SWIM kneebone pleasure resort

By Steve Cottrell, Nevada County Historian

WHAT? Beaches in Nevada County? You Bet!

In the 1920s, when horse-drawn buggies and fragile horseless carriages were being replaced with Model T’s and other more-reliable long-distance transportation, Nevada County began to shrink. One-lane trails were widened, graded and graveled, and residents of Western Nevada County — especially those who could afford an automobile — were able to get away from their homes and go for a drive.

By 1923, both Grass Valley and Nevada City had auto parks, maintained by the chambers of commerce in each community; places close to town where travelers could spend a few days in small cabins or tents, swimming, fishing and visiting historic sites. The auto camps had gas stoves, showers and bathrooms, but locals weren’t interested in the two handy auto parks — they wanted to venture out to explore new places as much as possible.

People with automobiles soon became known as “motorists,” and a June 12, 1927 announcement in the Morning Union caught their attention: “Alfred Kneebone, a farmer of the lower end of the county, has acquired a natural swimming pond on the South Yuba River at Bridgeport, twelve miles from Grass Valley on the Rough and Ready road, and has built up a resort nearby. A newly constructed road leads to the pool. Bath houses, showers and swimming equipment has been placed alongside the pool, while a banquet hall and dance pavilion are located nearby. All the buildings are lighted by electricity.”

The resort opened June 17, with several Grass Valley and Nevada City residents on hand for the dedication. Admission to the grounds was a dime, which included access to the swimming hole with two diving boards, and attendees paid fifty cents a plate for barbecued beef from Kneebone’s ranch. To help keep people at his new resort following an afternoon or evening swimming, Kneebone hired a small band to play until after midnight at the dance pavilion, with food and beverages available.

He called it the Bridgeport Swimming Resort, but in time it became informally known as the Kneebone Pleasure Resort — run with the help of his wife, Lucy, who Al married in 1918. There were dances at the pavilion beginning at 9:00 p.m. and ending at midnight, sometimes later, and the resort became a popular locale for Grass Valley and Nevada City groups to hold gatherings. The Grass Valley Order of DeMolay, for instance, held annual summer dances at the resort, (chaperoned by Masons and Eastern Star members), with swimming and picnics for the young men and their dates, followed by a moonlit dance at the pavilion. Also, fraternal and service organizations, as well as schools, often booked the resort for special events, and the Grass Valley Chamber of Commerce, Lions Club, Women’s Civic Improvement Club (among many others) hosted their respective members and spouses on several occasions during the resort’s operation.

The Bridgeport Swimming Resort was an instant success, but a storm in March 1928 caused considerable damage and required costly reconstruction of the dance pavilion and bath houses. Undaunted, Al Kneebone rebuilt everything that had been washed away that winter and reopened June 3 with a dance featuring what was described as a “two-piece orchestra,” along with a special camp stew available at the customary fifty cents a plate.

“Last summer,” reported the May 31, 1928 Daily Union, “Bridgeport was one of the most popular spots of the county, and hundreds visited it each week.” The newspaper advised readers that Kneebone had repaired the winter damage, “with the result that Bridgeport this year is bigger and better than ever.”

Then, in the spring of 1929, Al Kneebone announced that the road leading to his resort from the Grass ValleyMarysville highway had been improved by a county work crew — scraped and leveled — and he had expanded the parking area to accommodate the growing crowds.

Al and Lucy also operated a gas station and general store at Bridgeport and rented a few small cabins for those wanting to stay overnight. On one June weekend alone in 1929, more than 1,500 people found their way to the resort, “mainly local residents,” reported the Morning Union.

The resort would close once winter approached and reopen early the next summer when the water was clear and suitable for swimming. And when it reopened for the 1930 season, Kneebone had public restrooms near the pavilion and electric lights over the swimming area. “This move will be appreciated by local business people who arrive at the resort in the evening after a busy day of commercial activities,” the Morning Union reported.

The resort was a success by any measure, but in 1931 Kneebone felt compelled to file a lawsuit charging the Omega Hill Mining Company with dumping tailings in the South Yuba River a few miles upstream from the resort, impacting the popular swimming hole and sandy beach — a situation he had been dealing with since the resort’s opening in 1927.

Omega owners responded that they were operating a lawful hydraulic gold mine with a required debris dam to hold back muddy tailings, and Kneebone’s operation “is neither a riparian right nor a beneficial use, reasonable use or reasonable method of the use of water in the interest of the people of the State of California.”

Kneebone claimed the muddy, roiling water discharged by the mining operation upriver cost him $2,5000 in expected profit for 1930, and also asked for another $20,000 for “the value of the resort rendered valueless by the asserted continued pollution of the stream.” In addition, Kneebone asked that the mining company be required to increase the height of its debris dam in order to prevent continued overflow of muddy sediment into the South Yuba River.

The trial was heard in federal court in Sacramento in October 1932, with the court ruling in Kneebone’s favor and ordering the mine to increase the height of its debris dam. The cash award to Kneebone, however, was only $2,000.

