Death Valley Scotty Flies

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Space Cowboy
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Death Valley Scotty Flies

Post by Space Cowboy »

I continue to obsessively read the Desert Magazine back issues. This month, I read all the July Issues from 1939 on. I'm up to July 1953. Here's two things from that issue that caught my eye:

First, in the Letters to the Editor, Page 25

Y e s , S c o t t y ' s 8 1 ! . . .
Buffalo, New York
Desert:
My wife and I recently took a trip
to the West. While in Death Valley,
we stopped off at Scotty's Castle and
met Scotty. He claimed he was 81
years old.
Is this the real Scotty, or someone
posing as Scotty? He doesn't look to
be 81 years of age, and it has been
on my mind that he is posing and
telling this story for publicity sake.
W. J. 1RWIN

Death Valley Scotty is still living,
and is 81, as he says. He is not well,
and his time is divided between the
Castle and the Las Vegas hospital.
If you were at the Castle, I presume
you met the real Walter Scott —
rather heavy and somewhat crippled
by a foot ailment. His eyes are
bright, his complexion ruddy, and
his mind remarkably clear for his
years.
—R.H.

Then, Page 29, in Here and There On the Desert:

Scotty Plans Plane Ride . . .
LOS ANGELES—According to a
letter received by Sheriff Biscailuz of
Los Angeles County, Death Valley
Scotty is planning to make one more
trip to Los Angeles, "and this time I
am going to fly." The letter was in
response to an invitation to be present
at the annual peace officers' rodeo in
August. Scotty wrote:
"Dear Sheriff. Barring the acts of
God I will be there. This time I'm
going to fly.
"It used to take me and my mules
seven days to get across this desert to
Mojave or Barstow and grab a train
into Los Angeles, but this time I'm
gonna fly it in an hour. It will be my
first plane ride."—Salt Lake Tribune.

Busy guy
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roc2rol
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Re: Death Valley Scotty Flies

Post by roc2rol »

Never been to Scotty Castle but a friend as been
and gave me a reprint of 1939 Castle Chronicle !!

That's serious reading in the Desert Magazine, Space Cowboy
If you run across any interesting rockhound tidbits ect...
please do tell :)
ed
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Re: Death Valley Scotty Flies

Post by Guz »

Roc, there is tons of rockhounding info in those magazines including maps. About 20 years ago I inherited a large collection of them. Great interviews and stories on prospectors, miners, current (at the time) mines, lost mines etc. etc.etc. Still a great resource for information!

Guz
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Re: Death Valley Scotty Flies

Post by Space Cowboy »

Roc2Rol,

There's so many articles on rock hounding, there's letters to the editor complaining about them. There's a Gem and Minerals Section. In the 1957 July issue, Page 37, there's a picture of two burros standing on a rocky precipice. One says to the other, "They say it was level here before the rockhounds came."

http://www.scribd.com/doc/2403100/19570 ... -1957-July
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Re: Death Valley Scotty Flies

Post by roc2rol »

Thanks for posting that link, SC
Real interesting issue!
Especially the article about heating and coloring agates!
Man Guz
you have a valuable collection
I try finding hard copies of those magazine
in used bookstores
difficult to find!
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Re: Death Valley Scotty Flies

Post by Guz »

Its been awhile since I went through them but I think I have extra copies of a few issues if I recall correctly.
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Re: Death Valley Scotty Flies

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This is from the July 1959 Issue, Page 33

