Stamp mills highlight museum celebration

Hugh Brown, left, current director of the Mojave Desert Heritage and Cultural Association, stands with former director Dennis Casebier on the upper level of the association's recently renovated stamp mill. (MARK MUCKENFUSS, STAFF THE PRESS-ENTERPRISE)

BY MARK MUCKENFUSS
Press-Enterprise

Dennis Casebier has learned that you don’t have to build it to get them to come; you just have to have the materials on hand.

Casebier, a desert historian and former head of the Mojave Desert Heritage and Cultural Association, found himself standing in a salvage yard in the high desert town of Rosamond in 1996, looking at pieces of a large, ore-crushing machine. He had a vision of reconstructing the monstrous piece of equipment on the grounds of the association’s museum in Goffs, about 30 miles northwest of Needles.

Originally, the material was headed for Disneyland, which had been collecting antique Western props for its parks in the 1980s, Casebier said. The Rosamond dealer “got one 10-stamp mill too many,” he said.
Casebier bought the mill and some other material for $15,000. It took a year to haul everything back to Goffs. And there it sat for 14 years.

This Sunday, visitors to the Goffs museum will not only be able to see the 20-foot-high, 15-foot-wide reconstructed American Boy 10-stamp mill but also will get to watch it run. Casebier said it is the only operational 10-stamp mill in California that he knows of. The nearest is in Arizona.

The same man put both machines together.

Casebier said Charlie Connell came looking for him, which was a good thing. Otherwise, the mill, which weighs more than 30 tons, probably still would be sitting in pieces.

“I had no idea where to start,” said Casebier, a physicist who worked for three decades on weapons systems at the Naval Surface Warfare Center in Norco. “We’ve learned patience out here. Sooner or later, somebody will come along who’s interested.”

Connell, of Phoenix, heard through the grapevine that Goffs had a stamp mill.

“He’s a nut about stamp mills,” Casebier said. “He has a little team of guys (including his wife, Kathy) and they just love working on stamp mills. He lets them know he’s coming out and somehow they show up from as far away as Colorado.”

It took Connell and his crew three years of work – an estimated 4,100 man hours – to put the mill back together using original and newly made parts. They turned on the machine for the first time in March, using a diesel motor. Originally, the mill would have been powered by a steam engine.

It is the sixth mill that Connell, a retired nuclear plant worker, has constructed. He also helped get the Goffs museum’s smaller two-stamp mill operating.

An amateur gold prospector, he was volunteering at the Arizona Mining and Mineral Museum when he learned about an abandoned stamp mill in the desert. He didn’t know what a stamp mill was at the time, but when he saw the dilapidated remains, it got the better of his tinkering nature – he’d rebuilt a Model A in earlier years – and he decided he had to put the stamp mill back together.

“I like to see things run,” Connell said.

It has become an avocation. Besides the ones he has rebuilt in Arizona and California, Connell said he has consulted on stamp mill reconstructions as far away as Colorado. Last summer, he spent two weeks on a road trip that took him through several Western states looking for stamp mill parts. He even traveled to Australia and New Zealand to look at stamp mills there.

Thanks to Connell and his crew, both stamp mills will be operating Sunday. And although the machines may draw the most attention, Casebier hopes visitors also will check out the rest of the museum he spent more than 20 years putting together.

The project started in 1990, when he and his wife bought the Goffs Schoolhouse and restored it to its original condition. The school is now on the National Register of Historic Places. Sunday’s event is a celebration of the schoolhouse’s 100th anniversary.

The Casebier’s and some museum staff are pretty much Goffs only residents these days. At its peak in the 1920s, 200-300 people lived in the town. Route 66, local mining and the railroad kept it alive for many years.

In addition to the schoolhouse, the museum also has an archival library on historical materials related to the Mojave Desert.

Casebier – a transplanted Kansan, fell in love with the desert during a two-year stint in Twentynine Palms when he was in the Marines. He started exploring and researching the Mojave Desert not long after he started his civilian job with the Navy, then in Corona, in 1960.

