was designated as a highway, and neither
were my parents!
What started out as a road to link east and west together gave people in the early part
of the century the opportunity to travel west and to start a new life has now become an
obsession with some to keep alive The Main Street Of America.
I have always known about Route 66, even as a child, but never fully understood its
significance. After reading books about it over the years, it seemed that this road has
made something that the interstates have not — history. It took people away from the
life of dust storms and brought them to California to start again with hope for a more
prosperous future.
As a new resident to Southern California, I took an opportunity to explore a piece of
The Mother Road when I took a trip to Laughlin, Nevada last winter. During that time I
headed to Kingman and Oatman to dig up some history. On the way I followed Route 66 as it
curved and slithered around the very same mountains that once carried old Chevys and Model
Ts.
In my imagination… I pictured overheated cars with steam coming out of the
radiators, and weather beaten men fanning themselves with their hats to try be cool while
waiting for assistance from a fellow motorist heading west.
Oatman looked just as it has always looked, I suppose — a town where time had
stood still: Little stores selling cold drinks and homemade, hot-and-fresh out of the oven
muffins.
I really got the sense of living in the 30s and 40s. There were old hotels that had
stood watch over Route 66 for over 60 years. If only these buildings could talk, the
stories they could tell!
When I left Laughlin, I decided to take Old Route 66 back home instead of heading
straight back to San Diego, to make this a pilgrimage to the end of the road in Santa
Monica. When I reached Needles, I became excited about this journey heading into a vast
area of sand, desert and history. Luckily, my car had air conditioning whereas the early
travelers decades ago, did not.
As I passed through Essex, Goffs and Fenner with populations as small as a tree full of
birds, history came flooding to me again as it had in Oatman — I pictured old cars
broken down on the side, and people looking for a café.
At Amboy I stopped at Roy’s Café, but it was closed. I pressed on through Ludlow
and Newberry Springs. Desert, farms and more history rolled by. I drove for two hours
without seeing another car on the road. This beats the interstates!
Waves from the desert heat rose from the pavement. It seemed like nothing had changed
since the heyday of Route 66. This was more educational than reading a history text book
at school!
Early forms of graffiti still linger where travelers have written their names on the
road berm with small rocks — "I was here!" Old lava rests by the side of
the road from the Amboy Crater in the distance.
Civilization
Coming into Barstow, I finally saw signs of civilization. A shopping mall was in sight
with a fast food place. Since Roy’s Café was closed and it was still a long way to
Santa Monica, I ordered my meal and the cashier gave me a plastic number to put on my
table so they can deliver my food. That plastic number happened to be 66!
After lunch I headed into Helendale and Oro Grande. Many old movies came to mind as I
passed through Victorville.
The famous Cahon Pass was up ahead, the gateway to Southern California, and I saw
twisted Joshua trees along the way. I could see the deep canyons below and the San Gabriel
mountains ahead. The blue skies I had seen through most of the desert trip now turned into
a fine haze as San Bernardino lay in the distance and I could see the top of the old Santa
Fe smokestack looming.
Time was running out and I wanted to get into Santa Monica before sunset. Rush hour
traffic was joining my trek as I went through Upland and Claremont. I found myself on
I-10, unfortunately, and headed west into Santa Monica.
The end of the road
I finally made it to the end of the road and found the plaque dedicated to Will Rogers.
At this point I knew I had driven a piece of American history. I walked to the end of
the Santa Monica Pier just as the sun set in the Pacific.
"From Chicago to L.A., more than two thousand miles, all the way" I hummed
the song.
There are a lot of people like myself who weren’t around during the early years of
Route 66. But after traveling from Oatman, Arizona to Santa Monica, California and
realizing I had traveled over a piece of living American history, I hope the
younger generation will discover this wonderful slice of history as I have. Perhaps a new
generation will. Perhaps.
"OLD ROAD" EXPLORED ON CALIFORNIA CRUISE by Evelyn Ives
What a great and exciting time we had!
At the invitation of the California Historic Route 66 Association, friend Charlotte
Driskill and I joined the caravan of 15 (sometimes more, sometimes less) cars to travel
Route 66 from Santa Monica Pier along the historic route to Needles.
