Death Valley in a '51 Powerglide - part 9 - Bennett-Arcane Long Camp

 

 

It had been a busy day and a long night, so those of us that remained in Furnace Creek took naps on old cots as mom, dad, and I  rested up for the sunset mule driven wagon tour. Mom was still with the 10 - 2 & 4 Dr. Pepper experiment and after number 2 at 2, she wasn't much for sleeping and made off for the pool to finish Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

At 3 the Bel Air was headed down Badwater Road to the base camp for Covered Wagon Tours where we met with Neil, the outfit's boss, along with guide Jona and muleskinner Craig. As the rest of the passengers arrived Neil told us more about the 20 Mule Teams and wagons in general.

For instance, we didn't know that the steel rim around the wooden wagon wheels was called a tire, and that's where folks got the name for the rubber that meets the road in the present day. The tires on a 20 Mule Team rig were as wide as 7 inches. We also didn't know that the plank or planks of wood a wagon driver (also known as a teamster or muleskinner) was called a dashboard because it helped 'dash' away mud and rocks and such that was kicked up.

 

Neil went on. Given the times and conditions like hairpin turns and sheer dropoffs, the 20 Mule Teams had a remarkable safety record of no accidents. And that was no accident in that the lead mule up on the left and the muleskinner had a fine tuned relationship in which they communicated with a 100 foot leather jerk line. A steady pull would command a turn to the left and a quick up and down on the line turns to the right. And that lead mule was not your average mule either, he was extra smart and could cost as much as $2500. A handsome sum considering the entire rig cost $900 to build. On tight corners these mules would jump their chains to maintain an angle. It must have been something to see. Neil added that mules are smarter than horses, stronger than horses, don't get sick as much, and survive on a wider variety of food.

 

By then everyone was there and we were off.  

As we rode the covered wagon and looked out from under the shade of the  canopy I got to thinking that what they needed along the trail was a Burma-Shave jingle or two spaced along the way. Something like the one Dave Frey back at Stovepipe was saying all the time and dedicating to his wife:

The big blue tube

Is like Louise
You get a thrill
From every squeeze
Burma - Shave

We went a little further and to the rhythm of the wagon I began to quietly sing what I could remember from 'Cool Water';

Keep a-movin' Dan
Don't you listen to him Dan
He's a devil not a man
And he sheds the burning sand with water 

Just then Jona, our guide said "Do you know who Dan Is?"

I said I did, it was Dan Hazelwood from school...the kid I kept getting into fistfights with. She said no, a Dan was a mule, or sometimes a horse, of a grey-brown color. Well that pretty much ruined the song for me for I had imaginary designs of leaving my Dan Hazelwood's bones to bleach out in the

desert, for he too had romantic intentions for Susan Gunderson back home.

Jona then asked us to look around the vista and spot living things and ponder what there might be to eat in that vastness. The desert floor seemed to me to be stocked thin as mom's kitchen, though she at least kept a supply of milk and Ovaltine handy.

While muleskinner Craig drove on, Jona said most of the activity in Death Valley occurs at night when it cools down. The kangaroo rat comes out, but he doesn't look for water, he never drinks it. He's adapted special organs in his nose to extract moisture from the air. Old Dan could have used that trick. The roadrunners come out looking for kangaroo rats. Tiny pupfish can swim in briny 115 degree water. The desert holly plant likes the salt too and uses it to turn its leaves silver as the summer sun approaches. The Death Valley tortoise can go a full year without water...if held to Ovaltine and Coke I was pretty sure I could do that as well. The turkey vulture pees on its legs to keep them from overheating...to which my mom advised me not to consider that when we stopped at the oasis. I was considering it. The black tailed jackrabbit needs to eat several times its body weight every day just to stay hydrated. For regular food though we need to get off the desert floor into higher elevations to find conditions more like the rest of the Mojave and Colorado desert where we'll find mesquite beans, pinion nuts, and acorns and such to make grain and meal. That can be made into a sort of pancake and with some tree sap and quail eggs, you've got breakfast in no time at all.

 

Jona said we'll learn a little more when we return to camp from the cowboy entertainer.

 

 

From the small oasis which was our destination it was a short walk to the next landmark on dad's list. This was where the lost '49ers waited (long camp) and nearly starved for a month while two members; Manly and Rodgers went on and finally got help. Higher ground as we just learned would have served them better. If they'd have stayed with Captain Jefferson Hunt, their original guide, they'd have already been at the goldfields they sought.

