Jim White and the Discovery of Carlsbad Caverns: from cowpoke to conservationist

The story of the Carlsbad Caverns began some 250 million years ago, when the area was then coastline for an inland sea. Sometime after the Permian period, it is believed this sea eventually dried up, leaving behind an exposed reef which slowly became covered by evaporates and other sediments. During the Cenozoic period, tectonic forces then upthrust this underlying limestone strata, where seasonal weathering eroded it into the present day Guadalupe Mountains. The cavern resides within this ancient elevated karst bed, now well above the current median groundwater level; although during the Tertiary period, these karst beds were quite literally subjected to an “acid bath.” Deep beneath this surface limestone layer also exist petroleum deposits which emit hydrogen sulfide gas: the interaction between this emission and oxygen (even oxygen that might be found within an immersive water table) form sulfuric acid which in great part helped dissolve the limestone to create the caverns we see today. Evidence of this rather unique chemical interaction is supported by the presence of gypsum, a by-product of just such a reaction between limestone and sulfuric acid. Once this water table dropped, the usual percolation of surface water upon jointed limestone and the resulting deposits of calcium carbonate resulted in the creation of its magnificent speleothems over countless millennia.

James Larkin White’s story began on a much later date when he was born in Mason County, Texas on July 11, 1882. He is said to have begun working in the cattle business at a very early age. It is commonly reported that upon becoming generally ‘fed up’ with the primer school he was forced to attend, he told his father, “…I want to be a cowboy.” Regardless of whether or not such a conversation actually took place, his own life-account states that due to having been born on a rural ranch, he simply hadn’t access to the formality of a grammar school education. In his own words:

“…I began riding the range when I was 10 years old…and even if there had been a little log school house, I would have preferred bustin’ broncos to books and blackboards. I worked on ranches in various parts of Texas until 1892, when I came over into New Mexico and teamed up with John and Dan Lucas who owned the X-X-X Ranch, which was about 3 miles from the entrance of the cave.”

This approximate date is when his father is reported to have bought land in a place called Lone Tree (within the territory of New Mexico-it wouldn’t officially become a state until 1912) and then moved his family there. It is said that although Jim occasionally “came home” for visits during these early years, he otherwise lived and worked full time at the Lucas Ranch.

The fates of cave and explorer officially converged in 1889 when, while looking for stray cattle in the company of a fence crew, Jim noticed a massive plume of bats rising from the nearby hills. Intrigued, he directed his horse toward the anomaly and found himself at a locally known hole in the ground. Hitching his horse to a tree, Jim thus described the fateful encounter:

“…I worked my way through the rocks and brush until I found myself gazing into the biggest and blackest hole I had ever seen, out of which the bats seemed literally to boil. Although the bats were a novelty to me, the hole itself was not an unfamiliar sight. I had roamed this part of the country ever since I’d landed in New Mexico, and long before I’d noticed the opening, therefore I, like other rangemen, knew of its existence. And, like them, I also had felt no urge to see what was hiding in the darkness of that great hole. That is, until this particular day. I had sat for about an hour watching the bats fly out. I couldn’t estimate the number, but I knew it must run in the millions. The more I thought of it, the more I realized that any hole in the ground which could house such a gigantic army of bats must be a whale of a big cave. I crept between cactus until I lay on the brink of the chasm, and looked down. During all the years I’d known of the place, I’d never taken the trouble to do this. There was no bottom in sight! I shall never forget the feeling of aweness it gave me.

“I piled up some dead cactus and made a bonfire. When it was burning good, I took a flaming stalk and pushed it off down into the hole. Down, down, down, it went until at last the flame went out. Finally I saw the glowing embers strike and sprinkle on the rocks below. As nearly as I could estimate, the drop must have been 200 feet. I kicked the remainder of the bonfire into the hole, and watched it fall. This seemed to frighten the bats, and for several minutes they ceased their flight. However, as soon as the embers died out, the bats swarmed forth as before. I hung around perhaps an hour longer, then went back to camp. A crew of us were camping in the vicinity at the time-building fences. I didn’t mention to a soul what I had seen. A couple of days later though, I gathered up a kerosene lantern, several coils of rope, some wire, and a hand axe. I got to the cave about mid-afternoon. The mouth of the cave, you know, faces the West, and the sun was just at the right direction to shine down into the hole, and light it sufficiently for me to see the bottom of the shaft. At the bottom and toward the right, I could see the opening of a huge tunnel-and my imagination feasted upon thoughts of where the end of that tunnel might lead. I made up my mind to find out.