Two years later, Al and Lucy Kneebone closed the resort and ceased maintaining the swimming hole or diving boards, and in 1944 sold the gas station and general store. In 1945, Al (then 52) was killed in an automobile accident not far from Bridgeport. Lucy was 71 when she died in Nevada City in 1963, and both are buried at Greenwood Cemetery in Grass Valley.

The land that comprised the Kneebone/Bridgeport Pleasure Resort from 1927-1934 is now part of South Yuba River State Park, including an area a few yards upriver from the historic covered bridge known today as Kneebone Beach.

For more information about Bridgeport and the Kneebone resort, visit 17660 Pleasant Valley Rd., Penn Valley, CA 95946 southyubariverstatepark.org

(530) 432-2546

Lake Wildwood - A Community Dedicated to Serving Western Nevada County

Nestled in the foothills of Western Nevada County just north of the town of Penn Valley lies the beautiful community of Lake Wildwood, an idyllic setting with nature woven into every aspect of life. With its beautiful lake, pristine 18-hole golf course, elegant clubhouse, and acres of forests and open spaces it is both resplendent and relaxing.

Lake Wildwood is a community which relies on its board of directors, staff, and volunteer committees to provide governance, recreation, and hospitality services to its 2,845 member homes and over 5,000 residents. However, beyond its borders resident members provide the backbone and brawn that moves many community and civic organizations. What sets Lake Wildwood apart is that this volunteer spirit comes directly from its residents. There is no formal program recruiting members to serve and no requirement to serve. Yet, year after year residents give thousands of hours of their own time for the benefit of the greater community. From representation on local Chambers of Commerce, to chairs on nonprofit boards, Lake Wildwood residents have led many of Nevada County’s major charitable groups and it has been home to many Greater Community leaders. Lake Wildwood volunteers are leaders in the fight to end homelessness in Nevada County, feed our less fortunate neighbors, and end hunger. By participating in local programs that feed the underserved, Lake Wildwood residents touch the lives of hundreds of Nevada County’s residents daily. Our dedicated residents serve the greater community by cleaning up trash and recyclable materials along Highway 20—the main thoroughfare between Penn Valley and Grass Valley—the proceeds of which are donated to the local food bank. The community comes out in force for blood drives that are regularly held to help supply local blood banks. In this diverse area there are many opportunities to be active in local churches, synagogues, and other faith and spirituality-based organizations, and many residents not only participate, but choose to lead those groups.

Lake Wildwood and it’s residents personally support charitable events, and several are hosted in Lake Wildwood annually, raising tens of thousands of dollars for local education, support of our local veterans, and care for those in need.

With the serene beauty of Lake Wildwood, it is the perfect locale for any special event. This private gated community offers the opportunity for the greater community to hold golf tournaments, weddings, and business, private, charity, or special events—with several venues to choose from with spectacular views of the award-winning Oaks Golf Course or scenic Lake Wildwood. The team at The Oaks Clubhouse works with clients to design the perfect menu for their special day. The beautiful Cedar Room in The Oaks Clubhouse offers lush Golf Course views and seating for up to 160; the inviting Pine Room is the perfect place for a mid-sized function with a fireplace and views of the 10th and 18th Holes on the Golf Course; the Terrace on the Green, nestled between the Pine Room and 19th Hole Bar overlooking the Putting Green, offers al fresco dining with fire pits, comfortable seating, and a sweeping view of the Golf Course. It showcases the handcrafted woodwork in the Clubhouse and is a beautiful location for a wedding ceremony. Additionally, the Lake Room at the Community Center looks out over the Marina and Lake, and offers seating for up to 100. Commodore Park Pavilion offers outside covered seating with a view of the beauty of Commodore Park and Lake Wildwood. Jacob’s Place (point) a ceremony site with a stunning view of the Lake, is also located within Commodore Park. With all these options Lake Wildwood is the perfect place to host and enjoy an event to be remembered. We welcome you to visit our community to discuss your special event or to meet some of our volunteers. Contact us at info@lwwa.org or visit www.lwwa.org

The Indomitable Bridgeport Covered Bridge

By Steve Cottrell, Nevada County Historian

It has withstood floods, fires, and threats of demolition. Still, the 161-year-old Bridgeport covered bridge in Nevada County remains standing — a California Registered Historic Landmark, National Historic Civil Engineering Landmark, and listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It spans the South Yuba River west of Grass Valley and is recognized as the longest single-span wooden covered bridge in the United States, including abutments; it is 233 feet in length with a 208-foot open span.

The first South Yuba crossing at Bridgeport in 1851 was a jerry-rigged ferry secured from each bank by cables and ropes. Then came a narrow wooden bridge, vulnerable to high water during the winter. But in 1862, David Wood headed a partnership that built a covered bridge, elevated from the river and blanketed with more than 25,000 sugar pine shingles designed to protect the wooden deck and trusses from dry rot.

The Bridgeport covered bridge was key to a 14-mile toll road Wood, and his partners maintained that began at Anthony House, (a stagecoach stop and hotel five miles south of the bridge, now covered by Lake Wildwood). Their toll road ended at North San Juan, connecting with a road to Henness Pass, where it crossed the Sierra Nevada mountains.