His work often took him to Washington, D.C.

“I’d spend my evenings in the National Archives,” he said, delving into desert history. “I did that for 30 years.”

The Goff’s museum has a 10,000-volume library, a collection of more than 100,000 photographs and 6,000 maps. But what Casebier values most is the material from his oral history project. The archive holds recordings from interviews with 1,300 people. Casebier did most of the interviews himself.

“If there was only one thing we could get on the ark, that would be it,” he said. “That is a national treasure.”

Much of the archive is housed in the recently completed Goffs Depot, a reconstruction of the original train station that sat just a short distance away. Tours of the building will be part of Sunday’s activities, along with games for kids, a book sale and lunch for visitors. In addition, there are the museum’s wide array of historical objects and equipment, many related to the local mining industry.

Casebier is hoping a few of those visitors might consider becoming volunteers for the museum site and fall in love with the place the way he did.

“I wanted to go to the desert and I like doing things with things that are neglected,” Casebier said. “This whole place here is a testament to that.”

Authors talk about Rufus, Death Valley’s “rescue dog”

Story will be the subject of talk at ECM.

by News Staff
Sierra Wave

Authors John and Barbara Marnell will be making a presentation and signing copies of their book “Good Samaritans of Death Valley: Lou Westcott Beck and Rufus,” at the Eastern California Museum in Independence on Saturday June 21.

The slide show and presentation will begin at 1:30 p.m. In addition, the authors will be at the Museum to sign copies of their book from 1 to 4 p.m. Light refreshments will be served.

The book documents a rather unique era in Death Valley history in the early 1900s when visitors started driving cars into the desert, and explores the unique, live-saving team of Lou Westcott Beck and his dog, Rufus. The pair took it on themselves to provide directions, instructions and, when necessary, rescues to stranded or distressed motorists. With Rufus decked out in custom “boots” made of elk skin, and Beck driving a big, lumbering touring car named “Chuckwalla,” the team was a welcome sight to many desert travelers.

In the early 1900s when automobiles first started to cruise through the barren and often dangerous terrain of Death Valley, there were virtually no road signs or informational signs that directed motorists and visitors to the places in the sprawling desert where they could find water. The era’s automobiles could be quite unreliable in the desert, since they were prone to overheating without a steady supply of water for the radiator. Tires went flat so often most travelers carried multiple spares and patch kits.

Beck had a life-changing event himself in Death Valley, when he ran out of water and Rufus came to the rescue by locating a spring.

That prompted Beck to become a tireless promoter of safe travel through the desert.

Rufus, thanks to his booties and other unique gear, quickly became a bit of a celebrity. The Siberian bloodhound carried a “packsaddle” on his back with food and water, and a camera case around his neck containing snake bite antidotes and other medical supplies. A pair of yellow goggles, to protect his eyes from the dust, completed his outfit.

The Chuckwalla was also customized for desert travel. One of the most interesting adaptations was Beck’s homemade “tire chains,” which consisted of wire wrapped around the tires to provide better traction in the sand. The car also carried water, food and a full array of tools.

The pair were quite a sight, and even participated in the Pasadena’s famed Rose Parade to bring attention to their mission.

Besides roaming the roads of Death Valley and offering hands-on help to travelers, Beck also worked tirelessly to get the state to put up road signs and informational signs along the region’s roads. When the state dragged its feet, Beck went ahead and painted and placed his own signs. Many of them directed travelers to water or shade or provided information about various services available in desert towns.

The Marnells, a husband-and-wife writing and research team, have thoroughly researched Beck’s life and his Death Valley days. The book’s lively style provides interesting insights and information about the early days of motor travel in the desert.

The Eastern California Museum is located at 155 N. Grant St. in Independence. Call 760-878-0258 for more information.

Pair of 'geeks' sifts through history for aviation ruins

Peter Merlin and Tony Moore, self-confessed aviation geeks, find and sort through military crash sites in the Mojave as a hobby. They call these weekend expeditions 'aerospace archaeology.'

