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“Robert Hume was found quite dead;
It was quickly noted he had no head; Someone lopped it off and it rolled in the creek; Robert knows who, but he can’t speak.” Gold, Greed, and Guns are the making of many stories that took place in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and if they were the only ingredients of this tale then it might perhaps be considered just another (yawn) commonplace tale of the past. But if you throw in a lost gold mine it begins to tweak one’s interest. And then if you add a headless body found on a mountainside – well, then it might veer out of the ordinary and into the Land of the Strange. In the year 1857 two German immigrants took their leave in Nevada from a California-bound wagon train and began to trek along the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, their hope being that, if instead of continuing on to the already crowded gold fields of California they instead explored a hitherto untapped region of the eastern Sierras, they might not only find a gold mine but also have it all to themselves. Their trek took them past Mono Lake and then high up into the mountains near the streams that fed the Owens River. One day while stopping for a rest near one of those streams they noticed, virtually right next to their heads, a rocky outcropping which was reddish in color and which, upon closer examination, appeared to have large lumps of gold cemented in place within it. The gold mine having found them, the two men set to work chipping gold chunks out of the ledge and soon had filled their packs with as much gold as they could carry, then they set out to complete their journey across the mountains to California. One of the men made it; the other died along the way. When the surviving but sick miner arrived in the town of Millerton he was told by the local doctor that he had tuberculosis and was sent to San Francisco to see a specialist. There he was treated by a Dr. Randall who was unable to cure him, and this miner, too, soon passed on. Having no money the miner paid Dr. Randall with gold and even threw in a map to the general location of the mine for good measure before he died, which hardly seems justified given that the doctor was unable to cure him. Perhaps he was just feeling generous as he viewed the approach of the Reaper. Following the map, Dr. Randall arrived in the general location of the lost mine in 1861 with some friends and began his search for the exact location of the gold. But once you share a secret, even with friends, then it is no longer a secret, and the area soon became flooded with men hungry for lost treasure. The Paiute Indians who lived on these lands and who had been native to the area for centuries resented the intrusion of the white gold seekers and the “Paiute War” soon began, in which several prospectors were killed. It was said that two men in Randall’s party actually found the ledge in question but kept the location to themselves, intending to return and mine it when the others had given up and departed. But if that was indeed the case then it could never be verified, for those two men were among the first killed when the Paiutes began their campaign to evict the unwanted intruders. The mine was never found but for decades men kept coming, braving the harsh climate of the mountains and the deadly retribution of the Paiutes in the hope of finding that particular rocky ledge next to a stream in which lumps of gold still waited, cemented together in the rock – the Lost Cement Mine. Two of those men were named Farnsworth and Hume. In the mid-1860’s Farnsworth met Robert Hume in Carson, Nevada. He cajoled Hume with a tale of lost wealth waiting to be found up in the Sierras, and when that didn’t quite convince Hume to accompany him Farnsworth upped the ante and added that he had actually found the lost mine but needed somebody to finance an expedition to retrieve its wealth. Do you, Mr. Hume, by any chance have some money to invest for a half interest in the treasure? It turned out that indeed Hume did, and that he was willing to put up several hundred dollars to go and get the gold and buy the equipment for a mill to process it. So the two set off into the mountains, never to be seen again. Well, to be accurate Hume was seen again, but he was no longer alive nor in one piece. His body was found resting peacefully high on a mountainside, and his head was later discovered in a streambed not too far away, eyes still open and looking surprised. The place where Hume’s body was found came to be called Deadman Summit, and Deadman Pass nearby soon also adopted the name. Some blamed the Paiutes for the deed as they had established a reputation for dispatching miners, but Paiutes were not known for decapitating their victims. So suspicion soon came to rest upon Hume’s partner, Farnsworth, but Farnsworth had disappeared and was never seen again. Or was he? A few years later, in 1869, two men named McDougall and Kent arrived in Stockton and began purchasing supplies and equipment for a mining expedition up into the mountains. Part way up they abandoned their wagon and hired a native guide to take them and their pack horses farther into the wilderness. The guide returned several weeks later and said that he had left the two men near Mammoth Mountain, and the men were seen off and on over the next several years repeating this same expedition, leaving in the Spring and returning in the Fall, but they were always careful to cover their trail and no