Word spread about the Hollywood celebrities who went to Avalon and, before long, politicians, businessmen, and star-struck wannabes flocked to the ranch, as well. An all-out effort was begun to make the place as luxurious and comfortable as possible for these high-rolling guests.
The main lodge was already accommodating, but Slim poured hundreds of thousands of his coal, lumber, and cattle dollars into making improvements to the complex. Every train that came up the mountain brought with it some new machinery to develop the ranch and, of course, accommodate more guests in ever-increasing luxury.
In a year and a half, the main building grew until it stretched out for over four hundred feet from end to end, and it incorporated just about anything the rich and pampered guests could ever need or even conceive. Log cabins came shortly thereafter, spreading out in both directions and eventually giving more important guests their own choice personalizations. These accommodations were eventually named after the various regulars who frequented the premises. Most of the cabins were rented out a year in advance, and Avalon was always abuzz, with each of the seasons bringing its own individual delight to enjoy.
Many of the cast of characters that arrived were wealthy and although some were connected to the new movie industry, not all were. Some simply wanted to rub elbows with that particular crowd and they had the money to spend, which opened that door. They were known as socialites.
Business boomed for about twenty years and Slim even ran for Congress, but lost and never tried again. The back-biting that such an endeavor entailed had Slim in a fury. He was often heard to say,
“In the old days, if a man said that about you, you could shoot the skunk and everyone would understand why you did it.”
Slim’s political days never extended beyond the borders of the world of the Avalon he had created.
One day, and rather suddenly, the coal gave out in the quantities needed to support a commercial venture and the railroad abruptly decided to take out the tracks and ties and use them elsewhere. The only two remaining commodities were lumber and cattle and they were available in other places and were cheaper to bring to market than having to chug way up the steep grades of Avalon’s mountain. Slim and his crew were no longer cut out for arduous cattle drives and the like.
Once the railroad stopped making runs up the mountain, business ended overnight. The tourists stopped coming because there was no easy way to get there without the railroad.
By the time it all happened, Slim was getting on in years and any hope he had to continue Avalon died during the Great War in 1917 against the Germans. His oldest son was killed while leading a charge against the murderous machine guns across the stark battle field on that day against the “Hun.” Slim, embittered and crushed by the loss, refused to leave his cabin. His son’s body was buried somewhere “over there” and that, in itself, was another terribly debilitating blow.
Slim was an “Isolationist” and he didn’t believe the U.S. should be meddling in European affairs. As far as he was concerned, “They started the mess, let them finish it.” He said it often enough, which may have influenced his failed attempt at a political career. There was no doubt as to what he thought; he wrote numerous letters about his feelings to wealthy industrialists and politicians, as well as the many friends and acquaintances he had made over the years. Slim died in 1919, an unrecognized blessing in that he didn’t witness first-hand what happened to his beloved Avalon.
His last remaining son tried, in vain, to sell the place and eventually gave up. He was a movie producer of some note by that time, unimaginably wealthy and no longer acting in films. He certainly didn’t feel like spending his own money to maintain something that was evidently a lost cause and not generating a dime.
Avalon had been his Dad’s dream, not his. It annoyed him greatly that it cost him money to pay the land taxes to the state every year. He wanted to unload it in the worst way but there were no takers, so he formed a trust to reduce the taxes and it simply sat empty and waiting.
As the years passed, the memories of Avalon receded in people’s minds and since there was no revenue being produced, its fate was sealed. Slim’s last son, the movie producer, died of heart failure in 1940 and was given a gala funeral by his peers. With him died all remaining memory of Avalon and it was truly forgotten. Its trust eventually defaulted to the State.
Nearly nine decades later, Mike and Dan went out riding to explore some potential locations to build a retreat. They were keen on the general area because of its ideal location and placement relative to major cities. It was remote enough that it would take a fair amount of time before what was left of civilization found them, if at all, yet they could get to the city in a reasonable amount of time. Prevailing winds blew in such a way that major fallout from any West Coast cities likely wouldn’t affect them and there were no real government targets to speak of for hundreds of miles.
They stumbled upon the old abandoned track bed and eventually rode it out until it expanded at the sand pits where they found the little shack, the depot, the water tower, and the rest of it. They climbed the old tower and, to their amazement, it was full of water. They both stripped, jumped in, and swam around in the cold water on that hot August day as if they were two teenage boys.
There were no signs, but the depot’s existence revealed to them that something of note must be nearby, so they continued to explore the area, eventually coming upon Avalon, mostly by accident. Feeling refreshed from their swim, they were just about ready to turn around on the ash covered road that went on and on without seeming to go anywhere and return to the old abandoned track bed when they came into the clearing.
It stood there like something out of a fictional novel, a fairy tale. This was a place where time had simply stopped its entropic march. As they emerged from the trees it was just sitting there, quietly waiting for someone to come along and enjoy the grandeur of what was Avalon.
