HOTEL HELL

The Murphys Hotel was registered as a California Historical Landmark and later it qualified for recognition as a Natiional Historic Place.  When we moved here in 1978, it was the only game in town. Some say, in the county, which then boasted a total population of 29,000 people.  There wasn’t a single stop light in the whole county and not many stop signs, either. The sleepy, quaint town enjoyed a steady trickle of tourists on their way up to Calaveras  Big Trees State Park, or up to Mount Reba Ski area on Highway four in the winter.  Highway 4, Ebbetts Pass,  is one of the narrowest passes over the mountains to Reno, Lake Tahoe and is closed completely during the winter.  Old time skiers say Mt. Reba  was one of the best kept secrets in the skiing community.  The trouble is no one with a business in town could make a living, and the hotel has struggled through multiple owners over the years.

I’d heard rumors that Gordon Ramsey, who hosts Nightmare Kitchens, and Hotel Hell was coming to the Murphys Hotel. I couldn’t pay much attention, but one cruise through town and I saw the yellow tape, the hotel was closed for a week and no one was allowed in. But, on their last day, I just happened to be returning from Angels Camp and they were packing up their gear.

I walked in and no one stopped me. I was allowed to click away. This guy said, I’m a  local, I’m a local. He was an electrician fixing something.

The lobby has been modernized over the years.  I remember an old rocking chair next to the stove where a Miwuk Indian used to hang out and tell everyone stories of the old days. Once the wine interests  took over the town,  I quit frequenting the hotel or just about any business downtown and hadn’t paid much attention to what goes on there.
I felt like an intruder in the empty bar, with its Indian Rug and deer horns that have been there forever, it seems. One of my best friends met her husband to be at this bar.  So what, I asked myself is Hotel Hell?

The technicians moving out of this tent behind the hotel where they stayed were hustling and I didn’t get one picture of them as they packed themselves out of there. It seems Gordon Ramsey,  helps struggling hotels with the issues that drive business away. He goes over their menu, tastes everything. He checks every aspect for cleanliness and appeal, the effectiveness of employees and so on. Then he presents his findings on TV. It can be brutal, but the price tag for an event like this is about $7,000,000 according to one technician’s estimate. (No cost to the hotel, just the program’s expenses to film here.)

The hotel has patio dining in what was once part of their parking lot. I thought that was a great improvement.

At the back and a parking lot’s distance from the main, historic building, is a 1950′s style set of rooms I’ve never been in. Most people stay in this part of the hotel. The historic hotel rooms are few. They are  quite quaint, and the rooms share a bathroom down the hallway. There are no closets. I couldn’t do the steep stairs to take pictures, but I’ve been upstairs  in a lovely party/ meeting room many times in the past.

I suppose the idea of sleeping in a hotel once frequented by famous people wears thin and the historic aspect carries a limited amount of cache. So, my guess is Ramsey has plenty to attack in the 50′s part of the hotel.

It was interesting to see how they lit the place for filming. They brought  their own lighting temporarily attached to the ceiling out of sight of their  camera. The chandelier lighting isn’t bright enough for television production. This tech was removing the lights from one of the dining rooms when I walked in.

One former bartender worried that the “Ramsey Machine” will have the owners modernize the hotel to the point where it will lose its sense of community. All the old wonderful stories about the hotel even the new owners don’t know anything about. We talked a bit about how do you address that?
But, we’ll see sometime in September when the program is expected to air. Tune in if you can. I am not a TV watcher so I don’t know what channel Hotel Hell appears on. And, in the meantime, I’ll try to remember some of those old stories and write them down.

KISSED BY A STRANGER.

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross, to see a fine lady upon a white horse. Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes.
I woke up this morning, late, with that  nursery rhyme playing through my head, instead of Brown Eyed Girl, or Big Wheels Keep On Turnin’, the loud, jumpin’  music from last night at Cactus Jacks. There is no accounting for the twists and turns of the brain.
It was my intention to stay home New Years Eve, but a neighbor, Jan,  insisted I go with her to the Murphys Hotel. We arrived at 9 p.m. Planned to stay a couple of hours. Myself, Jan and Cynthia got our picture taken by Cynthia’s boyfriend, Dave.
The Murphys Hotel is about 150 years old and has a reputation for being a cowboy bar. But, the cowboys have changed considerably, I noticed.
Jan, the storyteller, regaled Dave with old stories from the hotel’s checkered history.
There was no band, the dance floor is practically non-existent. We danced twice to canned music. The people made it fun, but we all decided to leave the hotel and walk down to Cactus Jacks. The dance floor there is bigger, the band was better and it was jammin’.
Cactus Jack sells shirts called Plan B.
Translation:  After you leave Cactus Jacks and go to the Murphys Hotel,  you’ll come crawling back to Jacks where all the fun is. It was  fun. They don’t have a liquor license, only wine and beer. The grizzly was good, dark and chewy.
People watching is half the game. It was a dance free for all, everybody dancing with everybody.  Nobody obnoxiously drunk.

