Tuesday Voice: My time in Lake County, California

Hand-colored postcard of Clear Lake & Mt. Konocti

By Ed Rogers

I recently googled Lake County and was surprised at how the place has changed. A lot of things I will mention here may be gone now. Lake County had large hotels as far back as the twenties that offered hot baths and cures for every kind of illness. There was a train, a small-rail, which brought thousands of people to the resorts in the hills around Clear Lake.

Early visitors walking

There was gambling at most of these resorts. The old timers told me that a number of the resorts hosted mobsters from Chicago. One of the old families, who still farmed sheep, although quite well off, said that when Capone paid a visit the two roads coming into the county were guarded and all cars were checked. Fires wiped out most of the old wooden buildings. I found the foundation of one of the resorts on a back road south of the lake. It was enormous; in their day, they must have been quite the sight.
    Leaving Clearlake Oaks, going toward Lakeport, you would pass a resort on your left. I wish I could remember the name, but that brain cell has died, along with many others. Also, it must have a new name and owner by now (if it's still there). It was the only one with a large building that was a restaurant. It sat in a grove of old oak trees. The main beam, which held the roof up, was said to be the longest solid wood beam ever built into a house. The Treasurer of the State of Cali <smile> built it for his summer home. The State sold it after he went to jail for stealing the money for its construction from the State Treasury.
    Starting around the upper part of Clear Lake, there would be one more mansion. This had also, at the time I was there, been turned into a large bar and restaurant. This mansion belonged to the Collier magazine family. It was said to be haunted. The way the story went, a young maid fell in love with the son, Robert J. Collier. She became with child, and Robert was sent home, never to see her again. She hanged herself from the chandelier in the dining room. It was said that many people had seen the girl standing at the top of the staircase crying. The owners reported that some mornings they would come in and find tables and chairs moved around in the dining room. True or not, it was a good place to stop for a meal.
    The Town of Lakeport was the largest town around the lake and at one time boasted of having the only traffic light in the county. Leaving town on your way around the lake, there'd be the Lake County Chamber of Commerce Building. It was a good place to stop, as they had a lot of information. Ask them to point out Soda Bay for you. There was a view of Clear Lake from the office that was better than from any other place in Lake County. At least, it was back in the 80s. Soda Bay is a hot spring. The Pomo Indians cut tubs into the rock hundreds of years ago. The name Soda Bay came from the bubbles that rise from the bottom of the lake.
    After it rained a person could go walking in the hills around the lake and find diamonds. Good diamonds rate at least 9 on the Mohs scale; these rated 6 or 7—they would cut glass. They used them for grinding wheels until it became cheaper to use man-made diamonds.

Pomo Girl by Edward S. Curtis

A little about the Pomo Indians and I’ll let you go. Their burial site and reservation is at the East end of Clear Lake. It was, and maybe still is, believed to be the oldest burial site in the United States. Clear Lake is the oldest natural lake in North America, and the Pomo Indians have lived there for thousands of years. They were the first bankers in the New World. They made arrow and spear heads from the slate found on Mt. Konocti and traded them to the coastal Indians for shells. These shells they cut to a small size and formed into a ring that was used as money throughout the Western Tribes.

Mount Konocti as seen from Clear Lake today

    They also buried the head of the household with half his wealth. This meant that no one family could amass a large amount of power.
    There was an island across from the Indian reservation called "Snake Island." Before the lake was dammed, the island was part of the reservation and the tribe still claimed it as their land. I was honored to be invited to a large pow-wow on the island. Tribes from up and down the coast and all the way from Arizona were there. They danced, drank something—I don’t know what it was, but it had a kick. I smoked something with a medicine man that tasted like cherries. I didn’t know I was high until I came down. The medicine man wouldn’t tell me what it was.
    A paper company (Boise Cascade) bought Snake Island from the State. I'm not sure what they had planned for the island, but when they landed their helicopter they were greeted with gun fire and never went back. The title to the land was in the courts when I felt.
    The White Man almost killed off the Pomos. The Indians had very little when I was there, but the White Man wanted that too. A group of developers got a permit to build condos over the top of the burial site. That was how I became involved with the tribe. As manager of the County Chamber of Commerce, I was asked for help. I had friends from back in the protest days who were in DC working for Congressmen—or were Congressmen. I got the land placed on the National Park’s list of protected sites. Then I got three million dollars to buy back the land from the group, who could no longer build on it. They were not happy. But I sleep good at night.

[Follow-up on my firing from the Lake County Chamber of Commerce]
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Copyright © 2013 by Ed Rogers

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