This Tiny, Quirky Garden Is An Endearing Remnant Of Old Palm Springs

Clark Murten, 80, walks through the Murten Botanical Gardens in Palm Springs, which he inherited from his parents, Chester.

© LA Times Clark Murten, 80, walks through the Murten Botanical Garden in Palm Springs, inherited from his parents, Chester "Cactus Slim" and Patricia Murten, who created the garden in the late 1930s. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)

Enter the Murten Botanical Garden in the Mesa area south of Palm Springs and you'll find yourself in another watch, another time.

It's the famous "cactarium," a small dilapidated shack filled with more than an acre of mature, expertly arranged cacti and desert plants, shady, muddy trails with handwritten signs, rotting desert artifacts, and strange and rare cacti; like an earth snake, one grows upside down from its cauldron like a spiked stalactite.

This cute and lovely park is also one of the last remnants of old Palm Springs, where there was time to watch the birds flutter fearlessly among the thorns and admire the palm tree that rises almost 8 feet on one side before climbing. Listen in awe of the seemingly endless stories as Clark Murten, the founders' 80-year-old son, waves you at the door.

Clarke Murten is decorated with rare exotic cacti at the Murten Botanic Gardens.

© (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times) Clark Murten is pictured with rare exotic cacti at the Murten Botanical Garden, a term coined by his mother, Patricia. Nearby there is a wedding hall and a place to buy plants. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)

This little journey through time won't take you long. admission to ride the park is just $5 ($2 for kids 5-15, free for kids 5 and under) and is open daily from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. except Wednesdays.

"When we started about 60 years ago, it was only 50 cents, but now $5 for the top 10 places to visit in Palm Springs is a pretty good deal," Clark said. “It's $5, right? Once a guy came to me and asked for the size of a pensioner. I told him the price was the same for all adults, but he said, “I think that's the law. It should be, I know it 's not the law, but he wouldn't give up, so I finally said it. So the senior rate is $10."

As always, Murten ends his story with a short, shy laugh before moving on to the next one. After a while, it's hard to remember or care that you came for the cacti and not this tall, scruffy, shaggy gray-haired man keeping his cool while collecting your money in front of a giant fan.

There, near the counter where you pay, is a modest shrine to Murten's parents and gardeners, Patricia and Chester "Cactus Slim" Murtens. They have a black and white photo. thin and smiling, stooped and frozen, plus some faded newspaper articles kept under glass, but the real keeper of the fire is his only son, Clark himself, about whom his parents speak. with so much respect and love that they would join us at any moment. When he died in 1980, "Slim" was 75, and Patricia, who was 15 years younger than him, died in 2010 at the age of 90.

Agave truncata in Murten Botanical Garden. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)

They were such a team and I was just part of the team,” Clark said. “It's incredible to see this garden in the 40s and 50s, even with desert plants. They are popular now, but years ago you didn't see many cacti and succulents in your landscape. interest and love for everything in nature.

Slim, as many know him, was born in western Washington, and after being orphaned at age 16, he started working on the railroad. "He never got past the sixth grade, but he was still the smartest person I knew," Clark said. "He read everything and absorbed the knowledge. he could quote Greek scholars and some small details he remembered from what he had read. And he had the ability to work around the clock. 20:00 in some project. It was breathtaking."

Clark says family friends encouraged Slim to go into movies because he was such a character, so he went to Hollywood in his 20s and became a Keystone cop and then an actor. good voice.") While filming Howard Hughes' 1930 World War I film Hell's Angels, Slim discovered he had tuberculosis.

Machaerocereus gummosus at Murten Botanic Gardens. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)

Clark, at the time he was 6'3" tall and weighed only 100 pounds. Although doctors urged him to go to a sanitarium for treatment, which doctors warned him to do, Slim refused and went into the desert to die within a year.

Instead, Slim moved to Joshua Tree, where he was engaged in gold mining and collected interesting rocks and cacti, which he began to grow and sell. According to Clark, he kept a journal with several brief prophetic entries. He wrote: “Mining gold and growing cacti is hard work. "Cactus pays better."