Tourists scour the Mojave Desert landscape on the lookout for debris from a 1967 X-15 crash near Johannesburg. (Brian van der Brug, Los Angeles Times)

By W.J. HENNIGAN
Photography by BRIAN VAN DER BRUG
Video by DON KELSEN
Los Angeles Times

REPORTING FROM MOJAVE - Peter Merlin trudges through the desert, side-stepping sage brush and creosote until he reaches a spot barren of vegetation. He points out a faint crescent-shaped scar in the earth 100 feet long.

Merlin kneels and scoops up a handful of sand and lets it sift through his fingers, leaving behind three gray pebbles, each no bigger than a quarter.

"See these rocks?" he asks. "They're actually fragments of melted aluminum. This is the impact point where the flying wing crashed, and the crew lost their lives. Right here. This is the incident that gave Edwards Air Force Base its name."

The pebbles were remnants of the YB-49, an experimental bomber that crashed in 1948 carrying Capt. Glen Edwards and a crew of four. His untimely death prompted the military to rename Muroc Air Force Base in his honor.

Finding and sorting through military crash sites in the Mojave is Merlin's hobby and pastime. He and Tony Moore, his partner on these weekend expeditions, call it "aerospace archaeology."

"Living this close to Edwards is like an Egyptologist living in Egypt," Merlin said. "It has been called the 'valley of the kings.'"

The skies above the Mojave Desert are legendary. The first American jet plane flew here. The sound barrier was broken here. Space shuttles returned to Earth here. But less heralded are the failures and crashes, tragic footnotes to these remarkable accomplishments.

Merlin and Moore refer to themselves as "The X-Hunters," a nod to the Air Force's use of "X" in naming experimental planes. Their findings have broadened the military's understanding of Southern California's aerospace history.

"Their value to the office is a great one," said Richard Hallion, a retired official who worked 20 years as an Air Force historian. "In many cases, there was only rough approximation of where the crashes took place."

Despite the vastness of the Mojave, there are few crash sites that Merlin and Moore have yet to find. They have compiled a list of more than 600 locations amid the sun-scorched sand and rock, and so far they have examined more than 100.

Merlin and Moore are unlikely confederates. Merlin, 49, the introvert, is prone to extended pauses when talking. He has a thin Errol Flynn-esque mustache and is known to wear a safari hat and leather jacket with "The X-Hunters" emblazoned on the back.

Moore, 55, is a large, affable man who walks with a metal trekking pole because of bad hips. He grew up in Northridge and has long been fascinated with Edwards, and seems to have a story about any aircraft that was ever built.

They both work at Edwards, but in 1991 the self-confessed aviation geeks were employed at the Burbank airport when they had a conversation about the region's aerospace history. Moore told Merlin he had found the wreckage site of the XB-70, an experimental bomber that collided with an F-104 in 1966.

Merlin was intrigued. But aviation buffs are secretive about the information they have — like fishermen who won't tell where the big ones are — so Moore gave Merlin vague directions to the site: about 12 miles north of Barstow.

The following Monday, Merlin came to work, smiling. He had found the site.

"I was shocked," Moore said. "I must have given him a two-mile area to search through. But he found it, to his credit."

After recognizing their shared infatuation, they decided to team up. When the two men started researching airplane wrecks, they mostly relied on files from the Edwards History museum and a 1993 environmental impact study of the base that listed only 15 sites.

On their first expedition, Moore and Merlin turned to a book written by a former test pilot that documented the crash of Maj. Michael Adams, who was killed in 1967 when the North American Aviation X-15 rocket plane he was piloting broke up at 62,000 feet while traveling at 4,000 mph.

According to the book, the wreckage was located several miles northeast of Johannesburg. But once they arrived at the spot, the terrain didn't resemble what was depicted in the book's grainy black and white photographs.

After several hours of fruitless searching, they decided to head home. As they drove toward U.S. 395, Moore noticed a mountain in the distance that looked like one pictured in the book.