Prior to completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869, general freight and mining equipment shipped from San Francisco and Sacramento destined for the silver mines in and around Virginia City (in what would become the State of Nevada in 1864) went by steamer to Marysville, thirty miles west of Anthony House, and from there to Bridgeport. A sturdy bridge at Wood’s Crossing ensured that the toll road would be a success, creating the most direct route from Marysville to Virginia City — a distance of more than 150 miles, much of it rugged mountainous terrain.

Tolls collected at the covered bridge soon paid for its $10,000 construction. (More than $300,000 in relative worth today). Tolls were not based on weight, but on who or what needed to make the crossing. Someone on foot paid a quarter; a person on horseback fifty cents; a onehorse buggy a dollar, etc. The lowest toll was a nickel for one hog or sheep, and the highest was six dollars for a wagon with a team of eight or more horses or oxen — a toll equal to half an ounce of gold. In its heyday, dozens of freight wagons crossed the bridge daily.

It continued as a toll bridge until 1901, when it was absorbed into the county road system. At that point, the Nevada County Board of Supervisors considered demolishing the 1862 structure and building a steel bridge at that spot. As reported in the June 19, 1901 Grass Valley Morning Union, the bridge still had a lot of daily traffic, but it was mainly area residents going and coming from North San Juan; freight haulers to Nevada no longer used the route. “True, the present bridge has always been kept in fair repair,” the newspaper noted, “but long usage has so weakened it that travelers are skeptical as to its safety.”

An engineering report presented to supervisors in July 1901 reinforced the newspaper’s cautionary words: “The bridge is in a very precarious condition and unsafe for travel,” the county engineer explained. “In short, the entire structure is of wood and rotten to the core and liable to collapse from the least exertion.” He urged demolition and a new steel bridge built in its place, but the board opted for repairs.

In 1935, as the Depression-era Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) was building a bridge near Dobbins, two miles above Bridgeport, their heavy equipment often used the Wood’s Crossing bridge, and that led to yet another discussion about a steel bridge at that spot. As in 1901, however, county supervisors favored repairs over replacement. And in the 1960s, when demolition was once again considered, the Nevada County Historical Society stepped in and lobbied for its protection.

Finally, in 1971, the bridge was declared unsafe and closed to heavy vehicle traffic. And in 1973, while a new bridge was being built a few hundred yards upstream, the historic 1862 crossing was given a $95,000 facelift –– sufficient to allow pedestrian traffic, but not vehicles. Then, in 1986, the bridge became state property and today is the centerpiece of South Yuba River State Park.

If you are interested in visiting Bridgeport and walking through the country’s longest single-span wooden covered bridge, visit southyubariverstatepark.org for directions and more information.

On the reopening of the Bridgeport Bridge

By Kirsten Casey, Nevada County Poet Laureate 2021

I was engineered for suspension. My trusses’ angles distribute tension and compression, and my arch keeps me stable. I am always pushing in on myself, this is how I manage stress. I do not mind my immobility, there is nothing but noise and movement surrounding this stationary shake roof; everything I have undergone is far from simply structural. I have a history. I was once part of a toll road, travelled daily by miners, with overloaded mules in tow, and then their wagons rolled through, on squeaking steel and hickory wheels that carved grooves into my floorboards, with their heavy cargo of kettles and canvas, bedrolls and pickaxes, lumber and dynamite, pulled by horses and oxen. Return journeys often included a different weight, bags of gold: nuggets and dust, and silver from the Comstock Lode. Then motor cars billowed black exhaust that hung below my ceiling, trapped soot impersonating storm clouds, and their revving engines always startled the barn sparrows. Decades, sun, and high water weakened my supports and darkened my Sugar Pine shingles, so that only pedestrians crossed: hikers, birdwatchers, fishermen, families with packs they would unfasten, sitting to share hunks of cornbread, peach slices, squares of cheese. Children ran across me, with bright towels over their shoulders, eager to wade, and then jump from warm granite boulders, into the Yuba’s August pools.

I am watchman, covered path, birdhouse, enduring sanctuary. I think some of the gray pines believe I am one of them, just another wide broken trunk, fallen across the river. I have become a part of this habitat, content in this stillness, and all of the months of silent in betweens. The mergansers still flock to my shade, the bats nest in my eaves, the snowshoe hare and mule deer and bobcats and wolves know that I am a part of the trail, no different than the dirt routes they follow through the manzanitas. It is never lonely here. What is left for me, is what was I built for; the source of my joy has always been the crossing, holding up every living thing longing for the other side. This is what it means to be restored: to stand in neglect and then be recognized as worthy of saving. I am still willing to bear the pressure, again endure the extremes of our seasons; fire could consume me, insects might chew my timber to dust, and I know the Yuba may rise again and wash my boards away, like oak branches down the river. Eventually everything rots and falls, goes back to the water, to be polished like stones. So today, I am asking, let me feel the weight of footsteps, test my strength, please let me carry you again.