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The Big Yellow House clings to the edge of the Truckee River Canyon, nestled in a grove of quaking Aspens, illuminated green and gold in an afternoon dance of autumnal light.
The Big Yellow House is a landmark for Floriston, a mountain town of about 80 people between Truckee and Nevada.
But what most people don’t know as they speed past on Interstate 80 is that Floriston is steeped in history and rich in characters.
The Big Yellow House is a landmark for Floriston, a mountain town of about 80 people between Truckee and Nevada.
But what most people don’t know as they speed past on Interstate 80 is that Floriston is steeped in history and rich in characters.
It was the Floriston Pulp and Paper Company that started it all. But when the mill closed in 1930, one man remained as caretaker in the mill superintendent’s house — the Big Yellow House.
In 1947, Preston L. Wright, a San Francisco attorney bought the entire town for $6,000 and began to sell lots. While it wasn’t on the scale of when the mill banged, clanked and steamed, a renaissance of sorts has taken place and the tiny town of Floriston is once again a vibrant place with a varied cast of characters.
“It’s clear from growing up here, Floriston’s not for everybody,” says 43-year resident Darin Bue, president of the Floriston Property Owner’s Association. “It takes a certain amount of volunteerism to keep the town afloat. There is no public town council, the town’s water, sewerage and roads are maintained and operated from within. If a frozen water line breaks, it’s up to the residents to fix it.”
As the people who passed before them, the denizens of Floriston have maintained a can-do attitude. During one particularly fierce Sierra storm, Marie Reichlin, who’s lived in Floriston for 53 years, recalls a time when the plows were down and there was no way to get in or out.
“A contingent of men, women and children took to the streets and hand-shoveled the town and down the access road to Highway 80,” says Reichlin, originally from Switzerland as were many others living in town. “It was quite a party,” she allows.
In 1947, Preston L. Wright, a San Francisco attorney bought the entire town for $6,000 and began to sell lots. While it wasn’t on the scale of when the mill banged, clanked and steamed, a renaissance of sorts has taken place and the tiny town of Floriston is once again a vibrant place with a varied cast of characters.
“It’s clear from growing up here, Floriston’s not for everybody,” says 43-year resident Darin Bue, president of the Floriston Property Owner’s Association. “It takes a certain amount of volunteerism to keep the town afloat. There is no public town council, the town’s water, sewerage and roads are maintained and operated from within. If a frozen water line breaks, it’s up to the residents to fix it.”
As the people who passed before them, the denizens of Floriston have maintained a can-do attitude. During one particularly fierce Sierra storm, Marie Reichlin, who’s lived in Floriston for 53 years, recalls a time when the plows were down and there was no way to get in or out.
“A contingent of men, women and children took to the streets and hand-shoveled the town and down the access road to Highway 80,” says Reichlin, originally from Switzerland as were many others living in town. “It was quite a party,” she allows.
Dennis Jamason, who has called Floriston home since 1966, recalls the Swiss community’s festivities fondly.
“In the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, at least 100 people gathered out by the smokehouse in celebration of herding the cows up and down the mountain.
“They had bells on, and Marie’s brother would crack his whip, ‘pop, pop, pop,’ all around us kids,” Jamason says.
“We had a herd of seven or eight head up at acid flats,” says Reichlin. “We brought them down in fall. A friend from Switzerland would help slaughter them.”
Half the meat was sold in Reno, the other half was taken to Truckee for seasoning.
“One year there was thunder and lightening that scared the herd and they bolted up to Verdi peak — two of them we never found,” says Reichlin. “I said ‘never again.’ But that last year was quite a party.”
Parties were big in Floriston throughout the ‘70s. Annie Raber, who celebrated her 50th anniversary as a Floriston resident on Oct. 19, raised five children there.
“In the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, at least 100 people gathered out by the smokehouse in celebration of herding the cows up and down the mountain.
“They had bells on, and Marie’s brother would crack his whip, ‘pop, pop, pop,’ all around us kids,” Jamason says.
“We had a herd of seven or eight head up at acid flats,” says Reichlin. “We brought them down in fall. A friend from Switzerland would help slaughter them.”
Half the meat was sold in Reno, the other half was taken to Truckee for seasoning.
“One year there was thunder and lightening that scared the herd and they bolted up to Verdi peak — two of them we never found,” says Reichlin. “I said ‘never again.’ But that last year was quite a party.”
Parties were big in Floriston throughout the ‘70s. Annie Raber, who celebrated her 50th anniversary as a Floriston resident on Oct. 19, raised five children there.
“Every holiday we had something going on at the schoolhouse. One time we had a Halloween party with 80 kids,” she says.
The community festivities have fallen a bit by the wayside and the town’s schoolhouse into disrepair. But Jan Pollard, a registered nurse and artist, moved to town 30 years ago October with her husband Bill and two children, isn’t going to let the town fade away on her watch. She feels historic designation for the schoolhouse is important.
“It is the last vestige of the mill era,” she says. “It’s worth preserving and using for a variety of functions.”
Pollard is an artist of many mediums, including oil painting and glass. Her work was recently on display in the Seasons of Martis exhibit with the Truckee and Riverside Galleries.
Pollard is just one of many artists who’ve been drawn to Floriston over the years. Liza Ray, a jazz harp player, and Alvin Ray, a big band musician, lived there and often played in the neighborhood. Pollard’s long-time friend, Chuck Grooms, recalls the couple playing during the evening. Chuck and his wife Debbie visited the Pollards and bought what used to be a bunkhouse in 1978 from Marie Reichlin.