“I got busy with the hand axe, cutting sticks of wood from the shrub growth nearby. When I had a sizeable pile, I set about to building a ladder by utilizing the rope and wire, with sticks for steps-like a rope ladder. This I then lowered into the entrance, until I felt the end reach what I thought was bottom. Then, without giving thought to any possible unfortunate circumstances, I found myself climbing down, down, deeper and deeper into the blackness of Stygian depths. At last my feet touched something solid. I lighted my lantern, and found that I was perched on a narrow ledge, almost at the end of my rope-literally and figuratively. By now I could see into the tunnel-it wasn’t much farther down to the floor of it, and that floor looked smooth and level. I decided that with a little exhibition of human-fly stuff, I could hold onto the rough wall and go down another twenty feet to level territory.

“Standing at the entrance of the tunnel I could see ahead of me a darkness so absolutely black it seemed a solid. The light of my lantern was but a sickly glow. Nevertheless, I forged ahead and with each step the tunnel grew larger, and I felt as though I was wandering into the very core of the Guadalupe Mountains. Finally I reached a chamber-an immense aperture, oval shaped, and extending ahead several hundred yards to where it curved off sharply to the right, and then began a sharp descent. Toward the left was another immense tunnel, leading in the opposite direction. The floor of the latter appeared to be more level, and somewhat smooth, and so I tackled it first. This proved to be the bat cave, and after exploring about in it, I retraced my steps to the larger entrance, and started down the other tunnel. I followed on until I found myself in a wilderness of mighty stalagmites. It was the first cave I was ever in, and the first stalagmites I had ever seen, but I instinctively knew, for some intuitive reason, that there was no other scene in the world which could be justly compared with my surroundings.

“By this time I had crept cat-like across a dozen dangerous ledges, and past many dangerous openings that looked as though they went down and down to the very center of the earth. I dropped rocks into them to sound their depth. Into one hole I pushed a large boulder. It was a couple of seconds before it hit-and even then it didn’t hit bottom. But it did strike something, and kept rolling and rolling until the sound became an echo. I came to more and more stalagmites-each seemingly larger and more beautifully formed than the ones I’d passed. I entered rooms filled with colossal wonders in gleaming onyx. Suspended from the ceilings were mammoth chandeliers-clusters of stalactites in every size and color. Walls were frozen cascades of glittering flowstone. Jutting rocks that held suspended long, slender formations that rang when I touched them-like a key on the xylophone. Floors were lost under formations of every variety and shape. Through the gloom I could see ghost-like totem poles, tall and graceful, reaching upward in the darkness. I encountered hundreds of pools filled with pure water as clear as glass, their sides lined with crystalline onyx marble. The beauty, the weirdness, the grandeur and the omniscience absolved my mind of all thoughts of the world above-I forgot time, place, and distance. Suddenly however, a situation presented itself which was serious enough to cause me to make a mental come-back to sterner thoughts. The oil in my lantern had given out, and the flame curled up and died. It seemed as though a million tons of black wool descended upon me. The darkness was so dense it seemed smothering-choking me.

“Fortunately, I had brought with me a small canteen of oil for just such an emergency. But the blackness and the loneliness had got to working under my skin, and when I tried to refill the lantern my fingers shook so much that I fumbled the filler cap and spilled more oil in my lap than I poured into the thing. And I dropped the filler cap when I tried to screw it back on. All the time I was hearing the strangest noises! Church chimes and sleigh bells and street car gongs-and a sound like someone practicing on a piano! Finally I got the lantern lighted, and looked up. Each stalactite had its own note and tone, and in a particularly large cluster of them I saw a little bat flying in and out among them, striking against one and then another. By that time you could have made me believe that anything was possible!

“Before I had gotten far into the cave, I realized the necessity of my leaving some sort of landmarks in order that I could find my way out should my sense of direction fail. So now and then I had broken off stalactites and lain them on top of rocks, with the smaller end pointing the way out. Presently I was being persecuted with the thought that in the dim glow of my lantern that perhaps I would be unable to find these markers I’d left behind. Then I began worrying with the possibility that I might get lost in this wilderness of stone and darkness. No one at camp knew where I had gone, and even if they had known, and I didn’t show up, there was hardly a remote chance of their ever finding me. The whole thing began to get on my nerves. Although the cave is always cool-56 degrees day and night, summer and winter-yet, I could feel the perspiration trickle down my body, and cold chills run up my spine.

