WATER WARS
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD SWAIN
In the early morning light the barking dog ran ahead of the boy. Stopping by the water’s edge the sound became more of a howl or whine. As James drew closer, he could see the dog lying upon a dark mass. Stepping closer, James shuddered with the recognition that the mass was a heavily clothed man face down in the wet grass. Kneeling, and starting to touch an extended hand, he jumped up and fell back causing the dog to yelp and run off. The large turquoise stone nestled in gold was his Uncle Ralph’s favorite ring.
Ralph Henderson and the county sheriff Roy Hunt were best friends, and physically the largest and strongest men in the area. On the neediest of occasions, Uncle Ralph would be deputized, and the two men would cause both fear and gratefulness among neighbors as they sought out a perpetrator or corrected a wrong. An hour later, James struggled to breathe as he quietly sobbed seeing tears run down the face of the sheriff. As word quickly spread, horse riders and two cars were stirring dust as they moved down the rutted dirt road nearest the lake.
James rested back on his haunches listening closely to each voice offering an opinion. Too many words too quickly for a young man, accident, murder, bound to happen, you knew it would be the lake, sooner or later. The sheriff stood and looked out over the growing crowd. His voice boomed with an angry yet pleading tone, “Let the coroner do his job, but woe be to any person involved if this was not an accident.”
What stuck in James’ mind over the next week was “You knew it would be the lake.” He was well aware that his uncle was the loudest voice for the protection and preservation of their water. At family gatherings he heard many stories about the community water resource being threatened over the past fifty years. Way back it was cattlemen against farmers, then it was spoiled drinking water, then too much usage for local irrigation, and lately the big concern was draining lakes for a planned aqueduct for Southern California.
Some would say their prized water was a puddle compared to the larger Owens Lake to the north fed by the mighty Owens River. It was assumed that an underground river flowed from Owens Lake and by fate and geological wonder resurfaced in their backyard.
Further south and in the early 1880’s, William Mulholland and Frederick Eaton worked together in the private Los Angeles Water Company. In 1898, Eaton was elected mayor of Los Angeles, and by 1902 he and Mulholland were instrumental in converting the private company to city control. At the now called Los Angeles Water Department, Superintendent Mulholland famously remarked, “If you don’t get the water, you won’t need it.” Ralph Henderson upon hearing these words was quoted as saying, “Over my dead body.”
James tried to count the number attending the town hall meeting for the coroner’s announcement. His guess was three hundred give or take. A sudden short intake of breath was heard across the room as “Murder” was the first word uttered. A blunt force to the back of the head to render the man semi-unconscious, and death by drowning. A number of the women started crying and men were standing and raging with anger and grief. The sheriff eventually restored order and opened the meeting to questions.
A man stood and introduced himself as Ambrose Bierce of the San Francisco Examiner. He held up a front page Examiner article dated a month earlier titled “Water Wars Hit Owens Valley.” He proposed bringing in seasoned investigators from either Los Angeles or San Francisco to assist in the investigation. The sheriff bellowed that Henderson was his friend and deputy, and no outsider would be welcome, especially nosey reporters.
The next to stand was Otis Perkins. As the largest land owner in the area, his voice and influence weighed heavily on any matter pertaining to cattle or farming. The Henderson Ranch was between Perkins’ property and the lake. While Ralph Henderson allowed him access to the water, the two men seldom agreed on any other issue. Otis was small in stature and spoke so softly that only those nearest him could hear the question. The sheriff motioned for him to come forward and rephrased the question. “Mr. Perkins said Ralph Henderson was the leading voice for protecting our water, who will fill his shoes?” James felt his face burn as he heard several snickers, as many had witnessed the soaked boots on his uncle. The sheriff proposed establishing a committee that would represent the community on any lake water issue going forward, and a consensus of nodding heads gave support. Other questions were voiced and short answers given. Soon the meeting was adjourned.
