Mount Whitney Fish Hatchery

Mount Whitney Fish Hatchery
Mount Whitney Fish Hatchery

Located just outside of Independence, Inyo County, California the Mount Whitney Fish Hatchery has played an important role in the preservation of the Golden Trout.  Beyond the hatchery’s primary purpose, the site makes an excellent location to pull off the highway, relax in the shade and enjoy a picnic lunch.  This is how I was introduced to the hatchery 30 years ago, and it is still much anticipated stop each time I travel the 395 highway.

The fish hatchery began life in 1915, when the town of Independence raised money for and subsequently purchased a 40 acre parcel of ideal land in Oak Creek.  Using foresight not seen in our time, Fish and Game Commissioner M. J. Connell directed he direct the design team “to design a building that would match the mountains, would last forever, and would be a showplace for all time.”  Charles Dean of the State Department of Engineering and the design time team decided upon a “Tudor Revival” architectural style.

Mount Whitney Fish Hatchery Display Pond
Mount Whitney Fish Hatchery Display Pond

Utilizing a budget of $60,000 the hatchery project was started in March 1916 and complete one year later.  The building was built using 3200 tones of  local granite quarried nearby, boasts walls up to three feet thick and features a Spanish Tile roof.  When the facility was brought online in 1917, the hatchery could produce two million fry per year.  

The hatchery’s design, led by Charles Dean of the State Department of Engineering, prioritizes durability and aesthetic integration with the landscape. The grounds, landscaped by a gardener from Golden Gate Park, feature lush vegetation and a large fish-rearing pond framed by the dramatic backdrop of the Sierra Nevada, evoking the feel of an old European estate. The main building includes a visitor center with a gift shop, a fireplace, and interpretive exhibits, while the interior showcases troughs for fingerling fish and historical displays. Additional structures on the 40-acre site include nine small residences and six commercial buildings, contributing to its community-oriented function.

The fish hatchery operated until 2008, when on July 12th a flood and mudslide tore down the Oak Creek watershed which in 2007 was burnt in a wild fire.  The resulting mudslide buried the fish rearing ponds, destroyed four buildings and killed the entire population of Rainbow Trout.

The pond offers some beautiful flowers in the spring.

Currently a restoration project is in process, however the fate of the hatchery operation remains unknown.

Mount Whitney Fish Hatchery Map

References

Leadfield Chronicle Newspaper

The Leadfiled Chronicle newspaper was published in Leadfield, California, was a short-lived mining town in Titus Canyon, Grapevine Mountains, established in 1925 and abandoned by 1927. Promoted as a prosperous lead and copper mining hub, the town was the product of an elaborate get-rich-quick scheme led by Charles C. Julian and the Western Lead Mines Company. The Leadfield Chronicle, a newspaper launched during the town’s brief boom, served as a promotional tool to attract investors and settlers. This report explores the origins, purpose, and legacy of the Leadfield Chronicle within the context of Leadfield’s fraudulent history.

Background: The Rise of Leadfield

C. C. Julian
C. C. Julian

Leadfield emerged during a speculative mining boom in the mid-1920s, capitalizing on the allure of mineral wealth in the Death Valley region. Ore deposits in Titus Canyon had been prospected as early as 1905, but large-scale development began in 1925 under the direction of Charles C. Julian, a Southern California oil promoter with a questionable reputation. Julian’s Western Lead Mines Company aggressively marketed Leadfield as a future mining metropolis, exaggerating the area’s mineral potential through misleading advertisements. Promotional materials depicted steamboats navigating the Amargosa River—a dry riverbed located nearly 20 miles away—to entice investors and settlers.

By January 1926, Leadfield was officially platted with 1,749 lots, and infrastructure developments included 15 miles of road connecting to Beatty, Nevada, a concrete foundation for a stamp mill, and initial power pole installations. The population peaked at approximately 300 residents in 1926, with a post office opening in August of that year. Amid this speculative frenzy, the Leadfield Chronicle was established to bolster the town’s image and sustain investor confidence.