We visited many notable places along the way. Lunch at Bono’s Family Restaurant in
Fontana gave us a chance to get acquainted with others on the tour as well as to sample
the large portions of Joe’s yummy dishes.
Our printed travel guide made the trip more interesting — we’ve gone that way
many times before but never knew the history of the many areas. Also in our registration
package was a list of historic restaurants along Route 66, a directory of hotels and
motels, a list of several publications about Route 66, and a list of suggested articles
for reading before we started the trip. These guides were sent to us before the sojourn so
we might be aware of the things to look for. Nice touch!
Dinner that night in Barstow was capped with an interesting slide show presented by
Barbara Walker of the Mohave River Valley Museum. Peggy de Feo of the Barstow Murals
Project gave an entertaining talk on their artistic undertaking.
The next morning we had the opportunity to view the murals before going over the bridge
to the former Harvey House, El Desierto, railroad station where Jim Willis spoke on the
history of the location. Then we were given a guided tour of the Barstow station by Ben
Rosenberg, the son of the owner,
Before we left Barstow, we spent an interesting hour at the Mohave River Valley Museum
listening to Cliff Walker, a history professor, and meeting June Zeitelhack, Bill
Tomlinson and Museum Association President Glenda Phillips. After telling about the Gold
Hammer mine just outside of Essex, his tales somehow got off onto the subject of
bootlegging in the desert during prohibition and were delightful.
Richard Amadori, Jr., led our caravan and kept in touch with those of us who had CB
radios. Since we were just about the only cars on The Old Road, it was easy to see when
others were stopping at an interesting location. One of those was at a solar power plant
in Daggett. A mysterious white light appearing to hang in the desert air had Charlotte and
me wondering if the Martians were landing. When we stopped, Docent Bill Mutschler
explained that the computers controlling the reflecting mirrors were being tested.
We were ready for dinner when we arrived in Needles on Saturday evening. The Hungry
Bear Restaurant was waiting for us with a great meal and interesting speakers from the
Needles area.
Also joining us for dinner were several members of CHR66A who live in Needles. Maggie
McShan, President of the High Desert Chapter CHR66A, gave us an update on the National
Park Service plans for Route 66 and Ernie Dorian of the Arizona Route 66 Association
delighted us with tales of his efforts to reorganaize the Arizona Fun Run in April.
The next morning we had a chance to explore the Needles Museum, thanks to Maggie McShan
and her staff of volunteers.
To top off the trip, Charlotte and I traveled the short 25 miles up to Laughlin, Nevada
and had a most successful few hours before heading home — on Interestate 40.
What an interesting trip!
GRANDMA’S STORY by Lana Lynne Savage
Route 66 goes right by my front yard. I haven’t always lived here — but it is
an interesting place to live.
I first saw daylight in Burbank in 1925. Some of my first memories include a concrete
sidewalk in front of the house and a field next door.
Early mornings it was fun to see the big yellow and black spiders in their round webs
with dew drops sparkling rainbow colors when the sun came up. This is where we lived when
I used to walk across old San Fernando Road (the I-5 freeway runs there now) to get to
kindergarten. The school was in a red brick schoolhouse.
From there we moved to San Jacinto. My teacher was wonderful! I did not like to go out
at recess, so she would let me stay in and look at books all by myself. She would also let
my little sister visit quite often. I don’t remember that too well, but my sister,
Frances, does.
About this time "the Great Depression" happened. During that time many
fathers lost their jobs. Banks were closing with people’s money in them and the money
was never seen again. My father lost his job, which led to many interesting adventures for
us children.
My father acquired some chickens, so we started raising them to sell their eggs. My
father also made doughnuts in the morning and we would go to people’s doors to sell
them. At Christmas time we gathered mistletow in the woods and sold it.
We moved several times during this period. Then the welfare system came about to help
people with food, and programs were developed that made jobs. They built many public
buildings, like libraries, and also roads, bridges, dams, and parks. My father worked in
these programs.
Our old car would often break down or have a flat tire. We kids thought it was great
fun as we could explore along the roadside. My father always whistled while he worked and
soon we were back on our way again. In the evenings we played cards, dominos or read.
