This was a wide spot in the road better known as Mapes Ranch, near Litchfield. In 1868, Thomas French and Andrew Litch formed a partnership and purchased the Shaffer Brothers ranch, hence the origin of the name for a nearby school and mountain. On January 27, 1873 the Dayton Post Office opened Thomas French as the first and only postmaster. Litch at the same time opened a small store that the Shaffer’s had previously operated. The post office closed on January 18, 1875, but that was not the only change on the horizon. Later that year French and Litch dissolved their partnership.

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This was the original name for Baxter Creek. In the summer of 1855, Marion Lawrence, better known as “Commanche George,” made one of the first water diversions of any stream in the Honey Lake Valley. In 1864, Lawrence and B.F. Murphy claimed the Buffalo Salt Marsh in the Smoke Creek Desert as a salt mine—that Murphy developed into a profitable enterprise. Lawrence died in 1868 and was buried in an unmarked grave, one mile north of Peter Lassen’s grave

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A reader wanted to know about the naming of Honey Lake, since originally it was known as Hot Springs Basin/Valley. In the summer of 1850, when Peter Lassen and a group of prospectors traveled through there, they named the lake and the valley (Honey)for a sweet dew type substance found on the wild grains.
In 1943, the Oakland Tribune published an article about Fred Lake’s 1892 dream town of Honey Lake City. That prompted a question from several readers as to how Honey Lake received its name. John S. Thomas of Oakland wrote the newspaper and stated: “They call it Honey Lake on account of the honey dew that fall on the borders of the lake. In haying time, if you lay or stand a pitch fork out all night, the handle in the morning will be as sticky as if it had been rubbed with honey. However, W. E. Booth of Hayward questioned Thomas’ claim in a letter to the Tribune. They published his response: “Booth used to live in the Honey Lake Valley and worked on a dairy ranch. Booth insists that he never saw such phenomenon and never heard the story. It would seem that if such a phenomenon was the source of the name of the lake and region, it would have been a matter of common experience and knowledge. The phenomenon of which Mr. Thomas speaks may have been incidental, the sticky handle may have been caused something other than the dew.”

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Long before, Lassen and Roop set foot in the Honey Lake Valley, numerous Anglos had frequented the area since the early 1820s. For a time, Honey Lake Valley was referred to as Hot Springs Basin. In July 1844, William Thomas Hamilton (1822-1908), member of a fur-trapping group, was one such early day visitor. Hamilton wrote in his memoirs: “We reached a beautiful valley called to-day Honey Lake Valley, but at that time without a name. We remained here three months, enjoying ourselves as only men can who love the grandeur of nature. Our time was spent in exploring, hunting, fishing, reading and practicing with all arms.”

Once the Susan River flows past Standish it starts breaking up into various sloughs. Whitehead Slough was named for John Wesley Whitehead.  On September 10, 1886,  Whitehead, then a resident of Pyramid Lake, Nevada purchased 321 acres in the Tule District from Joseph D. & Sarah Smith for $3,000. In 1920, Whitehead retired and moved to Pacific Grove. On April 5, 1922, Whitehead sold his ranch to David and Royce Raker for $1,000.

One final picture . . .

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Last month, I lost a dear friend David Wemple (1931-2017). While a contemporary of my mother, I had known David for forty years. The truth be known, I was probably still wearing diapers when I started researching.

Two years ago, I asked David, the story behind the Milford Creamery’s demise and he wrote:  “The main trouble with the creamery was too many bosses and too few laborers. They had to put a lot of money into both buildings, the creamery and the milking shed, that they built. This milking shed may still be standing. It could be that Joe, their father, helped monetarily with the venture. Anyway, the short of it is, the brothers simply didn’t get along that well. My great grandfather, Joseph C. Wemple was, according to Dad, [Claude Wemple] was generous to a fault and John, the oldest son told Dad on one occasion that it was not uncommon for Joe to have in excess of $10,000.00 in cash in his house. This was money from the flour mill located in Milford. I remember these mill stones. They were eventually broken up with a sledge hammer to rock up a spring with.”

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