Hard Rock Shorty of Death Valley
Hard Rock Shorty watched the party of rockhounds pass
out of the Inferno Store and mill around the drive, stooping
now and then to pick up a pebble, examine it, discuss its merits,
and then drop it back to the ground.
"Findin' anything good?" Hard Rock asked one of the rockhounds
nearest to him.
"Well, not here—but, I think we picked up lots of promising
stuff in the pass coming over. We'll have to wait 'til we get
home to see if it'll polish or not," answered the genial rockhound.
"I heard tell o' thet 'spensive equipment you boys use nowadays
to polish up these here rocks. Wern't always thet way," Shorty said
as he knocked out his pipe. "I 'member onst we had a
feller come out here name o' Lancaster Mike," he continued.
"Ol' Mike'd pick up rocks, lick 'em to see if they wuz agona
polish, an' then he'd put some in his bag and chuck the rest
away.
"This disgusted Mike. Not the lickin' part, mind you—but
never really knowin' which rocks wuz good and which wuz bad
wuz what got his goat—'cause lickin' alone weren't tellin' him
these things. He wuz doin' a lot o' totin' fer nothin'.
"So one day he ups and goes to Bishop and has the dentist
there ream out all his back teeth and fill 'em with some rough
diamonds thet he'd picked up years before in Afriky. With a full
set o' these fillin's he got so hecould gnaw the rocks right down
to th' shape he wanted—and if the insides wuz purty, he'd tote
'em back to his cabin.
"Hear tell he wuz thinkin' o' havin' his mule's teeth done up
th' same—only with grit fillin' so the critter, who wuz always
chewin' tabacker, could chew them good rocks down to a nice
polish while Mike hunted and gnawed ahead of 'im.
"Wai, th' dentist wuz fixin' to charge plenty fer those big mule
teeth, an' Mike he called the whole thin' off and took himself
a job with loggin' outfit up in Oregon."
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Re: Death Valley Scotty Flies

Post by SteveS »

Space Cowboy wrote:I continue to obsessively read the Desert Magazine back issues.......I'm up to July 1953.....
I find that interesting in a strange way. I too have been reading (more like perusing) then from the first issue and I’m up to June 1953. After a year or so and I’m within one month of another person who is doing the same thing on a magazine that spanned something like 50 years.

BTW I seem to enjoy the advertisements as much as the content. 8-)

There has been a few non-descript sites I’ve run across over the years, and while reading Desert I’ve run across a story about those sites. I am kinda bummed when I read about a site, but it’s now off limits, or mowed down by time.

I’ve also seem some commentary about the illegal Immigrant problem (not called that back then) in the 40’s & 50’s and the federal governments lack of policy. :lol:
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Re: Death Valley Scotty Flies

Post by roc2rol »

Hard Rock Shorty! :lol:

Rock lick’n is a habit I never took too.
But diamond teeth!
That I may consider!
Carbide inserts :D
That ’57 issue had the story about the dinosaur gizzard stones.
Good for the roughage.

thanks for posting..ed
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Re: Death Valley Scotty Flies

Post by Space Cowboy »

SteveS, when I hear something like this, another person doing practically the same thing I'm doing quite by chance, it tells me there's a trend occurring. The question then is whether its a movement within a certain circle of people with like interests, or in the body of a people as a whole. We could all be craving times past, or it could be as simple as Great Minds Think alike. The exact issue though, that's spooky.

Oren Arnold, who some compare to an only slightly more modern Mark Twain, started writing articles for Desert in the late 50's. He's the guy who got me going on the Hat Box Baby, (who by the way, is still alive and living just outside Phoenix.) Anyway, he wrote this piece, July issue, 1962, Desert Detours:

"Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while." Mark 6:31

Truly our desert is a many-splendored place. At times it
challenges man's ability to recognize its bounty. One of those
times is now. Truth is, our desert heat is more endurable
than the stifling humidity most of the nation suffers. We sons
of the sun have learned to refrigerate, or estivate. We have
also learned to appreciate; summer colds are rare, congested
lungs clear up, arthritis fades, spirits soar and hope returns.
Colors are intensified, landscapes glow, stars acquire new
brilliance, life in general revs down so that we have time to
enjoy it. Thank you, Lord.

Two of the things I love most were born in July—me, and
the United States. But when I straight-faced as much to my
teenage daughter, she shot right back—"Mother, let's have
a big party on July 4, hey?" My day's the 20th.