Outside, James saw his aunt Margaret dressed in black and sitting in the family carriage. She did not have the strength to attend the meeting and relied on her nephew to bring the news. She motioned for him to come sit next to her. After hearing her worst fear confirmed, she spoke haltingly as she handed him a note that had been balled up and tossed to her by a stranger who hurried by. James smoothed out the paper and read, “Follow the money.” He told his aunt about the newspaper man Mr. Bierce, the question he had asked, and said they should show him the note. “I think we can trust him” he added. Bierce showed great interest in the note and asked numerous questions of Mrs. Henderson. He promised to stay in the area to gather information for an article his newspaper would publish.
James lived with his parents above the small dry goods store they owned in town. It was summer, and if he was not stocking shelves, he would be walking out at the lake or riding his bicycle. His dog, Hammer, was always at his side.
Out by the lake one early morning, James saw a shiny new car parked on the grass, and three men at the water’s edge with binoculars and long rolls of paper. In 1910, there were few cars or trucks in their area, so like all boys, he was drawn to the bright red motor car. He had never seen one that had two rows of seats in gleaming black leather. Leaning inside to study the instrument panel, he was startled to hear the men yelling at him to move away from the car. Hammer reacted by running toward the men barking and stopping halfway to show his teeth and snarl. One of the men pulled a gun from his coat and threatened to shoot the dog if he came closer. James ran to Hammer, held him by the collar and calmed him down. Abruptly the men changed their demeanor, apologized, and started a friendly conversation about the car, inviting James to sit in the front seat. A new Buick Model 16 Surrey said the man who had brandished the gun. James moved a case as he settled in behind the steering wheel and promptly began a string of questions.
The following day Mr. Bierce walked into the store as James was finishing his morning sweeping. “Hello young man, what’s new with you?” James was excited to tell his story of the Buick convertible and of sitting in the front seat. Bierce drew out more of the encounter from James, and was visibly concerned when the gun incident was described. Asked about any written material he might have observed, the young man drew a blank.
In the late afternoon, James was racing around town on his bicycle looking for the reporter. Coming up empty, he peddled down the main road to the Henderson ranch. Sure enough, there was the reporter sitting on the front porch with his aunt Margaret. As he sped to a stop, letting the bike fall to the ground, he was initially too winded to get his words out. Yes, he did remember a case on the seat as he climbed into the car. He recalled the fancy letters in gold type, “Royal Concrete Company.”
The sheriff was at his desk when Ambrose Bierce walked in with pen and notepad at the ready. Hunt seemed to show little interest in the men at the lake, even when the firearm was mentioned. Again, he cautioned the reporter not to meddle. Bierce spoke with a respectful tone, “Maybe you have heard of my bosses’ boss, his name is William Randolph Hearst.” Hunt’s face turned red. He stood and put his large nose within a whisker of the bothersome man’s nose, “I don’t take threats kindly, sir, and you might want to go home, stay home, and tell your bosses’ boss we can take care of our own.”
James promised his aunt Margaret he would ride over to the lake each morning just to keep an eye on things. For two weeks all was quiet, until one day when the red Buick was back, this time on the road. His first instinct was to look for the men by the water, but no one was found. The car appeared empty as he rode closer. At the last moment a head rose from the front seat, and James recognized Mr. Perkins.
Otis Perkins was visibly startled as James pulled up to the front door. “Oh, hello James, why are you out here?” James surprised himself when he blurted out, “I’m the new guardian of the lake.” Otis could not remember ever speaking to Henderson’s nephew, but he immediately took a dislike to this brash young man. “Why are you in this car Mr. Perkins?” The rich landowner now reacted with a sharp answer and almost shouted, “Go home youngster, this is my car and enough of you!” James started to speak but caught himself and rode away.