 

Captain Jefferson Hunt

 

William Lewis Manly 

 

NO. 444:  Bennett-Arcane Long Camp

Plaque inscription: Near this spot the Bennett-Arcane contingent of the Death Valley '49ers, emigrants from the Middle West seeking a shortcut to California gold fields, were stranded for a month and almost perished from starvation. William Lewis Manley and John Rogers, young members of the party, made a heroic journey on foot to San Fernando and, returning with supplies, led the party to the safety of San Francisquito Rancho near Newhall.

Location: From State Hwy 190 (P.M. 111.8), go approx 16 mi S of intersection of Badwater Rd  (south) and Westside Rd, on Westside Rd, Death Valley National Monument

The sound of a banjo in the distance got closer as we approached the campsite...it was the western entertainer waiting for us. His name was actually Phillip Boyd Studge but he went by the handle Philboyd. Soon as we got seated at the benches inside the tent to wait for dinner call, he played a sort of guessing game song about a plant to test what we'd learned while on the ride:

I stand out in the desert, I’m a little guy

When fully grown. I’m not 4’ high
I smell really good, after a rain
I’m all around, what’s my name?

Yes I’m all around, that’s another clue

I can clone myself, I’m both old and new
For getting old, I have no peer
And stand around, for 12,000 years

I can clear your head, ease congestion

Heal your wounds, now here’s a question
With all that I can do you see
Do you have a name for me?

Well I stand alone, and I like it that way

Don’t grow too close, or you can’t stay
Need my space, so don’t you push
I’m your friend, I’m the Creosote Bush

I’m a medicine cabinet, some folks say

With a thousand cures. in a thousand ways
Treatments for your afflictions
Cure your cold, ease constriction

Dry skin, consumption, brittle hair

Cramps and pains, I’ll be there
Nausea, poisons, and infections
Rheumatism, poor circulation

Use my branches and make tea

Use my leaves and pieces of me
Just save a little for the next in line
For I’m slow to grow, I take my time

Well I stand alone, and I like it that way

Don’t grow too close, or you can’t stay
Need my space, so don’t you push
I’m your friend, I’m the Creosote Bush

Then there was the song for the Covered Wagon Tours; 'Let The Wagons Roll'

Oh can’t you see the Western sun a settin’

Let the wagons roll for me
It’s an evening that we won’t be soon forgettin’
Let the wagons roll for me

Stars in the sky, ki-yippy-yippy-yi

No finer place to be

Oh can’t you see the Western sun a settin’
Let the wagons roll for me

Out on the trail we’ll see the mysteries of the desert

On a wagon pulled by mule
Back to camp we come for dancin’ and a-singin’
A chuck wagon bar-b-que

Over the pass to the valley floor at last

No finer place to be

Oh can’t you see the Western sun a settin’
Let the wagons roll for me

He then taught us the Barn Dance, which seemed a lot easier and a whole lot more fun than the steps I was learning at Call's Dance Studio back home in Long Beach.  

Then it was time for a western dinner of coleslaw, cowboy beans, tri-tip, chicken, garlic bread.....and pie. We roasted marshmallows and sang 'Happy Trails', the official last song of the wagon tour, a fitting end to our last full day in Death Valley.

Death Valley in a '51 Powerglide - part 8 - Death Valley Gateway

Death Valley in a '51 Powerglide - part 8 -

Death Valley Gateway

 

We were dressed and ready for Stan Jones' show as dad poured his flask full of Johnny Walker from the demijohn in the trunk of the Bel Air to accompany mom's flask of vodka. We then walked to Harry Oliver's old west backdrop handiwork whereupon we see Stan Jones engaged in conversation with another little family of three just like us. It turned out Stollerys came along with Stan with their son turning out to be actor David Stollery who'd just signed on to do an upcoming television series for Walt Disney to be called 'The Adventures of Spin and Marty', with David playing Marty. Shooting was to begin as soon as school got out. That was the way Walt did things, no fake tutors on the set for Mr. Disney. He also wanted Stan, who was going to be in the series as well, to write several sets of lyrics for the theme song Stan had written, and the kids, and only the kids, would decide which verses made the cut. To woodshed those ideas was the reason the Stollerys came. Imagine giving that decision making to children....only Walt Disney would do something like that. And that helped make a dynasty.

