This year's 4th of July celebration in Newberry Springs was another big success. I
don't know when I have enjoyed a better one. Maybe it was because I felt a part of things
and not just a spectator. Previously I had not realized the money, time and effort that is
required to make the entire day long event a triumph. Fund raisers, meetings, planning
sessions, more fundraisers, insurance, permits, more meetings, the work is a yearlong
chore by a few dedicated Newberry citizens so that our community can come together and
share our feelings of how Independence Day should be celebrated.
The wife and I started our day with breakfast at the Barn. Then joined with the seven
other ham radio operators to handle communications for the parade. Then off to the
Community Center to meet and visit with our out of town family and friends who make the
yearly pilgrimage to Newberry Springs for the event. Our visiting was cut short, as we had
the 1 PM to 3 PM shift in the Newberry Springs Chamber of Commerce booth. It was at this
booth that something occurred that brought back some Desert Memories from the early 1950's
that I had all but forgotten about.
I was selling sodas and popcorn right and left, when I heard a woman's voice from the
other side of the counter say, "You are Billy Smith aren't you?" I looked up
into a familiar face that I couldn't quite put a name to. I realized that face must have
been very familiar at one time and it would have to be from long ago, as only old time
Newberry people and family called me Billy anymore. She introduced herself and her husband
and daughter but the names did not ring a bell. Then she said, "My name used to be
Bender."
Bender that was it. The memories started to flood back. You see Mrs. Bender, her
husband Bob, three boys and a baby girl came to live in Newberry when I was going to
Newberry school. They built and lived in the quonset hut that still stands on the west
side of Newberry Road. between Cottonwood and Fairview Roads. The Benders' oldest son Mike
and I were the same age and instant friends. We were studying American History and the
many hardships endured by the early settlers and Frontiersmen in their Westward quest. Our
teacher Mr. Lavoy would go to great lengths with the very limited teaching aids available
to strengthen or understanding of how it must have been for people then. He cut sticks and
notched them to explain in miniature how log cabins were made. He explained how a mans'
gun was the key to survival. It meant both food and protection. It was when he was
attempting to explain the early muzzle loading flintlock muskets and rifles that Mike
Bender spoke up and said, "My dad has those kind of guns." Immediately Mr. Lavoy
and Mike got into a huddle. Then Mr. Lavoy said that we would move on to transportation
and come back to guns at a later date.
It must have been a week or so later that Mr. Bender showed up in class with an
assortment of muzzle loaders, rifles and pistols, flint locks and cap locks. He explained
it all, from mechanics of operation, bullet making, and speed of loading to accuracy and
the importance of keeping your powder dry. I was immediately fascinated by them. Then it
was demonstration time. We all filed out on to the East edge of the playground were a
table had been set up facing a row of tin cans 30 yards out in the desert.
Now I must give you some background before I continue. Mr. Lavoy was a crew cut young
bachelor straight out of teaching school. He taught the upper grades 4 through 6 in the
room that now serves as the school library. The other teacher was the principle and his
boss. She was about at retirement age, wore her hair in a bun, always looked mad, and was
of the old school to say the least. She had the first, second and third grades in the new
school building. She and Mr. Lavoy rarely saw eye to eye in the way children should be
taught and this led to a running battle between the two.
Mr. Bender chose an ornate old musket and demonstrated how to load it. He then aimed at
one of the cans. There was a small puff of smoke as the flint struck steel in the pan then
an ear shattering explosion and a stinking cloud of white smoke that obscured everything
to the East. He was reloading as the smoke cleared. The can he had been aiming at had
vanished. He was just handing the gun to me when out came the principle, skirts flying,
screaming unintelligibly at the top of her lungs. She ran up to us, I just stood there
with the loaded musket at port arms and watched as, red faced with rage she tore into Mr.
Lavoy. That was the end of gun demonstrations in the playground. I don't think the
principle was ever aware, that after school that day us 6th grade boys all piled into Mr.
Lavoy's Model B Ford and drove to Mr. Bender's place and finished where we had left off.
That was my first taste of black powder and it has stayed with me to this day. Now I
have my own collection of flint and cap lock muzzle loaders. If I hadn't volunteered to
man the booth on the 4th, Mrs. Bender would not have found me and I may not have recalled
this episode of Desert Memories. As I recall these events as a child in Newberry it makes
me keenly aware of how each experience has molded my adult life now. Thank you Newberry.
Copyright 1995, William E. Smith, All Rights Reserved
Newberry Springs Chamber of Commerce
P.O. Box 116
Newberry Springs, CA 92365
Phone: (760) 257-1072