The Leadfield Chronicle: Purpose and Content

The Leadfield Chronicle was launched in March 1926, during the height of Leadfield’s boom. While no surviving copies of the newspaper are widely documented, historical accounts suggest it functioned primarily as a promotional vehicle for the Western Lead Mines Company and Julian’s schemes. The newspaper likely published optimistic reports about the town’s mining prospects, infrastructure developments, and economic potential to maintain enthusiasm among investors and residents.

Headlines from the period, such as one in March 1926 claiming, “Tonnage of ore from new California district will be large,” reflect the hyperbolic tone typical of the Chronicle’s content. Such articles aimed to create an impression of imminent prosperity, despite the lack of substantial ore deposits. The newspaper may have also reported on local developments, such as the construction of a boarding house, water pipelines from a nearby spring, and plans for a 40-room hotel, to portray Leadfield as a thriving community.

Given the fraudulent nature of Leadfield’s promotion, the Chronicle likely omitted or downplayed critical issues, such as Julian’s questionable business practices or the California Corporation Commission’s investigations into the Western Lead Mines Company’s stock sales. The newspaper’s role was to sustain the illusion of a booming town, encouraging further investment and settlement.

The Fall of Leadfield and the Chronicle

Leadfield’s collapse was swift and inevitable. By October 1926, the main tunnel of the Western Lead Mines Company reached its target ledge, revealing negligible high-grade lead ore, contrary to promotional claims. Concurrently, the California Corporation Commission halted stock sales for Julian’s enterprises, including the Western Lead Mines and his backup financing plan, Julian Merger Mines, Inc., due to regulatory violations. These developments triggered a rapid decline in investor confidence.

By February 1927, the Leadfield post office closed, signaling the town’s abandonment. The population, once estimated at 300, dispersed as residents and investors realized the mines’ unprofitability. Charles Julian fled to Oklahoma, later facing fraud charges related to his oil ventures, and ultimately committed suicide in Shanghai in 1934. The Leadfield Chronicle ceased publication with the town’s collapse, leaving no significant archival record due to its brief existence and limited circulation.

Legacy and Historical Significance

The Leadfield Chronicle is a footnote in the broader story of Leadfield’s fraudulent boom, emblematic of the speculative excesses of the 1920s. The newspaper’s role in promoting a fabricated mining bonanza underscores the power of media in shaping perceptions during speculative ventures. While no physical copies of the Chronicle are readily accessible in major archives, such as the California Digital Newspaper Collection or Chronicling America, its mention in historical accounts highlights its function as a tool of deception.

Leadfield itself remains a ghost town, recognized on the National Register of Historic Places since June 10, 1975, for its historical significance as an example of mining fraud. The site, accessible via the rugged Titus Canyon Road, features remnants of wooden and tin buildings, mine shafts, and the stamp mill foundation, serving as a tangible reminder of the town’s brief existence. The Leadfield Chronicle’s legacy lies in its contribution to the myth of Leadfield, a cautionary tale of greed and misrepresentation in the American West.

Conclusion

The Leadfield Chronicle newspaper was a short-lived publication born from the speculative fervor of Leadfield, California, in 1926. As a mouthpiece for Charles C. Julian and the Western Lead Mines Company, it played a critical role in promoting a fraudulent mining boom that collapsed within a year. Though little direct evidence of the newspaper survives, its historical significance lies in its reflection of the era’s get-rich-quick schemes and the role of media in perpetuating them. Leadfield’s story, preserved in the ruins of Titus Canyon and documented in historical records, serves as a testament to the fleeting dreams of prosperity that characterized the 1920s mining frontier.

