Bass fishermen at the south shore of Eagle Lake, 1914.
Having been a long time observer of local politics, I am past the stage of shock and awe. Every now and then in my research I come across some things that leave, well just plain dumfounded. Today’s topic is one them.
For unknown reasons on April 28, 1924 the Lassen County Board of Supervisors held a special session—the agenda item to ban fishing. The supervisors gave no rhyme or reason why such action was needed. It did not stop them from proceeding. They drafted an ordinance and they would adopt it at their regular meeting on May 5.
Camp 38, Red River Lumber Company at Lake Almanor circa 1925—Hank Martinez
The California Division of Fish and Wildlife was not amused. They informed the county supervisors the matter was unconstitutional. In addition, their local game wardens were told not to enforce it. The local nimrods were not pleased either and they let their voices heard. Needless to say when the board of supervisors held their regular meeting, the matter was tabled.
Note: In 2011, the first appearance of a gray wolf was reported in California. Prior to then, the last gray wolf in California was trapped in Lassen County in 1924.
At first I was going to do a condensed version of the account, but the Lassen Advocate had such a compelling story that I decided to transcribe it.
Lassen Advocate, Susanville, California, June 13, 1924 1;4 “Frank Koehler Gets Large Gray Wolf, June 12 – Frank W. Koehler, United States hunter and trapper had a thrilling experience yesterday afternoon when he encountered what is now almost an extinct species of animal in the United States, especially in this part of the country.
“June 2, Koehler had been called by G.E. Seeber at Litchfield to help him out as the coyotes had killed 50 of his young turkeys. That day Koehler set out seven settings of three traps each and returning to his settings on June 7 found that he had caught a coyote but he had broken away and escaped. He set his traps in the same place and yesterday afternoon returned to see what had been happening.
Horse Lake, 1916, photograph taken by William Wales
For those not that familiar with the region, Horse Lake is somewhat north and east of Eagle Lake depending on one’s perspective which part of that body of water they have in mind. This is an intermittent lake, like, Honey, during wet precipitation years remains full, and in drought years, goes dry.
In my research one can come across the so-called devil in the details. While a lot of research one views a lots of dry material. Every now then, there is that hidden gem. Case in point, while researching Pete’s Creek, I came across one such gem.
Horse Lake, June 21, 2019
In 1916, the newly formed Honey Lake Valley Irrigation District hired William Wales, a civil engineer, to do a thorough investigation of all water supplies of the region that the district might be able to tap into. Wales was very thorough and their was not a drop water he did not examine—even Butte Lake in far western Lassen County that he believed could be diverted all the way to eastern Honey Lake Valley.
Wales proposed a Petes Valley Reservoir. It was his opinion to drain Horse Lake for additional source of water. It should be noted that in 1893, William Harrison had dug a ditch to divert overflow water into Petes Creek, as he owned a ranch at Petes Valley. Wales noted Harrison’s previous work, but a more substantial and deeper channel would need to be done. Wales duly noted the water at Horse Lake was more or less wasted due to evaporation. He estimated the water rights to Horse Lake was worth $4,000.
Butte Lake, circa 1920. Roy Sifford, of Drakesbad fame wrote: “The sign of the Manitou which means the sign of God. The shadows in the water made a long arrows which the Indians thought that was a sign of the Great Spirit (Manitou) or God gave them. Courtesy of the Sifford Collection.
Butte Lake in the eastern portion of Lassen Volcanic National Park is worthy of a trip. Because of its location and access is from a dirt road off of Highway 44 tends to be crowd free. This lake was originally referred as to Black Butte Lake and later Lake Bidwell. J.S. Diller named it Lake Bidwell in honor of General John Bidwell who came to California in 1841 and founded the town of Chico. The official name dates back to 1883 and no doubt received its name from two surrounding landmarks, Cinder Butte and Black Butte.
The French Canadian trappers of the Hudson Bay Company introduced the term “butte” to Western Americana. It was used to designate a landmark for an isolated peak, but not high or large enough to be a mountain.
In the 1840s, Hudson Bay fur trappers referred to the Honey Lake Valley as Hot Springs Valley. This was due to hot springs on the east side of Honey Lake.
The springs were originally referred to as Upper and Lower Hot Springs. In the 1880s the Lower Hot Springs were also known as Brubeck Springs, for the owner of the property, L.W. Brubeck. The name was changed to Amedee with the establishment of the town. A unique feature of the springs was a geyser. In 1854, Lt. E.G. Beckwith, during his exploration of a transcontinental railroad route visited the hot springs and noted that the geyser consisted of a column of water twenty inches in diameter.
The hot springs came into prominence when NCO Railroad extended its line and established the town of Amedee. As previously mentioned, the geyser became quite an attraction when the town was established. Amos Lane, bartender and inventor, devised a clock to measure spurts of the geyser that rose and fell at intervals of 38 seconds. At times the geyser would shoot as high as eight feet. The geyser ceased to exist in May 1893, as the ground around the springs cracked and allowed the steam to escape. The town’s newspaper was aptly named the Amedee Geyser.
The springs were heralded for their curative properties and the first public bathhouse opened in 1892. In 1900, Arthur Holland appeared on the scene to transform Amedee into a health resort. Holland dubbed his enterprise the “Karlsbad of America,” a bold attempt to associate it with the famed Czech resort. Holland’s venture never materialized in the grandeur he desired and he abandoned the project within a years’ time. Yet, people would still come to Amedee for the specific purpose to take mineral bath. This practice continued through most of the 1930s.