 

News of my so called show stopping rendition of 'Lady of Spain' on the accordion had been relayed by The Plainsmen to Stan and the Stollerys along with connection to the band with my mom's best friend and my godmother, Shirley Patterson.

 

But rather than bask in the compliments, I found myself thinking more about the clever trick Clem from The Plainsmen had just taught me by putting little holes in a Pep Boys matchbook. This involved Manny, Moe, and Jack who stood together on the cover and further detail was not suitable for that general audience, so I just stood there. Besides, I only knew two songs on the thing; the other being 'Fascination' and went with 'Lady of Spain' because it was perky. I had no business with an accomplished thespian like David. Still, his mom persisted in telling my mom that not all the boys had been cast and that I should try out as an extra and be a 'Mouseketeer' of sorts. At this point we broke into groups; the moms to talk further about my audition (which thankfully turned out later to be a dud, as they easily saw a one trick pony), the dads and Stan to further investigate the demijohn in the trunk of the Bel Air, and 'Marty' and I to look for peepholes in the outhouses.

 

'Ghost Riders in the Sky' took twenty years or one night to write depending on how you look at it. At fourteen, while growing up on an Arizona ranch, Stan came up to an old cowboy on a hill in the wake of a storm and looking to the clouds with him he was relayed the old legend of the devil's herd and red eyed cows that could be seen in the clouds in the sky. Twenty years later on his 34th birthday he saw the same cloud formation in Death Valley and wrote the song that night. Right away the song went into his campfire repertoire he was playing for cast and crew of the John Sturges directed film 'The Walking Hills' while not being the park's technical advisor to them. Stan was encouraged to take the song to publishers in Los Angeles and the following year the Vaughn Monroe recording of 'Ghost Riders in the Sky' became the number one hit of 1949. Stan opens his set with it.

 

What a night it was. It was a last round-up of sorts, though no one there knew it then. With the exception of genre film and TV, western music was fading from popularity, especially in the live venues, which was the bread and butter for groups like The Plainsmen, Spade Cooley, or Rose Maddox. Leo Fender turned this music on its ear with his electric bass, and guitar.... 'stick guitars' my dad called them. They were loud and bright and popular music in all forms hasn't looked back since. It would be one of the last times The Plainsmen played in public, but that night, it didn't matter and Stan and the boys sang and played and the people danced well into the chill of a Death Valley night in January. My somewhat halting version of 'Lady of Spain' on the accordion went over well, and though the crowd asked for another, we agreed it was good for me to quit while I was ahead, and 'Fascination' took the night off.

 

 

 

Meanwhile, my parents had met Neil Fawcett from an outfit called 'Covered Wagon Tours' and had decided to stay an extra day and take a sunset ride the following afternoon.

 

That night I again slept in the Bel Air and woke the next morning to a beautiful sunrise over the eastern hills that rolled over the Chevy's roof parked in the midst of a tent and cabin city. Finally, things began to stir as it got warmer, with the sun heating up the tents and amplifying the hangovers inside and coaxing everyone up to greet the day with first cigarettes. Heck, it was almost 10am and time for mom's first Dr. Pepper.

 

Despite hangovers, Stan's friends Julio and Bufungo were already up and helping Dave Frey break down the props and reload Dave's Studebaker flatbed. They were rather angry with Harry Oliver and T.R. Goodwin who should have been helping but had slipped away late in the show to Pahrump, Nevada to get into what turned out to be an all night and all day card game.

After a pancake breakfast with the Stollerys which was quite a treat for they had Log Cabin syrup in the tin log cabin and not the awful clear Karo syrup mom insisted on using, we made the short drive to the Furnace Creek Inn to see dad's next historical landmark.     

  

For those 49'ers who came to this gateway to Death Valley that Christmas of 1849, the options they faced in Utah a few months prior were to either continue the methodical pace of Capt. Hunt along the Old Spanish Trail and bypass this valley, or to run with the new fella in camp who had a map made by John Fremont that looked like it could save them 500 miles. Who could turn down a short cut like that? Certainly dad couldn't if he was signed on to that train.

 

 

NO. 442:  Death Valley Gateway   

Plaque inscription: Through this natural gateway the Death Valley '49ers, more than 100 emigrants from the Middle West seeking a shortcut to gold fields of central California, entered Death Valley in December 1849. All suffered from thirst and starvation. Seeking an escape from the region, two contingents went southwest from here, while the others proceeded northwest.