“Suddenly I was seized with a mad desire to run-to charge like a crazy bull when he finds himself cornered. I began scrambling along the edge of a black abyss. In my foolish haste I rammed my head against the sharp points of a mass of stalactites. I saw a shower of blinding lights and felt something trickle down my face. The needle-like points of those formations had pierced my hat and cut a few gashes in my scalp. That sort of cooled me off, and I leaned back against the wall and began communing with myself. Cowboys often talk to themselves. Perhaps they do it out of sheer loneliness…perhaps you can appreciate my sense of satisfaction when I’d wormed my way back and could see a shaft of sunlight filtering down through the entrance. I grabbed onto my rope ladder and made my way up to the world above. The familiarity of it warmed me. Presently I turned and stared back into the cave. It had beaten me-driven me out! I stared back at it like one might regard a stubborn broncho, and resolved that someday I would conquer it.

“As I rode back to camp, busy with the thoughts of my adventure and prophesying as to the extent of that cave, I felt stronger and stronger a desire to see it all. I decided that if I could get someone to go into the place with me, it wouldn’t seem so silent, dark and lonely. The cowboys at camp however, refused to take my story of the bats and glittering underground palace seriously. The more I would tell, the louder they would guffaw. When finally they found I was serious, they decided that either I had just naturally gone crazy, or else set out to become a cow-punchin’ Baron Munchhausen-insomuch as lying was concerned. And try as I might, I couldn’t find a single cowboy who’d agree to go with me-I couldn’t even find one who was the least bit interested!”

But the memory of the wonders he’d seen, and the nagging feeling of having been beaten by his fears didn’t lessen with a good night’s sleep, nor did it fade with a return to the daily routine. It was now burned into his mind, and merely strengthened his resolve to return. Seeing as he was still unable to find a willing cohort among the men in camp, however, he took a chance when approached by a teenage “kid” working in camp who was from somewhere south of the border, and consequently knew very little of the English language. What he did manage to communicate through his rather limited vocabulary was a strong desire to see the cave, and in spite of not even knowing his name, Jim took advantage of this offer of support to plan a more extensive exploration upon his now assured return. Again, in Jim’s own words:

“Five days after my first trip into the cave, the Kid and I set out with a couple crude torches, which we had rigged up, a canteen of water, a sack of grub and a can of kerosene. I was afraid the Kid would get cold feet, and back out at the last minute, but he didn’t. Our kerosene torches were a great improvement over the lantern I had taken on the first visit. They gave off sufficient light to enable us to make fairly good progress. By the time we had reached the giant stalagmites, I could see that the Kid was scared stiff-but he was a game little cuss, and never whimpered once. I doubt if any man could have stood up under the strain any better than the Kid.

“Well, the Kid and I stayed in the cave for three days-exploring. We covered about the same territory the tourist of today sees. I shan’t go into detail as to our difficulties, findings, hazards and thrills. there were plenty of each. You can use your own imagination-it would be impossible to even exaggerate our experiences during those three days…during the second-no, it was the third day…down in one corner of the Big Room I crawled upon a ledge of rock, and I sat down to rest. Presently I looked over the other side of the ledge-and what do you suppose I saw? Through the gloom I saw staring back at me the skull of a man! I brought my torch about, and there was his whole skeleton intact! I was amazed by the magnitude of it. Evidently, the man had been about twice as large as the biggest man I had ever seen! His thigh bones were as big as the largest beef shanks. I deducted that he must have been some prehistoric cave-dwelling giant. I attempted to pick up one of the leg bones, but the minute I touched it, it crumbled in my fingers. Then a drop of water falling on my hand cleared up the mystery. For years-no one knows how many-that skeleton had lain under a drip. The mineral water had softened the bones, and impregnated them with lime, softening and encrusting them many times their normal size. The skull, however, was in perfect condition-as it was not under the drip. I picked up the skull, and noticed that the Kid shrank from it…nevertheless I carried it out. Sometime later a doctor in Carlsbad borrowed it to examine. He loaned it to someone else, who, in turn, loaned it to someone else, and so on, until I lost trace of it-unfortunately, for today it would perhaps be the most treasured cave souvenir in my museum…