For two days James sought out the reporter, but he had disappeared. Riding out to the Henderson ranch, a truck rattled by, and he almost fell into a ditch as he stared too long at the driver. James was sure it was the man with the gun. Aunt Margaret was sitting at the kitchen table holding a business card, “Raymond Avery, Royal Concrete Company, Los Angeles.” His aunt said the man introduced himself and showed her a paper with her husband’s signature. He said she needed to sign by his name. The letter gave approval to cross their ranch for access to the lake. She thought her husband’s signature was forged and asked him to leave without signing the paper.
James shook the reins to encourage the horse into a faster trot as his aunt held tight to his arm. Up ahead they saw the truck parked partially on the road and leaning into a ditch. Getting out of the carriage, he looked into the empty cab with the engine still running and immediately saw splattered blood on the seat.
As they entered the sheriff’s office, it was Ambrose Bierce who looked up from a chair. He said he was waiting for Sheriff Hunt with information he uncovered while visiting the Royal Concrete Company in Los Angeles. Aunt Margaret handed him the business card and spoke of the unannounced visit, the letter to sign, and the truck with indications of foul play. “The pieces are starting to fit” said Bierce. He described the company’s effort to build the proposed California aqueduct by gaining access to lakes in the northern part of the state. “It’s my guess they find someone in each locale to assist in their chicanery and subterfuge.” James described the tense encounter with Mr. Perkins at the lake and that the new car was his.
The door flew open and Sheriff Hunt was visibly unhappy to see people in his office. He was sweating, and his pants and shoes were wet and caked with dirt and mud. Without listening to their news, he ordered them out the office, saying there was an incident at the lake, and that he needed to clean up and change clothes before meeting the coroner.
The carriage moved off the dirt road and down toward the lake where several men had gathered. Both James and Margaret identified the dead man from their previous encounters as Mr. Avery. Others said the man was apparently stabbed numerous times and thrown in the lake. No one could say who first discovered the body and under what circumstances.
The Examiner headline was clear, “Two Murders and an Apparent Cover-up.” The lead article was written by well known San Francisco reporter Ambrose Bierce. The Examiner seldom sent papers this far south but now a stack was on the counter at the dry goods store. James sought any possible work task as long as he could be near the newspapers and enter into any conversation.
The Bierce article had the intended effect, as California state inspectors arrived in town to assist in the murder investigations. James, Margaret Henderson, and Sheriff Hunt were the first to be interviewed. They took possession of what little evidence existed, to include the note tossed into the carriage, and the truck belonging to Raymond Avery.
It was early morning when James saw his aunt Margaret pull up to the store in her horse drawn carriage. Thinking she wanted a newspaper, he picked up a copy and went outside. What she really wanted was advice from her brother-in-law, James’ father. Otis Perkins had made a cash offer of $125,000 to purchase her ranch. Since the property was 125 acres, this price was double any previous sale in the community. He based the generous offer on its border with the lake, and as a way to “mend fences” between the two families. She was encouraged to accept the offer as an opportunity to move into town and live comfortably for the remainder of her life.
Once word of this pending sale reached Sheriff Hunt, he put pressure on the state investigators to dig deeper into the finances of Otis Perkins and spoke often about the note to follow the money. At the same time, he did an about face with the reporter Ambrose Bierce and now pressured him to write an article detailing the seemingly new found wealth of Mr. Perkins with references to the new Buick and the rich purchase price for the Henderson ranch.
Another town hall meeting was scheduled to update the community on the recent murders and any progress on solving the crimes. The state investigators were only willing to say that they were following up on several promising leads. Again Sheriff Hunt led a question and answer session, and when Otis Perkins tried to speak, he was shouted down by several who yelled “Murderer!” Hunt pounded the table and said that no one was charged with a crime and not to jump to any conclusions. Otis tried again to speak, but gave up and sat back down.
A week later as James was attending to his morning chores at the store, a number of people were running down the street toward the sheriff’s office. James tossed his apron on the floor and raced outside with Hammer barking at his heels. Two new state police cars were parked outside the jail as the crowd swelled in number. A hush fell over the crowd as the office door opened and Roy Hunt was the first to step out.