References

  • Western Mining History, “Leadfield California,” accessed via westernmininghistory.com
  • Inspired Imperfection, “Leadfield Ghost Town On Titus Canyon Road In Death Valley,” accessed via inspiredimperfection.com
  • National Park Service, “Leadfield,” accessed via www.nps.gov
  • Walking Wild & Free, “Leadfield – Death Valley National Park,” accessed via www.walkingwildandfree.com
  • Digital Desert, “Leadfield Ghost Town,” accessed via digital-desert.com
  • The Break of Dawns, “Leadfield Ghost Town in Death Valley, California,” accessed via thebreakofdawns.com

Manzanar Free Press

Manzanar Free Press
Manzanar Free Press

The Manzanar Free Press was a newspaper published by Japanese American internees at the Manzanar Relocation Center in California during World War II. As the first newspaper published in a U.S. internment camp, it served as a critical record of the internees’ lives, capturing their resilience, challenges, and efforts to maintain a sense of community under difficult circumstances. Operating from April 11, 1942, to October 19, 1945, the Free Press evolved from a mimeographed bulletin to a full-fledged tri-weekly newspaper, reflecting the internees’ determination to assert their voices despite confinement and censorship. This report explores the newspaper’s origins, development, content, and historical significance, drawing on primary and secondary sources to provide a comprehensive overview.

Origins and Establishment

The Manzanar Free Press began publication on April 11, 1942, during the “assembly center” period, when Manzanar was still under the control of the Wartime Civil Control Administration (WCCA). It was the first newspaper published in any of the assembly centers or War Relocation Authority (WRA) camps, marking a significant milestone in the internees’ efforts to document their experiences. The newspaper was initially produced on a mimeograph press, reflecting the limited resources available at the time. The first issue reported a camp population of 3,302 residents, highlighting the rapid influx of Japanese Americans forcibly relocated from their homes following Executive Order 9066.

The Free Press was established by internees under the supervision of the WRA, which maintained editorial control to ensure content aligned with government policies. Despite this oversight, the newspaper’s staff, composed of Nisei (second-generation Japanese Americans) and Issei (first-generation immigrants), worked to create an independent record of camp life. Early editors, such as James Oda and Roy Takeno, played key roles in shaping the paper’s tone and mission, striving to balance WRA directives with the internees’ need for self-expression.

Development and Operations

Over its three-and-a-half-year run, the Manzanar Free Press grew from a simple bulletin to a sophisticated tri-weekly publication. By July 1942, it had a circulation of 2,500 copies within the camp, serving a population that peaked at over 10,000. The newspaper’s staff expanded to include reporters, editors, and translators, who produced both English and Japanese-language editions to cater to the diverse linguistic needs of the internees. The Japanese section was particularly important for Issei readers, who often faced language barriers in accessing camp news.

The Free Press was printed in a dedicated newsroom within Manzanar, using equipment provided by the WRA. Despite resource constraints, the staff maintained a regular publishing schedule, transitioning from mimeograph to offset printing as the camp’s infrastructure improved. The newspaper’s operations were a testament to the internees’ ingenuity and organizational skills, as they navigated censorship, limited supplies, and the emotional toll of internment to produce a consistent and professional publication.

Content and Themes

The Manzanar Free Press covered a wide range of topics, serving as both a news outlet and a community bulletin. Its content included:

  • Camp News and Administration: Reports on camp policies, WRA announcements, and administrative changes, such as work assignments, housing conditions, and ration distributions. For example, the August 26, 1942, edition addressed camp governance and internee rights, reflecting ongoing tensions between residents and authorities.
  • Community Life: Articles on cultural events, sports, religious activities, and educational programs, which highlighted the internees’ efforts to build a vibrant community. The newspaper often featured stories about festivals, art exhibits, and baseball games, showcasing resilience and creativity.
  • National and International News: Coverage of World War II developments, including significant events like the atomic bombing of Nagasaki, as noted in Volume 7, No. 12. The Free Press also reported on the war’s end and Japan’s surrender in August 1945, a pivotal moment for the camp’s residents.
  • Legal and Political Issues: Stories about legal challenges faced by internees, such as the June 28, 1944, report on the “Biggest Mass Trial in Wyoming’s History,” which involved sixty-three Nisei draft resisters at the Heart Mountain camp. These articles underscored the broader struggle for civil rights and justice.
  • Editorials and Opinions: Editorials advocating for loyalty to the United States, cooperation with WRA policies, and eventual reintegration into society. However, these pieces were often shaped by WRA oversight, limiting overt criticism of the internment program.

