Club Arrowhead Villas was constructed and dedicated in 1926 by the Atkins Corporation, as seen on the pillared entrance to the Arrowhead Villas. It was to be a luxury resort catering to the wealthy patrons from across the country seeking adventure and relaxation in the San Bernardino Mountains. This isolated enclave included an opulent dining club house, country inn and market, and a sports facility. The development was built in the English Tudor style and was equipped with modern amenities such as electric lighting, but retained a rustic mountain flair that featured riding stables, a ski run, tennis courts and an Olympic size swimming pool.
In 1929 the Great Depression arrived, and combined with the heady days of the roaring 20's and the Prohibition Era a new age was ushered in that brought moonshine, gambling and dance hall girls. The club house transformed into a casino, the inn became a brothel, and the aquifers that watered the pool house soon began to water a taste for "shine", all under the watchful eyes of Los Angeles mobster, and rumored management by Benjamin "Bugsy" Seigel.
By the early 1950's, again the times had changed, Club Arrowhead Villas became a respectable community established once more, with only the ghosts of the past still wandering these many rooms. Even today these ghost stories abound... if Violet, a working girl killed by a jealous mobster, whose perfume waifs as she wanders the halls... of a small boy killed by a passing ice truck whose foot steps are found in the fresh morning snow... and of the young Indian maiden who asks for help to cross the sometimes raging water of Fleming Creek.
With a dedication to California's historical past, these properties have been reunited and fully restored in a new vision of The Atkins Corporation as a place for arts and entertainment for visitors and mountain residents alike. The casino has become The Tudor House, the inn has become The Bracken Fern Manor, and the pool house has become The Club House... that now again waters the tastes of all who come.
... and, once in a great while, the spring breeze carries the scent of violets still...