Fourth of July at Newberry in the mid 50's was much different than we have today.
The closest thing we had for a parade was the long line of pickup trucks laden with
barbecues, picnic tables, watermelons and swimsuit clad kids converging on the Cliff House
pool.
The barbecues were set up in the parking area to the north of the pool, the tables and
benches would be placed in every shady spot available under the cottonwood trees
surrounding the parking area. Melons were piled in the shade to await the arrival of the
pickup that had been sent to the railroad ice plant in town.
Some brave soul would round up some teens, give them the keys to his truck and tell
them to go out for mesquite wood.
The ice truck would arrive from town with a full load of ice in its tarp lined bed.
This was immediately set upon by a sledge hammer and ice pick wielding team that reduced
the 50 pound blocks to small chunks. The melons were embedded and the remaining ice
patches where covered with cans of sodas and beer. The truck was then pulled under a tree
and the tarp tied back over the load as much for security from marauding kids as
temperature control.
The pool would open with the usual 25c fee waived and the older teen boys were allowed
the use of the large stock of 1930's vintage rental swimwear. Now this swimwear was
interesting to say the least. I think it was the original unisex suit. Made of heavy
charcoal gray wool, complete with pantaloons, skirt and bodice. Straps of the same
material suspended the entire (12pound when wet) load from the shoulders. Of course us
guys only fastened one strap. More the Tarzan look. Gotta be cool you know. Swimming in
this suit was like wearing a windsock. Exiting the water was done gradually, allowing
water to escape around the legs. But the suit had one great advantage, it covered so much
of the body that virtually any crazy dive could be attempted without fear of injury.
Demonstrations of these protective virtues were continuously performed by the self
appointed Newberry Diving Team of Karl Morris and Fritzy Morgan and anyone else who was
foolish enough to try some of the dives they did.
The pool was alive with bodies of all shapes and sizes. The smell of mesquite smoke
would start to rise from the barbecues. Women were busy setting out salads and fixens. The
tarp would come off the ice and kids would scramble to see who could get the biggest piece
of this desert rarity. Then a hush would gradually fall and all eyes would turn to the
north where a bronze Hudson sedan was just pulling in from the highway. One of the main
events was arriving.
As Cactus Joe parked his car and sauntered towards the pool followed by most of the
adults and kids, there was a quick huddle near the diving board. Only the biggest of the
teen boys were allowed to participate. A minimum of 5 husky country teens would be needed
and others could jump in to help only if absolutely necessary. The rules were simple. No
punching, kicking, scratching, biting or stomping. The object is to subdue Cactus Joe,
remove his gun, holster, hat, wallet and boots and then carry him to the deep end of the
pool and throw him in.
Sounds simple doesn't it? Well when you realize that this annual event was one of the
many means Cactus Joe used to make a point. You will understand the respect gained for Joe
when the final count of teens required to accomplish this act was made.
After the dunking, a dripping wet Joe was seated at a table and waited on hand and foot
by his opponents.
Around dusk our fireworks were of the home grown variety. One that comes to mind was
when Choppy Melon walked from a point due north of the Cliff House to Mountain View Road.
Lighting fuses to a stick of dynamite previously attached to each railroad tie fence post.
Almost a mile of fence posts ten feet apart bit the dust that 4th of July.
Copyright 1995, William E. Smith, All Rights Reserved
Newberry Springs Chamber of Commerce
P.O. Box 116
Newberry Springs, CA 92365
Phone: (760) 257-1072
