How well I remember the hard times we had when we homesteaded in the hills near Littlerock. Our son was about twenty months old. We had to haul all our water for drinking and cooking and so forth; we did have it hard, but all in all we were happy. I must say though that young people today don't know what hard times are. It was in March, 1928 that we moved on to our homestead to start proving up.

   To get to our homestead from the beach we came over Beverly Glenn on a dirt road that rambled through the hills to Van Nuys, on through Van Nuys to San Fernando Road. Then on up the hills through Newhall Tunnel. We passed through Newhall and Saugus. From Saugus we traveled on up past the little Honby School. Somewhere along it was called Nadeau Road and at Lang there was a Railroad stop. A little ways past Lang there was a little grave with an old wooden cross and a rusty wire fence around it. We were told that a little girl had come west with the Covered Wagon Pioneers. Every time we passed that little grave I felt sad. Since the new road has been put in, I have always wanted to stop and see if the little grave is still there.

   Coming on up the Canyon, now it's "Soledad Canyon" we passed big sand rocks that looked like Monkey faces. From there we could see Vasquez Rocks, where that notorious bandit Tiburcio Vasquez and his bunch of outlaws used to hide out.

    I believe it was in October of 1928 that we were bringing my husband's mother home with us for a visit. It was a lovely drive up the canyon as all the trees were yellow and gold. We stopped at a farm house across from those Monkey Faced Rocks to buy some cider. My husband's mother told us that when she was a little girl her mother used to bring her to this same farm to visit a family. She stood there looking at those rocks a long time. She said it brought back many memories, especially one night Tiburcio Vasquez and his band of outlaws were heard singing coming up the canyon. They could be heard long before they got to the farm. They would take pigs, chickens, eggs and calves. Just anything they needed. But always paid for all that they took and left money besides. Needless to say, no one ever gave them away when they were hiding out up in those rocks. They never hurt anyone. But still the women folk were afraid.

   My husband's mother was Maria Leucadia Oxarart. Her father was Gaston Oxerart. A "French Basque" from the Pyrenees, who in 1878 bought the Encino Rancho at an auction. Paid for it with all gold. I can't remember the exact amount. At one time I looked it up in the old records down in the basement of the old City Hall in Los Angeles. Her father named the estate el Rancho de Los Encinos. He raised sheep and wheat. It is said that he sold as much as 1,500,000 pounds of wool at one time.

    If we wanted to go the short cut to our homestead, which we called the back road, from Barrel Springs, we continued on and along Littlerock Creek on the north side of the Creek past an old Adobe ruins that, had been a Butterworth Stage Coach stop. Just across on the south side of the creek, upon the hillside was a grave with an old wooden cross. The story goes that, a man shot a big Grizzley Bear there and wounded it and it killed him before it finally died. He was buried on the same spot.

   Going south on up the creek towards the Breslin Homestead, there were numerous mounds or Indian graves. After a heavy rain we would find Indian Artifacts but we never disturbed those mounds or Indian graves.

   For several months we rented the building there in Littlerock where the Post Office was, from Ben Brainard. Paid him $15.00 a month. While we were building our house on the homestead Mr. Brainard was Postmaster and my husband was assistant Postmaster and I clerked. We averaged $1.50 a day. That was for the cancellation. Later my husband was appointed Postmaster but in the meantime, we had moved and given up that job. It was a lot of work.

   My husband was very community spirited. He helped organize the American Legion Post #401, and was the first Commander. Also was instigator in organizing the Antelope Valley Land Owners (1928) Chamber of Commerce and getting the kitchen at Keppel UnionSchool all electric.

    He had a Hillbilly Band he named "The Desert Rattlers." They played for dances and entertainments. One evening there was a doings at the Keppel Union School in Littlerock and Baby Gumm, as Judy Garland was known here and then, was on the program and sang. She really went over big. We had wonderful times. Always doing something to keep the folks happy. A.V. Post 401 was organized in 1930 or 1931.

    When we turned off the main road onto the little road that led back to our homestead house, there was a sign nailed upon a Joshua Tree. "PURGATORY" was the sign my husband had dubbed in a humorous moment because "it was hot and it was a place to suffer for your sins" he said. That sign remained up there for many years.