one knew exactly where they went. Then in 1877 a man fell unconscious to the pavement on a San Francisco street corner. When he awoke he was paralyzed and near death. A priest was summoned to hear the man’s last confession and the sick man revealed that he was McDougall, and that for the past eight years he and his partner Kent had made regular trips to the Lost Cement Mine and removed anywhere from $25,000 to $50,000 worth of gold each season before the snow fell. Kent, who had known where the gold was located and was the senior partner, took the bulk of the treasure back to Chicago with him each Autumn and would return again in the Spring for more gold. But this past year, McDougall wheezed as he lay dying, Kent had decided would be the last, as the area of the mountains near the mine was becoming too populated and someone was bound to discover them. Kent said he would never return again. And McDougall, who had been getting increasingly sick over the past year, knew that he would never return to the mine again either. Then, breathing his last, McDougall apparently told the priest that Kent was in reality Farnsworth, who had lopped off the head of his former partner, Robert Hume. And then McDougall died. There are many who take this whole tale with a large grain of salt (instead of a large lump of gold). What begs most attention is that, for a Lost Mine, a lot of people seemed to find it and then lose it again. And why didn’t McDougall just make an occasional trip to the mine by himself while Kent spent months each year in Chicago? And how did just part of McDougall’s dying confession become public knowledge – the part about the yearly trips to the mine – while other parts - such as the exact location of the mine and the definite accusation that Kent and Farnsworth were the same man – remained within the realm of speculation and rumor? Yet key parts of the tale are undeniably true. Gold was found in abundance in that part of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, as proven when such mining communities as Bodie and Mammoth City soon after sprang into existence. The original finder of the gold, the man who stumbled from the mountains, sick with tuberculosis, and paid his doctor with gold nuggets was also a fact. McDougall and Kent did make regular trips into the mountains every year for several years, and they would hardly have done so had there not been some reward waiting for them. And the headless body of Robert Hume was indeed a glaring and undeniable fact. These are all things that are known. But why did Robert Hume die, and did Farnsworth kill him? Was Kent really Farnsworth, and had he discovered the location of the lost mine and become fabulously wealthy? Is the lost mine still out there, waiting to make someone else rich beyond their dreams with wealth yet untapped? These are things that are not known, and may never be known. But when you next hike over that part of the Sierras and suddenly find yourself enjoying the view from Deadman Summit, may your thoughts now inevitably turn to the possibility that lost gold may lie just around the corner of the next granite outcropping, cemented within a rocky ledge hanging just above a gentle stream. And as you pitch your tent for the night and the darkness falls around you perhaps the shades of some of the men who died looking for that gold will pay a visit to your camp, and their soft laughter may wake you in the night. And, if you’re very lucky, then perhaps the ghost of Robert Hume, the Headless Miner of Deadman Pass, will wake you in the wee small hours of the morning, looking at you with eyes that stare without ever closing, and he’ll whisper to you the location of the lost gold mine which he and Farnsworth found. But you may have to bend low to hear him, for he’ll be carrying his head in his hands.
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Torture, imprisonment, and astral projection are not usually subjects
associated with those who have visited this part of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, yet they played a key role in the life of one man who was to become very well-known long after his time spent here. Of the many interesting individuals to visit this area of the Sierra Nevada Mountains the names of relatively few have survived to populate the history books, and then almost always due to the fact that they did something Big (George Hume), or something Bad (Martin Vivian), or something of Lasting Good (John Muir). Yet one of the most interesting men who ever spent time in Grant Grove also spent time in Folsom and San Quentin prisons, and is remembered now for a sequence of events that began when, at the naïve age of twenty-four years, he included two loaded revolvers with the contents of a luncheon tray destined for a notorious prisoner being held in the Fresno County Jail. Those revolvers, and the escape which they helped to precipitate, led to Ed Morrell becoming a household name. Born in Pennsylvania in the year 1868, Morrell’s wanderings brought him to California around 1890 where he immediately had one minor brush with the law after another. A larceny conviction landed him in San Quentin for two years, and after his release a minor infraction in Fresno allowed him to become briefly incarcerated in the Fresno County jail and to get acquainted with its occupants. This was a fateful encounter destined to change Morrell’s life forever, as one of those prisoners was the notorious accused train robber, Chris Evans, a man who made such a lasting and positive