It turns out utopia comes at a pretty steep price.
Photo credit: California Historical Landmarks
Some might say that planting a seed in the desert isn’t the wisest decision. And the ruins of Llano del Rio underscore this point. It once bore the promise of a functional socialist society. Today, it’s a crumbling stone husk of that idyllic utopia, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it series of eroded structural fossils east of Palmdale along Highway 138 that makes up California Historical Landmark #933.
The Political Non-Career of Job Harriman
The Llano del Rio Collective was born from the frustration of Job Harriman, a lawyer and political hopeful who got further than you’d expect but not far enough to make much of a difference. Harriman was a staunch supporter of socialist ideals and, for the most part, practiced what he preached. And he had enough charisma to sell disenfranchised Americans on a system that was largely misunderstood and unpopular in early 1900s America.
He had run for governor of California. And for vice president. He’d even run for mayor of Los Angeles on multiple occasions. And in 1911, he came close to winning, though his support and legal representation of a group of men accused of bombing the Los Angeles Times building capsized his campaign when they made an 11th-hour guilty plea. It was just one of several points of contention between Harriman and the Times over the years.
Funding a Principle
Following his 1911 defeat as the Socialist Party pick for LA mayor, Harriman decided to change tactics. His belief in socialism was unwavering. But when he couldn’t legislate, he chose to demonstrate. He contacted high-profile friends with deep pockets, floating his idea for a utopian society that would “live without war or interest on money or rent on land or profiteering in any manner.” Harriman would establish a cooperative community rooted in socialism, leading by example. And he theorized that the benefits of his community would become so rapidly apparent that the world would change around it.
Bankrolled by several wealthy connections, Harriman purchased around 9,000 acres of land about 45 miles north of Los Angeles in 1913. It had belonged to a previous colony that failed, but this didn’t deter the overzealous leader. He eagerly bought the dry and desolate Antelope Valley property for way more than it was worth and began recruiting.
May Day 1914
On May 1, 1914, the Llano del Rio Collective officially opened to public membership. The date was significant, aligning with the May Day holiday commemorating labor protests during the fight for an eight-hour workday. For Llano del Rio’s duration, May Day remained a prominently celebrated community holiday. But on that first May Day, the colony consisted of just five residents, along with several horses, five pigs, and a cow. It may have seemed like a grim introduction, but in less than a year, those numbers had dramatically surged to over 150 residents. And those five pigs and a cow were joined by 110 pigs and over 100 cows.
As the increased population indicates, Llano del Rio wasn’t short on determination or ideas. But its inspiration tended to outpace its reality by a great distance. Perhaps the ideal Llano del Rio offers the clearest indication of this, meticulously designed by architect, city planner, and feminist Alice Constance Austin. She envisioned a circular community populated with offices, churches, schools, shops, and restaurants. But her true innovation became apparent with the feminist perspective in her home designs, with features that would radically shift the domestic dynamic of the American woman of the early 1900s. For example, homes would incorporate heated tile floors and fixed furnishings. Kitchens and daycare centers would be purely communal.
Building a Socialist Utopia
Yet, while Austin drafted these plans, Llano del Rio was simply a series of tents and makeshift shacks. The disparity was glaring, but little by little, the semblance of a functioning community center began to take shape. Residents employed lumber and the Mojave’s wealth of granite. And while Austin’s proposals never quite came to be, the colony gained substance. At its zenith, Llano del Rio boasted:
- Adobe Homes
- Aqueduct
- Community Center
- Dairy Facility
- Dining Hall
- Dormitory
- Hotel
- Industrial Warehouses
- Laundry Building
- Meeting House
- Post Office
- Print Shop
- Rabbit Barn
Yes, a rabbit barn. And one of the largest in the U.S.
The Rigid Requirements of Llano del Rio Membership
The lifestyle of Llano del Rio was exacting, so it held stringent terms of membership. Entrance to the colony required three labor-related references, preferably from notable members of local unions. Colony leadership subjected applicants to a series of questions that measured their commitment to socialist ideals. Acceptance obligated members to take residence in the colony and buy 2,000 shares of Llano del Rio stock at a rate of a dollar per share. However, with an entry fee that would be the equivalent of over $60,000 today, members were permitted to put up to three-quarters of their stock obligations in credit.
Sobriety was a key requirement of colony membership unless excused by a doctor. Members were also prohibited from swearing in front of women and children, with violations punished by unemployment or banishment from Llano del Rio grounds. Once accepted, unmarried men would share rooms in the community dorm. Married couples were permitted to cohabitate in tents until the introduction of the adobe houses. Despite these demanding hurdles, colony membership continued to expand until it peaked in the summer of 1917 at roughly 1,100 residents.
Colony Economy
Llano del Rio tended to attract agricultural workers and professionals from the business sector, enticed by the promise of a steady, solid wage. However, this was again an area in which the collective often fell short. At first, leaders offered members a $4 daily salary with living expenses deducted. Members who put any of their original stock purchases on credit were also obligated to deduct a single dollar a day toward repaying the balance.
Members would be granted two weeks of vacation time. And, to draw a further distinction from a cult, they were actually permitted to retain and purchase personal belongings if they could afford them. Yet, there was one crucial caveat. These wages would only begin to pay out when Llano del Rio achieved a financial surplus. And during its short lifespan, this never happened. Recognizing the unsustainability of the terms, leaders pivoted to a general agreement to cover all member needs as compensation for their work.
