Gold ‘N Boats ‘N Katherine

It was hot, it was dry, it was dusty, it was…oh, hell, it was just flat out-and-out thirsty out there. S.C., as he was known, wiped the sweat from his eyes, glanced up at the sun pounding down on him, muttered a curse and hupped his horses into action once again.

He was a teamster, a driver of a wagon loaded with ore, which he was taking from the Sheepstrails Mine to the mill, down near the Colorado River. As he drove, he noticed a solitary granite knob protruding up from the flat gravel plain, and he figured that would be a good place to stop, eat, rest the horses, maybe find a spot of shade. While the horses rested, he panned out a few samples from the outcropping…and immediately started making plans.

It was the dawn of a new century, late summer of 1900, and ol’ S.C. figured to become rich. He delivered his load of ore, went to the land office, and placed a claim on the knob of rock he had found. He decided to sink a mine on the knob, and name it after his daughter. Thus, the mine of S.C. Bagg, now known as The Catherine Mine was born.

Mining had begun in this area some 30-odd years earlier, in the 1860’s, with the discovery of gold. By the time S.C. Showed up, there were several mines operating in the area, including the Pyramid, Gold Cycle and Sheeptrails Mines in Arizona, and the Homestake Mine, across the river in Nevada. The ore was processed at a mill built near the Colorado, at a settlement named Pyramid. The processed ore was shipped out on steamboats that made regular trips up the Colorado from Port Isabel in the Gulf of California.

S.C. Wasted no time working his claim at Catherine. He mined about 2000 tons of ore between 1900 and 1903, which was processed at the Sheeptrails Mill. Then, in 1903, he decided he had had enough, and leased out the mine. It closed in 1904. Later that same year, the mine was sold to the Arizona Pyramid Mining Company, which re-opened the mine in 1907. It operated for two years, and once again closed in 1909.

In 1915, gold was discovered in the area of Oatman, a few miles away. The boom that followed soon reached the area around the Catherine Mine, where numerous claims were staked, and shafts were sunk with little reason and even less chance of success. Interestingly, most of these new shafts adopted the name Catherine: Catherine Extension, Catherine Treasure Vault and Catherine Midway. None of these new mines recorded any production, and all were shut down by the onset of the Great Depression in 1929.

Somewhere in the shrouded mists of history is the answer to the question of why the first letter changed, but no one is really looking for that answer. All that is known is that in 1919, Catherine Mine re-opened, only under the name of Katherine Gold Mining Company. A 950 foot vertical shaft was sunk, and in 1925 a cyanide mill was completed that could process up to 250 tons of ore per day.

With the boom came the promotion of a couple of town sites. The town of Catherine was a couple of miles east of Catherine Mine, and the town of Tri-state was a bit downstream, and across the river on the Nevada side. Both towns lasted more or less until 1929, with the town of Catherine even boasting a post office for a couple of years. Keeping in mind the fact that these towns were strictly in the middle nowhere, and the summer temperatures reached into the 130’s, it didn’t exactly sound like a major vacation destination of the times.

The mill ran constantly through 1927. Then, in 1928, things slowed down, and in 1929, the Katherine Gold Mining Company declared bankruptcy. The mine was closed, but the mill continued to process ore from the other mines until 1932. During the period of 1933 and 1934, the price of gold rose. This made it profitable to begin the mining of gold again, and many mines were re-opened. In 1933, the Gold Standard Gold Mining Company acquired the water rights to the Katherine Mill and Katherine Mine. The mill was started up, and processed ore until a fire damaged it in 1934. It was quickly repaired and put back into operation. In 1935, the same company obtained the title to the Katherine mine, and it was put back into production, operating from 1937 till 1940, when it was closed for the final time. The mill continued processing ore from other mines until it was closed by the War Production Board in 1943. At that point, the mine died, the mill died, the town died…but Katherine did not die…

A treaty with Mexico in 1944 required the construction of a dam in Pyramid Canyon, 67 miles downstream from Hoover Dam for the regulation of water to be delivered to Mexico. That put the dam just a wee bit downstream from the now dead towns of Catherine and Tri-state. David Dam, named for Arthur Powell Davis, who was U.S. Director of Reclamation from 1914 to 1932, was completed in 1953, and the lake (Lake Mohave) began to fill. Catherine survived, but the town of Tri-state disappeared under the rising water.

And so, to the resurrection of Katherine…when the lake was full, it was decided to build a place to launch boats and to use as a recreation area for the citizens of Laughlin, Nevada and Bullhead City, Arizona, which were right across the river from each other a half mile below the dam. This boat launch area became known as Katherine’s Landing, and is today one of the most popular spots on the lake. It’s become pretty much an oasis in the middle of nowhere, as seen in the following pictures:

And so…the name of S.C. Baggs’ daughter continues to live, although both S.C. And the original Catherine are long gone. Its a fun place to visit, hotter than he– in the summer, but a very comfortable 70 to 80 degrees in the winter.