impression upon Morrell that he quickly made the decision to risk his own life and freedom in an effort to help Evans. While working as a waiter at a Fresno restaurant Morrell, like everyone else in the Central Valley, had become captivated by the trial of Chris Evans. Some say Morrell fell under Evans’ spell and idolized the outlaw, while others took perhaps a more romantic approach and felt that he fell under the sway of Evans’ oldest daughter, Eva, and was willing to do anything to please her. Whatever the influence may have been, it led to Morrell placing two loaded revolvers onto Evans’ lunch tray one day. As the deputies were used to seeing Morrell delivering meals to the prisoners they had fallen into a comfortable routine in his presence, allowing him to hand out the meals without inspecting what lay underneath each towel on each tray. So it was easy work for Morrell to set the tray down in Evans’ cell and, while blocking the view of its contents with his body, remove the towel to show Evans what lay beneath. Both men then quickly picked up one of the loaded revolvers and, pointing them at the deputies, efficiently made their escape from the jail without firing a shot at the astonished men. There were some who later claimed that Morrell had started a rumor in town days before detailing when and where a train robbery was planned to take place near the town of Porterville, some miles to the south, thereby drawing the sheriff and most of his deputies away from the Fresno jail on the day of the planned escape. It is true that such a rumor had been being eagerly whispered about town, but it’s uncertain as to who may have started it. After a few altercations on the street with people who recognized Evans and tried to stop him, the two fugitives managed to steal a horse and buggy and make their way into the mountains where they eluded pursuers for four months, ranging across landscape that was familiar and comfortable to Evans and which offered him the cloak of security. One day they might be seen wandering through the Grant Grove area; the next day they might be comfortably giving interviews to reporters at Sampson’s Flat; and then they might suddenly disappear for weeks into their more remote hideout near Eschom Valley. They were captured only after railroad detectives spread a story that Evans’ youngest son was badly sick and near death, thereby luring Evans and Morrell back to the family farm near Visalia where they were both captured. Evans was immediately sent off to Folsom Prison to begin serving the life sentence he’d been handed while Morrell, even though he’d never participated in a train robbery nor had he ever even shot a man, was destined to be made an example of by the Southern Pacific Railroad. The Southern Pacific assigned Morrell the acronym of ‘The 25th Man’, labelling him as yet another member of the Evans and Sontag gang, a group which now - in the imagination of the Southern Pacific army of railroad detectives - consisted of over two dozen train robbers under the direction of the dastardly Evans. During the trial the Sheriff testified that the rumor luring him out of town on the day of the escape had beyond doubt originated with Morrell, and that Morrell had carefully planned the whole thing to free his boss. This testimony was placed in doubt by the fact that Morrell had actually been in prison for the past two years on that larceny charge and therefore could not have participated in most of the purported train robberies. Then the town constable testified that he was actually standing right outside the jail when the escape took place and had almost succeeded in stopping them before he was wounded in the shoulder by a well-placed shot from Evans. A Texas Ranger was apparently also present to witness this. It would seem that an objective juror might have mused that such a careful planner, if one existed, would have most likely been aware of the presence of these two men in town and included options within his plan for their neutralization. So it would seem that the ruse, if indeed there was indeed a planned one, was not as effective as desired. Or perhaps the ruse simply originated within the minds of the sheriff and the Southern Pacific for the purpose of swaying the jurors. Yet the prosecution used the nickname of 'The 25th Man' frequently and effectively, labelling Morrell as a train robber even though he had the most solid alibi possible and leading the jury to believe that some of Evans’ gang was still at large, very dangerous, and still much out of control. Their lobbying was so effective that Morrell soon ended up as a resident of the notorious Folsom Prison. Yet the vengeance of the railroad didn’t end with Morrell’s conviction, and he almost immediately became the subject of torture at the hands of the warden and the guards at Folsom. He was assigned the task of chipping at rock with a pickaxe without being allowed to move his feet more than a few inches, and when he inadvertently violated that ultimatum and stumbled slightly he was brought below ground, deep into the bowels of the prison, and hung by his handcuffed hands with his feet suspended from the ground for five hours a day for ten days as punishment for defying the guards. Suffering constant torture over the next several years Morrell attempted to escape several times and then, being accused of instigating a prison riot, Morrell was transferred to San Quentin along with twenty-four other agitators. Once again, he was 'The 25th Man'. In San Quentin Morrell again immediately