James would recall that he was blocked out by the crowd and was one of the last to understand that the sheriff had his hands cuffed behind his back as he was placed in the back of the car. It took perhaps five minutes for the people to make enough space for the vehicles to pull out and drive away with dust billowing up from the road.
The Examiner headline would be seared into the minds of all in this community, “Greed Brings Great Sorrow.” The reporter Ambrose Bierce pieced together the sad events that led to the conviction of Roy Hunt. Hidden in the floorboard of Raymond Avery’s truck was a folder that documented the payment of $50,000 to Sheriff Hunt to secure access to lake water “By any means necessary” for the planned aqueduct to Southern California. Avery included a letter that said he was concerned for his personal safety as the sheriff was demanding an additional $50,000 for having removed Ralph Henderson as the prime obstacle, and further stating that he could meet the same fate if he refused to cooperate.
As the evidence mounted, Roy Hunt confessed and pleaded guilty to both murders. In a statement of remorse for the record, he stated that he tried to convince his friend Ralph Henderson to take $25,000 in exchange for supporting the aqueduct plan. He broke down in tears as he admitted his friend would consider no amount of money worthy of sacrificing their precious commodity. He further admitted attempts to steer the crime to Otis Perkins and stated that Mr. Perkins was innocent of any involvement.
No one in the community could ever remember their lake having a name other than “The lake.” By unanimous consent a special event was held down at the lake with food, music, and the proclamation that thereafter their water source would forever be named Lake Henderson.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
THE REAL STORY As recorded by Wikipedia: As Los Angeles expanded during the late 19th century, it began outgrowing its water supply. Fred Eaton, mayor of Los Angeles, realized that water could flow from Owens Valley to Los Angeles via an aqueduct. The aqueduct construction was overseen by William Mulholland and was finished in 1913. The water rights were acquired through political fighting and, as described by one author, “Chicanery, subterfuge...and a strategy of lies.” By 1926, Owens Lake at the bottom of Owens Valley was completely dry due to water diversion.
RICHARD SWAIN
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD SWAIN
In the early morning light the barking dog ran ahead of the boy. Stopping by the water’s edge the sound became more of a howl or whine. As James drew closer, he could see the dog lying upon a dark mass. Stepping closer, James shuddered with the recognition that the mass was a heavily clothed man face down in the wet grass. Kneeling, and starting to touch an extended hand, he jumped up and fell back causing the dog to yelp and run off. The large turquoise stone nestled in gold was his Uncle Ralph’s favorite ring.
Ralph Henderson and the county sheriff Roy Hunt were best friends, and physically the largest and strongest men in the area. On the neediest of occasions, Uncle Ralph would be deputized, and the two men would cause both fear and gratefulness among neighbors as they sought out a perpetrator or corrected a wrong. An hour later, James struggled to breathe as he quietly sobbed seeing tears run down the face of the sheriff. As word quickly spread, horse riders and two cars were stirring dust as they moved down the rutted dirt road nearest the lake.
James rested back on his haunches listening closely to each voice offering an opinion. Too many words too quickly for a young man, accident, murder, bound to happen, you knew it would be the lake, sooner or later. The sheriff stood and looked out over the growing crowd. His voice boomed with an angry yet pleading tone, “Let the coroner do his job, but woe be to any person involved if this was not an accident.”
What stuck in James’ mind over the next week was “You knew it would be the lake.” He was well aware that his uncle was the loudest voice for the protection and preservation of their water. At family gatherings he heard many stories about the community water resource being threatened over the past fifty years. Way back it was cattlemen against farmers, then it was spoiled drinking water, then too much usage for local irrigation, and lately the big concern was draining lakes for a planned aqueduct for Southern California.
Some would say their prized water was a puddle compared to the larger Owens Lake to the north fed by the mighty Owens River. It was assumed that an underground river flowed from Owens Lake and by fate and geological wonder resurfaced in their backyard.
