How quickly time goes, saddlepals. Here we are, under the warm glow of The West Ranch Beacon and we’ve plumb run out of Thursdays in February. There won’t be any more until next year. Might I suggest a horse ride back through time to ease the post-modern stress of suburban living? I’ll supply the ponies. You supply the company (although I wouldn’t say no to a good cup of coffee).

This morning, we have a most excellent time ride through time. There’s Apemen and yet another pool house fire. Speaking of fires, we’ll visit the charred embers of the Piru Mansion, which burned down 20 years back.

On the dark side, there are evil horse-killing forces afoot and no good mangy steer rustlers making off with Bailey Haskell’s herd.

We’ve got a few stumbling drunks — always good for a chuckle and to make us feel superior — and more epic rain.

C’mon, saddlepals. A couple of practice bounces and vault up into the saddles. It’s time to go history riding… 

(Photo caption: Here’s a treat for E.J. Stephens, our beloved local film buff and historian. Ninety years ago, movie producer Oliver Morosco brought a huge crew up to Newhall to film, “The Halfbreed.”  It starred lovely Mary Anderson and Wheeler Oakman. A local film buff wrote of Mr. Oakman: “He stands squarely on his own feet and as a student and delineator of virile types of humanity is in a class by himself.”) 

WAY, WAY BACK WHEN —

— The first red and green traffic light was installed in Manhattan, New York on this date in 1930. We wouldn’t get a stoplight in the SCV until the mid 1960s. I know. I ran it. 

FEBRUARY 24, 1921 —

— Billy Sickles and John Seltzer were getting the tourists and locals to stop by the Culver Garage up Bouquet Canyon. The boys had found a litter of bobcat kittens, kidnapped them and displayed them in front of the gas station. 

FEBRUARY 21, 1923 —

— “Newhall is growing so fast, that my maps of the town are all out of date,” complained Albert Swall, first president of the fledgling Newhall Chamber of Commerce. The original CC goals were modest: “Street signs, curbing for the boulevard (San Fernando Road) and juvenile recreations.” The chamber started out with a progressive vent — they had women members. There were just 26 original members who paid the $6 yearly dues.

FEBRUARY 24, 1931 —

— Sure makes you wonder if someone out there didn’t like pool halls. Yet another one (this time, the Saugus Billiard Parlour) burned to the ground under suspicious circumstances. There are these old stories about a jealous boyfriend during the 1920s who kept burning down the SCV’s after-hour establishments, from the dance halls to the billiard palaces. The burning of the Saugus pool hall was the 5th-such establishment to burn in the past five years.

— The local PTA thought of a novel idea — grass. Our parent-teacher group passed the hat and got some volunteers. They laid sprinklers and seed so the kids would have a lawn in a few months at Newhall Elementary.

— On this date, the Newhall baseball team played host to a squad who called themselves The Apemen. Newhall’s men bested their simian counterparts, 11-15, despite having to pull a catcher out of the crowd. The semi-pro monkeys from Tarzana were best known for their owner — adventure novelist Edgar Rice Burroughs who lived in the San Fernando Valley town named after one of literature’s most famous characters, Tarzan of the Apes. Hm. Odd. You’d think when naming a city with a Spanish heritage after a male fictional character, they would have named the place, “Tarzan-o.”

— Charlie Mack, world-famous vaudevillian, came back to town to rest up with a pal of his — W.C. Fields. The noted comic would spend several years, off and on, living in Newhall on 8th Street. 

FEBRUARY 24, 1941 —

— Some rustlers liberated three steers and two heifers from Bailey Haskell up on San Francisquito. I used to live in Baile’s house in Newhall. He built it from adobe he made himself.

— The rains of ‘41 wouldn’t let up. We were above the 31-inch mark for rain when the 8th storm in a row hit our valley. We had 17 inches of rain in the month of February alone. That would stand as a record — until 1969 when we had 30 inches of rain. In February. Heck. On Jan. 26, 1969, 16 inches of rain fell here. That’s right. In one day.