Some friends, Lianne Smith and her new boy toy popped in. She and others went from party to party. Over the course of the evening, I met old friends, kids, who are no longer kids, who  went to high school with my no longer kids. Then, I met a guy who graduated from the same High School I did, only twenty years later than me.
Cactus Jack provided paper cups of champagne at midnight. And, I got kissed by a stranger.
Anything can happen. It’s a new year. 2012 is here.

THE THREE M'S AGAIN.

Living on the road is a wonderful  adventure. Yet, returning to Murphys every July for my family and friends reunion is a must. While home, I normally catch up with old friends and check out my favorite haunts, like the galleries around town, eat my favorite foods, go to my favorite restaurants, do a bit of partying.  This time, its been  strictly business. Rescuing over 4,000 pictures from my antiquated Mac alone was quite a chore. Finished it yesterday.

Paper work, off loading stuff from storage, I currently have four ads in the newspaper and on Craig’s list.  Sprucing up the yard and maintenance on the house are never ending affairs.  In seven days, I fly to Washington. It only seemed fitting to catch up with my two best girlfriends. So, last night, the Three M’s got together for dinner and drinks.

Michal Houston, Madalaine Krska and myself. Here we are at the Murphys Hotel for cocktails. The bar was noisy so we repaired to the courtyard for dinner.  Perfectly pleasant at 8:00 p.m. and still light out.

Michal is an avid traveler and is headed for Hilton Head, South Carolina.  Then, France. Mad is not retired yet. I needed some fun time and we all look forward getting together. We will meet again in October.

ENJOYING MOTHER LODE ATTRACTIONS

Good friends, Jose and Norma Tapia,  and my youngest daughter, Virginia, and her kids came up to the Mother Lode for a day to play. The weather was perfect, not hot, not cold, just coolish,  The kids played on the trampoline...

Owen, flying high.

 Nearly three year old Abbie trying for that higher bounce.

 

Theo going for the extreme moves.

Anthony waits his shot at the ball in a game of driveway two-square. Whoever goes out steps aside for the next person in line. That way no one gets overly tired

Everyone wanted to take a walk and see where I heard the singing waters from a previous blog. The water is running, but without much thunder and  low enough to easily cross over the washes on rocks and branches. Its fun to almost get wet while throwing rocks into the culverts. The kids fed the neighbor horses and caught a frog,, which was promptly returned to its puddle.

Before dinner, the two youngest boys managed a wobbly, high structure with stacking blocks while we got the table ready. Before dessert, we caravaned  downtown Murphys to watch the Rail Jam, a new event sponsored by Bear Valley Ski Area,  and the Murphys Hotel.

Snow was brought in and piled from the second floor of the Murphys Hotel into an obstacle course for skiers and snowboarders. The amateur contestants were from eight years to fourteen years old. Down the two story ramp, over the first bridge,

a sharp right and down a slippery, round pipe,

and, a shoot to the finish over the "mail box". Some of the older boys chose to finish on the edges of the blue barrier. Either way, a challenging, fun, competitive race with prizes.

Six year old Anthony confided, "I can do that," as he watched the boarders. In the future, I'm sure he will. On this day, it was enough to play with hunks of dirty snow. But, dainty Abbie...
stuck close to dad and bravely ventured one leg over the rope barrier.

CHANGING GEARS IN CONNECTICUT

Flying Southwest has become a habit. The comfort of a free check-in bag; getting your boarding pass on-line, open seating. I like it! The crew is great. No meals, simple snacks and drinks. Works for me. Regular food service is a difficult manuever on a plane, anyway. A good excuse to take yourself out for breakfast, or lunch. On my last leg from Vegas to Hartford, (economy, doncha know) the Flight Attendant announced that the smoking area was open-on the wing. If you can keep your cigarette lit, she will give you a free ticket!