Location: near Furnace Creek Inn

State Hwy 190 (P.M. 111.8), 1.3 mi SE of Furnace Creek, Death Valley National Monument

 

 

 

Death Valley in a '51 Powerglide - part 7 - Old Harmony Borax Works

Death Valley in a '51 Powerglide - part 7 - Old Harmony Borax Works

 

The ashtray on a '51 Chevrolet is integrated into the design of the flat chrome vertical bars that spanned its dashboard so as to be invisible when closed, but dad's ashtray was always open for business. At the time, emptying the contents, at a stoplight for instance, was not considered to be littering according to dad. Though he was one of very few people who would not throw trash out the window, ashes and cigarette butts did not count. The main issue with the Bel Air's ashtray was that while being close to dad and the steering wheel and his Lucky Strikes, it was a very long reach for my mom's Chesterfields coming from the far side of the sofa sized bench seat. Her solution was to let the ash grow to epic length proportions before leaning over with the precision of a Chinese acrobat to have the ash fall off into the pint sized container. Watching this balancing act was so mesmerizing that I wasn't looking at the road as we backtracked the 40 mile stretch from Scotty's Castle to the highway and it caught me by surprise when in a softened and somewhat melancholy voice she said: "snake", I hadn't seen it coming. Nor had dad, who immediately swerved to the other side of the road to again run over our unfortunate viper from the trip to Scotty's Castle a second time. That triggered a near word for word replay of the conversation covered in the previous dispatch on the inbound trip and lasted till we intersected the highway.   

 

A few more miles down the road I began to wonder out loud as to how hot it might get in this place so famous for scorching summers, to which mom opened the mimeographed sheet that T.R. Goodwin had handed her back at Scotty's Castle and from the blurry blue ink she quoted: 

"The maximum temperature recorded in Death Valley was 134°F. on July 10, 1913, which constituted the world's record until September 13, 1922 when 135°F. was reported at Azizia, Tripoli.

The minimum for Death Valley occurred January 8, 1913 with 15°F.

Average annual precipitation i 2.41 inches. Average humidity 4. With occasional absolute zero.

Research has determined that air temperature at five feet above ground does not exceed 120—F. for more than four hours.

Temperature distribution form the sheltered thermometers (at 5 feet) indicating 125°F. to the ground surface follows.

a. Air at 5 feet .............. 125 degrees F.
b. Air at 1 foot .............. 150 degrees F.
c. Air at 1 inch .............. 165 degrees F.
d. Surface of ground ...... 180 degrees F.

By computation, the air temperature on the surface of ground can ge determined when the air temperature at 5 feet was 134°F. It would be hot enough on the ground surface to boil water or fry eggs and too hot for visitors to walk bare-footed. —T.R. Goodwin"

"Yikes" I said.

 

 

Just before powergliding our way into Furnace Creek (originally called 'Greenland' by the way) and about a mile and a half north of town, we came up to the Old Harmony Borax landmark dad was looking for. Mom and I thanked the stars there were only a few more landmarks to go. We later learned the 20-mule teams written about on the plaque were actually 2 teams of 10 mules that hauled 10 tons of borax in 10 days, 165 miles to Mohave  Why 20 mules? Well, Mr. Perry and Ed Stiles (his main muleskinner) tried teams of 8 and 10 and it wasn't enough.

 

 

Sometime during their 5 year run between 1893 and 1898 in a effort to replace the mules, a steam traction engine named “Dinah” was brought in but proved less reliable, and was eventually towed back to town by the mules it tried to replace.

 

 

 

'Dinah won't ya blow' indeed. We'll get into this 20 Mule Team outfit in more depth in a later dispatch.

