Fiberglass and Tumble Weeds – Boron Federal Prison
Posted by Bradley L. Garrett on Wednesday Apr 7, 2010 Under Uncategorized“You should create your own icons and way of life, because nostalgia isn’t glamorous…live your life now.”
-Marilyn Monroe
Alien dump
I grew up in Riverside, California, on the Western edge of the Mojave Desert. My interest in urban exploration came from my childhood here, full of frequent trips into the Mojave exploring old mining towns to break up my rather mundane suburban childhood. Coming back to visit this year, I knew that what I needed from this trip was to rediscover what it was that brought me down the UrbEx path. So I hit the desert for some old school federal trespass.
Because of that green UFO?
My friend Joel tipped me off to the existence of Boron Federal Prison Camp, a US Air Force site that was abandoned in 2000. I rolled into Boron on an incredibly windy day, with light rain splashing in off and on (rare here I assure you!). I found all the gates open and amazingly drove right past a dozen derelict buildings, straight up to the old water tower.
Dusty Industry
It was only when I stood at the edge of the cliff at the water tower that I realized how extensive the site really was. There were at least 30 buildings here, some multi-storied, spread out over maybe 5 or 10 acres.
Rural Sprawl
As I looked out across the flat expanse of desert toward Barstow, the wind was whipping my hair in my face and I was constantly wiping water drops off of my lens. I decided to take shelter in the only thing higher than the water tower – the stucco church.
Monument to the gods of television.
Stencil worship
I stepped into the church and found myself in a silent room that had one wall painted and others covered in banal graffiti. As I stood there, I came to realize how much different this exploration felt than those I had been undertaking in Europe. It was so much lonelier. Part of this, of course, can be chalked up to the fact that I was indeed alone, but there was also a spatial dimension. It seems to me that perhaps because of the availability of space here in the desert, it is much easier to simply walk away from a place. And when that happens, an essence of loneliness particular to this dusty landscape seeps in. It is a loneliness, a sadness, so deep that even destruction of the place does nothing to erase it.
When I explore in more urban landscapes, the predominate emotion is fear-fuelled adrenaline. There is a sense of urgency that drives explores and has been one of the difficulties I have encountered in trying to get video footage of our explorations – we never really stop to take it in. We move fast, we pack multiple explores into a day. It’s like derelict architecture speed dating.
In contrast, this federal prison invited me to stop, to spend the day, to really take the time to let it scar me. It felt less like a conquest and more like an invitation to meditate on the possible pasts that led to it’s untimely death. The site encouraged more of an archaeological eye, little artefact mysteries to be uncovered around every corner. The fear of being caught here (which was very high, with possibly sever consequences) was so overwhelmingly overshadowed by the lonely introspection the place invoked that I simply sat down for some time to listen to the wind whipping power cables and slamming doors open and closed and forgot that a patrol might roll in at any moment.
I went on to explore the kitchens, mess hall, work corridors, carpentry shop, the fire station, basketball court and finally the “vehicular component factory”, whatever the fuck that means. It had been almost completely stripped out, every window broken, and despite the emptiness of the place, it continued to have a particular thickness to it. It was a place full of sad memories, left to rot our here 50 miles from the nearest city where the incarcerated inhabitants could do no harm.
Deserted
The Mess Hall
Barricaded
The camp seemed to be connected with a company called Unicor – a name which I think has an oddly Orwellian feel to it. There was also an active air traffic control station on site covered with live cameras which was beginning to make me a little nervous 3 hours in.
1984
Road to government vaugeness
I jumped into the truck to follow my gut instinct that it was time to leave, feeling rather satisfied with my day, when I noticed a side street I had not seen before. I drove down it, finding nowhere to park (a vehicle is a serious limitation to exploration I have realized – hiding a car in the desert is usually almost impossible) and walked into what turned out to be derelict inmate housing.
Reasonable traffic conditions
As I walked down row after row of empty cul-de-sacs lined with derelict tract homes, I was pulled right back into the sadness of the place. I walked through people’s homes and looked at their landscaped yards, taking notice of which domestic plants had escaped and were thriving without human intervention. In one, I found a constructed mini-bar and waited a while for a drink to be served. In another, a brick oven filled half the backyard. I imagined summer BBQs in 120 degree heat, families of inmates coming together for a few drinks and a chat about who-was-whose bitch that week.
Patio Party
I was struck anew by the imposing affectual qualities of the place and when I reached an abandoned playground. I stopped to play alone on the teeter-totter.
Does anyone remember playing here?
By the time I left the housing area, all numbed by the weirdness of my experience, my truck was blocked in by a stereotypically overambitious security guard wearing a fake federal badge. He told me I had been filmed and that he was supposed to call the FBI (I call bullshit on that one buddy) but I think he could sense that I had come here for different reasons than he might normally encounter. We ended up chatting about the history of the place and he sent me off with a stern warning, locking the gate behind me. After a day of modern ruins, ghosts and self reflection, I drove off into the Mojave Desert in a familiar cloud of pink dust looking for the next adventure.