Only reason Independence Hall wasn't in Phoenix was
because the transcontinental railway hadn't been built; the
Liberty Bell was too heavy to haul out here in a wagon.

I worry some about that Liberty Bell anyway. Here lately
the bureaucrats and treasury raiders have been putting too
many new cracks in it.

When I get knotted up like that, worrying about national
affairs, I usually throw a canteen of water and a little snack
of grub into the car and head for the wild free hills. Up back
of Four Peaks last Spring 1 asked a 70-year-old prospector
if he knew what to do about inflation. "'Ain't heered of it,"
said he. See what I mean?
*
"Failure," declared Doc Clarence Salsbury, who has
never experienced it, "conies to him who follows the
line of least persistence."

Don't bother making a flowery speech this July 4 unless
you are also willing to shoulder a rifle, serve on a draft board,
or at least donate a pint of blood. Patriotism, American style,
is not synonymous with oratory. It is limited to one magnificent
word—Service.

"Civilian service," Governor George Hunt of Arizona once
told me, "is no less important than military. Hang out a flag,
yes. But don't sit down then, thinking you have done your
duty. Freedom is a sacred trust. And it is not free."

If America ever starts getting as much government as it's
paying for, we're sunk.

Seems the mayor of Nipton on the Mojave Desert was
trying to hire a preacher for their new church. "Rev'rend,"
said he, "are you by any chance a Baptist?"
"No sir, I'm not," the good man answered. "Why?"
"Well, I was just going to explain that we have to haul all
our water about 30 miles."

What you are about to read is a true story; nothing has
been changed except the wording and the facts:
It's not really very hot on the desert in summer. The impression
of warmth is largely in the imagination. The dryness
keeps the air from being oppressive. In fact you won't notice
the heat at all if you just work hard in the bright cheerful
sunshine.

All right, all right, so it's hot. What'd you expect in
July, sleet?

Back in January I gave you a recipe for a palliative guaranteed
to alleviate the heat. Naturally you weren't interested
then, but you will be now: Mix Vi cup of lemon juice with
l!/2 cups of sugar and chill. Into this slowly pour one quart
of whole milk, stirring rapidly. Freeze at once in a hand-turn
freezer. Have a small baseball bat handy to keep neighbors
away from this matchless Sun Country Sherbet, or quadruple
the amount frozen.

As I survey the world from my favorite Point of Rocks, it
appears that shiftless people very rarely manage to get into
high gear.

I feel a little sorry for a certain college professor in Arizona.
The kindly gent, poking around on the desert, found what
seemed sure to be the burial place of a gargantuan prehistoric
monster. He and his students were diligently sweating to dig
out the bones, when Tyson Carter, who owned the land, happened
along. Ty watched them a while, chewing his toothpick
and grinning, then said, "Gents, some of those rib bones
are 12 feet long, all right, and the tail is at least 70 feet. But
they were hauled in here a few years ago by a show man who
wanted to make money exhibiting them. He lost his shirt,
and I let him bury them out here. Them's just whale bones."

Statistics reveal that 108.9 percent of the desert dwellers
who say they'd rather stick it out in the hill heat in July and
August instead of going to the cool California beaches, are
lying. Truth is, we just ain't got the money.

Be assured, good friends, that life will knock you to
your knees. But that's the ideal position in which to
pray.

This may well be the desert citizens' basic philosophy of
life: Freedom from want, if interpreted as freedom from
necessity to struggle, would be a calamity if ever realized.

Not meaning to be wise-cracky about it, but hoping to help
weld the unique strength of our close-to-God desert-country
citizens, I leave you with this thought in this, the month of
our nation's birth:
If we aren't careful when we go to the polls, government
of the feeble, by the feeble and for the feeble will not perish
from the earth. ///
2 / Desert Magazine / July, 1962
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