Further south and in the early 1880’s, William Mulholland and Frederick Eaton worked together in the private Los Angeles Water Company. In 1898, Eaton was elected mayor of Los Angeles, and by 1902 he and Mulholland were instrumental in converting the private company to city control. At the now called Los Angeles Water Department, Superintendent Mulholland famously remarked, “If you don’t get the water, you won’t need it.” Ralph Henderson upon hearing these words was quoted as saying, “Over my dead body.”
James tried to count the number attending the town hall meeting for the coroner’s announcement. His guess was three hundred give or take. A sudden short intake of breath was heard across the room as “Murder” was the first word uttered. A blunt force to the back of the head to render the man semi-unconscious, and death by drowning. A number of the women started crying and men were standing and raging with anger and grief. The sheriff eventually restored order and opened the meeting to questions.
A man stood and introduced himself as Ambrose Bierce of the San Francisco Examiner. He held up a front page Examiner article dated a month earlier titled “Water Wars Hit Owens Valley.” He proposed bringing in seasoned investigators from either Los Angeles or San Francisco to assist in the investigation. The sheriff bellowed that Henderson was his friend and deputy, and no outsider would be welcome, especially nosey reporters.
The next to stand was Otis Perkins. As the largest land owner in the area, his voice and influence weighed heavily on any matter pertaining to cattle or farming. The Henderson Ranch was between Perkins’ property and the lake. While Ralph Henderson allowed him access to the water, the two men seldom agreed on any other issue. Otis was small in stature and spoke so softly that only those nearest him could hear the question. The sheriff motioned for him to come forward and rephrased the question. “Mr. Perkins said Ralph Henderson was the leading voice for protecting our water, who will fill his shoes?” James felt his face burn as he heard several snickers, as many had witnessed the soaked boots on his uncle. The sheriff proposed establishing a committee that would represent the community on any lake water issue going forward, and a consensus of nodding heads gave support. Other questions were voiced and short answers given. Soon the meeting was adjourned.
Outside, James saw his aunt Margaret dressed in black and sitting in the family carriage. She did not have the strength to attend the meeting and relied on her nephew to bring the news. She motioned for him to come sit next to her. After hearing her worst fear confirmed, she spoke haltingly as she handed him a note that had been balled up and tossed to her by a stranger who hurried by. James smoothed out the paper and read, “Follow the money.” He told his aunt about the newspaper man Mr. Bierce, the question he had asked, and said they should show him the note. “I think we can trust him” he added. Bierce showed great interest in the note and asked numerous questions of Mrs. Henderson. He promised to stay in the area to gather information for an article his newspaper would publish.
James lived with his parents above the small dry goods store they owned in town. It was summer, and if he was not stocking shelves, he would be walking out at the lake or riding his bicycle. His dog, Hammer, was always at his side.
Out by the lake one early morning, James saw a shiny new car parked on the grass, and three men at the water’s edge with binoculars and long rolls of paper. In 1910, there were few cars or trucks in their area, so like all boys, he was drawn to the bright red motor car. He had never seen one that had two rows of seats in gleaming black leather. Leaning inside to study the instrument panel, he was startled to hear the men yelling at him to move away from the car. Hammer reacted by running toward the men barking and stopping halfway to show his teeth and snarl. One of the men pulled a gun from his coat and threatened to shoot the dog if he came closer. James ran to Hammer, held him by the collar and calmed him down. Abruptly the men changed their demeanor, apologized, and started a friendly conversation about the car, inviting James to sit in the front seat. A new Buick Model 16 Surrey said the man who had brandished the gun. James moved a case as he settled in behind the steering wheel and promptly began a string of questions.
The following day Mr. Bierce walked into the store as James was finishing his morning sweeping. “Hello young man, what’s new with you?” James was excited to tell his story of the Buick convertible and of sitting in the front seat. Bierce drew out more of the encounter from James, and was visibly concerned when the gun incident was described. Asked about any written material he might have observed, the young man drew a blank.
