The Best History Books Never Age

Editor’s Note —

Hal Schell wrote five books and thousands of articles and columns about the California Delta. We weren’t close friends, but we ran into each other now and then at Delta Chamber events and around the region back in the 1990s. I honestly don’t think I ever saw the Delta Dawdler without a smile—or without a good Delta story ready to share.

I thought I had a pretty good handle on Hal’s work, but not long ago a book drawn from his archives—one I’d somehow missed—came to my attention. When I saw it, I knew it was something worth sharing, especially for anyone who enjoys taking an easy, photo-driven cruise through Delta history.

Published nineteen years ago, Images of America: The California Delta, carefully curated by historian Carol A. Jensen, draws from the Hal Schell Archives along with photographs from local museums and private collections. It preserves a visual record of the Delta as it looked long before most of us were around.

Schell was a true champion of the Delta, and having photographed and written about this place myself for decades, these images and words feel immediately familiar. They show a working Delta shaped by water, labor, and community—from paddlewheel steamboats to floods, fragility, recreation, and the everyday rhythms of life here.

What we’re sharing below is just a small sample. We’re happy to present it in the spirit of keeping this history alive and easy to access. If you’d like to see more, the full book is available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Lira’s Supermarkets in Rio Vista, local historical societies, or by contacting Carol Jensen directly at  cajensen@pacbell.net.

“This book is really Hal ‘Mr. Delta’ Schell’s last book. He began this effort in 2003 but fell ill and passed away before it was completed. I hope his spirit is captured correctly. Any errors or omissions in the writing are all mine.”  —Carol A. Jensen

From Hal Schell’s Book Introduction-

“There is always the tendency to describe the California Delta (officially, the Sacramento–San Joaquin Delta) in terms of its geographic and economic attributes. One thousand miles of navigable waterways, say the chambers of commerce. Fed by five major rivers and lesser streams and sloughs, mumble those who try to get a handle on this elusive place. Deepwater ports visited by vessels from around the world, say the economists. Incredibly rich farming soil on over 55 major reclaimed islands, totaling over 500,000 acres, say those with an agricultural bent. Pretty good fishing and outstanding duck hunting, say the sportsmen. Good birding, say the bird-watchers. One of the 10 best sailboarding spots in the world, say the sailboarders. A source of drinking water for nearly 70 percent of the population of California, say the water barons.

But true delta people have different ways of explaining their love for the delta and what it is that is so unique about this great place. They speak of the River Route mail carrier, who delivers mail six days a week over a 65-mile water route; rain, tule fog, heavy wind, and whitecaps on the water will not stop him. Or of hotel magnate Barron Hilton’s decades-long Independence Day tradition of staging an “ooh-ah” fireworks display for some 25,000 boaters anchored in 6,000 boats of every size and description.

The delta river towns, some not much changed in 120 years, stage their traditional festivals. In the hamlet of Courtland, it is the Bartlett pear they worship; in Isleton, the crawdad; in Rio Vista, the striped bass; in Pittsburg, seafood; and in Stockton, asparagus. In Old Sacramento, they get all worked up over Dixieland jazz, and in Bethel Island, over 1950s-era automobiles. Eight or ten yacht clubs are involved in staging beautiful lighted-boat Christmas parades. Somehow, out here in this place of tractors and crop dusters, of sandhill cranes and coots, of ultralight seaplanes and noisy personal watercraft, the denizens of the delta manage to coexist amiably enough. (Well, no one appreciates the boat wakes very much.) 

There is a sort of vernacular of the river here. Even non-boaters begin to speak in nautical terms. A delta roadway becomes an asphalt slough. The front of a vehicle, whether it is a boat, a tractor, or an 18-wheeler, becomes the bow, and the opposite end, the stern. A saloon is a watering hole. Even when we go to a shoreside gas station, we are taking on fuel. Here on the river, we merely call this great place the delta.” 

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