The Legend of Mrs. Orcutt's Driveway

For years I was a truck driver who travelled that route. At the time, I was running (jogging) around thirty miles a week. Almost weekly I would park behind the Circle K and run eight miles on that driveway, four down, four back. I even explored the remains of those structures, wondering the whole time what they used to be. I had no idea the history I was traversing with every run. The Google algorithm feeds me this video, so now I know. Life can be serendipitous.

Mrs Orcutt was born near Richmond Indiana and attended DePauw University. She was petite. 4' 7". Her husband Kenneth was from Colorado, 10 years younger than her, and was killed in a small plane accident in Iowa in 1953. He raised chinchillas in Manhattan Beach, California. Mrs. Orcutt planned to build a maternity hospital for unwed mothers on her Newberry property and name it Cywren ( her brothers name was Wren). She had many other plans for the property as well. Her lake on the property was 14' deep and a 1/4 mile long. She died in 1987 at 77 years old.

Been there. Driven that. At 190 mph.  I was on the editorial staff for Motor Trend Magazine in those days, and we top-speed-tested cars there many times during the 1990s. Car and Driver may have discovered it, but several magazines used it.  The road was really falling apart by the year 2000. Loose gravel from the deteriorating sun-baked tarmac, plus ruts and undulating surfaces, pot holes (especially toward the last mile, where'd you'd be nearing top speed) plus the natural hazards of tumbleweeds, cross-winds, high heat (or very cold winter temps.)   We drove the hell out of new Corvettes, Dodge Vipers, Z28s, Trans Ams, Mustangs, Porsches, Ferraris, and anything else fast, on that dead-end road. Occasionally we'd even get permission from the County to be there, and would pay for a CHP officer to watch over us. But, more often we'd just drive out there at dawn and go for it. No one ever complained, except...  One time, a very mad old lady in a pickup came speeding up to us as we turned the test car around at the far end, near our people running the test equipment (radar gun and timing lights.) The lady didn't identify herself except to say "I live on this road!" as she raised holy hell. We collected our gear and promptly left.  After we'd heard she died, we decided to venture further down the road to see where she had lived. You have the correct house in the video. But, back then it was only fairly recently abandoned, and there were still remnants of her stuff including a desk drawer crammed with her business paperwork that showed she and her husband owned a nut tree farm (almonds?) before moving there. I kept a couple of those papers, for historical sake, but haven't seen them in dozens of years. "Orcutt Family Ranch", I think it was called. In somewhere like Ojai CA, if I'm remembering correctly.  Thanks for the video. Was fun to see the old road again. Lots of untold stories live out there.

I worked fro Mrs. Orcutt during my HS or College years. Not sure exactly when but between 1965-1970. She had a landscaping project around her lake. My friend, now retired and living in Newberry Springs, worked for her for a number of years. I believe she made those adobe bricks herself. She was a hoot. I remember she drove out to my parents house (about 10 miles away) just to see me and encourage me to go to college. Your description is accurate. She was the prototype of a community activist who knew how to work the levers of government. BTW, I lived there when the name was changed. The reason (we were told) the change was so easily made was that the historic name was Newberry Springs and all she did was to point out that it had never been officially/legally changed to Newberry. Regardless, at that time there were many lakes and alfalfa farms ( My dad put in an 8 acre lake at my house) so the "Lakes" addition was a great real estate move. Thanks for the vid. Brings me back many years to a grand old lady.

We lived in Newberry Springs from 1966 to 1994, and we used to sell raw milk to Margaret. Yes, she had rifles by the turrets, she said she had to protect herself. She was an interesting character.

Locals claim that Mrs. Orcutt's island-bound chickens swam to freedom around the time of her death and took up free-range lives in the surrounding desert. On some Saturday evenings, the descendants of her chickens gather on the driveway and hold races, but across the road rather than down its length, because they are chickens after all, even though rather eggcentric chickens.

Thanks for this. I recall reading C&D back in the day and catching references to "Mrs. Orcutt's Driveway" but not understanding. It was all pre-internet so my information sources were essentially zilch. I wasn't sure if it was a pet name for a track or a lonely stretch of road, but figured that it couldn't actually be the driveway of some old lady named Mrs. Orcutt. How wrong I was! Very cool.

Demonstrating what every senior knows: the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Well she left her mark on the world, that's for sure!

Because of the car magazines reference to Mrs. Orcutt's driveway, I did stop and look down that road. Yes, I've also stopped at the rest area that was on her old place. This holds an amazing place in automotive history and deserves at least a bronze historical marker. Please do so .......

Dude! I love how you can relate a historical fact to the style of a storyteller! Not near enough of that type these days; less tech, more talk! ❤👍 P.S.- Mrs. Orcutt was a Champion!!

You did a great job with this story. My Dad knew her quite well and I was able to go out to Newberry with him to have lunch, I got to know the place pretty well and she was very nice to me when I was there. If you want to do a follow up get ahold of me and I can fill in the gaps about her ranch and the driveway. Thank you for bringing back some good memories

I used to read the stories in Car and Driver magazine about their hi-speed exploits on that piece of tarmac. They were always vague about the location so as to not cause problems for Mrs. Orcutt. Enjoyed the update, thanks for the post.

I lived in Newberry Springs during the early 2000s. Every house out there has a well pump that connects to the the water table underground. It is the only way that it is possible to survive out there. I had never heard of Mrs. Orcutt before, it is a fascinating story! However, if you think her personality is unique, you should meet the people that still live out there and you would see that many of them are just like her! Living in the desert does things to people... Anyway, my family was glad to move to the "big city" of Barstow after our time in Newberry Springs. I no longer live in the desert, but I appreciate growing up there.

That section of I40 came in around 1970; we drove it every summer. Before that, it was 66.

In 1976, my family went out to the outskirts of Newberry Springs for a kids camp retreat. I got to drive my mom's '65 Buick Skylark down that straight stretch at about 80mph before i was even old enough to drive. Also found an autographed copy of Dick Dale's Ride the Wild Surf at that camp. Good times. Thanks for making it.

What an interesting story. I've driven by that offramp and often wondered why it was there with nothing around it. Now I know. Thank you for another great video.

My Dad was a construction engineer... and he laid a lot of asphalt out in the Mojave (29 Palms, Barstow, Camp Irwin), This is a great old time story - but 4 miles of what is basically 2-lane blacktop, across that flat desert terrain, did not cost anything like 2 million dollars back then. Actual construction cost was likely less than what they offered for her house.

She sounds like my kind of people. Sadly, we're a dying breed.

What a great story! I'm familiar with Newberry Springs from my own travels and I loved learning about Mrs. Orcutt and her property. I would have enjoyed meeting her! Thanks Steve!

I'M only 60yrs and drove cross country from Michigan to San Diego from late 1970s. to middle 1980s. for work and to visit with my Sister. I drove the "driveway" in 1983. Easy, because someone lives at the end of road. I'm a lucky man and I should have knocked on the door just to to say "Hello" .Thanks for sharing, James