The newspaper’s title, Free Press, was ironic given the WRA’s control over its content. While the staff sought to report objectively, they faced pressure to promote pro-American sentiment and avoid inflammatory topics. Despite these constraints, the Free Press provided a platform for internees to share their perspectives, fostering a sense of agency and community cohesion.

Challenges and Controversies

The Manzanar Free Press operated in a complex and often contentious environment. One major challenge was the tension between editorial independence and WRA censorship. The WRA’s Reports Officer closely monitored the newspaper, ensuring that content did not undermine camp authority or incite unrest. This oversight led to accusations that the Free Press served as a government mouthpiece, particularly when it published editorials urging loyalty or downplaying camp hardships.

Internal divisions within the camp also posed challenges. The December 1942 Manzanar Riot, sparked by tensions between pro-American and pro-Japanese factions, highlighted the polarized atmosphere. The Free Press reported on the aftermath, including threats against pro-American internees, but its coverage was carefully worded to avoid escalating conflicts. Some internees viewed the newspaper with skepticism, believing it prioritized WRA interests over their own.

Staff turnover was another issue, as skilled writers and editors often left the camp for resettlement or military service. Despite these obstacles, the Free Press maintained its publication schedule, demonstrating the staff’s commitment to their craft and their community.

Historical Significance

The Manzanar Free Press holds enduring significance as a primary source for understanding the Japanese American internment experience. Its pages offer a window into the daily lives, struggles, and aspirations of Manzanar’s residents, preserving their voices for future generations. The newspaper’s role as the first camp publication set a precedent for other internment camp newspapers, such as those at Tule Lake and Poston, which similarly documented internee experiences.

The Free Press also reflects the broader dynamics of internment, including the tension between oppression and resilience. While constrained by censorship, the newspaper provided a space for internees to assert their identity, maintain cultural traditions, and advocate for their rights. Its coverage of legal battles, community achievements, and war developments underscores the complexity of the internment experience, challenging simplistic narratives of victimhood or compliance.

Today, the Free Press is preserved in archives such as the Library of Congress and the University of Illinois, with digital collections making its issues accessible to researchers and the public. Scholars have used the newspaper to study topics ranging from Japanese American identity to media censorship, as seen in works like the corpus analysis by PDXScholar. The Free Press remains a powerful testament to the internees’ determination to tell their own stories, even in the face of injustice.

Conclusion

The Manzanar Free Press was more than a camp newspaper; it was a lifeline for the Manzanar community and a bold assertion of agency in the face of adversity. From its humble beginnings as a mimeographed bulletin to its final issue in October 1945, the Free Press chronicled the lives of Japanese American internees with dignity and purpose. Despite the constraints of censorship and the challenges of camp life, its staff created a lasting record of resilience, community, and hope. As a historical artifact, the Manzanar Free Press continues to educate and inspire, reminding us of the power of the press to give voice to the silenced and to document truth in even the darkest times.

References

  • Densho Encyclopedia, “Manzanar Free Press (newspaper),” September 12, 2024.
  • Library of Congress, “Manzanar Free Press (Manzanar, Calif.) 1942-1945.”
  • University of Illinois, “Manzanar Free Press (IUZ00262),” November 2, 2010.
  • National Park Service, “Manzanar Camp Operations During 1942,” nps.gov.
  • Owens Valley History, “Manzanar Free Press,” January 17, 2024.
  • PDXScholar, “A Corpus Approach Study on the Manzanar Free Press.”
  • Internet Archive, “Manzanar Free Press,” October 3, 2022.

Harrisburg California – Inyo County Ghost Town

Harrisburg, California, a now-abandoned ghost town in Inyo County, was a fleeting but significant mining camp in Death Valley’s history. Established in 1905 following a gold discovery, it briefly flourished as a tent camp named after prospector Frank “Shorty” Harris. Located at an elevation of 4,987 feet near Wildrose Canyon, Harrisburg’s story is intertwined with the broader gold rush narrative of the early 20th century American West. This report examines Harrisburg’s origins, brief prosperity, decline, and enduring legacy, drawing on historical accounts and contemporary observations.