“Maybe you’d like to know why the Kid and I stayed only three days in the cave. Well, it was the afternoon of the third day. The Kid had a knapsack on his back, in which was our grub. I was carrying the oil for our torches. It was a gallon can, which in turn was in a gunny sack, slung over my shoulder. Well, the can began leaking, saturated my clothing. It wasnt long before my back grew rather sore and irritated. I decided to stop and fix things as best I could, just as soon as we could get off of the ledge upon which we were crawling. But the Kid, behind me, brought his torch too near my back, with the result that I found myself hanging onto a narrow shelf of stone, my clothing ablaze, and a gallon can of oil on my back! If I hung there on the ledge I knew I’d burn to death, and if I let go I knew I’d be dashed to pieces on the rocks far below. If I threw away the can it would leave us without oil, and we had not enough in our torches to light our way out. We were at least three miles from the entrance at that time. Well, there was but one thing to do. I went scooting across that ledge like a cat after a bird. Upon reaching a level spot I threw down the can and slapped my big cowboy sombrero over it. The Kid had followed me up the ledge and while I was smothering the flames from the oil can-and hoping that it wouldn’t explode, the Kid was fighting the fire on my back. He had sense enough to skin out of his coat and throw it over my shoulders.

“To make a long story shorter, we soon had the fire out, and that saved the hide of my back, else it’d have been charred to a crisp. As it was, the heat had gone off the back of my head, and the burns on my hands and arms were growing more and more painful. So it was necessary for us to come out and get back to camp where I could have treatment and bandages. During two or three following days I tried my best to make the gang at the ranch believe the story I have partially told here. But it was a hopeless task-and the Kid’s English was so poor he wasn’t very successful in substantiating my tales. A few days later, I went into town. Carlsbad was then called Eddy. I met a friend of mine on the street and told him of the cave. It so happened that he had once visited Mammoth Cave in Kentucky, and he claimed that there couldn’t be any hole in the ground bigger than that. The more he told me about Mammoth, the more I told him about my cave. It ended by his taking me to his library, where he drug out encyclopedias and several other volumes that held information about caves. The more I learned and the more pictures I saw, the more I was convinced that the cave I had discovered was larger and more beautiful than any cavern on record. Trying to convince anyone of the real truth, was however, a fruitless task. I talked bats and cave until word went around that Jim White’s cave was in his head-and so were the bats.”

For the next twenty years Jim White tried to convince people of the labyrinth he’d seen sprawling beneath the Chihuahuan Desert, to no avail. Whenever he had a lull in the ranching business however, he would take the opportunity to explore further and further into the more remote recesses of the cave. When the local economy took a downturn in the 1920s, Jim and his wife moved into a remote shack nearer the cave itself, provided by the company mining guano from the bat chamber at its entrance. During this time, Jim became determined to make the cave more accessible to the general public; he started moving rocks, leveling passageways, and at dangerous crevices drove discarded automobile axles into cracks and strung stranded wire between them for handrails. He did this selflessly, with little thought of compensation, but rather, with a desire that others might one day also witness the sights and marvel at the wonders as he had: a wish to share the deep appreciation and awe he felt for this miracle of nature. Jim also tried convince a local photographer to accompany him into the cave to prove what he had been saying for two decades (that a great natural treasure lay deep within the Guadalupe mountains), but simply couldn’t afford the $100 price for his services. It was around this time that Jim finally got a lucky break. In his words:

“At last, two young fellows who were travelling across the country in an old Ford pulled up at the cave, and asked if there was any chance of their seeing it. I told them I’d be mighty glad to take them through. One of them had a Kodak, and wondered where he could get some flashlight powder. I explained that perhaps he might buy some from the photographer in Carlsbad, and I went on to tell him about trying to get a photographer to accompany me on a trip through the cave. Well, they decided to go into town, get some flashlight powder, and, if possible, persuade the photographer to come along, his pay to come from the distribution rights of the pictures. They agreed to be back that night, and we’d get an early start the next morning for an all-day trip through the cave. When they came back, they had a photographer with them, by the name of Ray V. Davis. Early the following morning we entered the cavern.

