AND SO IT GOES . . . BOYS, BEER AND THE LAKE’S DEMISE
As the years passed and we became older, we were no longer attracted to the joys of Lancaster Lake for the same reasons we were when we were younger. Such things as bailing out the rental boats for a free boat ride just didn’t cut it any more. Unfortunately though, some of the things that DID attract us were of the kind that frequently get teenagers into trouble. One of these was using the lake as a base camp to sneak next door into Kennedy’s Sunland Swim Park and help ourselves to leftover beer.
In the evening, after closing to the general public, the swim park was sometimes used for company picnics or other outdoor private parties. These events frequently featured keg beer and, after a party was over, there was usually some left over in the bottom of the kegs. It seemed a shame, to me and my gang of friends, to allow all this beer to go to waste.
The fact that it was just left sitting there, outside and unguarded, all night long when the parties were over, was too much of a temptation to resist. In my mind’s eye, I can still see us slipping into the swim park from the Lancaster Lake side, filling our empty pitchers and mason jars from the kegs, and then sneaking back to drink the beer at our secret hiding place on the shore of the lake.
I don’t remember now if there was definitely a connection between all this beer and the time we shot one of the guns in Grandpa Lancaster’s museum collection across the lake, but it seems rather likely there was. More of a cannon than a rifle, the old gun was big enough to bring down an elephant, or perhaps even a woolly mammoth –– if they were still around. We often wondered if the old gun could actually be fired and were determined to find out.
It was late when one night when we finally got up enough nerve to take the gun down to the shore of Lancaster Lake and load it with some ammo. Out of fear that the gun might blow up, most of us were afraid to be the one to actually hold the gun and fire it. Eventually though, the bravest of our lot picked it up and pulled the trigger. The gun didn’t blow up in his hands, but the recoil knocked him over backwards. (One of our group later swore the bullet was big enough for him to see it crossing the lake, even in the dark.)
But that wasn’t the worst of it. The explosion was so loud it sent a shock wave all over the Sunland-Tujunga Valley, and it wasn’t long afterward before we started hearing sirens. From the way they were wailing away, we knew police cars and fire trucks were headed in our direction. We retreated to our lakeside hiding place.
But an unexpected thing happened. The fire engines and police cars drove right past the Lancaster Lake’s entrance and into the trailer park next door. Soon we heard loud shouting coming over the fence, and from what we could hear it was obvious someone in the trailer park had called the fire department because they thought a butane tank in one of the trailers had blown up. I mean, the explosion was that loud. Policemen, firemen and everyone else in the place were trying to find the gutted remains of someone’s hapless trailer. And, of course, they never did.
In fact, the true source of the “explosion” never was discovered at the time . . . and it is only now, after the passage of nearly 70 years, that it’s being publicly revealed for the first time. As for the names of those involved, they will forever remain a secret. Our gang made a pledge of secrecy to never tell each other’s names, and I still feel honor bound to comply, even after the passage of so many years, and even if the fellow miscreant who actually pulled the trigger is now pushing up daisies.
In any event, it wasn’t long afterward that Lancaster Lake was filled in and the possibility of making new memories of this kind were buried forever, right along with everything else.
Some readers may think that’s a very good thing, but regardless, it is with the telling of this final, rather inglorious experience, that my memories of good ole Lancaster Lake have come to an end.
I’ve always wondered about when Kennedy’s Swim Pool and carnival rides were first constructed. I nearly drowned there, trying to learn to swim and make it out to the center island.
Thanks so much for your comment, Bill . . . although that is a scary swim park memory! Tom Gilfoy is the Guest Poster who shared his great experiences growing up in the area. He has since written a book about all that and likes to chat with others about those simpler days. I am including a few links for more information about Tom that you might find interesting . . . see below:
https://outlooknewspapers.com/blog/2020/07/30/local-attorney-publishes-first-book-at-88/
https://www.crescentavalleyweekly.com/viewpoints/04/01/2021/views-from-the-valley-3/
https://cvhistory.org/wp/product/growing-up-in-sunland-and-other-short-stories/
This was a beautiful read. Thank you for writing these articles, even if I am only discovering them 6 years after they’ve been posted. I came across this blog because I’m doing some research for my fiction that’s set in the San Fernando Valley.
Thank you for your kind comments – and don’t feel bad, Nick . . . I am finally returning to my blog and just catching up on wonderful comments like yours. Newly inspired after the “Age of Covid” 😉 . . . glad this information is of use . . . let me know when your book is written!
Awesome memories. Are ANY of the original grounds still accessible? I’m in Northridge and would love to check it out.
Returning to my blog in the “age of Covid” . . . belated thank you for your comment, and sadly, no – nothing remains.
Magnificent website. A lot of helpful information here. I’m sending it to a few pals ans also sharing in delicious. And of course, thank
you on your effort!
Thank you very much that answered all my questions and more thank you for the knowledge of my tujungan history I have only heard vage stories from my father bout the Lancaster lake as he was not even born til’ 66 or 67 into a house that is now an empty lot on tujungan canyon in-between Haines canyon and france ………..I’m that kid who use to play guitar up and down the blvd third generation tujungan
-Gabriel McCall
When you entered the property I lived in the first cabin on the left from 1948 till Grandpa Murray, past away in about 1951. The name Lancaster came from Lancaster England. My Great Grandpa. P.S. And that Gun you shoot may have belonged to Jesse James…..JM