Sharks and Bombs

The big battle cruiser slipped silently through the waves at a speed of 17 knots that warm night. The sky was overcast, the sea was moderate, and visibility was poor, but improving. She had delivered her top secret cargo, was bound for gunnery practice and refresher training. There was no escort…after all, she was in the backwaters of the war…safe waters, controlled by her own country…no need to fear here…

A mile or so away, a submarine swept through the water, as Captain Mochitasura Hashimoto scanned the surface, looking for ships. The sub, designated I-58 also had a passive sonar, listening for the tiniest of sounds…and finally, it heard one. The Captain waited as they drifted closer…and finally he could see the ship in his periscope. A heavy battle cruiser! A lovely target! Shouting out orders, he positioned his boat, checked his figures…and fired six torpedoes in a fan shaped pattern.

At 12:14 AM, on the morning of July 30, the first torpedo struck the cruisers’ bow…and blew it off. Within seconds, 3 SOS messages went out, and three different commanders received them…but…one of the commanders was drunk, and ignored the warning…the second had gone to bed early, and left orders not to be disturbed for any reason…and the third thought it was a prank, being played by the enemy…psychological warfare, if you will…he ignored it too.

Seconds later, the second torpedo struck, on the starboard side, near a powder magazine and one of the cruisers’ fuel oil bunkers. The resulting explosion blew out the side of the ship. The ship, now dead, continued to plow ahead through the water, sending thousands of tons of water through the missing bow and the gaping hole in her side. She began to roll, slowly…orders were yelled…all hands to abandon ship. Hundreds of men jumped…others threw burned and wounded comrades into the dark sea. Twelve minutes later, the ship rolled over completely and went down…

The ship carried about 1197 men…and about 320 died in the explosions. About 880 men went into the water, badly burned, maimed, wounded, but alive…for now. The men were scattered over thousands of square yards of open sea. They had no water. They had no food. Some had life jackets; most did not. Oil from the ruptured tanks coated both the men and the water, making many of them violently ill. However, optimism abounded…they had sent out SOS’s…people knew they were in trouble…rescue was imminent.

Even with the optimism, despair raised its’ ugly head. There were screams and curses as the salt water seeped into wounds, abraded burns. Massive thirst set in, terror came out to play. Blood oozed into the water, spread out, dissipated. Many of the men, wounded, burned, tired, scared, gave up the struggle, slipped beneath the waves. Prayers were heard, curses…toward God and Navy…were screamed out. The struggle of man versus nature took shape.

Five miles away, a large Oceanic Whitetip Shark is cruising through the ocean. It’s sense of smell is causing it to twitch and hesitate…it smells something…very faintly. It turns, begins to swim rapidly toward the smell…it was a large brute…thirteen feet long, 370 pounds…and it swam quickly toward the possible source of food. It arrived at the site in rapid order and found several other sharks arriving also…all of them immediately moved in…peeling off and going after the hundreds of men in the water. Hard snouts ram into soft abdomens, teeth rending flesh, seeking food, blood flowing, entrails floating out…screaming, cursing, frantic efforts to escape the death from below…hundreds of sharks gathering…and the terror begins.

Help did not arrive…for three days the sailors floated, being taken by sharks, floating without food, floating without water, the salt starting to poison their bodies. For three days, the sailors went mad, hope faded, terror took its’ toll on their minds, many began to hallucinate. By the end of three days, only about 400 men remained alive…480 men had died in the sea, victims of thirst, wounds, sharks. Dead men littered the seas for thousands of yards.

At about 10:25 AM on the morning of the fourth day, Lieutenant Chuck Gwinn was flying on a routine antisubmarine patrol. He glanced out of the plane, noticed a huge oil slick below him. Thinking it may be a submarine submerging, he dropped down several hundred feet, opened his bomb bay doors for a depth charge run…glanced out his window again…and saw several hundred men spread out, waving at him. He gained altitude, radioed in…he was not believed…they thought it was a prank.

Finally, about three hours later, a flying boat was dispatched. As the pilot flew toward the site, he overflew the Destroyer USS Cecil Doyle…whose Captain was a friend. He informed the Captain of his mission, and the Captain decided, on his own initiative, to lend assistance. When the pilot arrived at the location,he dropped down and began dropping rafts and supplies to the men below. As this was happening, it was seen that the men in the water were being attacked and eaten alive by sharks. The pilot decided to ignore the standing order against landing in open seas. He landed the plane, taxied to the nearest group and began taking survivors aboard. Some of the men in the water were so weak, that when they slipped out of their life jackets, they drowned while attempting to swim to the plane. When the plane was full, the crew carried men onto the wings. They managed to save 56 men that day.

Responding to the pilots calls for help, three Destroyers and three Auxiliary Ships arrived at the scene. Finally, all the remaining living men were pulled from the sea. One thousand, one hundred ninety seven men left port on that ship…eight hundred eighty living men went into the water after the explosion…three hundred seventeen men came out of the water…eight hundred eighty men died on those four days of dehydration, their wounds, giving up the will to live, and sharks…on the last voyage of the U.S.S. Indianapolis, sunk July 30, 1945.

A couple of days later, the top secret cargo delivered by the Indianapolis was loaded into the belly of a B-29, flown a few hundred miles, and dropped…out of the Enola Gay…onto the city of Hiroshima…