Amedee Bath House courtesy of Tom Armstrong
In 1984, Matti Ripatti and California Hydro Systems recognized the geothermal potential of the springs. They applied to the Lassen County Planning Department for a permit to construct a geothermal plant there. The permit was granted and in 1988 the power plant was constructed.
Smoke Creek is a desert stream that is approximately twenty-six miles in length with an equal portion in California and Nevada. Its headwaters is Big Springs at the southern base of Observation Mountain. The creek descends into a small canyon that early day explorer J. Goldsborough Bruff in 1850 dubbed as Hierioglyphic Creek, due to the numerous petroglyphs on the canyon walls. From there the stream enters a much larger deeper canyon.
Smoke Creek Canyon, January 2020—Greg Johnso
On the Nevada side, the lower end of the creek was a welcomed sight for weary travelers of the 1850s and 1860s on the Nobles Emigrant Trail. The water flow decreases the closer one gets to the Smoke Creek Desert.
June 26, 2023Smoke Creek Golf Course, 1996
The terminus of the creek varies as to the kind of water year. It can spread over the scrub brush terrain. I can attest since I played at a golf tourney there over Labor Day Weekend. One of the course’s many hazards were the mosquitos, and they were a hungry lot.
Ice Harvesting on the Susan River, early 1900s—Philip S. Hall
Yesterday’s post was about the Westwood frozen millpond when temperatures dropped to -30. Below zero temperatures used to occur on a regular basis during the winter months in this part of California. Over a century ago, it was an important fact of life, as the frigid temperatures were needed. The following is from an old post that explains why:
Ice harvesting at Adin, 1911
Way before the day of refrigeration, in colder climates ice was harvested, whether from a stream, pond or lake. Though by the 1920s, the practice slowly began to fade away with the advent of refrigeration. Locally, ice was harvested from the Susan River, and two focal points were the Bremner dam in the Susan River canyon and the other at Dawson dam near Johnstonville that provided power for the Lassen Flour Mill. Roy Sifford, born in 1893 and raised in Susanville, recounts in his memoirs that in 1910: “I hauled ice from the ponds at Johnstonville to the stores and bars in Susanville–$2.00 a load delivered. In twelve hours I could haul four loads receiving $8.00 a day, paid in cash!”
An astute reader, asked an astute question. Why the kiln, and where did the lime come from? Very good questions, indeed. Lime is found in rock deposits of calcium carbonate, which the rock has to be heated to extract the lime.
It should be noted, there is an interesting lime kiln remnant near the Wendel Hot Springs, but as it is on private property not accessible to the public.
M. Moses was the second claim recorded in Roop’s Land Register. He settled on present day Susanville Ranch Park and referred to Piute Creek as Smith’s Creek.
This small stream a tributary to Susan River is approximately ten miles in length. For a brief period it was originally known as Smith’s Creek, who and why it was so named such we may never be known.
Another peculiarity is the spelling of Piute. Back in the 1850s and 1860s that was how the Anglo settlers of the western Great Basin spelt the name for the Native American tribe now referred to as Paiute.
Piute Creek was also the source for the original water supply for Susanville. It would be replaced with what is now known as Cady Springs in the Susan River Canyon.
Flood waters from breached earthen fill trestle, April 1938. Courtesy of Betty B. Deal
In 1935, the Red River Lumber Company completed its railroad logging line known as the Piute that traversed a portion of the canyon the creek flows through. Just above Desmond Meadows, the Piute line crossed Piute Creek. In an effort to save money, Red River decided to forgo a wooden trestle, and substitute an earthen fill. It was a rather substantial one at that, being over twenty-five feet tall. The winter of 1937-38, was one for the record books. By the end of March, 1938, the spring run-off was in earnest. The earthen fill at Desmond Meadows was equipped with a culvert to handle the stream flow. It was no match for this type of heavy water flow and then the culvert became blocked with debris, creating a substantial reservoir. As one eyewitness observed, this newly created lake extended back 300 feet from the fill with an estimated depth over twenty feet. On April 9, the fill breached, sending a wall of water downstream creating havoc in its path and washing away segments of the Piute railroad tracks into the fields of its dairy property now known as Susanville Ranch Park. In the aftermath, Red River decided not to repair the destroyed trackage. Red River took its time salvaging the line, since the company had given consideration to abandon railroad logging. In the 1940s, the abandoned railroad grade was converted into the Paul Bunyan Logging road.
William K. Medlin’s book published in 1997 is an interesting tome about Lassen Volcanic National Park. It is a combination of the park’s history and his philosophical belief. In his Preface, Medlin writes, “The reader is invited to trace this thread, and weighing the evidence scattered across its pages, to decide whether the story is telling the truth.” However, when writing about the events leading to the creation of the park, Medlin writes: “Armed with this advantage, Raker finally gained top political support in Washington for his national park proposal. On August 9, 1916, President Woodrow Wilson signed the bill creating Lassen Volcanic National Park. Raker, who died that same year, had garnered strong support both in Washington and in Northern California for final effort.” It should be duly noted for the record that Congressman Raker died a decade later in 1926, and not 1916
When it comes to Lynne Walker Collins, Lassen’s first ranger and later its first park superintendent, Medlin writes disparaging about him. However, in Acknowledgements Medlin heaps praise on Collins hard work. There is no doubt that Collins was very dedicated and worked tirelessly for the park. Collins also had the difficult task dealing with the private land owners in park—Sifford, Snell, Supan. In 1935, in a srange turn of events, Collins was abruptly terminated, thus ending his career.