The chicken business and the doughnut business gave out since people just could not
afford such "goodies."
At one time we didn’t even have a house and lived under a couple of large beach
umbrellas on the beach. We moved these up to a campground in a beautiful canyon by a river
and lived there for awhile. This was all great for us kids and I don’t remember my
parents ever making us feel poor.
Our biggest adventure was when my father got involved in gold mining. The rest of us
joined him in the mountains near Death Valley about sixty miles from Baker, living in a
canyon by a nice spring. First we used an old dugout, along with a tent. I love the dugout
— a room dug into the side of a hill. It was warm in the cold weather and cool in the
hot weather.
From there we went to another canyon only forty miles from town. Up went the tents and
our good old beach umbrellas. We carried water from the springs on the other side of the
narrow canyon.
Eventually we built two one-room cabins. My mother had been a school teacher, so she
taught us there for four years, getting books from the little one-room school house in
Baker. That was where we went to buy groceries and get our mail twice a month. Sometimes
we would go into Barstow along Route 66 for our main supplies.
After four years of home teaching, Frances and I entered high school in Barstow,
boarding with a family. After all those years away from civilization and loving it, I was
extremely frightened and confused the first day.
Frances, though, had a grand time and immediately found friends to help her, among them
a bay named Steve who caught her eye. Steve lived in Baker and sometimes he would take us
home on the weekends in his bright red Model A Ford. Our folks would pick us up in Baker.
One Sunday evening in our second year in high school, we arrived back at Barstow to
hear the news of Pearl Harbor being bombed. The next day our country was at war.
Soon a moratorium was declared on gold mining. This meant gold mining was no longer
allowed because gold wasn’t needed for the war effort. Now there were plenty of jobs
due to the war.
My father got a job in Henderson, Nevada. Hundreds of people went there to work, which
created a big problem — there were not enough houses, no matter how much money a
person had. So up went the tents again. (I guess our beach umbrellas were worn out by
then.)
We got lucky and rented a one-room cabin with no water, but we did have lights. All
around us people were living in tents or putting up shacks, while their pockets were full
of money.
A new high school was thrown together, and houses were built as soon as possible. As
there was a paint shortage, these houses were some strange colors, even purple doors and
yellow walls.
When school was opened there weren’t any books for many of the classes. The
teachers had to teach from what they knew and remembered.
Las Vegas was where people went to go to the movies or to restaurants. It was just a
little town then. The main street, Fremont Street, where things were, was about three or
four blocks long, starting at the train station.
People who had cars picked up those who didn’t to go into town and there was what
we called "the cattle car" — a long enclosed trailer, pulled by a
semi-tractor. It has seats like a bus, which were always full. Passengers would often sing
the popular songs of the time on the way to or from Las Vegas.
The thing creating all this mass of workers was a magnesium plant where they made metal
for airplanes. Many of the people were getting sick on the fumes from the plant. As I had
had asthma from the age of two, I was badly affected.
I was almost 18 and decided to go to San Bernardino where there was a big air base (now
known as Norton, recently closed.) I worked there until the war ended, when many people
got laid off.
I took classes in aircraft and engine repair which led to another phase of my life. I
signed up for a class in jet engines, but not enough other people did, so the class was
never held. No one believed in them!
While going to classes, I made friends with some of the guys. Often I was the only girl
there and still did not dress like a "normal" girl with lots of make-up, dresses
and neatly curled hair.
Well, these guys got together and made me an offer: If I would curl my hair and start
wearing nice slacks, this instructor would teach me to fly. So I did and got the flying
lessons and classes in navigating (I hated that — too much math) and meterology
(wonderful because I love weather stuff!).
Flying led to a lot of fun — I even owned my own plane for awhile — but it
wasn’t much use in earning a living. I worked on private planes with the same bunch
of guys. We even rebuilt a plane for some brothers who were starting out in the grocery
store business, the Stater Brothers.
One of the guys had been a printer before the war and decided it might be a better way
to make a living again. He got a job in a print shop in San Bernardino, brought me in and
taught me a lot. After a couple of years there, I needed to get outside into the fresh air
and went back to airplane repair.
