Author Patricia Baker Laflin has lived in or near Indio since 1950. As a history major at University of California Berkeley, she met and married fellow student Ben Laflin, the son of pioneer settlers in the Coachella Valley. Laflin learned of Indio’s past from these pioneer families and their friends and from her work with the Coachella Valley Historical Society for whom she has authored 13 books. Most of the photographs in this book come from the society’s archives.
Indio, California (Images of America Series)by Patricia Baker Laflin, Coachella Valley Historical Society
Located halfway between Los Angeles and Yuma, Arizona, Indio came into being as a railroad town in 1876 when the Southern Pacific Railroad completed this last link in its southern transcontinental route. Settling this arid land took ingenuity and courage, and Indio’s early residents had both. In the 1930s, Indio became a mining town when 92 miles of tunnel
Located halfway between Los Angeles and Yuma, Arizona, Indio came into being as a railroad town in 1876 when the Southern Pacific Railroad completed this last link in its southern transcontinental route. Settling this arid land took ingenuity and courage, and Indio’s early residents had both. In the 1930s, Indio became a mining town when 92 miles of tunnel were dug through its eastern mountains for the Los Angeles Aqueduct, the largest construction project in the United States during the Depression. World War II brought Gen. George Patton’s Desert Tank Corps to train nearby and crowd into Indio for rest and relaxation. The completion of the Coachella Branch of the All-American Canal brought Colorado River water to the desert in the late 1940s, and a land boom ensued. Today Indio’s reputation as the “Date Capital of the United States” and “City of Festivals” is long held and well deserved.
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Betray your master for the light, and all you care about will be lost. The prophecy rings in my head as i look at the ruins of my old camp. There, i see the fire pit, but there is no fire blazing. A skeleton lies by the pit. As i rush to its side, i notice the weapon lying by it. Cyrus's sword. "I know you are watching. You did this, didnt you?" I say. At first there is no reply. But then, i hear a cold, chilling laugh coming from the shadows. Perhaps i should back up. I am the wielder of the black blade. I have access to the gates of death. I am the son of war, and i follow the first lord of the sky. I am Foldar. For some reason, those words mean little to me anymore. Probably because they link me to my old master. I have just arrived at the camp, after hearing the prophecy. And it is gone. No. I need to back up further. I need to think. Something about this place makes it hard to think. I need sleep...