One attendant, (her name was Sandy,) was studded with colorful, clever little pins given to her by customers. I wanted to take her picture and she told me no, I could get arrested. Hmmm!  It seems they feel endangered by that act, too many loonies out there. So, along with nice customers who give pins, are the loonies. I asked another flight attendant and she explained it was against company policy.  We do live in strange times. I had to settle for a photo of the airplane after landing in Hartford. It was raining. A good change from the sweltering weather my "weather whimp" partner has been living through, and complaining about, while I returned home for my family reunion.

Jim the mule, struggling with my heavy luggage. He's such a clown. My luggage is easy rolling. Now, to use his genius to diagnose my put-put computer and hopefully rescue 3,000 pictures into a flash drive before it fails. Changing gears, back to some sight seeing instead of trouble shooting sprinkler clocks, hey...life on the road is interesting and invigorating. 

RURAL AREAS HAVE THEIR CHARM, BUT...

Tales of happenings at the Murphys Hotel are legend. One that comes to mind was eulogized in a poem by my friend Glenn Wasson. I've included in part his poem, Too Much To Swallow:

One boisterous night in the Murphys Hotel
As patrons lined up at the bar
An event took place, too dubious to tell;
'Twas unseemly, gross and bizarre.

A miner walked in with an obvious grin
Ordering drinks for the roistering crowd.
The bar settled down to let him begin
Which he did with a manner quite proud.

From out of his pocket, a nugget he'd panned
Was placed where everyone saw
To be fondled and hefted in each heavy hand
An object of envy and awe.

As the drinkers inquired where the miner had dug it,
A patron slipped it into his beer,
Thinking,"I'll have me that nugget, I'll just chug-a-lug it"
And with a gulp made the piece disappear.

The barroom was stunned but the miner was cool;
From out of his belt came a knife.
He said, "Cough up the nugget, you guzzling fool
If you want to enjoy further life."

A three day transition from mouth to emission
Is a well-known medical fact,
Or so it was said by the local physician
Of a normal intestinal tract.

But three days passed by and he failed to expel
And this measurably heightened the tension.
A watch was put on the prisoner's cell,
Now the focus of growing attention.

I cannot unveil in graphic detail
The nugget's final appearance
Decorum in poetry must prevail
Lest we offend its cultured adherents.

But it came to pass on the seventh day
When the guard heard the prisoner shout,
"Unlock my cell; I'm on my way.
"That damnable nugget came out!


Glenn Wasson now owns the nugget

QUESTIONABLE ENTERTAINMENT

Murphys is called The Queen of the Sierra. It was a sleepy little town with nothing much happening 30 years ago. Little to do but drink and play cards. Locals rode into town on horseback and tied up at the local saloons and imbibed until time to go home. One particular rowdy crew snuck a cow up the stairs of the Murphys Hotel as a prank. The cow went up easily, but was difficult to get back down the steps.
Now people liken Murphys to Carmel and the town and the whole area has become a nifty tourist destination.
Taking a look back, there was a tradition for the local cowboys to wind up the Murphys Homecoming Parade by filling in the last positions. When the paraders moved off the street to their starting point, a couple of cowboys would ride their horses into the Murphys Hotel and "pony" up to the bar for their drinks.
The Hotel has had a succession of owners, and one furious new owner decided to put a stop to the practice, and he did, by having the intruders arrested.
Those days are gone, now, and we are "Carmelized".

MURPHYS HOTEL, HISTORIC ICON

I once gave British friends the downtown tour explaining that the Historic Murhys Hotel was 145 years old! The kids, quite unimpressed, kind of sniffed and told me they had buildings in their town 840 years old. Kind of put my history in perspective. No matter, the locals are proud of their historic icon. The old 1800's bar is still in place. The original lobby intact. The presidential rooms are on display and for rent. President Grant, Mark Twain, and other notables stayed in the old hotel.
The current owner, Dorian Faught, who bought it when he had more money than sense, still gets behind the bar once in awhile. He hires cuties in short skirts and a good band now and then and the place still rocks.
People I run into often have a favorite story of a good time in the Murphys Hotel. (Some are unprintable.) I like it too. I'm glad the bathrooms are now flushable. I love the balcony over Main St. And I even like the new neon sign Dorian put up over protests from historic purists.
This may sound trite, but what I like most about the Murphys Hotel is the hooks under the bar to hang your purse. A woman's purse is an important item and it doesn't get dirty and kicked about on the floor, nor wet and boozy on the bar. My kind of bar!