But there was always something to be done at Llano del Rio. The positioning of the colony took advantage of a valley bordering the San Bernardino Mountains, allowing for the successful growth and maintenance of orchards, vegetable gardens, and around 2,000 acres of alfalfa fields despite the arid climate. By 1916, about 90% of the food consumed by Llano del Rio’s residents was grown onsite.
However, the remote location of the colony prevented consistently successful trade, severely limiting the group’s chances of long-term success. The colony’s manufactured textiles were sold at local markets, but this simply wasn’t enough to boost their economy. As a result, member morale took a critical hit.
Keeping the Community Together
When community spirit was hurting, it was more often than not the weekly events at Llano del Rio that brought people back together. When the hotel was built in 1915, it became the social epicenter of the community. But it was quickly overtaken by the more appropriate community center, which allowed space for dances, festivals, and colony meetings. Residents could look forward to community dances every Thursday and Saturday night. The colony additionally offered a host of clubs and teams, including a theater group and a baseball team.
The colony even had its own regularly published magazine to keep the world aware of the goings-on at Llano del Rio. The Western Comrade actually existed before May Day of 1914, but Harriman promptly bought it and utilized it as the colony’s literary outreach to the surrounding world. The community even erected a print shop on colony grounds to maintain control over the periodical.
The Controversies of Llano del Rio
But The Western Comrade tended to do its heaviest lifting when attempting to justify the colony’s less-than-utopian philosophical nuances. For example, only Caucasians were permitted to apply for membership at Llano del Rio. The pages of The Western Comrade struggled to add logic to ignorance, proclaiming, “The rejection of these applications are not due to race prejudice but because it is not deemed expedient to mix the races in these communities.” Even if this explanation had ventured close to sufficiency, it immediately capsized under the minstrel shows that the colony’s theater group regularly performed, complete with blackface.
Race wasn’t the colony’s only social failure. 1917’s May Day celebration was noted for its inclusion of a “Fat Women’s Race”. And Harriman nudged the needle a bit closer to cult territory by sharing his tent with fellow colonist Mildred Buxton. Meanwhile, Harriman’s wife continued to live in the city. No wonder the life of a politician called to him so strongly.
The Brush Gang Dissents
Did everyone approve of Harriman’s strongly insinuated extramarital affair? Definitely not. But personal differences were part of life in Llano del Rio. From the very beginning, settlers had left in irreconcilable rage. Others stayed and tried to change the course of the colony from within. Perhaps most notable among the dissenters was a loosely organized group dubbed “The Brush Gang” for their tendency to assemble on the natural landscapes surrounding the encampment. The Brush Gang directly opposed the colony’s Board of Directors, feeling that the socialist society would benefit from a more democratic structure.
Tensions increased between the nine members of the Board and the General Assembly (shareholding residents) in 1917 when the Assembly neglected to authorize the harvesting of the season’s alfalfa crop. The Brush Gang, among other dissenters, believed that the Board, by its very nature, stood in stark contrast to the principles of the colony that declared “equal ownership, equal wage, and equal social opportunities.” Seeing it as further evidence that Harriman was not a true socialist, they pushed for the dissolution of the Board. Meanwhile, Harriman’s loyal supporters argued that without the structure of the Board, the colony would fall apart.
Water Wars
While infighting played its part in Llano del Rio’s decline, it was water that actually did the most erosive damage to the socialist stronghold. From its earliest days, the colony used the natural water from nearby Big Rock Creek. But Big Rock Creek wasn’t a year-long waterway. Even with its reservoir, Llano del Rio desperately needed water. Recognizing this, Harriman and the Board petitioned the California Commissioner of Corporations, H.L. Carnahan, to allow members to construct a dam and irrigation system that would pull them through the dry spells. Area ranchers who also relied on the natural waters of Big Rock Creek started to file lawsuits against the colony.
Then, in the summer of 1916, the Board received word from Carnahan: “Your people do not seem to have the necessary amount of experience and maybe the sums of money it will involve.” The dam denied, Harriman recognized the writing on the wall. Still, he labored on as if Llano del Rio had a future, continuing to accept applicants until May 1917.
The End of Llano del Rio
When World War I broke out, several colony members were drafted into the armed forces despite Llano del Rio’s attempts to put them on record as conscientious objectors. Meanwhile, lawsuits from former members kept the colony in the sights of anti-socialist organizations. A November 1917 edition of The Western Comrade announced that most of the colony’s population would be heading to Louisiana to start the colony of New Llano.
A year later, Llano del Rio’s officials filed for bankruptcy, and the site was abandoned. Harriman led around 60 families to Louisiana with the promises of New Llano. But New Llano never quite found its footing in the south. The Great Depression only served to further clip its wings. By the 1930s, New Llano was as deserted as Llano del Rio. But by that point, Harriman had already returned to Los Angeles, destitute and dying. He passed away in 1925.
The Llano del Rio Ruins
Misguided as it was, Llano del Rio underscores the LA area’s propensity to reward big dreams, even if only for a moment. Does a colony of racists that fizzled out in three years deserve to be memorialized as a historical landmark? Well, we don’t learn by forgetting our mistakes. But knowing Llano del Rio’s dark side, you may find a sense of poetry in driving an hour out into the desert to see that all that remains of it is a distant series of crumbling stone foundations.
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