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This
month we take a break from our Western Mojave adventures and head for
the
Piute
Mountains high in the Sequoia
National Forest. Join
us as we sit around the campfire sharing the stories of the
liars of Old Kernville.
Lying
George Pettingill
The Genius
Who Couldn’t Spell His Own Name
Somewhere above the town of Wofford
Heights, and before the
summit of
Greenhorn
Mountain, a dirt road leads
to what was the home of the greatest liar of the Kern River Diggins.
In a flat area beside Tilly Creek, George Pettingill ran the tollhouse
for the old McFarland Toll Road. In addition to
collecting tolls from weary travelers, he often entertained them with
his tales, tall and true.
George Pettingill spent his younger years sailing, fighting
Indians, and soldiering. He
had no particular skills in reading and writing but he “wuz hell for
single-handed talkin’.” His outlandish stories have been passed on
from generation to generation. Although people laughed at his yarns in
the old days, and still do today, Pettingill was not out for only a
laugh. As the boys sat around the old tobacco stained stove,
Pettingill would come up with spur of the moment stories to ease the
boredom of another’s careless truths. George Pettingill couldn’t
stand half-baked liars, but was “mighty hard hit by it himself.”
The Chemist of La Mismo Gulch
While working his La Mismo Gulch claim, George Pettingill
became familiar with the neighboring claim owner. This fellow spent
Sundays, and rainy days as an amateur chemist. He had a bench in a
blacksmith shop where he did his chemical experiments. He rushed out
of that shop one day with his eyes “shinin’ kinda queer-like”
and told Pettingill about the most “explosive” explosive he was
working on. He not only told George Pettingill, but he told all the
scientists he knew, as well, and invited them into his blacksmith shop
for a demonstration. When the day came and the scientists were
gathered around the amateur chemists bench, he took a pin and touched
it’s point to the contents of a whiskey glass. The whiskey glass
held the new-fangled explosive. The glass was then handed to a Mexican
boy that was waiting on his mule. The boy was told to “ride hell fer
leather” four miles up the river and hide in an old tunnel so he
would be safe from the impending explosion. The chemist touched an
anvil with the explosive coated pinpoint and grabbed a single jack,
tapping the anvil in the same place. The explosion happened so
suddenly the poor man didn’t have time to let go of the handle of
the hammer and was thrown right in to the roof of the blacksmith shop.
George Pettingill said that the hole in the roof was so small, the
chemist's boots were jerked off.
Hard Rock Miner & Jerk Line Skinner
George Pettingill was a man who held many jobs over the years.
At one time he worked as a mucker in the Mother Lode mines. He claimed
to have lost that job because they couldn’t break enough rock to
keep him busy. All day the miners would drill the face of the tunnel.
The drill steel was eventually dull from all of the drilling. A double
shift was worked so they could sharpen the steel. When the next shift
went back into the tunnel, Pettingill said the drill-holes stuck out
three and a half inches from the rock.
At a time when the roads were “considerably rougher and much
more crooked”, George Pettingill hauled timber from My Harmon’s
old mill on
Greenhorn
Mountain
to the famous Big
Blue mine in Whiskey Flat. When he returned, of course, he would haul
supplies back up to the mill. On one of the return trips, Pettingill
allowed his black and white coachman pup to follow behind the wagon.
At the top of the summit, he stopped his eight-horse team to pitch
camp. He looked around and realized his dog was missing. George
Pettingill re-traced the crooked road for three and a half miles by
foot, then suddenly came to his dog cramped on a turn.
“Feenominal” Growth
When George Pettingill wasn’t talking about his mining and
prospecting days, he enjoyed talking about the “feenominal” growth
in the area. He loved to tell about the “punkin” seeds that were
spread on the ridge above J. W. Sumner’s Ranch. Sumner’s cow
grazed in the area where the seeds were spread. One day she wandered into a pumpkin blossom and “got caught
up in the growin’ process.” George said that cow disappeared until
fall when the “punkins” had grown to enormous proportions. One was
so huge that it’s sheer weight pulled it from the vine. That big old
“punkin” rolled down the ridge and fell against a big boulder.
When it busted, Sumner’s cow walked out from where it had
been grazing that spring. That cow had gotten caught up in the
“punkin” blossom and wound up spending it’s summer growing as it
grazed inside the pumpkin.
George Pettingill also enjoyed telling stories about the
gooseberry vine that he passed by every morning and evening when he
was “going and coming” to work on his La Mismo Gulch placer claim.