"Shorty" Harris founder of Harrisburg Ghost Town, photographed in Ballarat.
“Shorty” Harris founder of Harrisburg, photographed in Ballarat.

Origins and Establishment

Harrisburg’s history began in July 1905, when prospectors Frank “Shorty” Harris and Pete Aguerreberry, traversing the Panamint Range en route to Ballarat, discovered gold-bearing ore on a hill above what would become the townsite. Harris, already a celebrated figure for sparking the Bullfrog rush near Rhyolite, Nevada, and Aguerreberry, a French immigrant who arrived in the U.S. in 1890, staked six claims each, naming their primary find the Eureka Mine. News of the discovery spread rapidly, and within ten days, several hundred prospectors descended on the area, forming the Wild Rose Mining District. The tent camp that emerged was initially called Harrisbury, honoring both discoverers, but newspapers soon adopted “Harrisburg,” a name that stuck despite occasional misspellings.

The townsite, situated on a flat adjacent to the Eureka Mine, consisted primarily of canvas tents, reflecting the transient nature of early mining camps. Its location, roughly 22 miles northeast of Trona and accessible today via the Harrisburg Flats trail off Wildrose Road, placed it in the rugged heart of Death Valley, where water scarcity and extreme conditions shaped daily life.

Cashier Mill ruin and Pete Aguereberry, 1916. From Dane Coolidge Collection,
Cashier Mill ruin and Pete Aguereberry, 1916. From Dane Coolidge Collection,

Brief Prosperity (1905–1909)

Harrisburg’s peak was short-lived but intense. By late 1905, the Wild Rose Mining District encompassed a vast area, with Harrisburg as its central hub. The tent camp housed several hundred prospectors, supported by basic amenities like the Emigrant Springs Restaurant, relocated from a nearby camp. The Eureka Mine, operated initially by Harris and Aguerreberry, drove the town’s economy. A 1906 Los Angeles Herald article reported a $15,000 investment in the mine, signaling early optimism about its potential.

The town’s social fabric was shaped by its diverse inhabitants. Shorty Harris, a charismatic storyteller, and Pete Aguerreberry, a determined loner who later worked the Eureka Mine for decades, embodied the era’s prospecting spirit. The camp’s population fluctuated as prospectors arrived hoping to stake claims, but its lack of permanent infrastructure limited growth. Unlike nearby Skidoo, which developed a water pipeline and milling plant, Harrisburg remained rudimentary, relying on scarce local springs and pack mules for supplies.

The discovery of gold at Skidoo in January 1906, just months after Harrisburg’s founding, drew many prospectors away, hastening the camp’s decline. By 1907, the Rhyolite Herald noted Harrisburg’s reduced activity, though the Eureka Mine continued to attract attention. Aguerreberry’s persistence kept the mine operational, and by 1908, the camp still supported a small community, as evidenced by photographs of the tent settlement.

Challenges and Decline

Harrisburg faced numerous challenges that curtailed its longevity. The lack of water, a perennial issue in Death Valley, hindered large-scale mining and settlement. The town’s reliance on tents rather than permanent buildings reflected its precarious existence, as did its vulnerability to the region’s harsh climate—scorching summers and freezing winters. The 1907 financial panic further strained mining ventures across the West, reducing investment in speculative sites like Harrisburg.

By 1909, the town’s population had dwindled significantly. The Los Angeles Mining Review made little mention of Harrisburg after 1908, focusing instead on more productive sites like Skidoo. Harris moved on to other prospects, while Aguerreberry stayed, working the Eureka Mine intermittently until the 1930s. The mine produced modest yields—estimated at a few thousand ounces of gold—but never rivaled the output of larger operations. The tent camp gradually emptied, and by the early 1910s, Harrisburg was effectively abandoned as a town, though Aguerreberry’s solitary presence kept the site alive in local lore.

