money Florence Lowe ‘Pancho’ Barnes had 'The Right Stuff' as a visit to Edwards AFB proves
According to George B. Welsh, director of the Flight Test Museum at Edwards AFB, “not only was Pancho Barnes a great aviator, one of a kind at that time. She was kind and considerate. The type of person who would go out of her way to assist another in need.”
As I stood in a rather cool breeze, staring across the hundreds of acres that once belonged to Florence Lowe ‘Pancho’ Barnes, I understood what Welsh was saying.
In my quest to learn more about this female aviator, stunt flyer, actress, and once very wealthy woman from a well-connected family, I found myself at the Edwards Air Force Base test center in Kern County.
My research had shown Pancho Barnes was a wonderful person who loved flying, loved those who flew, and took care of those less fortunate.
But a person can’t just walk onto the base and demand to see where Pancho Barnes’ Happy Bottom Riding Club was.
Nope. There are procedures. When testing top-secret aircraft, and probably hiding intergalactic space aliens, the government has to be particular about who was about to step foot on the 300,000 acres of land bordering the counties of Los Angeles, Kern, and San Bernardino.
This expansive base is located on Roger Dry Lake, where the "The Right Stuff" is made.
NASA has a facility; the Air Force has a lot of facilities. And from what I learned – though it was from a drunk in Boron - the Mega-Millions Lotto tickets are printed there.
I did not believe him but picked up a couple anyway. Just in case.
So, for my research on Pancho, I knew I had to walk the walk that she and a lot of famous aviators had tread at the Happy Bottom Riding Club.
Being the writer I am, mostly lazy, I contacted Chase Kohler, the mucky muck in charge of Communications at Edwards.
“Director Kohler,” I said over the phone, actually it was through emails, but this sounds so much more dramatic.
“Call me Chase,” came his reply.
More: Pancho Barnes' desert home looks rough, but full of history
“OK, as long as you don’t call me late for dinner.”
“Yes.”
I explained that I was doing a couple of articles on Pancho Barnes and would like a chance to see what remained of her ranch, now within the bounds of Edwards.
“That can be arranged,” Chase said. “We just need to do a bit of a background check on you.”
I have a good FICO score, haven’t been thrown out of any bars in recent years, and spend most of my time driving here and there without a ticket or accident.
No issue, I thought.
There wasn’t.
I was met at the B-52 gate, on the north side of Edwards by Historian James Tucker of the 412th Test Wing.
“Call me JT,” Tucker said.
I nodded. I had to, there was no way his full name and title would stick in my head anyway.
A nondescript minivan was our mode of transportation to Pancho’s ranch.
I was rather disappointed.
This was rather mundane. A top-secret air base where they test the fastest, most dangerous, and costliest aircraft available and I’m in a minivan?
I had expected to be met by a huge officer, with massive biceps. He’d look at me, squint, look at me again and snarl.
“Remember, everything is hush-hush,” Officer Huge may have said, as he pointed to a silver round object in the sky, emblazoned with ‘Made in China’ on the side.
“What?”
“Shhh,” Officer Huge would state, while donning a tinfoil hat.
My mind ran wild. But I already had the words typed about this new adventure in my vivid writer’s mind: two Humvees, full of armed military police, would jump out and surround me.
After being strip-searched, asked about whether I was born in Moscow, and the maiden name of my mother, a black cloth would be placed around my head – actually a rather soft cotton – and I would be body slammed into the rear Humvee.
“You may ask one question, and take one photograph during your limited stay here,” a gruff voice would say.
“Why?”
“That’s your question, and I just took a photo of the bag over your head, silly writer-boy.”
Oh, the power of imagination. Back to reality…
George, Chase, JT and all the folks I met on the base were so nice to me that I wanted to buy them a few shares in TESLA.
I didn’t, and they didn’t know I had wanted to.
The drive from the B-52 gate, appropriately named, since there is a humongous B-52 permanently stationed on a cement pad there, took about twenty minutes to Pancho Barnes ranch.
On the drive, JT filled me in on the history of the base, the Air Force and anything else that a historian may know.
“Edwards has been the home of Air Force flight tests since the late 1940s. Almost every aircraft in the Air Force fleet since the late 1940s was tested, at least in part, at Edwards.”
I was going to ask which parts, but I may have sounded rather daft.
“Even before it was officially the Center of the Aerospace Testing Universe, Air Force officials saw the almost flawless flying weather of the Mojave and the vast expanse of the dry lakebed as the perfect place to test aircraft.”
He is one smart cookie, but I had him. He said ‘universe’ – there must be aliens trotting about the base.
There was a locked gate to the road leading to Pancho’s place, but it was open.
“George got here a bit earlier and opened the gate for us,” JT said.
George Welsh knows his stuff when it comes to the history of this base and the museum which houses some of the most valuable and crafty craft that America has ever come up with.
The museum houses an X-15, a space shuttle crew transfer vehicle, an F-16 XL, a SR71A Blackbird, an Aardvark, and about a million other planes for visitors to gawk at.
“I once saw an aardvark while in Africa,” I told George when I first met him.
He just looked at me.
In my quest, I had to know why Pancho’s ranch was called the Happy Bottom Riding Club.
“What I understand is that during its heyday, General Jimmy Doolittle showed up and decided to go for a horseback ride around the ranch. When he got back, he told Pancho that he had a happy bottom from exploring the area. The name stuck.”
Pancho actually purchased the small ranch, named Rancho Oro Verde in 1935 when she had flown over the area and suddenly knew this was the place for her.
Murdoc Field, where Edwards is situated at present, was then a small air base, and Pancho wanted to offer the airmen a place to come and relax after hours.
After losing her family fortunes during the dark days of the Great Depression, she had enough to purchase the small ranch and started a new life.
What was once a tiny alfalfa farm, and small dairy became hundreds of acres of land.
Pancho not only knew about flying, but about building a successful business.
Soon, her place had cattle, hogs, chickens, alfalfa, and possibly gambling.
“I am not sure there was ever illegal gambling here, but rumor has it that the dairy building may have held high stakes games once in a while,” Welsh suggested.
There were also rumors the club may have had a brothel.
“Nope,” Welsh stated. “Pancho may have been a bit of a rough sort but that never happened here. She helped some ladies out on their luck from Hollywood, but there never was anything like a brothel here.”
Having one of the first aircraft stunt businesses for films, Pancho knew a lot of folks from the film industry.
In fact, her place has appeared in many movies over the years, including the blockbuster 1983 film, "The Right Stuff."
Turns out, the ranch was a place for the likes of Chuck Yeager to hang out after a tough day of test flying. And, he actually had a cameo appearance as a bartender in the movie.
I walked around the ruins and could imagine the crowds which would have been here for the activities available.
A swimming pool, restaurant, bar, a horse arena where rodeos were regular, and just relaxing with fellow dare devil fliers.
Taking a photo here and there, left a feeling of wanting to get to know not only Pancho better, but all those who had visited this place.
It was surreal.
I asked Welsh if the Air Force had truly burned the place down in 1953 so they could expand the base.
He shook his head. “No, just a rumor. It burned down due to an electrical fire in the kitchen.”
It so happened that the fire occurred during a legal struggle Pancho was having with the military about expanding the runway.
She wanted to stay, and they wanted her to leave.
As I stood there looking across what was once a vibrant enterprise by an enterprising and stubborn woman, I smiled.
Probably just a rumor about the fire.
This article originally appeared on Victorville Daily Press: Florence Lowe ‘Pancho’ Barnes had 'The Right Stuff'