“My three guests strolled down the corridors and studied the decorations with even more felicity than I had hoped for. For twenty Years I had anxiously awaited the time when I could look at another man’s face to see if those marvels touched him as they did me. And I was more than pleased with their enthusiasm. The photographer took a couple of dozen pictures before we’d gone a mile, and bellyached the rest of the day because he hadn’t brought more films. When those twenty four pictures were developed and printed, and the doubters viewed them, they changed their line of talk regarding Jim White and his cave. They were buttonholing me right and left, wanting me to take them through.

“Two friends of mine, Red Wheeler and Harry Stephens met me on the street in Carlsbad, and persuaded me to organize a sort of an excursion into the cave. So I got a notebook and pencil, and forty Carlsbad citizens signed up to make the trip. On the appointed day, however, only thirteen showed up…with myself, the party totaled fourteen, which relieved us of any superstition. In those days it was an all day trip across the thirty miles of prairie and over the mountains to the mouth of the cave. the thirteen arrived late in the afternoon. My wife had supper waiting. We bunked them for the night, and the next morning the first scheduled sightseeing party to visit Carlsbad Cavern formed a circle around the old guano bucket. I started the wrench, and by two’s we lowered the party down the black shaft.

“The idea of an admission charge hadn’t entered into my head, but when the party was ready to start back to town, they inquired as to what they owed me. I told them nothing, but they insisted on the grounds that my wife had done alot of cooking, and they had eaten alot of grub, and that I had been put to considerable trouble. It ended by them giving me a dollar each. I spent those thirteen dollars to buy more material in order to carry the trail I had started further into the cave. A couple of days later, I was in Carlsbad and one of the party met me on the street; “Jim” he said, “that cave of yours is the greatest sight of its kind that you, or I, or anyone has ever saw. You charge everybody you take through five dollars! Man it’s worth it!”

“In the meantime, each of those thirteen had passed the word along until it seemed as though everyone in town was begging me to take them through. I finally fixed the price at two dollars admission, since we were having to buy quantities of food to feed the visitors who came out. Too, people started coming in such numbers that a bunk house was necessary. Soon I was spending money on equipment and accommodations faster than ever it came in. Now and then some poor old farmer would drive up with his wife and about fourteen kids. Well, they’d want to go through. I could tell by their looks that they couldn’t afford the two bucks admission, and it didn’t seem exactly fair to let them in free and charge everybody else-so I’d just announce that everyone would be taken through free that day.

“You know, during that time I took through millionaires-I don’t know how many. Whenever I’d see one of these fellows that looked like ready money I’d try to sell him the idea of buying the cave territory from the state-it could have been bought for a song, then. I wanted someone to buy it and let me operate it for them, just so that I could always be around it. I’d fought for it so long I guess I’d grown sentimental about the place. All of these millionaires would rave about it-but when I’d put the proposition up to them, they’d shake their head and say it was too far away from everywhere. I guess they hadn’t heard the story of the man and the mousetrap. Well look at all the good roads leading to it today, and the tens of thousands of people coming down them, just to see the cave. Whenever a newspaper man or writer came along, I’d always take him for free, and be especially nice to him, because I could appreciate the value of advertising he could give me in whatever publication he might be writing for.

“The crowds of visitors grew larger and larger. I lowered hundreds and hundreds of people down the guano bucket.I lifted nervous spinsters across narrow ledges, and pulled fat ladies up steep inclines. When we would reach a particularly dangerous spot I would always stand so that my body shielded it from the light-in order that my guests wouldn’t become frightened and make a misstep. During those years on inadequate trails, not to mention the rickety descent in the old guano bucket, there was never an accident, nor even a broken arm or leg. There were, however, a few narrow escapes. Every now and then I’d have to catch someone by the seat of the pants to keep him from sliding into a pit. We had no end of fun.