Not that I'm nostalgic or anything
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April 7th, 2010 at 10:51 pm
wow, what a fabulous read
April 7th, 2010 at 11:03 pm
Cool post Brad! I now hesitate between asking you to rush back to Europe or taking a flight to meet you in California…
April 9th, 2010 at 10:04 am
Nice one Brad, I'm pleased you're having some new experiences out in the US. I agree with the urgency thing we get on our european jaunts – although it's often because we're trying to to so much in such a short space of time.
April 25th, 2010 at 12:30 pm
[...] Fiberglass and Tumble Weeds – Boron FPC [...]
April 25th, 2010 at 12:34 pm
[...] Air Reserve Base is a minimum security base in a rather decrepit state. Still, with an abandoned military prison now explored as well as a partially active base, it makes me wonder – how porous are these [...]
September 2nd, 2010 at 8:02 pm
"Does anyone remember playing here?"
I do. My step-father was stationed at FCP Boron for one year – I was eight years old. We lived in the first house on the right as you enter the residential circle. It was an interesting place to experience. I still recall my time there fondly. Hot and sunny dry days and cold mornings were normal – our house had no carpet. I spent hours and hours exploring the desert around the camp. I never had a dull movement chasing lizards and rabbits.
The bomber jocks from Edwards used to buzz the radar tower in a B-1 followed closely by a F-111 chase plane. That is an impressive site. In fact, I used to sit on top of the jungle gym in that playground and watch them. The sky around Boron was always full of planes.
We did interact with the prisoners – they actually did our yard work. It was a very low security facility so no-one that I can recall ever worried about personal safety.
I don't think I will ever forget what snow in the desert looks like – a blanket of white as far as you can see. Barrel cacti, old dried up animal skeletons, abandoned junk scattered here and there, hills to climb, rocks full of mica – there was so much to see and do (for an 8 year old, that is…)
Great article, it's a little sad to see how much it has deteriorated since it was shut down.
September 9th, 2010 at 10:41 am
Tim, this is one of the best comments I have ever received on the blog. Although it is probably heartbreaking to see photos of a place where you spent a year of your life in a state of decay, rest assured it still retains some of that charm you remember.
I grew up on the edge of the Mojave Desert and I too have fond memories of long days wandering and discovering. It always amazes me when people talk about the desert as being a place of 'nothing' or a dead space. To me, it is always so full of life, history and potential. The desert is a wonderful place for thinking and dreaming in a world that often moves to fast to leave space for those things.
Thanks again for reading the blog. If you are ever passing through, you should stop and see the place. The skies are rather quiet now but Boron lives on.
-Brad
September 10th, 2010 at 10:40 pm
I was stationed as an airman in the 750th Aircraft Control and Warning Squadron at Boron Air Force Station from January 1958 until May 12, 1961. While I was there we airman constructed the station swimming pool, watched the Wherry Housing Community being constructed next to the post, and watched the Air Force convert from our World War II vintage radar equipment to a Semi Automatic Ground Environment (SAGE) system. I visited the site in 2004 and was very sad to experience its rundown/abandoned state. I am preparing a personal memoir and would be interested in recieving a history of the 750th if such a thing exists.
Tom Ryan
September 14th, 2010 at 8:54 pm
Thank you for the posting Tom, it is wonderful that you have been there for the whole life of the place! If I ever run into any history on the 750th, I will certainly pass it on.
-Brad
February 23rd, 2011 at 2:57 am
Brad, wow, I was shocked at the pictures from Boron. I did part of my "time" there from 1998 to 1999, and was in fact one of the last inmates to leave when the facility was closed. We were transferred to either Taft or Nellis in Las Vegas. In fact, I was the clerk for the facilities director and responsible for closing several of the buildings as the camp was boarded up. I had forgotten just how desolate and remote the facility was, a million miles from anywhere it seemed. The recollection I always have when thinking about the Boron Camp was all the weird flying objects we would see from nearby Edwards (or elsewhere). The B1s would come in at 100 feet off the deck and rock our world. This was at a time when the "Bat Plane's" existence was being adamently denied by the Air Force, yet everyday we would see them light up the skies. Thanks for an interesting trip down memory lane.
February 23rd, 2011 at 10:29 am
Julio, I am always a bit stunned when someone finds the blog who has a personal history attached to the places I explore when they were still active. It must be shocking to see a place where you spent so much time failing into decay like this.
There was something really calm about Boron, there was a real sense of peace out there. I guess that would not have been the case while you were getting haircut from secret spy planes! Thanks for taking the time to check out the blog – I am headed back to the US in a week's time – perhaps I will post an update on Boron then.