Chapter 7 Coming Home
Mike and Dan were rendered speechless the moment they first caught sight of the magnificent structure and complex. About five hundred feet after they exited the dirt road, they came out of the big trees and saw a four-foot wide, freestanding post that was separated by a space of about fifty feet where another one was in the ground.
The two poles stood over thirty-feet high and were connected by a top piece that was horizontal and three feet in diameter. Hanging from four-inch thick wrought iron hooks, was a thirty-two by ten foot hand carved sign that read, “AVALON.” It’s interior gold lettering was chipped and faded, but still clear. It was held together by a rod that went from the hooks through the bottom with large bolts and accented on the outside of each pole with large iron wagon wheels that touched tangentially at both the top and inside.
To either side of the sign, a rail fence had been installed that joined each vertical post and stretched out for about one hundred fifty feet in a tapered fashion. This was the magnificent entry to the ranch, with a facade fence that had originally been put there to impress anyone who saw it.
Nearly a century later, its effect had not been diminished.
The resort was set back from the road about a half-mile at the edge of what was a natural clearing with an exquisite flower and grass covered mountain meadow. The two men stood there captured by the sight of the awesome structure in the distance while the perfume of the wildflowers caressed their sense of smell.
They paced the width of the main building at over four hundred feet and its construction was log cabin style. They could see that the logs had been peeled and varnished, each meticulously fitted to the next by hand and obviously done by master craftsmen. The cracks were filled with what appeared to be oakum, a product used by shipbuilders to waterproof the cracks on ships in an era long gone.
Off to either side were smaller cabins, also made of logs, that went in a straight line, jutting out in a wing-like fashion from the main building. Each was clearly separate from the others and different in their own unique way, as if they had
been customized to fit various distinct personalities of their long-past occupants.
From a bird’s eye view, the cabins formed a large “V” swooping toward the back pastures of the property. There were twenty-five cabins to a side and between all the cabins was, at one time, a grassy park-like area. Overgrown and weed infested now, Mike and Dan knew it could be restored to its former motif with a bit of elbow grease.
To one side of the main hotel and restaurant, a massive swimming pool sprawled out, which in days long gone had a cascading waterfall reminiscent of some exotic Amazonian jungle scene. There was a dance floor that, along with much of the cement walkways, was covered in green fungus growing in profusion. Even in disarray, the dance floor was obviously built to be used both inside and outside, joined together as it meandered in every direction.
An ivy plant nearly covered a portion of the front of the main building, and a couple of the smaller cabins were severely damaged from a large tree that had fallen on them at one time, crushing a corner of each one. They could be repaired and made to be livable again with a little work, but it would require lumber and building supplies to be brought up the long haul. For their purpose of long-term planning, it would be worth the trouble.
They explored the main building; its front entry consisted of two large double doors that were hand carved and appeared to be heavy. Made from oak planks, each was about four inches thick and the hinges, door fasteners, and other hardware were massive. They appeared to be hand forged and beaten, made specifically for these doors in a blacksmith forge. On the inside was a large cradle that held a wooden beam about ten feet long and designed to span the back side of the two entry doors to secure them from the inside, in effect bracing them from entry. The beam had gone missing.
Once inside the lobby, Mike and Dan let their eyes adjust as they scanned the interior. To the left were several doors that led to hallways and rooms with numbers assigned to them, and they saw a large counter about twenty feet long situated about twice that distance directly in front of the door. It was obviously where the guests had registered.
They could see from this vantage point the place was not only fully equipped, but detailed in such a way as to flaunt itself to the observer. The overly richness of construction, with its fine details, was designed to strike the observer as their eyes took in each amenity. To Mike and Dan, it was a dream come true, with unlimited potential for their desired purposes.
The entire counter was hand-carved and a work of art, accented with an intricately carved “Avalon” title in the wood across its front. Behind it was a standup secretary, complete with numerous pigeonholes, and there were still keys in each. They assumed that the keys opened the cabins, but there were clearly more keys than cabins. They didn’t know it right then, but a great many additional rooms existed off to the left of the main building.
The floor of the registration lobby was a magnificent, hand-laid affair of rich oak parquet. The master craftsmen who installed it had constructed an inlaid design of the world, a huge map of California, scenes of cattle, miners, and the railroad finishing the intricate designs. Mike and Dan walked from one place to another, marveling at this incredible find. On one wall were his and her bathrooms, each large enough to accommodate over a dozen clientele at a time. Both had areas for two or three people to receive a massage and the ladies’ bathroom had a beauty makeup area, while the men’s housed a three-seat shoeshine stand.
To the left of the registration desk was a large living room area replete with leather furniture and a huge fireplace on one wall. Back against the far wall, above the fireplace, was a life-sized daguerreotype, or first generation photograph, of a man, a woman, and a young boy. The fireplace was so large that Mike and Dan were actually able to stand in it, laughing as they soaked in the opulent magnitude of the entire scene. On the floor of the fire pit was a permanently attached log holder that was made from five-foot sections of railroad tracks.