“Pretty soon men with government cards started coming. I never charged a government man a dime. It had occurred to me that since I was unable to interest an individual in further development and preservation, perhaps I could get the government to do something. At last the General Land Office in Washington sent Mr. Robert A. Holley down for a survey. That was in 1923. I’ll never forget the day he came. He introduced himself, and I recognized his skepticism when he greeted me with: “We didn’t feel as though this cave was of much importance, but the department thought I’d better run down and measure it up so’s they’d know if it was big enough for them to consider.” I just grinned and didn’t say much. The next morning Mr. Holley unrolled his measuring line, and into the cave we went. Well, to shorten a long story, it took Mr. Holley nine days to lay his measuring line between the entrance and the Jumpin Off Place. “I suppose you want to start in on the lower level next?” I inquired. Holley regarded me queerly. “I’ve seen too much already.” he said, quietly. The next day he departed for Washington. Just before leaving he showed me the opening paragraph of his report. It read:

“I enter upon the task of compiling this report with a feeling of temerity as I am wholly conscious of the feebleness of my efforts to convey in words the deep conflicting emotions, the feeling of fear and awe, and a desire for an inspired understanding of the Divine Creator’s work which presents to the human eye such a complex aggregate of natural wonders in such a space.”

In 1923 a government geologist by the name of Willis T. Lee visited the cave on two separate occasions. He compiled an account of his experiences into an article, where it was published in the National Geographic Magazine in that same year. After he had returned to Washington D.C. Mr. Lee then submitted a formal request to the Geographical Society, and in 1924 was granted the support to conduct a modest 6 month expedition: his wife, daughter, and an aid soon arrived in Carlsbad, where Jim White and his wife provided room and board for this expeditionary party at their home. It was also around this time that the dangerous practice of using the guano bucket for entry into the cave was finally retired when several months later (through an “act of neighborly kindness and generosity”), a stairway was built (later torn down in 1930 when the Park Service completed blasting a trail which instead sloped down the side wall). Today, entry and exit of the cave is enabled through the use of the broad switch-backed concrete path which descends below the “Bat Flight Amphitheater” at the entrance, or via the main elevator(s) that now penetrate from the desert’s surface down to the Big Room/Lunch Room junction.

After Mr. Lee departed for Washington with another article for National Geographic Magazine, Jim White was contacted by the General Land Office who had finally fully considered Mr. Holley’s report: it seems they wanted Jim’s recommendation regarding exactly how much land might be included in a soon to be proposed National Monument. As there were numerous other already-known caves in the general vicinity, Jim recommended the inclusion of them all. Soon afterwards, then President Coolidge announced the formation of the Carlsbad Caverns National Monument. A portion of the official document aptly reads:

“... a limestone cavern known as the Carlsbad Cave, of extraordinary proportions and of unusual beauty and variety of natural decoration; ... beyond the spacious chambers that have been explored, other vast chambers of unknown character and dimensions exist; ... the several chambers contain stalactites, stalagmites, and other formations in such unusual number, size, beauty of form, and variety of figure as to make this a cavern equal, if not superior, in both scientific and popular interest to the better known caves …”

- Proclamation 1679, Oct. 25, 1923, 43 Stat. 1929

Around this time the United States Government sent Dr. Vernon Bailey to conduct a biological survey of the bat population, which resulted in a book titled “Animal Life of Carlsbad Caverns.” A short time afterwards, Dr. Lee again returned to Carlsbad, having by then received appointment as the official Custodian of Carlsbad Caverns. He remained in this capacity but a short time before appointing the President of the Carlsbad Chamber of Commerce in his stead, and arranging for all future custodians to be determined by this local organization. As Jim explains:

“In the meantime, I had filed my application for the office of custodian, and was later informed that I could have the position, but that it would pay no salary. I couldn’t see how that would help my financial problems, so I then filed application for the job of Chief Ranger. This position I eventually received. A little later on, the National Park Service created a fund to pay the salary of a custodian, and later the cave was given full recognition as a National Park, with a resident Superintendent in charge, assisted by a force of trained engineers, electricians, and rangers.

“When in 1927 rolled around I began to see my dream of showing Carlsbad Caverns to the world materialize. People all over the world were hearing of it, and coming in droves. Early that summer the government transferred Thomas Boles from a Volcano Park in Hawaii, to the post of Superintendent of Carlsbad Cavern. During the next two years tourist facilities, equipment, and improvements were carried out in leaps and bounds. More than three or four miles of trails had been completed, along engineering standards. Diesel engines and huge generators were installed, and the soft glow from hundreds of electric flood lights replaced my crude, home-made kerosene torches. A lunch room was equipped in the depths of the cave-not far from the spot where the Kid set fire to me that day.