The bush always attracted his attention because it had just one
blossom that grew right out of its top. The berry grew up on one side
and down on the other side from the stem, taking on an amazing size.
One evening Pettingill realized that the under side had grown down
until it “almost teched the ground.”
The next morning, much to his surprise, Pettingill found the
berry and the vine had rolled off down the slope to the bottom of La
Mismo Gulch. “That darn gooseberry had kept right on growin’ till
it pulled the vine right up by its roots!”
Hunting Stories
Hunting, of course, was another activity that George Pettingill
enjoyed. One time he was up at Bar Trap Flat and ran into a big old
grizzly bear. Pettingill shot at him with his old muzzle-loader, and
the “bar” made for him before he could reload. He headed for the
nearest tree, dropping his gun as he jumped up and reached for a low
limb. As he grabbed for
“greater heights”, the “bar” swiped at him and raked
his left boot off. He hurried on up to safety higher in the tree, then
finally looked down to see that “bar” pointing his rifle at him.
The grizzly snapped the trigger and motioned to Pettingill to
throw down some ammunition. After awhile, Pettingill said the
“bar” grabbed the boot he had slapped off of him, and slipped it
on his left rear leg. Many
hunters claimed to have seen the grizzly bear track, but would not
follow it because it appeared he was being tracked down by a one
legged hunter. Word has it
that the “ ‘bar wore George Pettingill’s boot ‘till the heel
turned and the sole wuz gone. Pettingill
could tell by the fringe left around the foot imprint, that the “bar
wore that boot like a spat.”
Pettingill also talked of hunting for buck along the foot of
Sawtooth
Mountain
. Near the bluff at
the mountain top, he saw a big buck. It was a long shot, and way up
the hill, but Pettingill aimed high and pulled extra hard on the
trigger. As he stepped aside to see around the powder smoke the buck
staggered and fell. He scrambled up the slope to find the carcass
“laying there “festerin’.” “It was bad enough fer that
venison to spile before I could reach it; but wuz an extra heavy blow
fer me to reelize later that I strained my gun in makin’ that long
uphill shot. The gun would never carry up worth a damn after that.”
Out at Greaser Gulch, George Pettingill ran across another big
buck. He aimed and fired and the buck dropped in his tracks.
Pettingill traveled across the canyon where the animal was. He leaned
his empty gun against a boulder while he stood and admired his game.
As he whipped his knife out in his right hand to cut the deer throat
and bleed it, the buck jumped up and started down the draw. Pettingill
didn’t have time to re-load his gun but lunged and grabbed for the
deer tail with his free hand, as it startled. George Pettingill said
it was a lucky lunge, as he managed to insert his middle finger up the
buck’s ass half way to the first joint. “I chased that buck seven
and a half miles up hill and down before I could gain enough to crook
my finger.”
The
Genius Who Couldn’t spell His own Name
An old timer said that George Pettingill was “a genius who
never took the trouble to put anything down fer keeps.” Folks said
that the storyteller from the Kern River Diggins couldn’t even spell
his own name. In
fact, the only place his name was ever seen spelled out completely was
on his tombstone, which is decorated with a flag by Whiskey Flat
Veterans every Decoration Day because Pettingill had always said he
had “done some soldierin’.” George Pettingill will always be
remembered for his yarns “that’ll be floatin’ around from mouth
to mouth long after his headstone has crumpled like an old dump on Cula
Vaca
Mountain.”
The
Prevaricators
A man by the name of George Washington King ran a store in old
Isabella. He was known for grubstaking a lot of the prospectors in the
area and it was said that he held quick claim deeds to a lot of
prospectors’ dreams. King enjoyed dreams of his own, as well. He was
quite proud of the stories he told that darned near approached the
status of those told by famous George Pettingill.
Like George Pettingill, George Washington King had a few buck
stories of his own. He
loved to tell of the wise old buck roaming Cook’s Peak on Greenhorn
Mountain. Cook
Peak
appears as a round
inverted cone thick with trees where it rises from the main ridge. The
old buck took advantage of this every time someone would try to track
him, and would begin circling the peak, until the buck was actually
tracking the hunter from a safe distance. King would go round and
round that cone shaped mountain and never could “ketch” that buck.
This happened several times before King realized what was going on.
Once he did, he waited until the next time he was out on the bucks
trail and “follered” him half way around Cook’s Peak. King
jumped behind a nearby tree and watched his backtrack.