— Right after Valentine’s Day, jilted lover and crack mechanic Bill Duckworth got drunk and tried to kill himself. He left a note about his broken heart and tried to commit suicide by running a hose from his exhaust pipe to the interior of his car. Folks pulled him out and except for the broken heart and hangover, he was fine.

— Curt Wilson up Sand Canyon way was rather happy. He just signed a contract with a big ad agency. They rented two of his barns for huge signs advertising a top national brand of chewing tobacco. Wilson noted such income, “…sure beat work.” 

FEBRUARY 24, 1951 —

— People being people, and therefore, Santa Claritans being Santa Claritans, we have to worry about something. Back in 1951, it was nuclear war with Russia and/or China. Local governments got together and formulated a plan to turn the then-minimum-security prison Wayside Honor Rancho (Peter Pitchess Prison today) into a giant emergency disaster hospital. Three hundred women signed up as volunteer nurses.

FEBRUARY 24, 1961 —

— Here’s a case against drinking and driving. Val Verdean Arthur Mack drove two lady friends to a distant canyon to pass the time with the beautiful vistas and downing a pint of whiskey. Mack’s wife got wind of the picnic and hunted her hubbie down. She christened one of the dates over the noggin with said bottle of rye, calling the lady a, well, ‘blankety-blankety-blank-blanking’ “…no-good husband stealer.” Then she stabbed her husband, Art, several times with a butcher knife. He was treated for multiple stab wounds and Mrs. Mack got herself arrested.

— The Schmidt Family sold off a good chunk of their huge 6S Ranch in North Oaks. It was the beginning of the housing boom in Canyon Country. For a while, the old 6-S airfield was operated as a private airstrip and helicopter port.

FEBRUARY 24, 1971 —

— Two long weeks after the Feb. 9th big quake, residents of the Cordova Motor Home Park finally got their gas turned back on. For half-a-month, residents shivered with make shift butane stoves and extra blankets.

— It’s amazing how sick and evil some can be. A blue sports car pulled off the road along Sierra Highway. The driver and passenger started shooting at a small herd of horses. When ranch manager Joe Jaramillo ran out, he found one of his mares down, nearly fatally wounded by the gunfire. Jaramillo had no choice but to put the mare out of her misery. It also ended the life of the unborn colt she was carrying. They never found the culprits.

— Muriel Klahs wandered into the Sheriff’s station on 6th Street, slapped the counter and ordered a beer. He was arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct. Next day, his wife comes in to bail him out. While she was waiting, she slid off the bench, spread-eagle on the floor. She was arrested for being drunk and disorderly. Runs in the family… 

FEBRUARY 24, 1981 —

— Stephen Woodall was arrested for the third time in two weeks for drunk driving. He had been arrested for vehicular manslaughter and drunk driving during an accident two months prior to that.

— The Newhall family has had enough adventure in their lives to fill 100 mini-series. Twenty years ago this week, the historic Piru mansion, home of newspaper legends Scott and Ruth Newhall, burned to the ground. There was an estimated $2 million in damage, including irreplaceable period antiques. Adding insult to injury, the mansion had just undergone a lengthy renovation. Pat Everson, a Fillmore painter (“…a WOMAN house painter,” Signal publisher Scott Newhall had clarified) started the blaze when she was using a blow torch to knock paint chips off the trim near the roof. The flames were sucked under and the whole home was gone in a matter of minutes. Although devastated, Scotty never lost his sense of humor. Wandering through the smoldering rubble afterwards, he kiddingly lamented that he had lost his pornography collection. 

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Well. Here we are, back in the present, with chores to do and errands to run. I’d be happy to set aside some time next Thursday under the healing rays of The West Ranch Beacon so we can do this all over again. Until then, dear saddlepals, vayan con Dios, amigos!