    We took over the old Barton Ranch there on 77th St. in Littlerock and packed pears under the Twin Cedars Label as there were two large Cedars in front of the house. We had some of the finest pears on that ranch and several Arkansas Black, the best apple you ever tasted. A person would almost drown when biting into one of those apples, they were so full of juice. That was a lovely big old house, lots of shade trees, and the hottest days I canned fruit all day and~didn't mind it at all.

   When the depression came along, we went broke there. We moved back to the Beach for awhile but we didn't stay down there long. By that time, the desert was in our blood so, we moved back up here on the old Carson Homestead. That really was a lovely house. There, too, we had to haul all our water for drinking and cooking. We did have a windmill for water for the cattle, but it only ran when the wind blew and the water wasn't fit for the house, as chipmunks and other small animals would get in it.

    We ran cattle all over those high hills south of the Southern Pacific RR Tracks. Every three days the cattle would come down to the gate waiting to be let out to come to the Rancho for water. We had to watch the time of day to be sure the train wasn't coming. The cattle would mill around the watering trough for several hours. Then head back to the hills had one old mean cow that my husband had to milk as she was a kicker. I named her old Bell. Along with our cattle, we ran a few for Mr. Stuckey and a Mrs. Martin.

    We had an old white sway-back horse that I sometimes rode into Palmdale, with my son back of me. I don't think he liked men, for when my husband would get on him he would buck, sun fish, and do everything in the book to try to get him off. But my husband was a good rider and stayed with him until he wore himself out. Then he would ride Old Tony off and look for calves that would stray off. I remember once he found three of them way over near the Red Rover Mine.

    We tried to raise turkeys, chickens and ducks. One morning when Son and I went out and opened the chicken house, there wasn't any fowl at all. Thieves had come in the night and must have gassed them all and loaded them up and got away without us hearing them. Son did say "Mommy I heard a chicken squawk in the night but I couldn't get you or Daddy awake." A few days before that, our dog who Son called Rusty, disappeared, so he wasn't there to warn us.

    Later we heard that had happened to several chicken raisers there in Littlerock. That put us out of the poultry business fast. Not much left now of that old homestead, but the cement watering trough with a dead tree leaning over it, and some of the foundation of the chicken house there at the base of the hill. Makes me feel very sad too.

   Just a reminder when now I drive by. At that time we had an old Model T Ford, and the thing I dreaded the most was to drive into Littlerock, as over the hill and down, there was some kind of a seep on the edge of the road. There were two chuck holes and this slick stuff, came oozing up out of those chuck holes and ran and spread across the road. It was slick as glass.

   Sometimes my husband, if he were along, would have me stop and he would throw sand across it so we wouldn't skid. Coming back I would have to slow down for that slick place, then gun the Model T to make the other hill. I would try to get my husband to drive over that bad place. He would only laugh and call me chicken.

    Sometime ago I drove past that old Homestead and it brought back many memories. Some happy and a lot sad. I came on over the road where that seep was and thought about all that happened. When I got out and walked around, a strange thing met my eyes. I saw some black stuff that seemed to be near where the old scary seep was. I took some down to the Oil Refinery in Newhall, and was told that it was pure petroleum. Wasn't at all like what is used on paving streets.

   Later we bought two lots from Domenic Massari there in Palmdale on Q-6. That's where Don Hertel's Drug Store is now. We borrowed a truck from Domenic and Danny and what was left of the house on our homestead, we moved to those lots and built a cabin and shed and a corral for our young cow named Sally, after our good neighbor that we had traded two little pigs to for this heifer. Our neighbor was Mrs. Sally Mapes. In about 1936 we built us a nice house there on those lots, set out shade trees and we had a lot of grapes.

    In the meantime Danny Massari had sent for his wife and two small sons from Italy and built them an adobe brick house near us. Our son and Louie and Rocko, Danny's boys, used to play ball together. Later Danny and his wife had a sweet baby girl. I think they named her Annie. At first Danny's wife wouldn't speak English but she and I made sign language. She was very sweet and I like her very much. We finally sold that place back to Domenic in about 1939.

Mrs. Beulah Herman
Rt. 1, Box 62 E 7
Pearblossom, CA 93550