Eventually, Slim devoted himself entirely to growing cacti. He leased land from the Agua Caliente tribe outside Palm Springs, where he raised a desert nursery and opened a small rock and cactus shop in downtown Palm Springs.

He met Patricia in the office of a wholesale preschool store in Los Angeles. The merchant said to Slim. “I have a girlfriend you should meet. "I think you have a lot in common," Clark said, and they soon hit it off. According to him, Patricia was an avid botanist and had a keen interest in the natural world, especially desert plants and rocks.

Clark Murten sits at the entrance to the Murten Botanic Garden, where he greets visitors. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)

Slim began landscaping for Palm Springs residents, including celebrities such as Bob Hope, Frank Sinatra and Walt Disney.

"When my dad got the text that he was supposed to meet Walt, I was there," Clark said. "He wanted my dad to meet a landscape architect because he was designing a small theme park in Anaheim ... that's how he created the desert plants for Frontierland Disneyland."

Clark says celebrities were part of the Palm Springs scene in those days, and his oldest son, Rick Murten, agrees. She remembers getting mail for actor Robert Wagner at her desert home and swimming in her pool with her grandmother. "I was just a kid," Rick said. "I didn't know it was a big deal."

In between improvements to this desert home, Patricia and Slim purchased a two-story Spanish-style home in 1955, which Patricia named "Cactus Castle." The concrete house was built in 1929 by artist and photographer Stephen H. Willard, who moved to Mammoth Lakes "because he felt the desert was growing and disappearing," Clark said.

Opuntia ficus-indica, also known as prickly pear, at the Murten Botanic Garden. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)

"When we moved here, there were eight palms, some creosote bushes and three or four native trees," Clark said. “I was 12 years old when we started farming and there was nothing but a garage down the street. It was open desert all the way to the canyon, and oh, I loved it then.

According to Clark, Slim and Patricia did most of the planting and landscaping, and Slim himself carried the large plants and rocks with levers. Years later, Rick remembers how his grandfather still moved the giant palms by himself, using big poles "like a bakkie stick" to push them into his bakkie.

In 1959, Slim found a palm tree growing on the side and planted it at the entrance to Cactus Castle, and six months later he brought some tall rocks to support the tree and build a small waterfall. According to Clark, he used a crane to move these stones. "They weighed about 10 tons. "My father was strong, but not that strong."

Clark worked with his father and traveled with his parents to find new varieties for his garden. According to Clark, Patricia was the main promoter of the park. He encouraged Slim to build a shelter for cacti that don't like the sun very much. Slim didn't like the idea, but he did it, Clark said, and then Patricia came up with a name for the humble enclosure: "cactarium."

'Desert Spoon' by Dasilirion Wheeler at Murten Botanic Gardens. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)

Clark really fell in love with cacti because of his mother. "I was born with stickers on my bottom," he said, "and I've had them all my life. But my mom always said, 'Cactuses are the highest form of life because they're so adaptable.'" They're native to America, but they've learned to survive in different conditions and climates.

Originally, the garden was designed as an idea of what could be done by beautifying the area with cacti and other desert plants. Clark said school children will come on field trips to see the plants, as well as their parents' collection of desert artifacts, rocks and minerals.

Around 1960, Patricia decided to start offering garden wedding services for $350. They cultivated a lawn in front of the cactus castle, near the waterfall, for ceremonies there, or in the garden itself. "We knew a photographer who lived around the corner and he took 36 [photos] of the couple," Clark said. "And then a local priest came and we had a ceremony for $50, and hey, for a couple of years we did 60 to 70 weddings, sometimes twice a day."

A shady corner of the Morat Botanical Garden is filled with all kinds of succulents. Murtens planted desert plants before they became common. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)

© (Francine Orr / Los Angeles Times) A shady corner of the Murten Botanical Gardens is filled with succulents of all kinds. Murtens planted desert plants before they became common. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)

They also tried to have fun, but were cut short when some groups wanted to party all night, Clark said. “Palm Springs has a noise limit. You have to turn off the music after 9pm, but after the adults have been drinking for two or three hours, some say, "We can stay as long as we want." Nothing more. "Now we only do weddings with up to 100 guests, I think it's about $2,000 now, and you have to host somewhere else."