attracted the wrath of the warden, and within days of his arrival he was thrown into solitary confinement and given a diet of bread and water while chained to a wall. After being released from solitary and then forced to work in the prison’s jute factory making rope and inhaling hemp fibers all day, Morrell participated in a work shutdown which was quickly followed by a riot requiring soldiers being brought in for a two week siege before it was finally put down. Morrell was then accused of smuggling arms and ammunition into the prison and placed back in solitary confinement while the guards attempted to get a confession out of him. The cell was four feet by eight feet and had a small pile of straw on the floor on which he could sleep. He was not allowed to speak but he and the other inmates of Solitary devised a system of taps to communicate with each other, though they could use the system only infrequently so as not to rouse the suspicions of the guards. Despite the pain and the torture being continuously inflicted upon him Morrell maintained his innocence, saying he knew nothing about guns or explosives and that the story had been fabricated by the warden as an excuse to further torture him. When he still refused to confess where he’d hidden the arms or even that they existed, he was placed in a straitjacket laced so tightly that he could barely breathe. The lack of oxygen caused him to collapse on the floor and he likened the experience to closely approaching death, then hanging tenuously at the edge of life not knowing which way his fate would go. Suspended in this state he then began the experiences of having his consciousness leave his body to travel through the prison, throughout California, around the world, and out amongst the stars. In doing so he left the pain and starvation behind and astounded his guards that not only was he surviving the experience but that he was managing to do so peacefully, even contentedly. Following a senate investigation of the prison a new warden was appointed. He reviewed Morrell’s case and after spending five years in solitary confinement Morrell was finally returned to the general prison population, suffering from agoraphobia, light sensitivity, and weighing less than a hundred pounds. His astral travels tapered off after he was released from the straitjacket, and as he regained his strength and health he became a model prisoner, though still denying that he had plotted to smuggle arms into the prison or even that such a plot had ever existed. Four years later in 1909 the governor of California determined that Morrell had suffered enough at the hands of the railroad and the prison system and granted him a full pardon, which was personally presented to him by the Lieutenant Governor. Morrell walked out of prison a free man and spent much of the remainder of his life travelling, writing, and lecturing on much-needed prison reform. Interestingly, the specifics of these reforms had been first viewed by Morrell during his astral travels, and he had returned from those experiences with visions that the future of penology would include education and reform rather than confinement and torture. In 1911 Chris Evans was also pardoned by the governor, but he was forced out of California almost immediately upon his release and he never returned to the mountains which had once sheltered him from the railroad detectives who hounded him – hounded him, as he swore to the day he died, for train robberies he had never committed. In 1914 Ed Morrell wrote a play for the stage based on his experiences. It was called ‘The Incorrigable’, a nickname he had earned from the guards in San Quentin. He became close friends with writer Jack London and spent much time at London’s northern California ranch discussing his experiences. London based his 1915 book ‘The Star Rover’ on Morrell’s life, writing the story of a man trapped in a solitary dungeon whose only escape was to leave his body and roam the world. Morrell went on to write his own autobiography with his wife, appropriately titled, ‘The 25th Man’. He passed away in 1946. Morrell had spent the brief time of barely four months of his life in this area of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and though he likely returned here many times during his astral escapes from solitary confinement in San Quentin he apparently did not come back in the flesh after his release. Ed Morrell suffered much for his action of helping Chris Evans to escape, but his motive was understandable. The Southern Pacific Railroad and their hired guns had hounded Evans for months, accusing him of robbing several of their trains. But when Evans was finally captured he was never charged with train robbery. Instead he was tried for the death of two deputies who were shot and killed while trying to collect the ten thousand dollar reward the railroad had placed on Evans’ head. If Morrell truly believed in Evans’ innocence then his motives were not criminal, yet his punishment was. And if Morrell spent only a few months here in these mountains while on the run from the law, then at least he got to come back again and again while roving across the world and through the stars as he left his imprisoned body behind, visiting these mountains which had once sheltered him. The Star Rover. How does a lumberjack entertain himself when he’s finished working his