There was a mantle built to go past the width of the fireplace opening. It was over a foot thick, two feet deep, and about fifteen feet long and obviously made from a single tree. On both sides of the fireplace, rock work made up the wall and located at a height of about eight feet from the floor were large stained glass windows depicting deer and bison grazing in what appeared to be a large, tree covered meadow.
The outside hearth was Italian marble and there were bookshelves on one wall that stretched out about fifty feet, still full of old books. Aged magazines stacked on a few of the tables gathered the dust of nearly a century absent of human activity. In one corner was a six-foot globe of the world on a rotating azimuth mounted to a stand and a heavy floor platform. Mike was surprised that he could still spin it with a light touch of his finger, even after all these years. But it was covered with a layer of dust that sent both he and Dan on a coughing fit as they moved on to explore another area.
To one side of the fireplace was a stack of logs waiting to be burned, sitting in a log holder made from old railroad tracks that matched the log rack in the fire pit. Pedestal ashtrays, the cylindrical kind with sand traps on their tops, were distributed throughout the place. One wall was made of natural rough-hewn rock and each stone had been meticulously fitted and cemented into place. It appeared to be granite rock from where the railroad workers had carved out a path from the side of the mountain for the train.
Four large, overstuffed leather chairs were near this wall with a table beside each, and on the top of the tables were Aladdin oil lamps with large, blown glass mantles that diffused the bright light. Wrought iron fixtures hung from the ceiling with a profusion of more oil lamps and each could be lowered or pulled in place by ropes that were fastened to hooks on the walls in several key locations.
There were also nine large couches and twelve chairs mixed and matched throughout the room; each made of deep burgundy or dark coffee brown leather and companioned by a table off to one side. Surprisingly, there was still more than ample room to move around.
The rest of the walls had window openings cut away from the logs, and the glass was the old fashioned type and appeared to have wavy places throughout the vitreous material. Some of the floor area was marble, cut from quarries in Italy, and it perfectly matched to the fireplace hearth. Tucked back in a corner stood a larger-than-life-size statue of a Roman Goddess. It was also crafted from marble and appeared to be an authentic sculpture from the ancients in Europe.
On the outside of each window, the large shutters were designed to protect from the elements but not completely blackout the place. They were made from wood and each was about two inches thick and fastened in place with old hand beaten, formed iron hinges, also from a blacksmith’s shop. The hinges were massive and designed to be fastened shut from the inside. Even so, there was enough light coming through to make the room bright and airy. The date on the magazines scattered throughout this eighty by eighty foot lounge area was October 1921.
Past the main counter was a wall that ran from left to right, dividing the lounge area and registration desk from the entry to the restaurant and dance floor. It terminated on the left after traveling about sixty feet and past it was a huge hallway that made an immediate right through oversized, stained glass double doors that opened in both directions. After another twenty feet, it took a hard turn ninety degrees to the left and continued straight to yet another set of double doors with hardware made of heavy brass.
Through those doors and at the end of the hall was another spacious room with large bookcases, leather chairs, and several old-fashioned slate pool tables with leather pockets. On one wall were several huge cue stick racks and more racks lined the walls, interspersed between the bookshelves so as to accommodate each table. Each rack held three complete sets of balls made from ivory and above each table was a wire with beads on it, designed to keep score. A mirror encrusted cover hung from brass chains, which helped players see better with their inbuilt lanterns. Perhaps not the most useful for Dan and Mike’s future plans, but it would help break t
he monotony and boredom.
There was a small, well-stocked bar in one corner with mostly full bottles covered in a thick layer of dust. One wall exhibited stuffed lion, tiger, and leopard heads, and there was a snake skin that was over thirty feet long on another wall. The corner held a stuffed crocodile that was nearly thirty feet long and rested patiently, watching everything in the room with those glass eyes.
Past the wall that divided the reception area from the dance floor was a huge open area with tables and chairs, a restaurant, and a parquet inlaid dance floor covering an area about one hundred feet long by seventy five feet wide. The restaurant had seventy-five tables, each with four chairs, arranged in alternating rows of five and three tables wide, allowing plenty of room for guests to move about without feeling cramped. The chairs, over three hundred in total, had leather covered seats and padded backs that were fastened to the wood with brass button-headed nails. The tables were inlaid with the word Avalon and the backs of the chairs had the same carving on them.
At the end of this eating area was a stage that could easily seat a full orchestra and was replete with moldy curtains that appeared to be velvet. Across the front of the stage, and tucked behind a cover, was a mirror-lined trench that had Aladdin lamps hidden in small pockets to light up the stage. “Stage Right” housed a grand piano and bench.
Another doorway led to the large hallway that accessed the remaining comfortable hotel rooms stretching down the rest of the two hundred fifty feet. Two more rooms were located near the restaurant, but they were void of furniture. At the far right of the restaurant were two sets of double doors that led to the kitchen, each set opening in opposite directions so the serving staff could flow in distinct directions in and out.
Avalon: The Retreat Page 6