-Brad
May 27th, 2011 at 5:02 pm
I was stationed at Boron AFS from 1960 until 1965. During my assignment I saw many changes in the Radar/Computer equipment. Probably the most facinating was the construction of the concrete radar tower[about 1962] which was built with continous pour method into sliding forms from bottom to top. Concrete trucks ran 24/7 for weeks on end. The original Radar Set was the FPS-35 and its antenna exceeded the width of the tower some 30ft and rotated at 5RPM. The antenna was painted in checkerboard pattern of bright yellow and white. I lived in the family housing with my wife and 2 children[the second one being born there]. The SR-71 was the primary plane under test at Edwards during my stay
July 21st, 2011 at 1:28 am
Part 1: I spent time here as a convict. The place had a distinct military feel as most guards were ex-military. My first job was to “rake the rocks.” For 8 hours a day, I would rake the gravel “landscaping” from one side of the camp to the other. Occasionally, I found a dreaded cigarette butt which the disposing of such was the object of my job. When I had picked the grounds clean of butts, the guard instructed me to continue to rake. Which I did until: 1. A bird crapped on my head. A true sign that my life had hit rock bottom. 2. The camp administration needed someone who knew how to type. Being an early computer nerd (1985), I landed the job. I became the executive secretary for the officer that ran the mess hall. It was a premier camp position as I had an air conditioned office, all the food and drink I wanted, and made the 2nd to the highest wage at the camp…46 cents/hour.
July 21st, 2011 at 1:30 am
Part 2: My “management” position allowed me to provide less fortunate convicts needed items like pencils, tablets, and typewriter ribbon (all verboten!). Many convicts had no attorney so they had to file their own appeals. Most made 16 cents/hour and couldn’t afford to buy any materials. I felt it was worth the risk of adding time to my sentence if caught. The camp was full of interesting, mostly white, characters. The majority were drug smugglers and dealers. There were politicians, doctors, Italian mobsters, lawyers, skimmers (from Las Vegas), and bank robbers. Some were finishing long sentences. If you were lucky, you could spend the last 3 years of your sentence at the camp. We were allowed visitors if they were approved by the Feds. They had some tables outside near the main entrance to sit with your relatives. Many convicts had long since lost contact with relatives and friends and had no one on the outside. I always felt guilty as I was lucky to get a visitor every other week.
July 21st, 2011 at 1:31 am
Part 3: For exercise, you could walk a long circular driveway up to the knoll, where the airdome was located, around by the "church" then back down to the main dorm area. We had a pool left over from the military days but it had no water. Our rooms were old barracks. My room had a bunk bed and a twin bed. There was a TV in the center of the building with a few metal chairs to sit on. We also had a ball field out near the camp's entrance. During the day and through the night, the guards did a "count." During the count, you were not allowed to move around. The count was done to determine if any of the convicts were missing. During my stay, one convict walked into the desert and disappeared. The guards who, in general were very nice, often stole food from the camp warehouse. They mostly took large chucks of meat home to their familites. The inmates were always blamed for the missing food. Funny because we had no way to cook meat. Don't know many convicts the like steak tartare. We wore used military hand-me-downs. Old pants, shirts, and shoes.
July 21st, 2011 at 1:34 am
Part 4: Each day seemed like a week to me. I read a lot. We had a mobile library come in once a week. Worked on some software code (tough without a computer). We had mail call every day. All mail was opened and read by the Feds. Phone calls were all recorded. You were prohibited from talking to anyone on the phone about business. Any business no matter how legit. Strange rules. We had a commissary where we could buy cosmetics, snacks, socks, etc. The money earned at our job was placed into an account at the commissary.
July 21st, 2011 at 1:35 am
Part 5: When your sentence was up, you got the remaining money in your account. You were given a bus ticket and a ride to the bus station which was a few miles from the camp. You're departure from the camp was at 6am. Instead of taking the bus, some convicts were picked up in limos, by helicopter, or by relatives. No matter how you left, you still had to leave from the bus stop. No one was permitted to pick you up at the camp. During my journey through the justice system, I managed stays in one city jail, one county jail, two federal jails, and the camp. All on one conviction. Having no previous criminal background, I have to say it was quite a journey. And yes, I was a smuggler (briefly). 8 tons! And now you can buy it legally. Go figure.
July 21st, 2011 at 5:36 pm
Steve,
I really can't thank you enough for posting this fantastic story to the blog. I got very emotional reading it. We often debate whether exploring abandoned places had any clear social value. Hearing your memories of your time at Boron has shown me, definitively, that there is value in revisiting these places that so many people are quick to forget. Thank you again.
-Brad
July 21st, 2011 at 5:46 pm
It's hard to imagine new life being created in this old place now – thank you for posting this Kenneth!
July 21st, 2011 at 5:59 pm
Steve,I am pretty moved,touched by your story.You transmit the feel so well that I could actually imagine you and see the whole scene.Brad..could you imagine hearing that ghost place talking to you so clearly when you first stepped in ? Now going back to the pictures after reading all those comments gives a total new meaning to it. Like a pilgrimmage.
July 21st, 2011 at 6:50 pm
What an amazing story Steve. It's chilling to think of the quality of life some of the places I've explored offered. It's so fascinating to get the chance to speak to people who used these institutions while they were still operating. Thank you for your fantastically insightful contribution!
December 28th, 2011 at 5:32 pm
Found a site that has older photos and the history of the 750th AC&W Squadron. Thanks for this great post, we are trying to find out as much as possible about this location. (http://www.radomes.org/museum/showsite.php?site=Boron+AFS,+CA)