In the late afternoon, James was racing around town on his bicycle looking for the reporter. Coming up empty, he peddled down the main road to the Henderson ranch. Sure enough, there was the reporter sitting on the front porch with his aunt Margaret. As he sped to a stop, letting the bike fall to the ground, he was initially too winded to get his words out. Yes, he did remember a case on the seat as he climbed into the car. He recalled the fancy letters in gold type, “Royal Concrete Company.”
The sheriff was at his desk when Ambrose Bierce walked in with pen and notepad at the ready. Hunt seemed to show little interest in the men at the lake, even when the firearm was mentioned. Again, he cautioned the reporter not to meddle. Bierce spoke with a respectful tone, “Maybe you have heard of my bosses’ boss, his name is William Randolph Hearst.” Hunt’s face turned red. He stood and put his large nose within a whisker of the bothersome man’s nose, “I don’t take threats kindly, sir, and you might want to go home, stay home, and tell your bosses’ boss we can take care of our own.”
James promised his aunt Margaret he would ride over to the lake each morning just to keep an eye on things. For two weeks all was quiet, until one day when the red Buick was back, this time on the road. His first instinct was to look for the men by the water, but no one was found. The car appeared empty as he rode closer. At the last moment a head rose from the front seat, and James recognized Mr. Perkins.
Otis Perkins was visibly startled as James pulled up to the front door. “Oh, hello James, why are you out here?” James surprised himself when he blurted out, “I’m the new guardian of the lake.” Otis could not remember ever speaking to Henderson’s nephew, but he immediately took a dislike to this brash young man. “Why are you in this car Mr. Perkins?” The rich landowner now reacted with a sharp answer and almost shouted, “Go home youngster, this is my car and enough of you!” James started to speak but caught himself and rode away.
For two days James sought out the reporter, but he had disappeared. Riding out to the Henderson ranch, a truck rattled by, and he almost fell into a ditch as he stared too long at the driver. James was sure it was the man with the gun. Aunt Margaret was sitting at the kitchen table holding a business card, “Raymond Avery, Royal Concrete Company, Los Angeles.” His aunt said the man introduced himself and showed her a paper with her husband’s signature. He said she needed to sign by his name. The letter gave approval to cross their ranch for access to the lake. She thought her husband’s signature was forged and asked him to leave without signing the paper.
James shook the reins to encourage the horse into a faster trot as his aunt held tight to his arm. Up ahead they saw the truck parked partially on the road and leaning into a ditch. Getting out of the carriage, he looked into the empty cab with the engine still running and immediately saw splattered blood on the seat.
As they entered the sheriff’s office, it was Ambrose Bierce who looked up from a chair. He said he was waiting for Sheriff Hunt with information he uncovered while visiting the Royal Concrete Company in Los Angeles. Aunt Margaret handed him the business card and spoke of the unannounced visit, the letter to sign, and the truck with indications of foul play. “The pieces are starting to fit” said Bierce. He described the company’s effort to build the proposed California aqueduct by gaining access to lakes in the northern part of the state. “It’s my guess they find someone in each locale to assist in their chicanery and subterfuge.” James described the tense encounter with Mr. Perkins at the lake and that the new car was his.
The door flew open and Sheriff Hunt was visibly unhappy to see people in his office. He was sweating, and his pants and shoes were wet and caked with dirt and mud. Without listening to their news, he ordered them out the office, saying there was an incident at the lake, and that he needed to clean up and change clothes before meeting the coroner.
The carriage moved off the dirt road and down toward the lake where several men had gathered. Both James and Margaret identified the dead man from their previous encounters as Mr. Avery. Others said the man was apparently stabbed numerous times and thrown in the lake. No one could say who first discovered the body and under what circumstances.
The Examiner headline was clear, “Two Murders and an Apparent Cover-up.” The lead article was written by well known San Francisco reporter Ambrose Bierce. The Examiner seldom sent papers this far south but now a stack was on the counter at the dry goods store. James sought any possible work task as long as he could be near the newspapers and enter into any conversation.
