Page Updated:
July 16, 2006

From the beginning of Camp Kennabi in ’46 or ’47 – through the 50’s and probably beyond – the camp road(s) were subject to ‘The Magnificent Moore Method of Maintenance’. J.C. Moore (47-70) and his younger son Al Moore (47-54) were much involved –as were the two original (so-called) army trucks. Four-wheel drive was necessary and right-hand drive… a bonus. Seated on the ditch side of those cab-over engines, the driver – when grading – could more easily avoid hazards such as boulders and the ends of projecting logs. With the engine in the cab – under the ‘dog-house’ (a.k.a. engine cover) the driver… cooked. Your left leg definitely suffered the most. Yes… you could have fried eggs on that steel ‘dog house’’!

The roads were dressed in two ways. The more primitive method involved the use of a drag. This heavy-timbered, triangular frame was faced – as I recall – with old grader blades and weighed down by heavy stones. With the truck in four-wheel… the short stick shift in low ratio and the long stick shift in bull low (first gear), a truck could chain – pull that drag. This huge wedge directed gavel towards the ditches. The process needed only the one man – the driver – and left in its wake, a fairly well-dressed road. This method was the slower of the two ways and it left its share of loose stones – for vehicles to dodge – especially on the worst hills. 

The more sophisticated way to dress the road involved the use of the grader. It was a form of the most modern technology – about a century earlier. This former, four-wheeled machine – possibly horse drawn – had been modified. The front two wheels, the axle and the fifth wheel assembly had been removed and a hitch had been devised for a truck. J.C. – possibly even AL – had had a hand in this adjustment, I suspect. The blade angle to the ditch was set and usually left un-changed. Most important were the two, hand-operated wheels – about 2ft. in diameter – that controlled the elevation of the blade ends. An operator riding the axle as a foot bar – no platform – could manage this task: jump down, toss a loose rock into the ditch, run to catch up and resume control. This driver and operator combination worked quite well. If those two control wheels were locked in a fixed position with no operator, a poorer job resulted – many loose rocks remained on the road. In any event, grading was a slow process.

The very best grading job involved a second operator – the third man. If two rode the bar, one man could jump down to clear rocks while the other kept control of the two hand-wheels. All grading jobs – regardless of the method used – were much improved if the road was still damp from a rain, a day or two earlier. The drought of ’56 made for poor roads that August. 

Although I was not actually hired as a truck driver, I could and I did drive both of the ’42 army trucks and the Jeep truck (possibly ’50 or ’51). I never dragged the road but I rode the grader in ’53 and ’54 – while AL drove, and rode it again in ’55 – while J.C. Drove. When both tucks drivers – Ross Mitchell (47-54) and Al Moore (47-54) – retired the same years, it presented a problem. Ross, the driver of the 3-ton Hertz truck was replaced by Don Hutton (55-56?), but nobody really replaced Al. J.C. with or without help… managed to do most of the grading. Twice in ’55 I recall locking the control wheels – with chain and hook – and grading the main camp road myself. Boy-o-boy…!

I remember one, three-man grading operation above all others. A Camp Committee member was staying at H.Q. – then … the Kennabi Lodge area – during the week in ’54. He actually volunteered to help AL and me, grade the main camp road, in preparation for the coming – possibly Camp Committee – weekend. Al called him ‘Robert’ or ‘Hartog’. As foreman, he could be more casual, and besides they seemed to be old acquaintances. I know that I definitely called him ‘Mr. Hartog’- when we started work that morning.

Now Mr. Robert Hartog could have ridden up in the cab as passenger – he did not. That older gentleman – all of thirty-five… perhaps – choose to ride back on the grader – with the kid… yours truly. The two of us took turns: chucking stones, chasing the machinery, burning our hands on the hot steel of the control wheels, while working the blade. In spite of a light – most inadequate – rain a few days earlier, we still ate our share of dust. The light breeze helped make that hot job bearable. All in all it was a very good run. We were tired but still able to enjoy a swim before supper. Hartog had put forth an outstanding effort – for and old-timer – and J.C. congratulated him. During the meal, the boss did make some wisecrack about Robert and real work. We laughed – on cue!

I am sure that it was several days – possibly a week – later when AL and I had cause to wax anecdotal about our last effort at road grading. Several of the staff served as an audience in the less that spacious confines of the Swamp (a.k.a. Mill Valley Manor). Now anybody who knew both J.C. and the younger of his two sons also knew – most unquestionably – that Al Moore was chip off the old block. On that evening Al threw a blow, in J.C. – like style, that shocked most of us… me in particular. Actually that blow was delivered in the form of a triple punch… a most effective combination.

If we bring the early 50’s into historical perspective, perhaps the reader will better understand the mind-set of we, the youth of the times… the impact of Al’s story upon us. We all – including AL – were babies of the Great Depression (’29-’39) and some of us – if not all – might have recalled oatmeal porridge for supper, in lieu of that very expensive commodity… meat. Jobs, cash, food etc. were scarce. We were also children during World War II (’39-’45) and might recall bread priced at 8¢ and 10¢ per loaf. I remember enjoying Saturday afternoons at the local movie theatre. The matinee cost 20¢ plus 2¢ tax. We valued the dollar but saw very few of them!!! We also experienced a list of rationed commodities and it included – as might have been expected – meat. There were many reluctant, part-time vegetarians for a least 16 years (’29-’45). Finally we became the youth of the Korean Conflict that started in ’50. This Police Action of Korean War (’51-’53) did not cause a return to meat shortage – a pleasant surprise. At Kennabi Lodge all meals included meat! The Department of Lands and Forests paid us that excellent wage of 60¢ per hour (1¢ per min.) to fight the Pike’s Peak Fire! We had hit the good times… we even saw the odd $10 bill (I saw my first $20 bill around ’54 or ’55!). Back now to Al’s revelations.

In his ever so distinctive voice: thick, raspy, slightly strained – ‘forgive us Al’- our natural leader threw the first punch… a light one. He casually announced… “Hartog is employed by Lever Brothers”… new to some of us. He paused briefly before he threw the second punch. “Robert holds an executive position with the firm.”… news to most of us. The third and final blow came swiftly. Al declared… “Robert Hartog is a millionaire!”… news to all of us – except for Ross Mitchell. Moore sat there – smiling ever so slightly – while Ryans sat there… gob agape. By the end of that grading run I had dared to call that man – apparently of considerable importance – ‘Hartog’! I may have… no… I most definitely slapped that gentleman on the back… like an old buddy.

“Holy-Moly Moore! You could have a least…!” I thought much… said little. I probably just sat, open-mouthed. I do recall that sinking feeling.  If the more youthful reader requires an updated analogy, then me must find a billionaire… a man with a name like… ‘Bill Gates’! Just think about it! Wow! Boyo,boyo,boy…!

Of course I smile when I think about ‘Hartog’. I shake my head when I think about… ‘Moore’.

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