Part 3. CALICO DAYS
A big event of the year for the people of Newberry was the annual Calico Days affair
held in Yermo. A weekend concern that included a BBQ, dance, spitting contests, jail time
for any clean-shaven grown men, parade, carnival with hoochi coochi girls, freak shows,
rides, cotton candy, rodeo, and possibly even a barn stormer in his brightly painted
biplane would land on a dirt road nearby and take people for a half hour ride for $5.00.
That included the use of a aviators hat, goggles and of course the bucket strapped to the
floor of the passenger cockpit. Ah, my first plane ride. With helmet on and goggles over
my eyes, all strapped in tight. The roar of the engine as we bounced over the washboard
road, suddenly the bouncing stops and we are going up. Then a wide circle over the
carnival, then up some more. It was then that the pilot started a series of maneuvers
beginning with a loop. The only thing I can clearly remember from that point on was the
bottom of that darn bucket.
It was tradition for all of us wanna-be cowboys to ride our horses to Calico Days, with
a Friday night camp out in the riverbed near Miniola Road. The week in advance was spent
comparing lists of the gear and food we needed to take along. Us grammar school boys that
lived South and East of the school would ride our horses to school on Friday with all of
our gear. We would then leave for the river as soon as school was out. Others would leave
from their homes and head cross country.
The first to arrive in camp were the grammar school boys, as the junior and senior high
boys were delayed by their school bus ride home from Barstow.
The gear that had survived the afternoon trek was unloaded (or should I say untangled)
from the assortment of horses and ponies. Saddles and bedrolls were laid out in a big
circle surrounding the ring of rocks that would soon be our campfire.
While some hunted up wood for the fire, others would take their.22 rifles into the
mesquite thickets in pursuit of cottontail rabbits and quail to supplement the food
supplies that had been lost or already eaten between home and camp.
At dusk a large roaring fire was started to mark the camp for the stragglers who were
still wandering in. Everyone decided to cook their dinner at the same time while the
flames were good and high. It was like a three ring circus. A dozen or so boys fighting
over who would get to cook on the side away from the smoke. Knocking over cans of beans,
stepping in frying pans, dropping food in the fire, cussing over singed hair and eyebrows.
After dinner we put more wood on the fire and sat around telling dirty jokes and
attempting to roll acceptable cigarettes from the bag of Bull Durham that someone
produced.
It was about then that we heard a call from out of the darkness, "hullo in the
camp." All heads turned as Lona Tankersly rode in on her spotted horse Papago. She
dismounted and removed her meager bedroll and saddle bags. These she placed along with her
saddle and blanket in the lee of a big fallen cottonwood tree at the edge of the camp. She
hobbled Papago in the grass near water and returned with some rocks that she placed on the
sand in front of her gear. She then unrolled her bedroll that had been wrapped around a
small shovel. With the shovel she took some coals from the edge of our fire and placed
them between her rocks. She produced a small pot that she set on the rocks. Into the pot
went water from her canteen. Then she produced a few strips of jerky, a potato, a couple
of carrots and an onion. These were all put into the pot and as it all simmered she sat
back on the cotton-wood tree and manufactured a perfect roll-ur-own that she lit with a
brand from her coals. It was then that she looked around as if taking first notice of our
now silent group of boys all surrounded by our over abundance of gear in disarray and
said, "planning on spending a week or so are you? I don't know about you but I want
to leave camp early so I can get to the rodeo in time to register for the calf roping and
maybe talk the officials into letting me compete in the bronco riding this year."
Yes Lona was a girl and the only girl who ever went camping with the boys each year on
the way to Calico Days. Lona was Lona, one of a kind. She would become silent and even
mean around other girls. Boisterous, loud and full of hell when around boys her age. Kind,
helpful and funny when around younger boys. Of course all of the younger boys had a bad
crush on her.
On the Calico Days camp-out, Lona was the only real cowboy amongst a group of
wannabe's. Her smooth cowboy style was poetry in motion. I think it was her way of sharing
some of her spirit with us. Heck, we boys went camping maybe once a year. With Lona it was
a way of life.
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