Eventually I met and married Bob and, counting his son, Robert, we had seven children.
He had his own auto repair shop, first in Hinkley and later in Barstow.
Bob and our oldest son, Lennie, were in an auto accident in December, 1967 when our
youngest daughter, Laurie, was three-and-a-half. Lennie was injured but Bob was killed. It
was a sad time. Friends and family plus the whole town of Barstow turned out to help us.
Our rent was paid by someone and we were given two turkey dinners. When I got home from
the hospital in San Bernardino after the accident, there was a beautiful big decorated
Christmas tree in the living room.
Life went on.
After several years I remarried to a wonderful man who was great with my kids and had
hung around us a lot during the sad times. Harry took work on a ranch in Helendale until
it was sold to a big development company. We had lived on the ranch and were forced to
move.
On the night we moved into our new home, my son John, who was in the third grade, was
killed in an auto accident. Heartbreak struck again two months later when my married
18-year old daughter, Kathy, was murdered in Texas.
Again, life went on.
I volunteered at Oro Grande School as a teacher’s aide during Laurie’s 6th
grade. When she was in 7th grade, we moved back to Helendale into a small old
house on National Trails Highway, Old Route 66, that we bought for almost nothing.
The following year I was hired at Oro Grande School and I worked there for 15 years,
until I retired. I was first a teacher’s aide, then the librarian for ten years and a
bus driver for twelve of those years.
While working in the school library, I became project coordinator for the Reading is
Fundamental (RIF) program at the school.
All of my kids are now grown, of course, and have families of their own.
After a stiff bout with stomach cancer recently, I was surprised with a dedication
program at the Oro Grande School where they named the new library/gym/cafeteria for me.
They said it was for my "years of dedication."
We still live in that little old house we bought on National Trails Highway in
Helendale. I think we’re here to stay!.
(Editor’s note: The Grandma’s Story was written originally as part of Crystal
McCarthy’s 8th grade assignment in February, 1997, requiring the
autobiography of a relative. Our thanks to Crystal, Laurie’s daughter, for sharing
her grandmother’s story.
MUSEUM CELEBRATES 2ND BIRTHDAY, Saturday, November 8, 1997
The public is invited to attend the party to celebrate the second year of the
California Route 66 Museum.
The party will be held at the site of the expanded museum, (Spring 1998), formerly
the Red Rooster, just west of the current location on the corner of 6th and D
Streets.
Come and see the unfinished interior and reminisce about the "good old
days" in Victorville and the good times we all had at the Red Rooster Café.
Emjoy the Country Western Music of "Jackson".
Bring your own chair and join us for a bite to eat. Homemade BBQ beef sandwiches, baked
beans, cole slaw, soft drinks and hot coffee will be sold.
SALUTING THE KNUDSENS
The California Route 66 Museum salutes David and Mary Lou Knudsen for their dedication
to the preservation of Route 66. They are making it their life’s work to see that
this road and its memories do not disappear. They founded the National Historic Route 66
Federation with the belief that Route 66 is an important chapter in America’s legacy
that needs to be saved. More on them in the next issue of the Roadsigns. You can
fax them at 818/352-7232.
MY SISTER WAS AN ONLY CHILD by Stacy Vellas
(Every time I recite this poem I find people who know the pangs of having a brother or
sister who was an "only child." Actually, Lisa and I wrote this poem together.
Mother had six children. Often she would go down the list of names before she got to the
right one. And she did things differently with each of us. She read and recited poetry to
me when she was a young woman. She told Lisa she was a planned child.
And we didn’t mind being called "Rose" ‘cause it was a pretty name!
— Stacy.)
My sister was an only child
My mother liked her better.
She always read her poetry
They had such fun together!
But I was left out in the cold
In stormy, winter weather.
They left me in New Mexico
And Montana was no better.
My parents always told me
I was a wanted child but
Why did they keep leaving me
If their love was all that wild?
Mother said "I love you best"
And in fond remembrance smiled
But she called me by my sister’s name
My sister — WAS — an only child!
(As we are sure you will recall, Stacy and her family came to California via Route 66
in the early 1930s – Ed.)