twelve hour a day shift, six days a week? And where does he find that entertainment? Looking back from today’s perspective of a relatively sedate 40 hour work week it would seem that after 72 hours of doing the backbreaking labor of cutting, dragging, and milling tons of Giant Sequoia trees that the men doing the labor would desire nothing more than a hearty meal and a long nights’ sleep. And they did want those things. But for the most part these men were young, and healthy, and full of energy, and like most young people they generally considered themselves indestructible. So they also wanted more than just food and sleep. They wanted fun. Very few of the loggers were married, and fewer still actually brought their wives and children to these mountains with them. Women were in a minority in the camps and were seen mostly in the cook houses preparing meals and cleaning up after them, or in the camp hospitals tending injuries. Children were also scarce, although the fact that the base of the Centennial Tree was turned into the School Stump testifies to their presence here. But the vast majority of the men did not go home to a wife and children after the work day was done. They went instead to one of the numerous portable houses which lodged them, each measuring about ten by twenty feet, containing a wood stove for heat and narrow beds for eight to twelve men. Playing cards and gambling were popular pastimes, for wherever men go they will typically be willing to wager whatever meager possessions they may have in the hope of winning someone else’s meager possessions. Drinking was aggressively discouraged by logging company management and they did their best to keep alcohol out of the camps, for the last thing they wanted was hung-over men swinging axes and bandying about cross-cut saws, or walking along the edge of a flume perched hundreds of feet above a deep crevasse. But yet, mostly still in their twenties, these men were just barely more than boys. And boys, as they say, will be boys. So they not only had the energy for recreation, but they actively sought it. And conveniently, someone finally came along to help provide it. That man was Gustav Anderson. Gustav Anderson was a Swedish immigrant who came to the Sierra Nevada Mountains as a young man in the early 1880’s and filed a claim on 40 acres of land near what is now Redwood Canyon, and for a while he made a meager living there by cutting roofing shakes from Sequoia wood and selling them down in the valley. But he had bigger dreams, and after a few years he moved several miles to the north and filed another claim on 480 acres of land in a beautiful basin known as Long Meadow. The area contained thousands of Giant Sequoia trees, but Anderson had no pretense of having the wherewithal of starting his own lumber company. Instead he sold off the timber rights to 160 acres of prime Sequoia trees to the Kings River Lumber Company, operated by Austin Moore and Hiram Smith. They were at that time busy logging in the Millwood area and sending their wood by flume down to Sanger, and they anticipated expanding their operations to the Long Meadow area. But that never happened. They soon fell prey to the financial problems that plagued all of the lumber companies, and in 1894 that contract of timber rights passed on to the Sanger Lumber Company. When they soon failed as well the timber rights then went to the Hume - Bennett Lumber Company. Gustav Anderson, meanwhile, was biding his time. He built a cabin along the edge of Long Meadow and then added a few smaller buildings which he rented to visitors to the mountains, and promoted the enterprise under the somewhat grandiose name of Anderson’s Resort. The parties visiting the area by wagon were containing an increasing number of ladies who did not wish to camp out and Anderson’s cabins, although rustic in the extreme, at least offered the promise of four walls a roof and a pot-bellied stove. In 1906 Anderson obtained a legal license to sell alcohol and added a building specifically devoted to that pass-time. This was probably the first official saloon in the area, if one does not count the Gamlin brothers pouring drinks for visitors in the more claustrophobic confines of the Fallen Monarch. Word of the saloon quickly spread, and even though there were still no logging operations in the immediate area of Long Meadow many of the more determined lumbermen from Converse Basin began to make the trek to the meadow and it wasn’t long before a well-beaten path marked the way to Anderson’s saloon door. A regular trade from trappers, hunters, and visitors also made the saloon Anderson’s most profitable enterprise to date. The Hume-Bennett Lumber Company, as had all the other logging enterprises, frowned upon the purveyance of alcohol to their workmen, but there was little they could do except threaten to discharge anyone who showed up for work intoxicated. As the Hume-Bennett Company got ready to exercise their timber rights on that 160 acres of Anderson’s land, Ira Bennett supposedly suggested to George Hume that it might be a sound business idea to hurriedly buy up Anderson’s outstanding mortgage and then foreclose, thereby getting rid of a potential problem next to their camp and also obtaining the rest of Anderson’s timber at the same time. But Hume vetoed that idea. It may have been a sound business premise, but to Hume it wouldn’t have been playing fair. Hume may have later come to reconsider that decision. Hume-Bennett began to move their logging operations to Long meadow in 1908, beginning construction on a dam and millworks, and at this point, with the arrival of several crews of workmen, Anderson’s business really took off. He added