The Bierce article had the intended effect, as California state inspectors arrived in town to assist in the murder investigations. James, Margaret Henderson, and Sheriff Hunt were the first to be interviewed. They took possession of what little evidence existed, to include the note tossed into the carriage, and the truck belonging to Raymond Avery.
It was early morning when James saw his aunt Margaret pull up to the store in her horse drawn carriage. Thinking she wanted a newspaper, he picked up a copy and went outside. What she really wanted was advice from her brother-in-law, James’ father. Otis Perkins had made a cash offer of $125,000 to purchase her ranch. Since the property was 125 acres, this price was double any previous sale in the community. He based the generous offer on its border with the lake, and as a way to “mend fences” between the two families. She was encouraged to accept the offer as an opportunity to move into town and live comfortably for the remainder of her life.
Once word of this pending sale reached Sheriff Hunt, he put pressure on the state investigators to dig deeper into the finances of Otis Perkins and spoke often about the note to follow the money. At the same time, he did an about face with the reporter Ambrose Bierce and now pressured him to write an article detailing the seemingly new found wealth of Mr. Perkins with references to the new Buick and the rich purchase price for the Henderson ranch.
Another town hall meeting was scheduled to update the community on the recent murders and any progress on solving the crimes. The state investigators were only willing to say that they were following up on several promising leads. Again Sheriff Hunt led a question and answer session, and when Otis Perkins tried to speak, he was shouted down by several who yelled “Murderer!” Hunt pounded the table and said that no one was charged with a crime and not to jump to any conclusions. Otis tried again to speak, but gave up and sat back down.
A week later as James was attending to his morning chores at the store, a number of people were running down the street toward the sheriff’s office. James tossed his apron on the floor and raced outside with Hammer barking at his heels. Two new state police cars were parked outside the jail as the crowd swelled in number. A hush fell over the crowd as the office door opened and Roy Hunt was the first to step out.
James would recall that he was blocked out by the crowd and was one of the last to understand that the sheriff had his hands cuffed behind his back as he was placed in the back of the car. It took perhaps five minutes for the people to make enough space for the vehicles to pull out and drive away with dust billowing up from the road.
The Examiner headline would be seared into the minds of all in this community, “Greed Brings Great Sorrow.” The reporter Ambrose Bierce pieced together the sad events that led to the conviction of Roy Hunt. Hidden in the floorboard of Raymond Avery’s truck was a folder that documented the payment of $50,000 to Sheriff Hunt to secure access to lake water “By any means necessary” for the planned aqueduct to Southern California. Avery included a letter that said he was concerned for his personal safety as the sheriff was demanding an additional $50,000 for having removed Ralph Henderson as the prime obstacle, and further stating that he could meet the same fate if he refused to cooperate.
As the evidence mounted, Roy Hunt confessed and pleaded guilty to both murders. In a statement of remorse for the record, he stated that he tried to convince his friend Ralph Henderson to take $25,000 in exchange for supporting the aqueduct plan. He broke down in tears as he admitted his friend would consider no amount of money worthy of sacrificing their precious commodity. He further admitted attempts to steer the crime to Otis Perkins and stated that Mr. Perkins was innocent of any involvement.
No one in the community could ever remember their lake having a name other than “The lake.” By unanimous consent a special event was held down at the lake with food, music, and the proclamation that thereafter their water source would forever be named Lake Henderson.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
THE REAL STORY As recorded by Wikipedia: As Los Angeles expanded during the late 19th century, it began outgrowing its water supply. Fred Eaton, mayor of Los Angeles, realized that water could flow from Owens Valley to Los Angeles via an aqueduct. The aqueduct construction was overseen by William Mulholland and was finished in 1913. The water rights were acquired through political fighting and, as described by one author, “Chicanery, subterfuge...and a strategy of lies.” By 1926, Owens Lake at the bottom of Owens Valley was completely dry due to water diversion.
RICHARD SWAIN