As expected, the buck came up sniffing King’s tracks, and
peering ahead for a glimpse of him through the thick fir trees. George
Washington Kingh waited until the buck got abreast of him and “shot
him right through the holler.”
Civil War
Soldiers
George Washington King had a bit of competition in his tall
tales. “Truthful” Brown, the Bodfish postmaster, enjoyed telling
exaggerated stories of his own. The citizens of Isabella and Bodfish
enjoyed aggravating the prevaricators hoping to prod them on to
“greater creative heights.”
King enjoyed telling stories of his Civil War adventures as a
Confederate soldier. He always included the details of his eventual
capture by the Union Army, then ended his narration with praises of
the man who commanded the forces, “That man was an officer and a
gentleman. He granted me all the courtesies of his camp and treated me
as an equal in every respect.“
Truthful Brown enjoyed telling his own military stories. He
always presented himself as the “one who gallantly fought to free
the slaves and save the
Union
.” Upon hearing George Washington King’s tale, he
announced, “This is one time old George has spoken the truth. I
ought to know. I was the officer who captured him.”
In addition to winning the battle over Civil War adventures,
Truthful Brown enjoyed telling people about his trip down the winding
crooked canyon road to Hobo Hot Springs. He was hauling hay down the
road one day, and kept hearing unusual noises behind him. Each time he
heard the noise, he would try to look behind him to see what was going
on, but the road was so crooked it demanded more of his attention than
the noise did. At the sharpest of curves he heard the noise once
again, and decided this time he had to take a longer look. When he
did, he realized the noise he was hearing was the sound of his lead
horses eating hay from the back of the loaded wagon.
King vs Murray
George Washington King may have lost the round with Truthful
Brown, but he made up for it when he ran into Bill Murray. George
Washington King and Bill Murray were friends until King lent Murray
his horse and
buggy for a trip to Kernville. Halfway to Kernville, near the power
canal, King’s horse dropped dead and Murray
was thrown out of the buggy. When King found out about the
accident, he took Murray
to court, suing
him for damages incurred in the death of his horse. Murray, of course,
counter sued hoping to collect for the emotional upset and physical
damage suffered in the “demise of a pore old horse that never should
have been loaned out.” After
testimonies and counter testimonies by both men, Judge Vrooman threw
the case out of court. Both men felt wronged and refused to speak to
each other for the rest of their lives.
George Washington King and Bill
Murray managed to ignore each other most of the time, each
pretending the other wasn’t around, even when they were physically
in presence of one another. Often third parties were enlisted to help
the two of them ignore each other. The day that Bill Murray decided to
clean out the premises of the deserted Murray Brothers Saloon, Ardis
Walker walked up to see what was going on.
Walker
told
Murray
that George
Washington King was watching him as he placed old bottles into cases.
Murray
saw his chance,
and asked
Walker
to tell George
Washington King that he was going to wash the bottles and use them for
bootlegging. When Ardis Walker did approach George he asked him what
he thought about Bill Murray’s bootlegging ambitions. King’s
answer was, “They ought to give the old son-of-a-bitch 365 days for
the next 300 years!”
The following morning, Ardis Walker
ran into Bill Murray once again, and
Murray
couldn’t wait to
find out what George Washington King had said.
Of course when Ardis repeated King’s reply, Bill went into a
rage and kept yelling, “I’ll sue him, I’ll sue him!”
The Bed Bug Bites
One Sunday a bunch of the local men were chewing the fat around
the porch of George King’s Store. Bill Murray saw them and decided to join them. As usual he managed to approach everyone without acknowledgment
of George Washington King’s presence. Murray’s mouth opened and closed several times before he spoke
his carefully rehearsed message, “I found a bedbug in my bed this
morning.”
After everyone but George Washington King had responded to Bill
Murray’s news, he added, “ He was dead.”
George Washington King “uncoiled his battered
Douglas
chair like an
angered rattlesnake” upon hearing this.
He looked directly into the face of the man he had not spoken
to in 20 years and snapped, “Musta bit yuh,” then viciously spit
out a half chewed quid of tobacco across the porch.
“WHAT
SOME OF THEM SAID
MAY
HAVE BEEN PART CORRAL DUST;
BUT
WHAT THEY DID WAS FER KEEPS”
James
Longstreet Walker
Bibliography
The Rough
And The Righteous of the
Kern River
Diggins
by
Ardis M. Walker
Copyright
Ardis M. Walker 1970, 1990
Kern River
County
by
Bob Powers
Westernlore
Publications 1979
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