several wood frame and tent-topped cabins to rent along with a general store which stocked a wide variety of food and merchandise necessary to make mountain life more comfortable. Anderson also let it be known that he would cash the logger’s paychecks, and this brought a long line to his saloon every payday, where much of the logger’s newly acquired cash would quickly be spent at the bar that same day. This brought Anderson even more business, which Hume and Bennett tried to stop by issuing their men pay vouchers which could instead be redeemed only at the lumber company cashier’s office. Yet this didn’t deter anyone, and the cashier’s office turned out to be just one more stop on the way to the bar. In 1909 the dam was finished and in June Long Meadow, virtually overnight, became Hume Lake, covering about 90 acres of the meadow with water and leaving Gustav Anderson with a lakefront resort, a boon provided at no cost to him courtesy of Hume-Bennett. With a store, saloon, and rental cabins now bringing a steady stream of income and the lumber company providing a steady stream of customers, Gustav Anderson now began to look around for other ways to add to his cash flow, and it didn’t take long for him to hit upon an idea. It was an obvious idea, actually. Very obvious. After all, the lumber company was employing hundreds of young men – single, lonely, energetic young men. And these young men were already beating a steady path to his door. So, what else do young energetic men want? What do they need? It wasn’t long before Anderson added to the variety of the entertainments he offered, and a group of young ladies moved into his cabins to tend to the needs of the lonely young men – with Gustav Anderson providing assistance as their landlord, of course. Not surprisingly, this proved to be just as popular as his saloon, perhaps even more so, and for the next several years the cash seemed to flow from the Hume-Bennett bank account to that of Gustav Anderson with the hard working young men barely touching it along the way, yet having a wonderful time in his establishments nonetheless. Prostitution was still quite legal in California at the time, and it didn’t even require the basic minimum of a license as had the saloon. One can’t help but wonder if George Hume regretted his decision of not putting Anderson out of business when he’d had the chance. Hard times hit both Anderson and the lumber company when the United States entered the fighting of the First World War. By 1917 most of the young lumberjacks had enlisted in the army, leaving Anderson with a trickle of customers. That same year the biggest mill at Hume burned to the ground, and the work force decreased again. A new worker’s union was giving Hume-Bennett headaches with the employees that still remained. In 1918 a storehouse containing company explosives was broken into, and a bartender at Anderson’s Resort named Younger became the prime suspect. Younger had already been a major headache for Hume-Bennett as he was the ‘chef’ who produced homemade whiskey and applejack for the saloon and assisted in managing the other entertainments on the menu. Hume had him arrested, but there wasn’t sufficient evidence to hold him and the theft remained unresolved. For the next several years a smaller mill continued to operate with fewer men, but it was soon reduced to the sad lot of building drying trays to sell to grape farmers to turn their grapes into raisins. Anderson’s Resort continued to operate, but it, too, at a much smaller and sadder level of activity until 1929 when the mill ceased to operate. The resort then barely struggled on under the guidance of Gustav Anderson’s nephew, Art Larsen. In those years the resort did not offer quite the variety of entertainment which it had during its heyday, as a significant portion of that entertainment had since been deemed to be no longer legal. In 1946 the land and buildings which had once been Anderson’s resort were purchased by the Hume Lake Conference, an organization devoted to promoting Christian values and lifestyle. Gustav Anderson is now remembered by few, although he was once probably the most popular man in this area of the Sierra Nevada Mountains for bringing a regular supply of alcohol and women to the camps, and providing much needed entertainment and relief from hard work for the thousands of young men who came here to find jobs. It’s ironic that, on the very same land where thousands of young men once drank themselves into a stupor and woke up the next morning with a stranger, now thousands of young people come instead to learn such wholesome activities as camping, swimming, praying, and absorbing Christian values. Boys will be boys, so they say, but it would seem that the definition of what is desirable and appropriate entertainment for those boys changes somewhat with the years. |
AuthorWith a degree in Anthropology and an avid interest in history, Tim Christensen has lived in the Sierra Nevada Mountains for many years. He has no cell phone or television, but manages, when not chopping firewood or shoveling snow, to keep himself entertained with a library of several thousand books. Archives
July 2017
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Sequoia Parks Conservancy, the official 501(c)(3) nonprofit partner of Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks (National Park Service) and Lake Kaweah (U.S. Army Corps of Engineers), uses tax-deductible contributions to support these parks.
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