“We love it. It’s in the mountains, quiet with clean air and good water. Walk out the back door, and there is the river,” says Grooms, a construction superintendent turned metal artist.
The community festivities have fallen a bit by the wayside and the town’s schoolhouse into disrepair. But Jan Pollard, a registered nurse and artist, moved to town 30 years ago October with her husband Bill and two children, isn’t going to let the town fade away on her watch. She feels historic designation for the schoolhouse is important.
“It is the last vestige of the mill era,” she says. “It’s worth preserving and using for a variety of functions.”
Pollard is an artist of many mediums, including oil painting and glass. Her work was recently on display in the Seasons of Martis exhibit with the Truckee and Riverside Galleries.
Pollard is just one of many artists who’ve been drawn to Floriston over the years. Liza Ray, a jazz harp player, and Alvin Ray, a big band musician, lived there and often played in the neighborhood. Pollard’s long-time friend, Chuck Grooms, recalls the couple playing during the evening. Chuck and his wife Debbie visited the Pollards and bought what used to be a bunkhouse in 1978 from Marie Reichlin.
“We love it. It’s in the mountains, quiet with clean air and good water. Walk out the back door, and there is the river,” says Grooms, a construction superintendent turned metal artist.
Grooms says he feels a flow of energy follows the river.
“The river, wind and mountains make it a pretty special spot,” he says.
Jamason says he would like to see small businesses developed. He recently received organic certification for his life-long passion — farming garlic.
“We have a high level of artists in town. I’d like to see an art center, or collectively bottling water to generate funds to maintain control of our facilities,” Jamason says.
Bue agrees. “We have a unique community structure, diversity in points of view, skills and people of independent character. I support moderate growth to generate an economy.”
Floriston once boomed with industry and wealth. Its wealth remains in a collection of characters old and new, with a sense of community interested in change.
“It’s like sitting on a pot of gold,” says Raber, looking over Floriston’s fall swatch of quaking aspens.
“The river, wind and mountains make it a pretty special spot,” he says.
Jamason says he would like to see small businesses developed. He recently received organic certification for his life-long passion — farming garlic.
“We have a high level of artists in town. I’d like to see an art center, or collectively bottling water to generate funds to maintain control of our facilities,” Jamason says.
Bue agrees. “We have a unique community structure, diversity in points of view, skills and people of independent character. I support moderate growth to generate an economy.”
Floriston once boomed with industry and wealth. Its wealth remains in a collection of characters old and new, with a sense of community interested in change.
“It’s like sitting on a pot of gold,” says Raber, looking over Floriston’s fall swatch of quaking aspens.
THE ORIGINAL BOOM TOWN
When the Sierra Pacific Railroad broke the constraints of travel through the Sierra Nevada, engines rumbled along the Truckee River’s path. In 1872, Bronco, whose namesake is a clear creek tumbling into the Truckee, became an established lumber and ice stop. Renamed Floriston in 1891, the whistle stop was on its way to a booming business proposition.The Floriston Pulp and Paper Company was formed by the stockholders of the Crown Paper Company and interested parties from the California citrus industry and the National Ice Company. The combination of natural resources and business acumen set forth a 30 year heydey of industry.
The Floriston Pulp and Paper Mill Company built residential houses, a one-room schoolhouse as well as the needed industrial structures at a furious pace. The Truckee news on Oct. 20, 1899 was that “The Pacific Construction company, contractors for the Floriston Pulp and Paper Company, expect to have the buildings completed in 60 to 90 days.”
The 160 acre town site sported 46 cottages, three bunkhouses, a schoolhouse, hospital, store, hotel, recreational hall, and of course, the superintendent’s Big Yellow House, which was heated with steam from the paper mill. The mill boasted 34 buildings.
The mill turned out manila, book and stationary paper, and raisin tray. But its prime concern was tissue paper. Fresh produce was shipped from fertile California valleys, wrapped in Floriston tissue, and packed into rail cars refrigerated with locally harvested ice. It was then shipped to eastern markets hungry for fancy fruits.
The beginning of the end was in 1904, when the state of Nevada charged the Floriston Pulp and Paper Company with “allowing large quantities of chemicals and acids to percolate and seep through the bottom and sides of a reservoir into the Truckee River.”
Floriston’s lawyers explained that pollution had existed previous to the mill’s operations. Throughout the 30 years of operation, the mill attempted to keep waste out of the river.
A wooden flume was built to carry waste to an old ice pond above the river on the canyon side. The name “acid flat” stuck. A scientific method to convert “black lye” into methyl alcohol, turpentine and usable products did not work. The last resort was to transport the waste into Southern Pacific tank cars and dump it in the Nevada Desert, but this process was too costly. In addition to the pollution dilemma, newer Northwest mills were producing more tonnage per day.
The good life with well-paid workers, a recreation hall, hotel and bountiful fishing and hunting, ended Christmas Eve in 1930. The mill was shut down.
BY THE NUMBERS:
1899: arrangements are made for a pulp and paper mill to be operated 12 miles east of Truckee2,500,00-3,000,000 feet of lumber were used for construction
1.5 million bricks were fired in kilns in Floriston for building construction
30,000-40,000 cords of wood were used each year by the mill
The Truckee River supplied 2,300 horsepower to the mill when the river was high
Daily capacity was 22 tons of wrapping paper and 10 tons of tissue.
May 22, 1900 the first pulp was made in the mill
1920: an aerial tramway line 8,700 feet long is erected to transport lumber to the mill
Feb. 4, 1919: The No. 1 machine broke all records by turning out 80,000 pounds gross weight of wrapper
Six residents who were raised as children call Floriston home