Legacy and Modern Significance

Harrisburg’s legacy lies in its role as a microcosm of Death Valley’s gold rush era, characterized by fleeting optimism and relentless hardship. The Eureka Mine, adjacent to the former townsite, remains a focal point for visitors, often mistaken for the town itself due to its visible ruins. Scattered tin cans, the Cashier Mill ruins, and Aguerreberry’s later cabin—built in the 1920s—are among the few physical remnants, evoking the camp’s ephemeral nature. The site, now within Death Valley National Park, is accessible via a short trail and offers panoramic views of the Panamint Valley.

Pete Aguerreberry’s enduring connection to Harrisburg adds a personal dimension to its history. After Harris’s departure, Aguerreberry worked the Eureka Mine for nearly 40 years, living in relative isolation until his death in 1945. His cabin, preserved by the National Park Service, stands as a testament to his resilience and is a popular stop for tourists exploring Aguerreberry Point, a nearby scenic overlook named in his honor.

Modern visitors, as noted in Tripadvisor reviews, find Harrisburg’s ruins understated but evocative. The trail to the Eureka Mine and Aguerreberry’s cabin is praised for its historical intrigue, though some note the rough dirt road requires careful navigation. The site’s inclusion in Death Valley’s historical narrative, alongside towns like Skidoo and Rhyolite, underscores its value as a preserved relic of California’s mining past.

Conclusion

Harrisburg, California, was a transient outpost born of the 1905 gold rush, thriving briefly before fading into obscurity by the early 1910s. Named for Shorty Harris and defined by Pete Aguerreberry’s tenacity, it encapsulates the boom-and-bust cycle of desert mining camps. Though little remains of the tent town, its story—preserved through the Eureka Mine, Aguerreberry’s legacy, and Death Valley’s stark landscape—continues to captivate those who seek the echoes of California’s gold rush era.

Harrisburg Summary

TownHarrisburg
LocationDeath Valley National Park, California
Also Known asHarrisberry
Latitude, Longitude36.363889, -117.111389
Elevation4,987
Post Office
Population300

Harrisburg Trail Map

Harrisburg Personalities

Frank "Shorty" Harris

Frank “Shorty” Harris

Frank Harris was a prospector, desert rat and perhaps the best known character in western mining history. He looked the part, often travelling the desert…
Pete Aguereberry

Pete Aguereberry – A Panamint Valley Miner

Pete Aguereberry was a prospector and miner who operated around Death Valley National Park, for whom Aguereberry is named. Born in the Basque Region of…

Camp Independence

Camp Independence in 1871 — in the Owens Valley, eastern California. A U.S. Army fort/post (active 1862-1877), formerly located below the Eastern Sierra near Independence. The Inyo Mountains are in the distance to the east. - 
Timothy H. O'Sullivan - U.S. National Archives and Records Administration
Camp Independence in 1871 — in the Owens Valley, eastern California. A U.S. Army fort/post (active 1862-1877), formerly located below the Eastern Sierra near Independence. The Inyo Mountains are in the distance to the east. – Timothy H. O’Sullivan – U.S. National Archives and Records Administration

Camp Independence, later known as Fort Independence, was a significant U.S. Army post in the Owens Valley, Inyo County, California, active from 1862 to 1877. Established during the Owens Valley Indian War, it played a crucial role in the region’s settlement and interactions between settlers, Native Americans, and the military. This report examines the establishment, operations, key events, and legacy of Camp Independence, drawing on historical records and accounts.

Establishment and Early Years (1862–1864)

Camp Independence was founded on July 4, 1862, by Lieutenant Colonel George S. Evans of the 2nd California Volunteer Cavalry, at the request of settlers fearing hostilities from local Paiute and Shoshone tribes. Located on Oak Creek, approximately three miles north of present-day Independence, the camp was named in honor of Independence Day. The initial setup was rudimentary, with soldiers living in tents and caves along a nearby ravine due to limited resources. A 50-foot flagpole was erected, and a salute was fired to mark the occasion, though a cloudburst dampened the ceremony.