They pulled onto a dirt road and rumbled toward the mountain. More landmarks began to line up. There was a ridge with an outcropping of white rocks near its crest.

They got out of their Jeep and began walking toward the mountain, stopping at intervals to consult the book. Merlin then looked at the ground and saw a piece of weather-beaten metal tubing.

"We're here," he shouted, noticing the ground was littered with more metal fragments.

For two years, they combed over the debris field and recovered 125 pounds of parts, including a warning light that likely glowed in the cockpit while Adams fought to save himself and the aircraft. These items are at the flight test museum at Edwards.

Aircraft crash sites interactive grahic

A memorial now marks the site. It was erected in 2004. More than 60 people, including Merlin, Moore and members of Adams' family, attended the dedication.

"We often approach these sites from a historical perspective," Merlin said. "But there's a human element that lives on. To see the emotional reaction from the family really showed me how much the sites can mean to people."

Among their other finds was the crash site for another flying wing, an experimental bomber constructed of wood, dubbed the N-9M. The plane went down 12 miles west of Edwards in 1943.

The men also located pieces of the Bell X-2, which in 1956 tumbled out of control, killing test pilot Capt. Milburn Apt on impact in the Kramer Hills off the eastern edge of the base.

Seven miles west of California City, they found the location of the NF-104A crash that would have killed Chuck Yeager in 1963 had he not ejected in time. A more recent non-fatal wreck was the X-31 that crashed less than a half-mile from California 58 in 1995.

When a plane goes down in the desert, the military tries to recover as much of the wreckage as possible. Retrieving hefty, hulking pieces is a priority.

Most of the time, Merlin and Moore are searching for smaller parts such as twisted stainless-steel skin, rusted fasteners and fittings, or crushed cowl flaps.

They scan the horizon for glinting metal when they think they're in the right spot. Once they uncovered a part of a tail fin. But finding such items is rare, and often what they think is an aircraft part shimmering in the distance ends up being a Mylar balloon.

"I've seen enough deflated Mickey Mouse balloons to last me a lifetime," Merlin said.

When they do find something that they think they can identify, they take it home and weigh and measure it. They verify the part's authenticity by chasing down serial numbers, inspection stamps or examining a manufacturer's book on the aircraft. After documenting it, they'll donate it to the flight test museum or other institutions. They have written a book about their exploits titled "X-Plane Crashes."

Critics believe that the significance of the men's findings is slightly exaggerated. Raymond Puffer, retired Edwards historian, said their work is more of a hobby than anything else.

Other explorers, like G. Pat Macha, prefer to leave the crash sites intact.

"That's a big issue in this field: To simply take a picture or take the stuff home with you," said Macha, 67, who has identified and documented crash sites in Southern California for 50 years.

Macha, however, appreciates that rather than holding onto what they have recovered, the two men have given their findings back to the base.

Merlin and Moore take pride helping families who have lost a son or a father in one of these fatal crashes.

While standing at the YB-49 crash site that killed Edwards, Moore saw something glimmering in the dirt. He picked it up: It was a star sapphire, perfect except for a slight chip on one side.

The small stone was a mystery until Moore was talking to an engineer who had been on the base the day the YB-49 crashed.

The engineer mentioned that a member of the crew, Maj. Daniel H. Forbes, had been married just a few weeks before the accident. His wife had given him a sapphire ring. The military had found the setting but not the stone.

Moore was stunned: "We found the stone," he said. "We found it five years ago right in the middle of the site.'"

He mailed a photograph of the sapphire to Air Force personnel, who went to visit Forbes' widow.

A half-century had passed since the tragedy. The widow had remarried and at first didn't seem to remember the ring. Then they showed her the pictures.

Without saying a word, she walked to her bedroom and returned with a matching star-sapphire ring in her hand. The stone was eventually returned to her in a ceremony at the Kansas air base that bears Daniel Forbes' name.

"It's unbelievable how many things needed to happen in order for that ring to be reunited with her," Moore said. "It validated all our work."

Aviation buffs sift through history in the desert (Watch the video)