The Height of Caring

The largest physical fact of life in Southern California may be its mountain ranges. Many cities are near mountains. Some are actually in the mountains. But our megalopolis is so mega that, lying on coastal plains and spreading into inland valleys, it is divided by mountains. No one living here has not seen them. Many gaze upon them from a distance in the course of every working day. And yet to millions they are like treasures locked in a vault. Most come no closer to these treasures than a rare drive along a mountain road. The mountains of Southern California are a too-well-kept secret.

“What’s it like up there?” How many children--how many poor children, in particular, those whose parents don’t own a car for even that rare Sunday drive--have asked that question and received no answer.

For a lucky few each year, however, the door to the hall of the mountain king swings open and the treasures are laid bare. These are the kids who, thanks to Bob and Pat Chapman, arrive on Mt. Baldy as guests at the Chapman Ranch.

Bob was born 76 years ago on the mountain where he now lives. He knows Mt. Baldy and loves it, and he and his wife, Pat, love sharing it. On a bare-bones $70,000 operating budget, they manage to host an amazing 5,000 children each year, and not for an amusement-park-style outing. What the youngsters see are not just deer tracks and circling hawks; they also see, even if they’re too young to share it, some of the strenuous work that goes into the running of a ranch.

The majesty of the mountains and the joy of work can come as a revelation for young people who know only a world whose dangers and diversions are purely man-made. But the Chapmans aren’t getting any younger, and fund-raising is not among the lessons the mountain teaches. Belatedly, they are passing the hat. For their sake and the kids’ sake, we hope the hat comes back overflowing.