The camp’s primary purpose was to protect miners and settlers from perceived threats by Native Americans, who were defending their lands against encroachment. Early conditions were harsh, and in September 1862, during Evans’ temporary absence, some troops attempted to abandon the post in a near-mutinous state, only to be intercepted and returned. By late 1862, the camp began to stabilize, with the construction of basic buildings. Hostilities with the Owens Valley Paiute temporarily ceased by December 1864, leading to the camp’s brief abandonment.

Reoccupation and Fort Independence (1865–1877)

Renewed conflicts with the Paiute in early 1865 prompted the reoccupation of the camp by Nevada Volunteers in March, and it was officially designated Fort Independence. The post became a more permanent fixture, with improved infrastructure despite setbacks like the 1872 Owens Valley earthquake, which destroyed many original adobe buildings. By 1875, the fort was described as a healthy post with light duties, pure air, and excellent food, reflecting improved conditions.

A significant and controversial event occurred on July 10, 1863, under Captain Moses A. McLaughlin’s command. Over 1,000 Native Americans were gathered at the camp’s parade ground, where McLaughlin announced their forced removal to Fort Tejon, 200 miles southwest. The operation was executed with troops strategically positioned to prevent resistance, highlighting the coercive tactics used against the Paiute. This event remains a dark chapter in the region’s history, remembered with bitterness by Native American communities.

Military operations continued, including patrols to counter Native resistance. In 1867, First Sergeant F. R. Neale led a 250-mile patrol through a snowstorm, engaging Paiute forces and killing or wounding several. By the late 1860s, a “perfect understanding” was reported between the military and remaining Native groups, though tensions persisted.

Closure and Aftermath (1877–Present)

Fort Independence was abandoned on July 5, 1877, as the need for a military presence diminished. The military reservation was transferred to the Interior Department on July 22, 1884. On November 3, 1883, the fort’s buildings were sold at auction for less than $3,000, despite their original cost of over $50,000. Notable structures, such as the hospital (purchased for $290) and the commander’s quarters ($345), were relocated to Independence and repurposed as residences or historical landmarks.

The land formerly occupied by the fort became part of the Fort Independence Reservation, established in 1915 and 1916 through executive orders, providing 360 acres for the Paiute and Shoshone communities. Today, the reservation is home to approximately 140 members of the Fort Independence Indian Community of Paiute Indians. Little remains of the original camp, but a historical marker on Highway 395, dedicated in 1981 by the Slim Princess Chapter of E Clampus Vitus, commemorates its significance.

The camp’s cemetery, initially reserved for soldiers, also served civilians. After the fort’s closure, soldiers’ graves were relocated to the Presidio in San Francisco, while civilian graves remained. The cemetery, located on private property, is maintained sporadically, with reenactors visiting annually around July 4.

Cultural and Historical Significance

Camp Independence facilitated early white settlement in the Owens Valley by providing security for miners and homesteaders, enabling the growth of communities like Independence, which became the Inyo County seat in 1866. However, its establishment and operations came at a significant cost to the Native Paiute and Shoshone, whose displacement and loss of land reshaped the region’s demographic and cultural landscape.

The Eastern California Museum in Independence preserves artifacts, photographs, and records related to the camp, offering insights into its history. Dorothy Clora Cragen’s book, The Boys in the Sky-Blue Pants, provides a detailed account of the camp’s role in Owens Valley history and is recommended for further reading. The museum holds copies of this out-of-print work.

Conclusion

Camp Independence was a pivotal institution in the Owens Valley, reflecting the complex interplay of military, settler, and Native American histories in 19th-century California. While it enabled the region’s development, it also contributed to the marginalization of indigenous peoples. Its legacy endures through the Fort Independence Reservation, historical landmarks, and ongoing efforts to document and understand its impact.

Sources

  • Historical Marker Database (hmdb.org)
  • Sierra Nevada Geotourism
  • Owens Valley History (timenspace.net)
  • California Military Museum (militarymuseum.org)
  • California State Parks (ohp.parks.ca.gov)
  • NoeHill in California (noehill.com)
  • MojaveDesert.net
  • FortWiki