“The United States Government was, of course, getting the admission money, and in turn they appropriated even larger sums for developing the cavern along modern lines. And I doubt you can understand how happy this modernizing has made me. It’s like the pleasant end to a dream. The world is seeing it with all the conveniences and comforts you can find in a New York hotel: electric lights, trails as smooth and clean as parquet floors, a lunch and steaming coffee at your fingertips when you get hungry: running water and a telephone clear to the back end, and an elevator to carry you up when you get tired from walking.

“In the spring of 1929 I could see that the job of Chief Ranger was getting a bit too complicated for me with my limited education, so I resigned my position as Chief Ranger. You see, even a sixty-million-year old cave can go too modern, too efficient, and out-grow a common old Cowboy.”

On May 14th, 1930 an act of the United States Congress (46 Stat. 279) established that the new Carlsbad Caverns National Park was to be directed by the Secretary of the Interior and administered by the National Park Service. On June 17th, 1930, President Herbert Hoover then signed executive order 5370 reserving additional land for classification within the park. Nearly 50 years later, on November 10th, 1978, the Carlsbad Caverns Wilderness was also established through the National Parks and Recreation Act (95-625) with the ratifying signature of President Jimmy Carter. The expansion of the national park and inclusion of surrounding wilderness areas allowed for the protection of the (roughly) 119 caves in the area, the most well-known of these being the Slaughter Canyon Cave, Spider Cave (both of which offer guided “adventure” caving tours provided by the USPS), and Lechuguilla Cave (which is limited to permitted scientific expeditions only).

Lechuguilla Cave (in particular) has become known for speleothems that rival -or even surpass- those found in Carlsbad Cavern. However, it is perhaps most well known for its pristine state, due to its entrance being first excavated from within a rubble choke in 1986. The original cave entrance (a 90’ deep guano mine, aptly named “Misery Hole”) had been long known by locals to blow great enough quantities of air during weather changes to “whistle:” ever an excellent indicator for spelunkers that extensive passageways lay beyond. After the initial breakthrough into this previously inaccessible cave network, only conservationist-focused exploration has occurred within its over 142 miles (c 2017) of gated passage since. As of this writing it has been mapped to a depth of 1,604 feet, making it the second deepest limestone cave in the United States, as well as the eighth longest known cave in the world. It also contains the world’s largest know Gypsum stalactites. The cave provides a rare opportunity for scientists to study a unique speleological system within an essentially “closed” natural environment. Such restricted access has helped protect its fragile ecosystem, allowed detailed study of the unique process which drives the formation of caves in the arid Guadalupe Mountains, and even led to the discovery of an antibiotic resistant bacteria living within the cave. However, recent proposals to drill gas and oil deposits on adjacent Bureau of Land Management property have led to concerns over potentially catastrophic consequences to this unique cave environment, whose true extent is still unknown.

After his official retirement from the National Park Service in 1929, Jim chronicled his discovery of the cave in a modest book (ghostwritten by Frank Ernest Nicholson) which he self-published in 1932. He began selling this booklet at the cave’s underground lunchroom on February 9th, 1937 after obtaining a permit from the Park Service. Jim and his wife Fannie continued this practice until his death on April 26, 1946. And as if to exemplify the indomitable spirit of the man, just two days prior, while bedridden in a Carlsbad hospital, Jim is said to have joked to a reporter from the Carlsbad Current-Argus that although he felt well-enough, he was “…not ready to ride a horse to California again.” After his death, a bronze plaque was placed in the lobby of the park visitor center which reads:

James L White

1882-1946

Beginning in 1901, Jim White made the first known extensive explorations of the Carlsbad Caverns. He is chiefly responsible for bringing the attention of the public, scientific groups and the federal government to the importance and significance of the caverns.

As of 2005, the Carlsbad Caverns National Park had officially received 39,000,000 visitors. Since then, the annual figure has (conservatively) averaged around 400,000. It is now designated as a World Heritage Site.

For visitor’s information, go to the Carlsbad Caverns website:

Carlsbad Caverns National Park (US National Park Service)

Sources:

• “Jim White’s Own Story: the Discovery and History of Carlsbad Caverns”, Jim White (1932), Jim White and Charley Lee White

• Carlsbad Caverns - National Park Service

Kirk Torren Smith

Legendary Explorations

A group created to facilitate the exploration of legendary figures and events in history from ancient times through to the present day.

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