Death Valley Chuck-Walla
The Death Valley Chuck-Walla was a short-lived desert magazine published at Greenwater, California, in early 1907. Calling itself “A Magazine for Men,” it was equal parts newspaper, satire, and advertisement for the copper boom sweeping the Funeral Mountains near Death Valley.It was edited and published by the Kunze brothers, Arthur and Ewald, both prospectors and promoters who helped start the Greenwater rush. Their magazine captured the spirit of the boomtown—brash, funny, and full of wild optimism.
The first issue, dated January 1, 1907, opened with a tongue-in-cheek description of itself: “Published on the desert at the brink of Death Valley. Mixing the dope, cool from the mountains and hot from the desert, and withal putting out a concoction with which you can do as you damn please as soon as you have paid for it.” The price was ten cents.
From there, the writing rolled on like a blend of barroom storytelling and pulpit sermon. “The Chuck-Walla Speaks” set the tone by describing the desert lizard as the paper’s mascot—a tough, sunbaked creature that minded its own business, fought when it had to, and didn’t apologize to anyone. The message was simple: if you had the grit to survive out here, you belonged.
“The Almighty’s Bank Roll” told readers the desert was God’s treasure chest and that fortune favored those who had brains, muscle, and nerve. “The game on the desert is to make money,” it said, “and God Almighty is holding the bank roll.” “Get Busy or Get Out” scolded the lazy and the complainers, urging men to quit whining, stop knocking the country, and start digging.
Other articles gave the backstory of Greenwater’s rise. “A Treasure at Death Valley” and “Finding Greenwater” credited Arthur Kunze as the prospector whose stubborn belief in copper brought the town into being. His discovery eventually attracted investors like Charles Schwab and Patsy Clark, who poured millions into the district.
The magazine also mocked the chaos of boomtown life. “A Town on Wheels” told how the entire settlement of Greenwater had to move when the mining companies realized the town had been built right on top of valuable claims. Businesses, saloons, and even tents were dragged two miles across the hills to a new site, with barkeeps serving drinks mid-move.
There were also pieces like “Judge Ray’s Pipe Dream,” about a plan to pump water fifty miles across the desert from Ash Meadows—a grand idea treated half-seriously, half as a joke. “Tom Lawson Is Coming” teased the famous Boston copper speculator and promised a parade of lizards and bunting when he finally arrived.
Not all of it was comedy. “The Truth, That’s All” promised to expose frauds and “wildcat” promoters who sold worthless mining stock, though the magazine was itself funded by local speculators. Still, it drew a line between “real men” working honest ground and smooth-talking crooks like Dr. J. Grant Lyman, who was accused of bilking Boston investors.
The final story, “The Furnace Creek Cemetery,” turned poetic, describing the lonely graves of prospectors who died in Death Valley. It treated their deaths not as tragedy but as a fitting end for men who had given their lives to the desert. “The man of the desert loves his desert home,” it said, “and even in death the love of a lifetime is not to be disregarded.”
Pages of ads followed for banks, brokers, stores, and land companies, all promising quick riches and inviting readers to “Come to Greenwater—the Coming Metropolis of the Western Desert.”
In the end, The Death Valley Chuck-Walla was a mix of boosterism, humor, and raw frontier pride. It reflected a moment when people truly believed the desert could make them rich and that hardship itself was proof of character. Within a year, Greenwater was a ghost town, but the magazine remains as one of the most vivid voices ever printed from Death Valley’s boom days.
Published on the desert at the brink of Death Valley. Mixing the dope, cool from the mountains and hot from the desert and withal putting out a concoction with which you can do as you damn please as soon as you have paid for it *** PRICE TEN CENTS