 

NO. 773:  Old Harmony Borax Works

In 1881 Aaron Winters discovered borax on the marsh near this point. He later sold his holdings to W. T. Coleman of San Francisco, who built the Harmony Borax Works in 1882 and commissioned his superintendent, J. W. S. Perry, to design wagons and locate a suitable route to Mojave. The work of gathering the ore (called 'cottonball') was done by Chinese workmen. From this point, 20-mule teams transported the processed borax 165 miles to the railroad until 1889

 

 

Location: State Hwy 190 (P.M. 109.1), 1.4 mi N of Furnace Creek, Death Valley National Monument

 

From the '20 Mule Team' landmark we rolled into the ranch to find Harry Oliver already there....affirming it was his Ford V8 woody that passed us on the way from Scotty's Castle. Set designer that he was, he had a plan to make a circled wagons backdrop for the campfire show and dad threw in with him to help, along with Stan Jones' friends Julio and Bufungo, who had shown up from Trona. Several of the French tourists from Stovepipe Wells pitched in as well. Dave and Louise Frey were on the way with another wagon and extra props piled high on the flatbed of his '47 Studebaker truck, not because Dave somehow knew what Harry was up to, he simply never traveled light, or without adequate 'walkin' around money'. The 'set' came together quickly and looked so good it could have been in the John Sturges movie that started Stan's career in show business at that very spot. .

Not being inclined to physical work myself, I'd slipped over to where Stan Jones' band 'The Plainsmen' had been going over a few of his songs. Right off, I recognized steel guitarist Joaquin Murphy from seeing him many times with Spade Cooley at the Santa Monica Pier Ballroom, the house bands on 'Rocket to Stardom' at KTLA and 'Town Hall party at the Compton town hall to which mom and I would ride the bus to play my red accordion. The other band members were looking familiar as well. The bandleader was Andy Parker, along with Clem Smith, Charlie Morgan (who was going on about his sister Jaye P. Morgan's recent recording success), and George Bamby. Andy said I'd likely seen them in the Saturday matinees playing with Eddie Dean. I hadn't but I shyly mentioned that I thought my godmother, Shirley Patterson had done some acting with Eddie Dean. "Some?" Andy said. It turned out she'd starred in three westerns with him, they knew her well, and when he said the dates the movies were released, one of them it turned out. 'Driftin River' was released the very day I was born.  

 

To borrow a quote from dad I went: 'Hmmm". I'd realized now the reason mom was hauling me around to play those talent shows was to live a bit vicariously the stage door side of things she perceived existed for her best teenage friend turned actress. "So you play the accordion?" "Show us what you've got" George Bamby says and I borrowed his smallish Italian job and knocked off 'Lady of Spain' complete with the 'doodly-doodly' trick bit they taught me at Morey's Music back in Long Beach. They jumped in and accompanied me with an instant arrangement that threw me off some but I hung on. They said I just had to play it that night for everyone, no excuses. And here I'd simply wandered by to get out of work, but I knew being a kid act shill that night would make mom happy.

Speaking of mom, she'd wandered off to the pool and was back reading 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof' when I had realized the time and running back to the Bel Air, the dashboard clock showed a bit past 4, and grabbing the soda from the cooler I rushed Dr. Pepper #3 to her poolside in the nick of time. And time it was to get ready for the show.

 

 

 

 

 

Death Valley in a '51 Powerglide - part 6 - Scotty's Castle

 

 

Back on the highway towards our rendezvous at Furnace Creek, dad and mom had decided to take Dave's advice and detour a left down a 40 mile road whose only function was to deliver folks to Scotty's Castle. I thought it had to be the world's longest driveway.

As mentioned in an earlier dispatch, mom had switched to Dr. Pepper after seeing what Coca Cola does to corroded battery terminals the previous day and was adopting the consumption policy laid out on the bottle's label; 10 - 2  & 4. and with a minute left till 10am showing on the dashboard clock of the Bel Air, I reached in the cooler for mom's first bottle. Just as I was handing the Texas based concoction that I felt tasted like carbonated prune juice to her, mom saw something in the road ahead: "SNAKE" she screamed. Without any hesitation whatsoever, dad veered off course and ran directly over the hapless reptile. From the rear window I noted that we were only one of many who had made that maneuver on the rattler. I wondered out loud to dad as to why we veered down on the poor critter like the point of a cowboy boot to a cockroach stuck in a corner, yet he would swerve and skid to avoid squirrel and bunny. "Hmmm" dad said. Meanwhile, mom's Chesterfields and Dr. Pepper were taking hold and in that clarity she recalled nearly every word from an article she'd recently read in the Press-Telegram about a man who'd died from the venom of a rattlesnake fang when he pricked his finger removing the viper's tooth from his tire. "Hmmm" dad said.