The family still sells plants. there are large cacti, succulents and potted plants at the entrance, but no more landscaping. Family members, including Clark's wife of 43 years, Carolyn, help in the garden and at the table.

Rick, who has a morning radio show called "Hey Morton" on XHITZ-FM (Z90.3) in San Diego, goes to the park and vows to continue after his father leaves.

"The other guys aren't interested, which is understandable, but Rick will keep the bond because the family legacy is really important to him," Clark said. "We actually started doing an Instagram video once a month where we talk about famous things and family history."

Aloe dichotomy at Murten Botanic Garden. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)

Clark is fascinating to listen to, but it's hard to tell if his passion is for plants and gardening, or for preserving the legacy his parents created. He said he wasn't sure.

“Huell Hauser was here,” Clark says… from long ago, along with Huell Hauser and the California Gold anchor who died in 2013, “and he said, ‘It's a unique place you just saw on the side of the road. discovered.': "But it's always been a family affair for me. It was created by my parents as a labor of love. A lot of love and thought and hard work and care went into this place and it flows like this. so. positive energy."

It's easy to feel this energy going with him on wide, clear paths. Clark can easily identify almost any plant, "but sometimes I wonder," he said with a smile. "You only tell the story of the plants. It doesn't have to be completely accurate. Just come closer."

Rick said those feelings helped him come to terms with the idea of one day owning a park and carrying on the family legacy.

“It was an evolution of my desire to do this,” Rick said. “I'm nervous even saying that because it's always been my grandmother's place and then my father's... I don't know if it will ever be mine because I value their heritage. In fact, it's a great gift for my dad to say, "I hope so." I was worried that I didn't know enough about this park, and he said, "it's okay, you have the ability to learn, and if your cactus dies, you can just dig it up and plant a new one." I think that's a good way to look at it."

All of these growing "tips" come from Clark's pragmatic positive philosophy about life and gardening. “I think to myself when I'm having a really bad day. "Tomorrow is the date, so if I can get over it today, life will be great again," Clark said.

"They look like plants," he said. "People buy plants from us and ask: "How can I take care of them?". And I say, "You already know that it needs water and bright light, and that's what it needs, say 'Good morning' and 'Have a good day' to it and it will grow." People think I'm a little crazy, but I think plants are like people. Some are good, some are not. Remember that plants have personalities, so let them grow and hopefully their personalities will pass. a simple formula: get rid of bad thoughts and keep good thoughts. Live and do your best."

Because Clark wants the garden to look as natural as possible, several family members and staff help maintain the grounds, clear paths and clean the garden, but not too thoroughly, he said. Birdsong abounds here, and of course, lizards and rabbits can be heard early in the morning when Clark walks out to his small meadow to drink coffee and watch the sunrise turn the San Jacinto Mountains orange and pink.

Mammillaria gracilis fragilis, or thimble cactus, in the Murten Botanical Garden. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)

"Some people tell me I should put artificial grass in there to make it look green all the time," Clark said, "and I say, 'Yeah, but then I have to add artificial cacti.' mow an entire lawn, but the grass softens your view. It's nice to see a piece of green, you just don't need half an acre."

But this gentle observation is as political as Clark's stories get. "What I like about my garden is that there is no politics here. Cacti don't like politics, so leave your politics at the door. Come enjoy the garden, listen to the birds and watch the cacti grow,” he said.

"I always get developers who want me to sell," Clark said. "A guy told me. "You can do something very useful with this property," I said. "It's really worth it ." And he said, "Oh, it's just plants," I said. “Nothing. I can live with that."

"It's prime property, but it's not for sale," he said. "It's not going anywhere. If I had been born to different parents and raised differently, I might have thought it stupid. Even my wife asks sometimes. "Why are you so obsessed?" But that's all I know. I don't have a job. I have one life, that's all."