The Pisgah Grande 1936

By Wendy Varble

In 1936, three boys experience a terrifying encounter while camping in a deserted ghost town, resulting in unexpected consequences echoing far beyond the abandoned walls of Pisgah Grande.

While camping deep in the heart of Las Llajas Canyon on Halloween night, 1936, eight-year-old Johnny and two friends, teenage brothers Orville and Skinny, set out to explore a small, abandoned village in the Santa Susana Mountains called the Pisgah Grande. But as night falls, the boys experience a terrifying encounter in the ghost town that suddenly transforms their exciting adventure into a dark mystery that begs to be solved.

As the days pass, marked by the harsh reality of Depression-era life, Johnny assumes the role of amateur detective as he struggles to unravel the mystery, with or without his friends assistance. Skinny is too terrified to help. As usual, Orville is ambivalent. Johnnys sister is too busy dealing with her own problems. But it is Johnnys friend, Ernie, seemingly simpleminded and mute, who may be more astute and observant than anyone in their small community ever imagined. As the puzzle slowly comes together, however, Johnny begins to suspect that a missing piece is right under his nose.

In this exciting young adult thriller, a series of events spirals out of control as a boy and his friends unwittingly become entangled in an adult world filled with secrets, confusion, and deceit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Oct 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781480802421

Wendy Varble

Wendy Varble collected hundreds of stories about Depression-era life during her thirty-five-year marriage to Simi Valley native, Johnny Varble (1928–2011). She is a lifelong resident of Simi Valley and an avid chronicler of its fascinating history. This is her second book.

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Contents

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

Dedication

This novel is dedicated to the memory of Truman Varble, a life-long farmer, a practical genius, and a devoted and brilliant father.

Preface

T his novel is based on stories told to me by my late husband John Owen Varble. For more than 35 years he recounted in great detail his incredible childhood growing up in the small farming and cattle ranching community of Simi Valley, California.

Living in rural California during the 1930s was an experience that few people today can identify with. The responsibilities of even young children during those years are difficult to comprehend in our modern times. Through this story I have tried to convey the realities of that unique time in our recent past to readers, old and young, who may not know or have forgotten how self-reliant and inventive we have been when times are tough.

As I wrote The Pisgah Grande 1936, many friends and family members provided support and encouragement, just as they had for my first book The Summer of 1934, and I am deeply grateful to all of you. There are several individuals in particular that I must mention by name.

My sister Penni Gerardi and my mother Marilyn Miracle deserve special thanks for their continued support of my literary efforts. Bill Appleton, the descendent of a pioneer family in Simi Valley, was tremendously helpful in loaning me his family’s historical photos. The Museum of Ventura County also contributed photos of the Pisgah Grande. I would also like to extend a heartfelt thank you to Patricia Havens, Simi Valley Historian. Hannah and Michael Kuhn, Cynthia Schotte, and Joie Coxon were invaluable providing assistance in proof reading the final manuscript. Additionally I want to thank my editor’s wife, Patty Terry, who after reading the rough draft of my first book, has continued to encourage me to keep writing.

Aidan Terry, a gifted artist whom I have known since the day he was born, graciously created the cover artwork and took it through multiple revisions until it fit the book perfectly.

Most importantly, however, I must sincerely thank my dear friend of more than thirty years, Mark Terry. Mark edited The Summer of 1934, and now has worked tirelessly editing The Pisgah Grande 1936. Mark relentlessly steered me through revision after revision, having me rewrite page upon page of text. Each time he insisted, You can do better—just do it! Thank you, Mark. Even though at times I argued with you, in the end I knew you were always right.

Wendy Varble

August 2013

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Prologue

I n 1895, Dr. Finis E. Yoakum left his medical office in Denver, Colorado for the short walk home—he never arrived.

Along the way he encountered a runaway wagon. When he attempted to stop the stampeding horses he was gored in the chest by the shaft of the wagon and so severely injured that he was not expected to live for more than a few days.

Dr. Yoakum did survive, but his recuperation took many long, painful years and included a move to Los Angeles for the healing climate. Feeling that his recovery had been miraculous, he resolved to devote the remainder of his life to helping others.

In 1914, Dr. Yoakum purchased 3,200 acres of land deep in the heart of Las Llajas Canyon, within the Simi Valley, approximately three miles northeast of the small town of Santa Susana, California. He and three hundred of his followers built a self-sustained community with dozens of structures—they even made their own bricks. Dr. Yoakum named the settlement Pisgah Grande, after the peak in Sinai from which Moses saw the Promised Land.

Dr. Yoakum died in Las Llajas Canyon in 1920 and the members of his cult dispersed soon after, leaving the Pisgah Grande to crumble and decay.

I

I t had been Orville’s idea to spend Halloween night camped out in Las Llajas Canyon. Johnny agreed to go. He thought it might be fun. Skinny, however, was terrified. There’s ghosts in that canyon, he protested. Skinny, at age twelve, was Orville’s younger brother. Orville was thirteen and their friend and neighbor, Johnny Varble, was nearly nine.

There’s no such thing as ghosts, Johnny said. He knew this to be a fact, because his father had told him.

Johnny’s father was a farmer. He was a self-educated man, however, who could be found every evening after supper sitting in his favorite chair reading. Orville and Skinny’s father Earl Johnston had a small hardware store in the little town of Santa Susana, in the Simi Valley of Southern California, where both families lived.

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Courtesy of Bill Appleton

Santa Susana, California

On the evening of October 31, 1936, the three boys hiked up the dirt road to the entrance of Las Llajas Canyon. Since it was a Friday night, they didn’t have school the next day. It was still quite hot when they started out; the day had been warm and windy, with strong gusts blowing dirt and tumbleweeds across the small valley. The road quickly turned into a narrow cow trail, and they had to watch closely to avoid stepping into mushy cow pies. Truman, Johnny’s father, had allowed him to go, but insisted he take along the family hound dog, Maggie. Two years earlier, in the summer of 1934, Truman, along with two other men, had killed a huge mountain lion near the entrance of the canyon.

The path wound through the lush ravine alongside a shallow stream. The walls were very steep and contained huge boulders—some were the size of cars. The canyon floor, especially along the stream, was lined with enormous oak and sycamore trees. In the small meadows that opened up along the trail they saw Mule deer grazing on the dry grass with its distinctive golden-saffron hue. A Red-tailed hawk was circling over-head. Cottontail rabbits froze like little grey stone sculptures as the hikers passed. Their plan was to camp at a deserted village, the Pisgah Grande. Once occupied by a religious cult, it had been abandoned for more than sixteen years.

Orville had a sleeping bag, which they would all share. The idea was to unzip it and lay it flat on the ground, with each boy using his own blanket for cover. Johnny carried his .22 rifle with him, a gift from his father on his eighth birthday. Mrs. Johnston had given them a paper bag which contained a dozen hot dogs, some apples and several squares of cornbread wrapped in waxed paper. Johnny’s mother, Emma, contributed a bag with oranges and a dozen sugar cookies. There was also a tin cup in the bag to use for drinking water from the stream. In addition to the .22 and the dog, Johnny had his pocket knife, something he was never without,