 

Right after the war and fresh out of the Navy, dad skipped around with various jobs before settling down in the family profession of working for oil companies. One such endeavor was building a stage and set in the employ of designer, humorist, actor, and all around character, Harry Oliver out in the Indio desert. With an Arabian Nights theme and his father in Saudi Arabia working for an oil company, it seemed like the right job to take. So when he saw Harry standing there on the grass in the flesh just as we rolled up to the parking lot of Scotty's Castle National Monument, he was elated. What were the odds? Well, less than one might think, for Harry had been there for awhile researching material for forthcoming editions of his 'Desert Rat Scrapbook' quarterly and hanging out with friend, fellow storyteller and national monument superintendent; T.R. Goodwin. While waiting for T.R. to finish conducting a tour, Harry, with his booming theatrical voice and an appearance better suited for radio, decided to give us the nickel tour himself.

 

Harry asks us if we've noticed the lack of Kleenex bushes blooming along the roadside while in Death Valley. Not the wildflowers that we were too early for anyway, but his term for roadside litter so prevalent in those pre litterbug campaign years. "Hmmm" dad said. Harry also noted he'd slept in Scotty's bed the night before and that the Buffalo Bill painting gave him cowboy dreams.

 

 

 

Walter Edward Scott or 'Death Valley Scotty' had passed a year prior and as we walked the winding path to his grave above the castle, Harry speculated that the place should really be called 'Johnson's Mission Revival' for it was millionaire Albert Johnson's place and his money that built it. So much money that they still didn't know if it was 1.5 million or 2.5 million dollars, but certainly enough to ensure good digging's. And insurance was Johnson's game, National Life it was. Yet, since right out of college, he had the mining speculation bug, and great early success in a lead zinc mine kept the bug alive. Later, he convinced his moneybags dad to accompany him on a rail trip for a look-see at a new mining venture when tragedy struck. Their hottentot Pullman was rear ended by another train and dad was killed, leaving Albert seriously injured and the business. He never fully recovered and was in constant pain the rest of his life. As to Death Valley, he originally came to inspect his investment in Scotty's 'lost' gold mine. Mom perks up and asked if anyone might know anything about her 'Tom Reed Gold Mine' stock in which she inherited 5000 shares since it was around these parts. Harry answered:

"Let those who seek Peg Leg's gold

Cast ten rocks to the pile

To the lost trail of a hundred years

You may add another mile"

Mom took this to mean her stock might be in a fragile state of value for we knew through Harry's Desert Rat Scrapbook publication his obsession with Peg Leg Smith, who could have been Scotty's spirtual mentor in folly and con.

 

We reach the hilltop and enjoy the incredible vista while Harry continued his story with Albert and other speculators coming out to see the so called mine and call Scotty's bluff that it existed. Meanwhile, Scotty gathered some fellers of low degree along with his brother to stage a raid on the convoy and the 'Battle of Wingate Pass' and its 'rain of lead' went on to make national headlines. Though the only serious casualty was Scotty's brother Warner, it was the stuff of western lore and oxygen to millionaire boredom and the odd fellowship between affluent Albert and Scotty the con began and lasted the rest of their lives.

 

As it turned out, coming here improved Mr. Johnson's health and though wife Bessie grew to love Death Valley as well, she wasn't much for camping, and the 'castle' was built.

 

Back off the hill we met T.R. Goodwin and dad asked if the place was a state landmark, since we were looking for them. Mr. Goodwin, a slyly built, prim man in government garb, complete with a flat brim 'Smoky' hat said it wasn't, but it was part of the National Monument. He said that one of the common questions asked by visitors to the area was: "Where is the monument?" And they are greatly surprised to learn that Death Valley National Monument comprised nearly 2,000,000 acres and that was the monument. Not long a go Superintendent Goodwin received the following letter from a representative of a paint manufacturing concern: "Formula X has been tested on several national monuments. It does not change the color of the surface yet it penetrates deeply into the stone preventing the absorption of water, weather, and deterioration." Comments Superintendent Goodwin: "Such a letter tempts one to ask the writer to submit an estimate of the quantity of his product required to protect Death Valley from weathering and deterioration." Yes, T.R. was a great storyteller.

 

 

 

Returning to the parking lot, Harry was reunited with the hat he'd left on the Bel Air's fender. It was 2 o'clock and time for mom's next Dr. Pepper and also time for us to head to Furnace Creek, and with goodbyes said to Harry Oliver and T.R. Goodwin (who both were definitely coming to the Stan Jones shindig) we bid toodles to Scotty's Castle.